Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Sissy Story Archives (older stories) => Recent Inactive Sissy Stories => Topic started by: Simonssister on July 17, 2019, 05:20:42 PM
-
Chapter I: A Naughty Boy
Maybe you have read about Simon somewhere else. If so, it has probably been excerpts from his diary, which he started keeping soon after he turned sixteen. That wasn’t an arbitrary moment. To explain why, I need to go back a few years.
Simon’s mother, Anne, had a stepsister, Beatrice. Beatrice is my mother, so I suppose technically I’m Simon’s stepsister, though I’ve always regarded him as my little brother. From before he became a teenager he was looked after principally by Bea, because Anne was busy keeping a roof over their heads. We lived close by, in a house in Garden Road, but my mum spent most of her time at Simon’s, especially as he grew up and needed more attention. Why more? Because although he was a very pretty little boy, he also had all the worst traits of a teenage boy. He was often in trouble at school, getting into fights, swearing at the teachers, playing truant. How many times did my mum and I ask ourselves why he couldn’t have been born a girl. I’m sure if that had been the case we could have made him far more amenable to reason, and we could all have had a much nicer time. And the funny thing was, apart from his behaviour, he could very well have been a girl. He looked young for his age, he had a well-shaped face, delicate features and limbs, and a little retroussé nose peeping out from under a shock of thick fair hair. I know both his mother and my mother would have preferred a girl, but what could you do? What indeed? My mum and I discussed the matter many evenings after Simon had eventually been got to bed. Then one evening, before Simon’s fourteenth birthday, Bea let me in on her plan.
“I’ve been thinking, Stella. Simon’s problem is that he is rebelling against us. Against me, Anne, you, and your friend.” (My friend, my best friend, Sandra, who spent a lot of time with us.)
“Well I know that. Mum. But the question is, how are we going to stop it? Or will he be like this forever?”
“No, you don’t understand. He even has a go at his teacher, Miss Benson.”
“So?”
“He’s angry with all females! He doesn’t hate us. He loves cuddles and attention when he’s come down from one of his moods. He resents us. Maybe he resents our companionship. I’ve noticed he doesn’t have any male friends – except Billy, that is, and Billy is the very opposite of him, quiet and gentle. Do you think …”
“Do you think that maybe…he wants to be a girl, somewhere deep in his subconscious?”
“What? Are you serious?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps he’s crying out to be tamed. That’s the impression I get. If we were only strong enough, or he weak enough, to be subdued …”
“You’re suggesting we turn him into a girl. Good luck with that. Not that it wouldn’t be the best! He would make such a fantastic girl! He looks so sweet sometimes and in the right clothes he could be one!”
“He could, couldn’t he?” said Bea, thoughtfully.
“Yeah, Mum, but he’d go berserk if you ever got near him with a dress or a “Hello Kitty” top. Forget it.”
“You know there are ways.”
“Such as?”
“I had an idea recently. I worked out that there is an intermediate stage to feminizing a boy. Do you know what it is?”
“Give him a girly doll?”
“No, something subtle, Stella, you idiot.”
“Like?”
“Didn’t you notice I’d fitted his bed with a nice rubber sheet?”
“Yes – but that was a necessity, wasn’t it?”
“A pink one?”
“Yes, I saw that. I did wonder.”
“He didn’t object, did he?”
“No. I noticed you were making a big fuss of him after he went to bed. Cuddles and kisses and stories and everything. Were you …?”
“Yes. Getting him used to it and encouraging him to associate rubber with nice things, with attention and love and calm.”
“Clever!”
“And next – a pink rubber pillow-case with frills all around the edge. It’s already in his drawer.”
“Wow!”
“And then – these.” She went to a drawer in the bureau, and produced something wrapped in tissue. Opening the little package carefully, she produced a little pair of puffy pink rubber panties, with elasticated legs.
“Bloody hell, Mum! He won’t wear those!”
“I bet he will. He’s going to get used to the smell and feel of rubber, the softness, the smoothness, the attention and caresses that go with it. I’m going to put them in his drawer and I’ll explain to him he can wear them if he wants, just in case of night-time accidents. I won’t force anything. If I’m right, he won’t be able to resist trying them on, and then I think he’ll be hooked. Can you imagine how nice they’ll feel to him, and what nice dreams he might have? Wait and see.”
Well I did, and I was amazed that her prediction proved correct. I think it took him ten days, but after that he wearing them every night. We said nothing, but we were assiduous in out attention and affection, and little by little we saw an improvement in his comportment. The seed had been sown.
“Well it looks like he’s addicted, Mum. You were right. That’s so clever of you. But where do we go from here?”
“Well, Stella, I’m not sure. The theory is that the association of rubber with submissiveness and even femininity should drive him to want to wear more girly clothes. But I admit, it’s not happening. He’s still a boy, through and through. He’s never even touched those frilled panties I put in his drawer. So I really don’t know.”
“Yeah, and he was rude to Miss Benson again the other day, wasn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so. Perhaps ultimately we’re going to have to force the issue.”
“I can’t imagine how you’d do that. We have no leverage over him.
“No, not at present.”
And indeed, it was another two years before the opportunity finally presented itself.
Chapter II: An Extra Birthday Present
It was a few days after Simon’s sixteenth birthday. I’ll let Simon tell the story. My mum discovered where he hid his diary, inside some comics in the bottom of his wardrobe, and we used to fish it out while he was at school and have a good laugh. This is how he records the fateful day.
“Thursday June 9th. This was the worst day of my life – so far. My aunt caught me – she caught me looking at a video of a girl, that was all! I don’t know why I like rubber so much. My aunt says I had to have rubber bedding when I was younger, and that it was me that wanted to sleep in rubber pants all the time. Anyway, it was all quite innocent. In fact, I was doing my homework for the next day. I had been researching superheroes for a school project, and I eventually got onto one of my favourites, Catwoman. Actually she reminds me a bit of my aunt, if my aunt had a prettier face, that is. I had written most of the notes, then when I was checking out images for the cover sheet I happened on some pictures of a rather pretty girl – a real girl – wearing a very well-tailored black rubber catsuit, tight black rubber gloves, and little black patent ankle-boots. She had a mass of long black hair which lay on her shoulders. It gave me a funny feeling when I thought how that soft hair would feel against the taught latex. Out of pure curiosity I followed the link and found lots more! Some of them were super cool! She had really well-shaped breasts and in one picture she was eating a big bowl of custard and she seemed to have dripped some of it down between her breasts and it was tricking down over her tummy and – well, anyway, and in the next picture she was trying, not very successfully, to scoop it up with her fingers, and she was getting a bit messy. In the next she had put down the bowl and was trying to wipe the custard off the tip of her left breast, but because her fingers were dripping with custard she was really just making matters worse! The series went on: in leaning forward her hair must have dipped into the bowl, and little bobs of yellow custard were getting smeared onto her shoulders! I don't really know why, but I was beginning to feel excited – I wanted to know what would happen next! It was then I saw the link to the video! I could hardly breathe! While it was downloading I decided to loosen my clothing and make myself a bit more comfortable. I was only a few minutes into it when I became aware of a pair of sharply-nailed fingers closing around my ear.
"So! This is what my little nephew gets up to when his mother's out! How interesting!"
"Aunt! What are you doing here? I was just working on my project...."
"Project? Really? Is this what Miss Benson gives you for homework these days?" she smirked. "Oh, no wonder she's so popular with the boys! Such a useful exercise!" And she went off into peals of laughter.
“Come with me, Simon. No, leave that. Let it download.” And she led me by the ear down to the living-room. What now? Was she going to tell Mum?
She seated herself comfortably in an armchair.
“Stand there. I want to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, aunt. Please don’t tell mummy. It won’t happen again,” I whined, zipping up my jeans.
I don’t know why I was pleading with her. I’m not twelve any more. She shouldn’t have been watching me and in any case she has no right to tell me off. Why do grown-ups make me feel so little? Even Stella and Sandra treat me like a child – ruffling my hair and patting my cheek and saying things to make me blush – it’s not fair! And there I was again, hanging my head and blushing as I stood there like a naughty child in front of the headmistress.
“So you don’t want me to tell Anne?”
“Of course not. Why would you tell her? You know it'll just be embarrassing for all of us! Listen, aunt - I'll be good. What do you want me to do?" I don’t know why I said this. I was just desperate to get this over with and get back to my project. I wondered if the video had finished downloading yet.
"Is that an offer? Well, what I want is for you to start behaving better, Simon. There was a time when you were definitely improving, but lately you’ve started regressing. There have been a couple of incidents at school recently, haven’t there? Your mother is beginning to worry about you again.”
I could feel the two sides of my nature fighting each other. A part of me was angry that Bea should still be trying to treat me as her own son, and not only that, but as a little boy rather than an adolescent. But the other part felt as powerless as a child. But I plucked up all my courage.
“Look, Bea,” (I thought the ‘Bea’ would put her in her place), “I’m no longer a kid, you know, and you can’t treat me like one! Now I’m going back to finish my homework!” And I turned to leave.
“Oh, Simon! Just a moment. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to treat you like a silly little child. I saw just now what a big boy you are.” I stopped. Was she being sarcastic?
“In fact, as your so grown up now, I had a little extra present for you which you didn’t get on your birthday.”
“Really, aunt?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to give it to you in front of your friends in case they got jealous. But you can have it now.”
“Wow, th-thanks, aunt!” I stammered, quite disarmed.
She stood up and went over to the drawer which contained her personal stuff. She took out her key, opened the drawer, and produced – a little parcel wrapped up in birthday paper. She offered it to me.
"Here. Happy Birthday!" A pause. "Well aren't you going to open it?"
My hands trembled a little as I tore of the wrapping, of blue bunnies of a pink background. Whatever it was, was soft and a bit squishy. Underneath there was pink tissue. I ripped it off. At first I didn't quite understand what it was. It took a moment to dawn. Then I held up a pair of little rubber hot pants, blue with red frills around the legs and a red waistband. I was speechless. Aunt Bea smiled.
"In the circ-umstances it seems to me the perfect present," she cooed. "I think I must be psychic! Well, aren't you going to say thank you?"
I was so confused I think I did actually say, "Yes, thank you Aunt Bea!" Idiot!
"Do you understand what they are, Simon? These are your new school shorts. They're in your school colours – blue and red – and they're going to fit you perfectly. Don't you remember when we measured you for your shorts? Well here they are!"
"I am NOT wearing these for school – or anywhere else!" I protested. "No way!!"
Bea smiled. "Oh but you are," she said – "at least in the nice weather. You'll look so sweet. Everyone will love you in them."
"You can't make me, and I'm fuc-king NOT!" I threw then down and stalked towards the door.
"Simon, there's something you need to know." I stopped. What was coming now?
"Simon, when I came upstairs just now and witnessed your little performance, how long do you think I'd been watching?"
"What do you mean?" My heart sank.
"Well, I'm not sure myself, but it must have been a minute or two. Let me check the video."
She took out her phone and clicked a couple of buttons. I rushed back. She held it out of my reach and I caught a glimpse of me sitting at the computer. I didn't need to see any more. I flopped into a chair, horrified. Bea continued:
"So Simon, it's really a very simple choice. You can wear your lovely new shorts for school tomorrow – it's Friday, so initially it's just one day to help you get used to them – or, once I've downloaded and copied your little show, we can see what your friends think of it. Would you like to upload it to your Facebook page? What do you think?"
I groaned.
"Well, I'll take that as a yes for the shorts. Your mother's going to be so pleased! Why don't you put them on now ready to show her when she comes home? Go on! Hurry up!"
What could I do? I picked up those silly little pants and made my way miserably back upstairs.
"No underpants mind! Put a nice clean shirt on! And a clean pair of socks with your best trainers please!"
It was horrifying! These were not secret indoor pants, like I was used to. These were real outdoor shorts! They fitted me perfectly – taught without being tight – the frilled legs quite straight but ridiculously short. There was no fly, just a seam in the rubber running from the front of the waistband to the back. I would have to pull aside one leg to go to the toilet. I felt silly and self-conscious, and I couldn't help blushing as I looked at my reflection in my mother's full-length mirror. As the latex warmed up it gave off that slightly sickly odour that I knew so well, sweet and exciting. I had to bite my lip to cool down. Bea was calling me.
"Simon, come down please. Your mother will be home soon and we want to surprise her, don't we?
I made my way back down to the living room.
"Oh, you look sooo CUTE!" she screamed. She jumped up and started fussing with my pants, adjusting the frills and the waist, making sure they were straight. I had to bite my lip again. She fussed with my shirt, pulled up my socks, and smoothed my hair. Then she stood back and regarded me with delight. Out came the phone for some pictures. My mind was a whirl. Tomorrow. I couldn't go through with it. I had been feeling rather pleased with myself because that day I'd made a joke at Miss Benson's expense which had made everyone in class laugh. I was getting on very nicely with my friend Alice who sat next to me, and she really wasn't that bad for a girl. Imagine if I had to turn up in these!
"Now, before Anne gets back, just one more thing. I want a little video of my own to remember this moment, and how happy you were with your present. Everything's ready. Come out into the garden a minute." And, taking her video camera and tripod out of the cupboard, she led me out of the back door.
"Please, Aunt," I whined, "No more videos."
"Well the one I've already got – as you know – is rather disgusting, don't you think? Now you all nice and well-behaved it would be nice to have another one which I can watch without feeling horrified and which I can show to my friends if I want to. Unless you'd like the present one to go on your Facebook page, I suggest you co-operate. Agreed?
What could I do? I couldn't think of a way out. Reluctantly I followed her across the lawn. She led me over to one of the flower beds and made me stand in front of it.
"Perfect! A background of poppies and lupins!"
I swore under my breath.
"Okay, Simon, please read this little poem, and learn it by heart. You have two minutes and then I want you to be able to repeat it without the paper."
I looked stupidly at the paper. Bea had been busy. On it were written the following verses. Apart from the fact I am the owner of a flash drive, a gift from my Aunt, containing a copy of my performance on that day, they are imprinted on my mind.
"My name is Simon. My delight's
To wear my rubber pants.
The latex is so smooth and tight,
It makes me skip and dance!
I'm going to wear them every day,
They fit my bum just right!.
I'm just a sissy, I'm not gay,
Oh, what a pretty sight!
So, if you like them, say hello
When you see me in the street.
And tell me, don't you think I'm so
Sexy, cute and sweet?"
It took several goes till I got the verses off pat, protesting all the time. But I had no choice. It then took even more takes for me to put on a performance which satisfied her.
"Simon, either you do this properly or that video gets uploaded right now!" She spoke in a firm tone and I knew she meant business. I want the little dance at the end of the first verse – and we both know you can dance, you went to Irish dancing classes for two years – and I want joyful smiles and proper emphases. I want to believe everything your saying – so that when I watch it I can feel I've given you a nice present, not something you hate! Understand?"
"Yes, Aunt."
"Good boy. Again, please."
Eventually she had it recorded to her satisfaction. She closed the camera, folded the tripod, and led the way back indoors.
"Well done. I know that was difficult but in the end I think you did amazingly well. Now, when your mummy gets here you are to let her know how delighted you are with your new shorts. Do you understand? If she has any doubts about your enthusiasm you're going to be in trouble. Remember what I said about the other video. Be like you were outside and there won't be any problems. Okay?"
"Yes, Aunt, I understand" I whined, hanging my head. I'd decided to try a different tack. "I'm really sorry about my behaviour lately. I'm going to reform from now on. In fact, I'll do anything you want from now on.
"You will? That's so nice of you. That's what I and your mother have been waiting to hear for years! Thank you, Simon!"
"And I won't swear or shout any more."
She held my hands and kissed my forehead. "That's my Simon! I know you're not really bad. Your mum's going to be so pleased."
My hopes rose a little. "So tomorrow ...?"
"Oh, tomorrow. Well I'm sure you'll find you get lots of attention."
"What? So you mean...?"
"Yes. Your new pants will certainly make you very popular. I think your classmates are going to love them!"
"No! You're such a bitch, Bea!"
My mother got home about nine. She seemed surprised at my enthusiasm for my new shorts, but, fearful of the consequences if I deviated from the plot, I somehow managed to convince her that I thought them really smart and cool, and that I couldn't wait to show them to my friends! Bea backed me up to the hilt, the cow.
"I think they're very pretty, Bea, of course. He does look such a sweetie in them! You're very clever to have found something nice that he'll wear. Whenever I get him something new he never seems to like it."
"Oh, a few weeks ago he actually asked me if he could have some new summer shorts. When I showed him these smart little latex ones in the catalogue he got quite excited. Didn't you, darling?"
"Yes, aunt."
"I must admit I'm quite surprised, but you do look lovely, Simon. Maybe you'd like some other colours for the summer holidays?"
“Oh, yes, Anne. What a good idea! You know, purple and pink are the ‘in’ colours this year!”
“Wha-at?” I gasped, almost choking with anger, “I – I, won’t…”
Bea glared at me, and fingered her phone meaningfully. I swallowed my protestations.
“Er, yes, maybe, mummy, but …”
“Oh, yes, Anne. I remember now. Earlier Simon was saying what a pity it was his school’s colours weren’t pink and yellow, weren’t you darling?” A pause.
“Weren’t you?”
“Oh, oh, yes, absolutely, mummy. Pink and yellow … so nice!”
“Well that’s lovely, Simon. I’m so glad you’ve found something you like wearing. And it’ll make a nice change from those old ripped jeans I’ve been seeing you in lately!”
“Yes, Anne. And they’re so practical for playing or cycling or just laying around.”
“Yes, that’s true. And comfortable, I imagine. Funny, he’s always been quite fond of rubber, hasn’t he? Haven’t you, dear?”
“Yes, mummy.” I wondered if the video had finished downloading yet. Even in the depths of despair I couldn’t help starting to feel a little aroused at the thought.
“Aunt, can I go upstairs now? I just need to finish my homework and then I’m going to sleep.”
“Of course, dear. Good night!”
“Good night aunt. Good night mummy.”
Good night, darling.”
And I dashed off up to my room. The video file had downloaded, and I quickly copied it onto a flash drive in case Bea deleted it. Then I went to my desk to finish off my project. Sitting there in my new pants and thinking about Catwoman was not the greatest idea. I had never worn anything quite like these before, and despite my determination to focus on my work I could feel myself beginning to swell. I bit my lip. How was I going to cope tomorrow? It wasn’t just the fact I would be wearing the sissiest pants in the world, but on top of that the years of rubber training had conditioned my body to react with irrepressible arousal! I looked down at myself. The little elongated bulge lying parallel to the frilled left leg band was horribly obvious. I tried to flatten it with my hand, but that only made things worse. What was I going to do?
“Ooh, Simon! I thought you said you were going to behave in future!”
Why did she creep about like that? “I’m just doing my homework, aunt,” I groaned.
“So I see. I just popped in to say well done! Your mother is so happy your feminine side is blossoming at last. I have carte blanche to organise your wardrobe.”
I ignored her.
"It's a big day for you tomorrow," she went on. "Oh, how I wish I could be a fly on the wall of your classroom! But never mind, you can tell me all about it after school."
"Aunt," I whined, clutching at straws, "I'm sure I won't be allowed to wear these to school anyway! I'm simply going to be sent home straight away!"
"Oh, Simon!" She smiled indulgently. "Don't you know your Aunt Bea better than that? When I had this idea, of course I went into the office and checked the uniform regulations. 'Shirts must be blue or white. Ties must always be worn. Only official school blazers are permitted. Shorts, trousers and skirts may be of any style but must be either black, grey, or in the school colours, navy blue and red.' Voila! No restrictions about material. So I'm afraid you don't have any worries on that score!" she sniggered.
As I lay there, I realised that it had been a mistake for me to go along with the making of Bea's "personal" video. She would never really have shown anyone that first video - course she wouldn't. But now she had something that she could show, and in which it appeared that I was acting of my own volition like a sissy little show-off! I prayed that it really was something she intended for herself alone. Shit, what a mess!
As for school, I couldn't see any way out. Feigning illness would have just led to punishment and possible exposure. Unfortunately for me, it was the day when we had to present our plan for the superhero project in front of the class. Each of us would have to stand up there for five minutes, to introduce the superhero (or superheroine) we had chosen, to show a picture, describe him or her, and talk briefly about his or her powers and characteristics. I had downloaded an anime picture of Catwoman, and I had plenty to say. That was not the problem. The problem was that the class were not going to be listening to what I was saying – they were going to be staring at my little blue and red shorts, and probably even (I winced at the thought) surreptitiously taking pictures. I felt my cheeks burning at the mere thought, as I turned over and tried to get some sleep. I slept fitfully however, disturbed by the most confused dreams, including one about Catwoman, in which, instead of her usual black catsuit, she was wearing a blue one with red collar and cuffs! I awoke to the realisation that I needed a cunning plan. But I couldn’t think of one.”
Poor Simon! Reading this the day after we felt quite sorry for him. But not for long.
“I wonder how he’s getting on at school, Mum?”
“Oh, I don’t know, dear,” Bea replied, “but I’m looking forward to reading the next episode of his diary!”
-
Lovely story, I very much enjoyed Simons troubles. Thank you so much for posting and am looking forward to more chapters in Simons diary. Love Marci
-
Thank you, Marci. Glad you like it. Will post the next chapter in the next three or four days.
-
Chapter III: School
Well, it was not until the following week that we got to read Simon's diary, but I think you'll agree it was an interesting entry, so I'll quote it verbatim:
As I sat up in bed on Friday morning, the first thing I saw on the chair by my bed was my new latex pants, neatly folded. The room seemed full of the sweet smell of warm rubber. I was still half asleep when a familiar voice called me from outside my door.
"Simon? Are you awake?. Time to get up and get dressed! You don't want to be late today!"
I slid out of bed. The rest of my clothes had been laid out of the chair. My usual long grey socks had been replaced by ankle socks which matched my pants – pastel blue with red hoops around the tops. My aunt must have been planning this day for some time. She had ironed my blue school shirt and laid across it was my red and blue striped school tie. My school shoes had been shined. I dressed, tucking my shirt into my pants. I tried to tie my tie so that it would have down as far as possible, but then I reflected that Bea would insist I tucked it in as well, so I gave up. I glanced at myself in the mirror. I felt sick with apprehensiveness. I made my way slowly downstairs. Bea had the table laid for breakfast, and was asking me what I would like to eat. I didn't want anything really. I mumbled a reply. She came over and embraced me, patting my bottom comfortingly. I was engulfed by her rose-scented perfume, which she must have applied with a plant spray.
"Oh, Simon. Come on now, cheer up! Have something to eat – you're going to need all the energy you can get today!"
"Aunt, I can't go to school like this. None of the boys in my class wear shorts any more anyway! Let alone rubber ones!"
"Well, I guess they'll all be jealous, then, won't they? I'm sure you'll be a hit with the girls, anyway."
I thought about the girls. Alice, who sat next to me. And the others. I would be finished! Anyway, I did have some breakfast. For me, hunger always overcame all other emotions. A bowl of Cheerios. Bea had made my lunch – I must admit she did know how to make good sandwiches. As I ate, I was working on a plan. I would cycle to school. Queen Alexandra Secondary was only half a mile from our house and I normally walked. But today that was out of the question. Instead I could flash past the people and with luck no-one would notice me. First problem sorted. Also, I was going to get there early. My form teacher, Miss Benson, normally arrived early herself and sat in the classroom working. I had decided I would ask if I could join her so that I could get my pants under my desk before any of the other kids saw me. That would be a start, at least. After that, my only strategy was to pray for a miracle.
I packed by rucksack – lunch, pens, my folder with my project. I had the idea of wearing my blazer, though it was a warm day. It was new and quite big on me so it would help hide my shorts. It wasn't hanging in its usual place in my room, however.
"Aunt, have to see my school blazer?"
"It's going to be hot today, Simon. You won't be needing that. I've put it away."
Crap! I knew it. I grabbed my old red school jumper and stuffed it into my bag. I had had another idea. As I made my way to the door I took one more look in the mirror in the hallway. My heart sank. The pants fitted me so perfectly, and the latex was so fine and stretchy, that it pretty much showed everything I had. The pastel-blue frills were undeniably girly, and the centre seam was tight, forcing my boyhood to one side. And the legs were so short – I struggled to pull then down a little but as soon as I moved they rode up again. An eight year old might have just got away with it, but never a grown boy. Worst of all, the smooth, taut rubber was already having a slightly arousing effect, despite the circ-umstances and my nervousness. It was an instinctive reaction, born of years of conditioning. I pinched my bare thigh hard, hoping to distract myself.
"Simon! You'll be late if you're not careful!"
But I had no intention of arriving after the playground was full. Five minutes later I was speeding through the school gates. It was still early so the school was pretty empty. I stashed my bike in the rack, tied my jumper by the arms round my waist, and ran to my classroom. At least it hid my bum. So far no-one had noticed. Miss Benson was at her desk, just as I had anticipated.
Now I must tell you about Miss Benson. She's okay, really. I suppose she's about thirty, black hair cut quite short, and she's actually not bad looking, but she always wears these dowdy clothes – like stiff white blouses, checked skirts, and flat shoes. And she has classic teacher glasses, with thick black rims. I got into a bit of trouble with her last term. And then yesterday again. The class was discussing fashion, and she had asked us what was meant by the phrase "fashion sense", and I had piped up "What you haven't got, Miss". Everyone laughed, but actually she didn't say anything. She just glared at me. I've tried to make it up to her since. I hope she's forgiven me.
I knocked at the door and let myself in.
"Simon." Good morning. You're early."
Then she caught sight of my shorts. She looked startled, but quickly broke into a grin.
"Wow! New shorts I see! Very smart. And in the school colours, too!"
"Yes, Miss. They were a present. Miss, I wonder if it would be possible for me to sit at my desk and work until class begins? I'd be very quiet."
Miss Benson paused a moment before answering. She had a funny smile on her face.
"Well of course, no problem. Go and sit down."
I hurried to my desk, which was about half-way back, and sat down. I turned my jumper round so that it covered by pants. Brilliant! No-one would be able to see them.
"And Miss ... do you think I could stay in and work on my project at lunchtime too?"
"Well, Simon, I'm glad to see you're becoming so industrious! Of course you may. Remember we are having the initial presentations this afternoon, though I don't expect we'll get through everyone today. So don't be disappointed if you don't get your turn, will you?"
"Oh no, that's all right, Miss Benson!" A little fountain of hope sprang up in my heart. Did Miss Benson realise how I felt and wanted to spare me embarrassment? I smiled at her with a valiant attempt to express pleading and gratitude in a single expression. Then I dutifully settled down to work.
The morning passed without incident. Alice sat next to me as usual. She couldn't see what I was wearing, but she noticed my bare knees sticking out from under my jumper.
"Ooh, Simon, you're wearing shorts today!"
"Yeah."
"Good idea. It's so hot."
I liked Alice. We got on quite well, though occasionally we got told off for talking or sniggering together; we both liked to make jokes about the teachers!
At lunchtime when all the other kids went out to play I stayed in. Alice stopped at the door.
"You coming, Sim?"
"No, I have some stuff to do. I'll see you after lunch."
She shrugged and left with the others. I took out my lunchbox. Miss Benson worked for twenty minutes, then got up and went out with her papers, I guess to the staffroom. I looked around, feeling bored. There was still more than half-an-hour to go, and I didn't really have anything to do. I took my project out of my rucksack. The cover-sheet featured a photo of Catwoman from the film. I looked at it approvingly. She really was very sexy. As I stared at the image I felt myself beginning to respond. Quickly I turned over my booklet and willed myself to calm down. Now was not the time. "Stay cool," I told myself, pulling my jumper more tightly over my legs. But in those tight little hot-pants it was not easy.
I ate my lunch slowly. As I was finishing, the others were filtering back in. Alice sat down beside me.
"What have you been up to, Sim? You look very flushed."
"Nothing," I said, a little to abruptly. "Er, it's just quite warm today, don't you think?"
She looked at me quizzically.
"Outside, yeah. It's okay in here though."
Lessons resumed. Only an hour and a half to go. I could do it yet. Miss Benson had returned, carrying with her a little wooden stool about thirty centimetres high. She put it down in front of her desk.
"Right class. Time for projects. Each of you has five minutes to tell us who you're going to study and how you're going to do it. So, to remind you. First, visual description and a picture to show the class. Second, powers. Third, how the character uses them. And finally, an outline of what you'll be writing. Let us start. Now, who's going to be first?"
Miss Benson usually does things like this alphabetically. Typical old school mentality. Our name is Saunders, so whichever name she chose I would near the end of the list.
"Simon!"
"Wha-at??"
"SIMON!" Come on up. On the stool if you please!
"Bu-ut Miss, you said ...."
"I said, Simon, that you may be disappointed. But since I would hate to disappoint you, I'm going to let you go first. Now come on, we have limited time you know."
I had no choice. I began to struggle from my desk. Even then I had a desperate idea. I swivelled round my jumper to cover my bum. Then when I got out there I'd swivel it back to cover my front. I clutched my notes and lurched towards the front.
"Now Simon! What are you playing at? Since when are you allowed to wear your jumper like that? Don't you have any fashion sense, little boy?" So that was it! Revenge! I backed away, but Miss Benson was on me in a flash. With a quick movement she snatched away my only protection.
"Now, up on the stool so everyone can see you, please!"
As I climbed onto the stool there was a communal gasp of disbelief from my classmates, whistles from some of the boys and screams from the girls. I tried to use my notes to cover my embarrassment, but Miss Benson was having none of it.
"Simon! Hold up your picture first and show the class. Then read your notes please."
"Quiet, children, please!" shouted Miss Benson. "Let us hear what Simon has got to say."
All eyes were wide and riveted on me – or on my shorts, I should say. The expressions on the faces varied from delight to disbelief. Mouths were open, and some of the girls had risen in their seats to get a better view.
"Children! SIT DOWN!" shouted Miss Benson. "Now let us get on. Simon – please."
I thought I'd better simply get this over with as soon as possible, so I began reading out my notes, blushing and stammering my way through. In my panic I could hardly see the words I'd written. As I did so I could hear phones clicking in front of me, while Miss Benson stood smugly by watching me and making no attempt to stop them.
"C-Catwoman first appeared as early as, er, 1940. This is a p-picture of her. She wears a black or purple catsuit with cat ears..."
"Excuse me Miss!" It was Debbie, a real smart-arse.
"Yes Debbie?"
"Can Simon tell us what Catwoman's catsuit is made of, please?" (Laughing from the class.)
"Well Simon, can you tell the class what Catwoman's catsuit is made of?"
I couldn't look them in the eye. I looked at the floor. "Well, I think it can be from a variety of fabrics ..."
"But Miss!" Debbie again. "In the film it's made of rubber, isn't it? Like Simon's new shorts!!"
Pandemonium. Banging of desks. Cheering. I wanted to sink through the floor.
"Well yes, that's right, isn't it Simon?" Miss Benson addressed me direct. "In the film it's definitely shiny black rubber. Latex rubber is a very useful material. It has lots of uses, but it's especially good for sexy clothing, don't you think?" She was enjoying herself now, and I was stuck up on this stool, like a prize idiot. It couldn't get any worse than this. She continued.
"Maybe we can learn something from this. Does anyone know where latex comes from?"
Billy suggested it was artificial, made in a factory.
"No Billy, wrong. Anyone else?"
"Does it come from a plant, Miss?" That was Alice.
"Well done Alice! Raw latex is harvested from different varieties of plant. Of course it has to be processed to end up as tyres or clothing. Now, what are its properties?"
"It's stretchy, Miss!" "And waterproof!" "It can be made so thin it can be used for balloons!" "And condoms, Miss!"
"Yes, you're all right," said Miss Benson. "Simon's shorts are a perfect example of highly-refined latex. While we've got him here on the stool I think it would be a good idea if each of you came up and you can examine it close up. No, stay there Simon! I want you right where you are. Children, form an orderly queue, please. Orderly, I said, Sarah! Familiarise yourselves fully with the look, smell and feel of this valuable product! There's plenty of time – we still have forty-five minutes left and I think we'll continue with projects next week."
So that was it. Miss Benson then pretty much left them to their own devices. The boys on the whole contented themselves with making fun of me, with such remarks as "Pretty frills, Simon!" or "Nice babypants!" The girls were much worse. They pinched and scratched my legs and giggled uncontrollably. At first I tried to fend them off, but Miss Benson made me stand there with my hands by my sides – "Simon, I want you to hold the side frills each side between finger and thumb, and not move, so everyone can examine the rubber. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Miss Benson."
And so there I was, totally exposed, my cheeks burning, my legs trembling, my pants and my boyhood on full display. It lay comfortably at ninety degrees to my legs, against my right thigh, no longer aroused thank goodness, but clearly visible under the thin rubber. Alice had made her way to the front of the crowd. She held her notebook in one hand and in the other her pencil, which had a little hand-shaped eraser on the end.
"Oh, Simon! Why didn't you tell me you were wearing such pretty little panties? They're so cute! And so sexy!" Her eyes narrowed spitefully. “And what’s this little sausage, boy?” she whispered, and, checking that Miss Benson was occupied with one of the boys, she took the opportunity to give the little mound in my pants a surreptitious prod with the eraser end of her pencil.
"Alice! Don't!" I protested. She laughed a short laugh. "I'm impressed, Simon. You're so brave to come to school in those. I'm going to ask my mum if you can come and visit next weekend. She'd love to see them!"
Eventually everyone returned to their seats. There was a muted hubbub of chattering and giggling for the rest of the lesson. Miss Benson let me get off the stool but made me stand at the front of the class, squirming with embarrassment, until the bell.
"I hope all of you have learned some interesting facts today." She said as after giving permission for everyone to put away their books.
"In fact it would be nice if everyone could draw a picture of Simon in his new pants, and write down as many facts about latex rubber as they can for next week. Good night, children!"
"Good night, Miss!"
"All right, Simon, now you may get down."
"And Simon – thank you for being such a useful exhibit today," she smirked. "We all enjoyed it very much!"
-
Chapter IV: Stella
This chapter’s all about me! Well, not all. Course, it’s really about the subject of this narrative, my little brother. So I’ll let him continue:
When I got home, Bea was waiting for me, of course, smirking with triumph. She couldn't conceal her delight.
"Simon! You're home! How was your day?"
Not wanting to give her the pleasure, I replied nonchalantly,
"Fine. No sweat. I'm going to change and go see Billy." (Billy lived around the corner. He didn't go to my school, thank goodness.)
"Oh. Do you have any homework?"
"Nope."
"That's funny. Miss Benson rang. She said you had to do some research. Materials science. Latex rubber, was it?"
"What? What did she want? Why was she ringing you?"
"Oh, no particular reason. As a matter of fact she just rang to say how well you'd behaved today. She's so pleased you're trying to turn things round at last. She said if you can keep it up you can be one of her best students!"
I didn't know what to say. I managed only a non-committal "Huh!"
"She thinks maybe your new uniform helped. She was wondering whether it's going to be a permanent arrangement."
"Aunt, please, no! That's not fair. I've ... I've turned over a new leaf. I'm going to be totally good from now on. You don't need to keep me in these, I swear! Please!"
Aunt Bea looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Well, we'll see, shall we?" She smiled a wicked smile. "But it's Friday, Simon – don't forget Stella's boots. We'll go round to Garden Road after supper. But bring Billy if you like."
"Oh, no," I sighed, "don't worry. I'll see him tomorrow."
Now I'd better explain what this was about. My aunt's own house was a short walk away in Garden Road. She spent some of the time there and some at my house, depending on whether or not she was supervising me. Her daughter Stella lived with her at Garden Road. Stella was a few years older than me. She worked and studied part-time. Her obsession was horses, and she spent most weekends riding at Holly End Stables. She would come back Sunday evening with her clothes dirty and her rubber riding boots muddy, so we had this arrangement, where on a Sunday evenings I would superficially clean her boots, that is brush the mud off them under the garden tap, and leave them to dry in the garage. Then on Friday evenings I would go round and polish them up. Normally this consisted of buffing them with talc until they had a nice soft glow, and occasionally, if she had a show or something on the Saturday, I'd really make them gleam. There were various ways of doing this, from rubber shine to rubber cream to furniture polish! For these jobs I received five pounds from her every Friday evening, which sort of financed my weekend. On rare occasions, if my aunt was busy, I might even get to wash her clothes. Stella didn't have much time herself, and she was naturally scruffy I think, so I was performing a valuable service. Her best friend, Sandra, was Alice's elder sister. Sandra was the dead opposite of Stella. She always seemed to be dressed up like a model, and had a penchant for black leather, fishnets, tall boots, perfume, and black-painted nails. She had jet black hair, too, where Stella was sort of mousy blonde. But they got on famously, and were always in high spirits when they were together. Secretly I always hoped Sandra would be around when I went to Stella's. I think she liked me cos she always paid me loads of attention, cuddling me, ruffling my hair, and so on. I thought she was pretty cool and I always felt quite proud if she took me out for ice cream or something – like I was her boyfriend, maybe. Once the kids from school had seen me with her and she had one arm round me and they were all sick with jealousy! But that night I was hoping she wouldn't be there, because I couldn't believe that Alice wouldn’t have told her all about the day. I had a sort of fantasy that one day I’d date Sandra. In fact there was no real reason that I shouldn’t ask her out, except … except that she made me feel like a little kid when I was with her. Not deliberately. I just did. Sort of shy and awkward. But to tell the truth, I fancied her like mad. And if she saw me in my rubber pants I would just feel more stupid and immature than ever. But I couldn’t get out of going to Stella’s.
"So, Aunt...can I change, then?"
"Of course, dear. Your clothes are on your bed. Don't be long, now."
Thank goodness. I could get out of these stupid pants at last. I dashed upstairs, tearing my school stuff off at the same time. I threw open my bedroom door. My clothes were on the bed. What was this? I didn't have a pink T-shirt! With frantic despair I scattered the little pile. NO! NO! NO! YES! A short pastel pink T-shirt with "BOOT BOY" across the chest in big red letters. A pink baseball cap with the same words in two lines on the front. Very long pink socks. Bright red wellies. And -worst of all - a little pair of cherry-red latex pants with pink leg frills and a pink waistband. I held them up in despair. To add insult to injury, there, right across the butt, in solid pink letters, my name: SIMON. And next to them a little pair latex gloves, perfectly matched right down to the pink wrist frills! I stood transfixed, choking with disbelief and anger. I heard a voice behind me.
"Well, Simon, aren't you going to get dressed? Stella's boots are waiting. I hope you like the gloves. I thought they'd be just the thing for your Friday chore."
"I'm NOT! There's no way!" My eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry you feel like that. I must say I think it's a little ungrateful of you. It cost me a lot to get this outfit ready in time. But if you insist. It's your choice. I must admit, I'm not altogether averse to uploading your little video. I think it's going to cause a minor sensation." And she turned and began to descend the stairs.
My hesitation lasted barely more than a second. Then I was after her down the stairs as fast as I could go.
"Aunt, no, okay? Okay? I'm getting dressed! I promise! Give me two minutes and I'll be there! Honest! And ... and thank you for my new...uniform. I really like it, you know!"
Bea stood at the foot of the stairs and smiled a simpering smile.
"That's better, Simon, isn't it? You're going to feel so smart when you're dressed, and Stella is going to have such a nice surprise, isn't she? Hurry now. And brush your hair – it looks like a haystack! I'll get my things. And don't forget to bring your night-time pants in case you stay over."
I quickly got dressed in case Bea changed her mind and decided to be vindictive. The worst thing I could imagine was that sissy video turning up online. I thought about what I'd do if it ever did. I'd have to run away. Either that or turn into a sissy for real! How could that ever happen, though? I wasn't one, was I, and could never be! I pulled on my new pants. They hadn't been powdered but they seemed incredibly smooth inside and they glided over my skin. The waistband slid easily over my hips, pulling the centre seam firmly into my crotch, and pushing my pen-is to one side. They fitted so neatly they could have been made to measure. Despite myself I experienced a momentary frisson at the gentle pressure of this second skin, its tautness around my crotch, and the feeling of the leg bands clinging to the tops of my thighs. In a way the sensation of being softly but firmly encased like this was made me feel safe and cared for... I don't know how else to express it. But that wasn't so odd, was it? Surely any boy would feel something having to wear such nice sensual clothes? I checked myself in the mirror. Well, actually, red and pink looked quite good on me, I thought. The red made my outfit, well, not so girly as it might have been. In fact, I thought, I wouldn't be surprised if the girls thought me quite you know, cool. I think I started fantasising a little, thinking about how Sandra might react. I wondered if she might actually admire my new look ... perhaps even ask me out on a date ...
"Simon! Are you coming? We need to leave!"
"Yes, Aunt!"
I grabbed my rucksack and stuffed in my pyjama pants, my gloves, my new hoodie, and some ordinary clothes. Maybe tomorrow I could get back to normal. I rushed downstairs. Bea had the front door open and I ran to the car as fast as I could. It was parked a few yards down the street. Of course, it was still locked! Come on Aunt, where are you? I was aware of some kids coming along the street towards me so I dodged between the cars to hide myself. Where was she? Taking her time, obviously. The kids were getting closer. Come on, come on! Should I run back to the house? But too late. They had noticed me. Damn! I didn't recognise any of them. A boy and two girls, a little younger than me. Now I was in for it. They came up and stared at me.
"Hello," said one of the girls.
"Hi!" I called, nervously, holding my bag in front of me to hide my pants.
"Do you live here?"
"Er, yes, I do."
"We're going to see our cousins. This is a nice town, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's fun. There's lots of places to go an' parks an' stuff."
"I like your shirt. "Boot Boy" – is that a shop or a brand? What's your name?"
"Er, my name?" I stammered.
"I saw my aunt approaching. At last.
"Simone," she said, "this is Simone, my niece. What are your names?"
"Hello, Simone," they chorused.
I didn't hear the rest of their replies. I was too gobsmacked. They accepted I was a girl! No, they had assumed I was a girl! It was the pink, it had to be! The stupid T-shirt and the thigh-length pink socks! I didn't look like a girl, did I? All right, I had longish fuzzy fair hair and I suppose quite delicate features for a boy, but ...
The kids drifted off and I heard my aunt say, "Hop in Simone." I climbed into the car in a state of shock. I had nothing to say.
"Well, that was interesting, wasn't it? grinned Bea. "That opens up all sorts of possibilities!" She glanced sideways at my lap. "We'd have to do something about that, though. That rather gives it away."
"Do something?"
"Oh, don't worry," she laughed. "I mean maybe a skirt with some little rubber girl-panties underneath. Or a dress. Maybe a few ribbons? Oh, yes, this is going to be fun!"
I kept quiet. I hoped she was joking. I started to imagine what she might do if she followed through. I thought of all the stupid things my female peers wore when out of school – mini-skirts, little vests, long stripy socks ... and to my horror I felt faint uninvited stirrings in my pants! My bag was at my feet, so I folded my hands over my lap to hide myself. But despite digging my nails into the top of my thigh in an attempt to distract myself, I felt my unruly member beginning to swell, sliding smoothly from under the centre seam towards my right thigh. I prayed my aunt wouldn't notice. But I'm sure she had. This was the whole problem with my new pants: they were arousing to wear, and the consequences were then impossible to conceal!
"How are the pants, Simon? Comfortable?"
"I suppose so."
"Did you notice they weren't powdered?" I nodded. "I've discovered this spray-on lubricant you can get. A quick spray on the inside and they're ready. It's much more effective and it doesn't wear off like talc. What do you think?"
"Really? I didn't notice."
"Hm. Well I'm surprised. Don't they feel much smoother inside?"
"Maybe."
A moment's pause.
"Could you ring Stella for me and tell her we're on our way? The traffic's quite heavy now. Say ten minutes. My phones there." She pointed to the glove compartment.
"There's no point. We'll be there soon."
"Simon. Ring her please!"
I had to take my hands out of my lap to make the call. I saw my aunt glance down at me and give a little smile of satisfaction. Even under the restraint of the taut latex, my condition was still embarrassingly evident. Please, please, let it go down before we get there, I prayed silently.
When we arrived, my aunt drove onto the run-in. Stella was waiting in the front garden. She was wearing her customary outfit of frayed riding breeches and old jumper, her hair fastened carelessly in a pony-tail. As soon as Bea turned off the engine she ran over and opened my door.
"Hello, Sim!" But she wasn't looking at my face. Her gaze was glued to my pants. She had obviously been told what to expect. "Oh, they're so sweet! Darling!" she cried. I had not fully recovered my cool yet, so I kept my hands strategically placed until eventually I had to vacate my seat and climb out, and as I did so she was unable to hold back an exclamation:
"Goodness! Simon! Er, wow...well, you look like you...er...really like your new pants a lot...," She stammered, trying to be diplomatic, and then quickly changed the subject. "And this is your Boot Boy outfit, I see! It's fantastic! Specially for when you clean my riding boots?
"Yours or anyone’s, I guess," said Bea, "but while he's here he's yours to command."
"You told her, aunt! About my pants!" I complained.
"I did not."
"Oh, Sandra rang me," said Stella gleefully, "but she said they were blue!"
"And how did she know?"
"Oh, Alice rang her at college." I might have guessed. She ushered us through the front door. "Come in, come in! I want to hear the whole story, Simon."
As we filed into the house Bea filled her in.
"Simon's blue ones are for school, Stella – school colours, blue and red. These are his weekend ones. Nice, aren't they?”
“Super! I want a piccy! Smile, Sim!” And she snapped away with her phone.
“Have you seen his butt?"
"His butt?"
"Turn around, Simon," ordered my aunt. I did so. Cue a squeal of delight from Stella.
"Oh my god, that's so cute! Everyone, like everyone, will know his name. He's gonna be famous!"
"Mind you, Stella, these children we met this evening thought he was a girl! Can you imagine? I told them his name was Simone!"
"That's so cool. He really could be, couldn't he? I mean, if it wasn't for his ..." She giggled. "But if he wore a dress and we did his hair and gave him the tiniest bit of makeup ..."
This was getting out of hand. "Stop talking about me as if I'm a doll or a performing dog! And I'm not a girl. And I don't want to be one!"
"Are you sure about that, Simon," interjected my aunt. "Don't you remember that time Alice and Debbie dressed you up in their clothes, and you didn't want to take them off?"
"No, I don't!" (Though I did.)
"Well I do, and I know Stella does. So there must be something in it."
We went into the dining room. Stella had made supper, and we sat down to eat. It was a relief when the conversation moved off the topic of me and my pants, and as I ate I started to feel a lot cooler and calmer. I needed to get away from them for a bit.
"Stella, shall I go and do your boots now?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, Boot Boy, she smiled. "They're in the usual place. You can wax my whip as well if you like, oh, and my spurs need cleaning and polishing. Take off the straps and do them as well. Okay?"
"And don't forget your gloves," added Bea.
"No, aunt." I fished my new gloves out of my bag and headed for the garage. "I'll see you later."
"Ooh, matching gloves! I'm impressed!" laughed Stella. "Do a good job, now! And by the way, Sim, Sandra's coming over after she gets home. She's dying to see your new outfit!"
I didn't reply, but a little thrill of anxiety mixed with anticipation ran through me.
"So behave yourself in the garage!" Followed by a peal of hysterical laughter.
-
Chapter V: Sandra
This next entry is all about my best friend, Sandra. Poor Simon! He was like putty in her hands. He would have worn a tutu if she had told him he looked good in one! He was so sweet and innocent it almost made me want to cry, sometimes. If it hadn't been so funny, that is!
I found Stella boots just inside the garage door. It was never used as a garage. In fact Bea had had floorboards put down so the girls could practise their dancing in there. It was a nice space, clean and quite warm. I unstrapped the spurs from the boots, and unthreaded the straps from the spurs. The little straps I treated with saddle soap, the spurs I polished with silver polish. I had already washed the boots so they were clean. All I had to do was polish them, and as there were no special events at Holly End Stables the next day I simply buffed them up with rubber cream, working it into the seams with an old toothbrush. After that I dealt with the whip. There were two resting against the wall, a standard riding whip and a long black dressage whip, so I waxed and polished both. The whole job only took me about forty minutes, and I didn’t particularly want to go back in, so I found a book in a cardboard box and sat on the floor reading, still wearing my new rubber gloves. I was so engrossed I didn’t notice Sandra quietly open the door.
“Hello, Simon. How are you?”
“Sandra! Hi!” I scrambled to my feet.
“Sorry to disturb you. It was so quiet in here I thought you may have fallen asleep.”
“No. I just started reading this book. It’s all about pirates.” Sandra looked a bit like a pirate herself, I thought. The thigh boots, the little leather skirt, and the mascara.
“Hmm, interesting. So this is your new outfit,” she remarked, looking me up and down approvingly, but with a twinkle in her eyes, “Very nice. Stella’s Boot Boy, are you? She’s very lucky then. I wish I had a Boot Boy like you.”
“It was auntie’s idea,” I responded, nervously. “I’m not sure about it really. I don’t mind putting it on it for Stella’s jobs, but you know my aunt, she will have me wearing it outside.”
“Stand up straight and let me look. Turn around. Oh, I like your name right across your butt! Very fetching!” She paused. She wasn’t laughing at me, at least. “Do you want my honest opinion?”
“Yes, Sandra. Completely honest, please.”
“I think you look very smart. I must say, if it had been me, I would have chosen purple instead of red. The red’s a bit overpowering, and pink is just light red, after all.”
“But what about the pink, Sandra? Don’t you think it’s too … too…”
“Girly? Not at all. Not on you, anyway.” I looked at her questioningly. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that. I simply mean that you’re so obviously a boy, that you can carry it off. You can wear soft, pretty colours. They sort of balance your masculinity. But I’d still prefer purple. Maybe I’ll have a word with Bea and see what we can do.”
“But some kids thought I was a girl, earlier this evening.”
“Oh yes, Bea was just telling me about that. But you know, she told them you were a girl, and of course they had to be polite, they couldn’t refute it. That’s all.”
“Do you think so?” I still wasn’t sure about purple and pink, I must admit. It seemed so archetypical girl, if you know what I mean. But she reassured me at once.
“Simon. Do you trust my judgement?” I nodded. “Absolutely!”
“Well, take it from me, those colours would look great on you. I’d be proud to be seen out with you. I think my blacks and your purples and pinks would complement each other perfectly.”
The prospect of going out with Sandra dispelled all my doubts in an instant.
“I’m sure you’re right, Sandra. You always know best. Of course I’ll wear whatever you advise.”
“Oh, Simon, you’re such a darling!. Come here!” And she gave me a big hug, wrapping her arms round me and patting my bum gently. Accidentally, her left thigh pressed firmly against the little mound of my boyhood. But fortunately she didn't seem to notice. I felt so much better now, as she led me back into the house.
“All done, Simon?” asked Stella.
“Yes, Stell, boots, spurs and whips all sorted.”
“Good boy! Here’s your dough.” And she handed over a five pound note.
“We were talking about Simon’s latest outfit, Bea,” said Sandra. “We both agreed that red and pink is nice, but that the best would be purple and pink.” My aunt looked a little surprised, and Stella spluttered into her coffee. But they don’t understand fashion like Sandra.
“Really?” said my aunt, “Well, that’s not a problem.”
“Could we get him new pants and things in those colours, do you think? I’ll contribute, of course.”
“So will I!” shouted Stella, grinning. “Great idea!”
“How long does it take to get the pants made, Bea? Any chance of getting them by next weekend? I wanted to ask Simon over to my house and I’d really like him to have his new outfit by then.”
“No problem, dear. If I order them tomorrow they should arrive by Wednesday or Thursday.”
“Super! What do you think, Simon? Can you come over next weekend? It would be lovely for us all to see you again. My mum was only asking after you the other day.”
“Yeah, sure. That would be great! Who would be there?”
“Oh, just me and my mum and Alice. Oh, and possibly Debbie.”
Not so good. But I’d be with Sandra for a whole day, that was the main thing.
“If you did it on Sunday I could come too,” said Stella, “but of course I’ll be riding on Saturday.”
“Okay, let’s make it Sunday then! I’ll ask my mum if she can make her special pancakes for tea.”
Oh yes! I loved Mrs Thomson’s pancakes! With loads of jam and maple syrup and lemon juice. The best! So it was arranged, and with luck I’d have a new outfit to wear, one which Sandra herself had picked for me! And maybe I’d get to go out somewhere with her. I was so happy.
“Thank you so much, Sandra. I feel much better now!” I love her so much. She always looks and smells amazing. I went over and gave her another big hug. She was wearing a short black jumper over her leather skirt. She embraced me and pulled my head onto her chest, between her small breasts, holding me there for a few seconds, our bodies pressed together. For a moment I thought I was going to faint. I clung on to her, inhaling her scent. Immediately I felt my constricted boyhood beginning to swell in my pants, and before I could move, it burst out from the tight centre seam and surged sideways under the taut, lubricated latex, thrusting against Sandra’s thigh.
“Ooh!” she ejaculated, with a little laugh. But she didn’t say anything more and she didn’t move an inch. Overcome with embarrassment, I broke free from her embrace, jumped backwards, and stood, red-faced and stammering, in front of her.
“So, Sandra…er, I really look forward to coming over, er, next, er, weekend. To see your mum. And you. And Alice”
She folded her arms and smiled quietly at me. She allowed herself a quick glance down at the cause of my embarrassment. “Well, I look forward to it too, Simon. I can’t wait to see your new clothes. Don’t forget your little friend, either.”
“Sorry?” I asked, flustered. What was she saying?
“Oh, I thought you might bring Billy with you.”
“Oh! Billy! No, he’s busy next weekend.”
“Oh, well, not to worry.”
I turned my head towards my aunt, without moving my feet. “So aunt, I’m quite tired. Can we go soon?”
“Yes, maybe it would be for the best. You’ve had a very tiring day, I’m sure. Okay, Stella, Sandra. We’ll say goodnight. I’ll get those things on order, and maybe we should discuss accessories, Sandra.”
“Yes. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night!”
Both the girls kissed me goodbye. Sandra didn’t seem to have taken offence. She took my hand and whispered, “Can’t wait for next Sunday, darling!” as we parted. On the short drive back I nodded off once or twice. I guess my nerves had been strung up most of the day. I was asleep almost the moment my head hot the pillow. I couldn’t wait for next weekend.
-
Chapter VI: Three Witches
Narrator’s aside: At this juncture, dear reader, I feel compelled to apologise if you’re a tiny bit disappointed that our Simon hasn’t yet been seduced into dresses and satin panties. Perhaps if it had been my choice alone, things might have been different. But I was only one of three conspirators, and the others inclined towards a more graduated process. They preferred to sip their wine slowly, where I would have gulped mine down in one. If you still have the patience to follow Simon’s progress, you will discover that in time the conspiratorial circle grew even larger, and its schemes even more ingenious; and our poor hero became entangled in ever more elaborate snares.
We had a meeting the next day at my place. Me, my mum and Sandra, that is. Simon was at Billy’s for the day. Billy’s his friend from Scouts. My mum ordered the new pants. Not just the purple and pink ones, but several in different colours. I think there was one pair in pink and canary yellow, another with silver frills, one with a front zip – though I said I thought that was a bit dangerous!
“Mum, I thought we were aiming for more girly clothes, but we seem stuck on little rubber pants at the moment. I agree their amazingly cute on him, but when will we move to little skirts and dresses?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of time for that, dear. This is fun, you have to admit. We’ve achieved our main object, which was to modify his behaviour. Do you know he’s doing really well at school now? Miss Benson says he’s letting his natural intelligence free at last. Let’s just experiment a bit. We have all the time in the world. I believe you had some ideas connected to Holly End?”
“True. I’ve spoken to Sue, and she even suggested I persuade him to participate in the next horse show. That would be a start.”
“I agree with your mum, Stell. I’m really having fun with him now. Miss Benson’s right – he’s a very bright kid. And so sweet! But at the same time so unbelievably naïve! You didn’t realise what happened yesterday when I cuddled him, but did you see him suddenly break away?”
“Yes, I did. What happened then?”
“What do you think? All I had to do was press myself gently against him, and it sprung up like a little jack-in-the-box!”
“No! You’re such an incorrigible tease, Sandra!”
“It did! He was so embarrassed!”
“You do seem to have that effect on him,” said my mum.
“Yeah. And the black leather helps,” I added. “You should wear those new shorts of yours next Sunday. That should cause some fireworks!”
“Yes, do that,” said my mum, “and I’ll make sure he’s primed for the weekend. No rubber and no relief during the week.”
“Can you do that Bea? Cool! And don’t forget to let me have a look at his diary when he’s written the entry for Friday, will you?”
“No dear. I’ll send you a scan in the week if he writes it up. I think he should have a dress rehearsal for Sunday when he comes to do Stella’s boots Friday evening. We should have all the stuff by then. It’s probably better you stay away, Sandra. Let him save himself for his big appearance.”
“Agreed. Oh, I just know I’m going to be so impressed! He’s going to believe he’s the smartest kid in town, the little innocent thing. I’m sorry, this is such fun! It’s not too cruel, is it? You know I really love that boy – I wouldn’t hurt him for the world. To be honest I love him more than you two know, and playing these games makes me feel that I almost own him! Ownership is really a part of love, isn’t it, though everyone likes to deny it. Perhaps it sounds selfish, but I love having that hold over him?”
Wow, Sandra, I didn’t know you felt so strongly. It’s a strange way of loving, though, deceiving him and playing on his credulity? Cruel? No, I don’t think so. He’s in heaven, the lucky boy!” I said.
“So you want to make him your boyfriend?” asked my mum.
“No. Ultimately – my girlfriend!” replied Sandra, with a short laugh. But she didn’t sound as if she was joking, somehow. Neither me nor my mum knew quite what to say, so we stayed silent. Sandra quickly returned to present matters.
“Right then. I’ll organise his other clothes, Bea, and probably see you again Thursday or Friday morning. What’s happening with school?”
“Well, as I said he have a nice normal week. I haven’t told him yet but Miss Benson wants him to take part in the freshers show after the holidays. She made it quite clear that she’d like him smartly dressed!”
“That opens up a whole range of possibilities,” I said. “Miss Benson’s on our side, isn’t she?”
“Totally. I should invite her to the next planning session.”
“Yes, do, Bea,” said Sandra. “Alice has told me all about her. I’d love to meet her.”
“Okay, I will. For the time being I’ll keep her in the loop.”
“And talking of Alice, I’ll have a quiet word with her about Sunday. She needs to be on board too - we don’t want her or Debbie giving the game away. They’ve got to behave as if Simon’s new duds are super cool. I’ll make sure there’s no smirking or giggling.”
We looked at each other in satisfaction. “We’re like the three witches, and Simon’s in our cauldron!” I said.
“Well, three white witches, at least,” said Bea, “and our cauldron is just coming to the boil!”
-
VII: Self-Discipline
It was another week and a half before were finally able to read Simon’s account of the days following our meeting. He was a bright boy and a good writer. Here’s what he wrote:
Saturday 11th June: I’m at Billy’s. I brought my diary with me cos I’m still embarrassed about yesterday. My ears get all hot when I think about it. Sandra was probably disgusted, though she didn’t show it. Why does rubber have that effect on me? My willy has a mind of its own. I simply lose control. It’s not fair. I like my new shorts, especially now I know they really are cool, but sometimes my stupid boy thing spoils everything. Perhaps it would be better if I wore a skirt. Funny, sometimes I think I wouldn’t mind. But then it would spoil my new outfit. I’m going to have to train myself in self-control. I’m sure it can be done. I’m going to ask my aunt for some advice when I get home from Billy’s tonight. She knows all about that stuff. I can’t wait to see the new outfit Sandra is arranging for me.
At home. Nice to see Billy. We played computer games all the morning, and went to the park in the afternoon. His mum bought us ice-creams, and we had home-made pizza for tea. She’s a very good cook. It turned out Billy had heard all about the science class on Friday. Sarah had shown him a video. I didn’t know he knew Sarah. Everyone in town must have heard about it by now.
“Why were you wearing those little shiny pants?” he asked me.
“Oh, it was just a lesson about materials. I was demonstrating about latex, that’s all.”
“But who gave you those pants to wear? Was it your teacher?”
“No. It was my aunt.”
“I’m glad I don’t have an aunt like that.”
“Yeah, but Billy, you don’t understand cos you’re just a kid, but my friend Sandra – you know, Alice’s sister – knows all about fashion and she says they’re pretty cool. In any case, I’ve got new ones now.”
“New ones? What, to wear?”
“Course to wear. What else?” (He’s a little bit thick sometimes, Billy.)
“What, like for school and stuff?”
“No, not for school. For, like, when I go out.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Sandra’s already asked me to go out with her.”
“Has she? She’s nice. You’re lucky.”
“Well, she’s pretty much my best friend. She said she can get me any sort of outfit I want.”
“What are your new pants like?”
“They’re purple and pink.”
“What? That’s like my little cousin’s things. She’s six.”
“Yeah, but she’s not a grown up, and not a boy. It’s different when your grown up. Colours mean different things.”
“Purple and pink, though.”
“I’m sorry, Billy, but you don’t understand fashion properly and, I’m sorry, but you don’t understand cool!”
Billy was okay, but some things he just didn’t get. Never mind. He was still my friend.
So when I got home that evening, I plucked up courage to talk to my aunt. I was feeling really tired, but apart from wanting some advice I wondered whether she had heard anything from Sandra.
“Auntie, can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything, Simon. I may not know the answer, though.”
“Have you heard anything from Sandra since last night?”
“Oh, yes. In fact I ran into her today. Why?”
“I wondered if she said anything about me.”
“She did, as a matter of fact. She said what a good boy you are, how handsome you are, and how smart you looked last night!”
“Anything else? Anything … bad?”
“Bad? Of course not, silly. She did say how much she loves you. That was about the worst thing! Why?”
“Oh, nothing really. You know I really like wearing my new pants now, but sometimes they …they’re so smooth and nice … they make me get all sort of hot and excited. And I can’t help it!”
“Oh, Simon, you are such a silly! That’s perfectly normal, especially for a boy of your age, and it’s fine. No-one minds. For goodness’ sake don’t go trying to suppress your natural feelings. It’s just a part of growing up.”
“Oh, so it’s okay if it happens sometimes?”
“Absolutely, darling. It’s expected.”
“Because I can’t help it, you know.”
“No. That’s understood.” She smiled, and added, “Look, if you want to make it happen less, I’ll give you some advice. If you leave off all your rubber things, and make sure you don’t touch yourself at all for a few days, and you should find that helps a lot. Let’s try it over the next week, shall we? I’ll keep all your rubber things in my room, you can have cotton bedding, and you promise me not to play any games with yourself. I was thinking we should have a dress rehearsal on Friday, but in view of what you’ve just said I think it would be better if you didn’t touch any rubber until Sunday when you go to the Thomsons’, and then you can put on your new outfit. What do you think?”
“Okay aunt. All right!”
“Deal?”
“Deal!”
We started that very night. I felt restive without my rubber sheets and pillow, and especially my rubber pyjama pants, but it was fine, really. I dreamt about my new outfit, though, and when I woke I had to remind myself of my promise. On Sunday my aunt told me that Miss Benson had rung to say she wanted me to do an act in the freshers’ show after the holidays. I have to see her next week to discuss it. I don’t know what she wants me to do. Auntie said I’d have to talk to her personally about it after school on Monday. It’s difficult having to have self-control.
Monday 13th June. Just as well I wore normal school uniform today. Lots of remarks from everyone, and people are swapping photos and videos. Alice says she has the “definitive” collection. Debbie spent the day inventing stupid questions to ask me. Like when I opened my lunch box, “Ooh, Simon, do you have another little sausage with you today?” And when I went to the toilet, “Are you going to change into your proper pants now?” Huh! Wait till they see my new outfit. They won’t be so rude to me then! I was glad when the day was over. I stayed after class to see Miss Benson. She wants me to do a song and dance act. At first I just refused. But then she said,
“Simon, you know the materials science exhibition we’re putting together for freshers’ day next term?”
“Yes, Miss, I’ve heard about it.”
Well, several of your classmates have suggested we include a big poster of you. We’ve got some lovely photos, very high definition, which could easily be enlarged.” She looked at me with a wicked smile on her witchy face. She wasn’t joking. It took me about one second to make a decision.
“Miss, I’ll do an act. Tell me what you want.”
“Good boy! We can discuss it next week. Off you go, then!”
She can be a real bitch when she wants to. Bitch rhymes with witch. I’ll write a poem about her, I think.
The next few days were uneventful, but on Thursday morning two big parcels arrived just as I was leaving for school, and I guessed it was my new stuff. I dashed home that evening but however much I pleaded my aunt refused to show me anything, saying I’d have to wait until I had finished Stella’s boots on Friday. I lay in bed feeling frustrated in every sense. I had to force myself to behave. Was this really the best strategy to insure against loss of control, I wondered?
Friday 17th June. We went to Garden Road after supper, about seven. I wasted no time finding Stella’s boots and getting to work. No Boot Boy outfit for me that evening, though, which was a bit of a shame. It didn’t feel quite right working on Stella’s stuff in boring old normal clothes. I must have looked a bit despondent because Stella said,
“Never mind, Sim. You’ve got some new Boot Boy stuff to match your new pants, but you’re not allowed it till next week – which is good, because I’ve got a show that Saturday. As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk to you about that. The lady that owns the riding school has asked to meet you. She always admires my shiny boots and the other day I told her that it was my little brother than was responsible. I don’t know, but she may offer you some work during the summer hols. Might you be interested?”
“Yeah! Course I would. What sort of work?” The truth is that I’ve been trying to think of ways I could earn a few quid this summer. There’s so many things I need. I want a new skateboard badly, and there’s a couple of computer games, too.
“She didn’t say. But she said that if you wanted, you could come and act as my groom at the show – you know, lead Bobby round and stuff. Interested?”
“Sure. And I can wear my new uniform, right?”
“Oh, definitely! I already asked her about that. Grooms can dress how they please, as long as they look smart. But I don’t think any of the girls will be wearing anything quite like that. It’s mostly jods and boots up there.”
“Okay. Bobby’s that big chestnut, right?”
“That’s right. He’s very docile, though. You won’t have any trouble.”
“I don’t care. I’m sure I can handle any of those horses. When I last went to Holly End to watch you ride they all looked pretty sleepy and bored.”
“Well they may look sleepy but I assure you you have to look out when you’re around them, because they can be moody and irritable at times. So please remember that on Saturday. Treat them all with the greatest respect.”
“I will, don’t worry.”
“And we’ll have to leave early so I have time to get ready.”
“Okay, no probs!”
Sunday 19th June. We stayed overnight at Garden Road. It was arranged Stella and I would drive round to the Thomson’s in the morning for breakfast. My clothes were there, so I wouldn’t get to change until after I had arrived. I was feeling desperate to get back into rubber pants. I had really missed the feeling for the past week, and my body was in a state of physical withdrawal, not knowing whether to be excited or disappointed, and alternating between the two states.
-
VIII: Chez Thomson
Narrator’s note: Sandra didn’t want us to post this part of Simon’s account, but she got outvoted. It was too good to waste. To tell the truth, we were a little bit annoyed with her for spoiling the fun. It’s not what we planned. She says she’ll stick to the script in future, but I’m not sure. She certainly has a soft spot for our hero. Never mind – I’ll be in charge next weekend at Holly End!
Sunday 19th June. Stella was hardly ever seen in a skirt, so when she came downstairs wearing one I must have looked surprised, even though she had mitigated this nod to her feminine nature by choosing a leather one and wearing a white collared shirt and her Pony Club tie. Her hair had been scraped firmly back into a pony tail and I detected a hint of make-up.
“Well you’re going to get to dress up. I thought I’d at least make a gesture.”
“No, Stella, you look nice. I’ve never seen that skirt before.”
“No. I only bought it this week. I went shopping with Sandra and I noticed how cool she looked. If she can wear black leather all the time, why not me?”
“Yes, dear,” my aunt interjected, “you’d do well to put a bit more thought into your clothes. You’re the polar opposite of Sandra in that respect.” Stella dismissed this remark with a flick of her pony tail.
“What was she shopping for?” I asked, curious to know whether it was connected to me.
“Oh, mainly just more stuff for herself,” replied Stella carelessly.
We left the house at half past eight, and arrived in the Thomson’s driveway before nine. As we got out of the car the front door opened and Mrs Thomson emerged.
“Stella! Simon! Lovely to see you both! Come in, come in!”
“Hello Mrs Thomson,” I smiled, “lovely to see you again too.”
She led the way into the house. “I’m afraid Alice and Debbie aren’t here yet. Alice stayed at Debbie’s last night. But they’ll be over soon. Simon, would you like to go upstairs? Sandra’s in her room. I think she has something for you. Stella, would you like a coffee?”
I bounded up the stairs and knocked at Sandra’s door. “Come in!” In I went – and then stopped dead. Sandra was standing in front of her long mirror. She was wearing her usual thigh boots, fishnets, and short black jumper, but in the place of the little black leather skirt I was used to, were a pair of very short, very tight black leather shorts! I stood there gaping like an idiot.
“What do you think of these, Simon? They’re a bit tight still because they’re brand new, but they’ll give a little bit with wear. Do you like them?” She looked at me innocently.
“I – I … yes, Sandra, they’re very … nice!” I stammered, blinking with disbelief.
“Well I don’t see why you’re the only one allowed to have cute pants,” she smiled, pulling on her fingerless gloves. “I got these at Simpson’s last week. Come and feel how soft the leather is.”
She took my hand and placed it on her flank. “Just feel that!” I touched the taut soft leather awkwardly, colouring up in an instant. “Feel the hem. Go on. See? The leather’s almost as fine as rubber, isn’t it?” I opened my mouth but found no words to speak.
“Oh, Simon, I’m sorry. Here’s me wittering on about my stupid clothes. I’m sure you’re not interested. Here, come and see your new outfit!”
I followed her to her chest of drawers, my gaze riveted to her petite leather-encased posterior. She opened a drawer.
“Now, there is more, but I’m just thinking of today at the moment. Oh, and perhaps next weekend. You know, Stella’s show. So we’ve got you two pairs of purple and pink ones – actually they’re more like mauve and pink, but they’re very pretty, don’t you think?” She laid two pairs of latex pants on the bed. They looked identical. They were a very nice shade of, yes, mauve, with very tight little pink frills around each leg. They had belt loops and a little pink heart logo on the left hand side of the left leg, just above the frilling. I gulped.
“Feel them. Those on the left are very fine latex. They’re for special occasions, indoor things, like today. The others are more heavyweight. They’ll be perfect for the horse show.”
As soon as I touched the latex I began to feel aroused. It was so long since I had experienced that gorgeous feeling against my skin! There was a label inside the pants: “Bubblegum”.
“They call themselves “Bubblegum” because most of their main lines have some of this lovely bubblegum pink in them. That’s their logo – a little bubblegum pink heart. Do you like them?” I nodded slowly. “Gosh…yes.”
“Now, I’ve got you a nice pink leather belt to go with them, and a matching pink leather choker. And here’s your pink baseball caps. There’s one with your name on it for next Saturday so the other grooms will know who you are. For today I thought a plain one would do. And here” – she produced a box from under the chest – “here are your new boots!”
Opening the box she took out something I had always wanted – a little pair of purple Doc Marten’s! And a pair of chunky, loose pink socks. I whooped with delight.
“Thank you, thank you so much, Sandra! I love them!”
“And for your top. Well, you’ll have a T-shirt for Saturday, and maybe something else, but for today I bought you this.” She gave me something wrapped in tissue. I unwrapped it eagerly. Inside was a short pink wool jumper with a round neck and little puff sleeves, and a stretchy pink spandex vest to go under it. I loved the feel of it. I could hardly wait to get dressed. At that stage it never even occurred to me that this outfit was a little more feminine than anything I had worn before. It just felt perfect. I thanked Sandra again, and hugged her happily.
“Can I get dressed now?”
“Of course. Call me when you’re done. There’s a couple of small accessories.”
Sandra went off downstairs and I started to pull off my old clothes, dumping my T-shirt and jeans on the floor. Once I was naked I began to dress, savouring the moment. I can’t express the relief of being able to pull on those lovely cool, smooth pants! They were super glossy, inside and out, and just seemed to fuse to my skin. I threaded the pink leather belt through the loops and fastened it. Then I pulled on my new vest and jumper. They fitted perfectly and felt so comfortable! Finally on with my brand new socks and my boots, which I laced up carefully. There! I admired myself in the mirror. The jumper was short enough that it didn’t obscure my belt, but allowed my belly to peep out as I walked. Pacing up and down Sandra’s bedroom on my imaginary catwalk, I noticed that the leg frills of my pants rustled slightly as they brushed together. I perched my cap on my untidy thatch. Great! I opened the door and called Sandra.
“I’m ready!”
“Coming!”
She came up straight away and peeped round the door. “Let me see my favourite boy….oh my goodness! He’s amazing. Simon! You look beautiful! Come here!”
She held me by the shoulders and looked me up and down. “You’re a doll! Stand still a moment.” She fussed with my jumper and adjusted the leg bands of my pants. I was too excited even to get aroused, if you know what I mean! Then she went back to the chest and fished out a couple more things. The pink choker matched the belt. It was about three centimetres wide and very soft and flexible. At the front there was a little silver letter “S” in a circle. She turned me round and closed it round my neck. It fastened with a little click. It fitted perfectly.
“And I hope you like these.” She showed me a pair of wrist-length fingerless latex gloves, matching my pants; mauve with little frilled pink wrist bands. “Put those on, and I’m going to try these earrings on you.”
“Earrings?”
“The coolest boys all have earrings, Simon. Look at these. Their clip-ons for the moment, but I’m going to take you to get your ears pierced soon. These will look nice for today, you’ll see.”
They were silver with little purple ceramic discs, very simple. As I pulled on my new gloves, Sandra attached them to my ear lobes. They had strong springs, and were a bit painful at first, but also exciting, a constant reminder I was wearing them. In fact the whole costume was a sensual experience with a distinctly more feminine feel than any of the previous ones. I was aware of a physical tension between my maleness and the female character of my clothing which was immediately arousing and which I knew I liked; a sort of permanent reminder of my sexual ambiguity. I breathed deeply, adjusting to this new sensation. Sandra perceived I was unsettled. She placed her hand gently on my arm.
“You all right, Sim?”
“Yeah, thanks. This new stuff is so cool. I really like it.”
“You’re not upset?”
“No! Quite the opposite. A bit wired, maybe.”
“Shall we go down?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
I followed Sandra into the dining-room, where Stella and Mrs Thomson were sitting drinking coffee. They both did a double-take when they saw me.
“Wow, Sim! You look fantastic!” cried my sister.
“Goodness, Simon! That’s such a cute outfit! You look wonderful!” said Sandra’s mum. I simpered and pretended to be rather shy. But Sandra had said how cool I was going to look and it had turned out she was quite right.
“Thanks. Good shopping by Sandra and my aunt. I’m so happy!”
Stella jumped up. “Simon – just stand on the chair a minute, please. I want a full length photo. You’ve got such lovely long legs, haven’t you? That outfit really shows them off!”
I clambered up with a pretence of reluctance, but the truth was in this new outfit I was really getting a kick out of showing off. I was pleased when Mrs Thomson ran for her camera as well, and I stood there posing like a model while they snapped away. It was fun! But as I wallowed in the attention I felt my little member beginning to swell with appreciation. It grew and lengthened easily under the slippery latex, and before it became too obvious I thought it judicious to jump down and get my legs under the table. I remembered my aunt’s reassurances, but I was didn’t feel ready to be seen in all my glory just yet!
“Coffee, you two?” asked Mrs Thomson. “Alice and Debbie should be here soon.”
I sat down at the table and Sandra sat next to me and we drank our coffee and talked. Stella quickly got back to her favourite subject – horses – and we discussed the coming show. She explained what was involved. I’d be leading Bobby around the ring and to and from the showground. If she won a rosette I’d also have to hold him while it was presented. And she revealed that there was a prize awarded for the best turned-out groom!
“Well I doubt you have any chance of winning, but you’ll definitely stand out. I think you’ll be the only boy, for one thing, and all the rest will be wearing breeches and boots. I don’t know what they’re going to think of you. But they’re all nice girls, and very friendly. What plans have we got for his costume, Sandra?”
“The same colour pants, but in heavyweight latex. And then Boot Boy stuff. I was thinking he should wear the same boots and socks, but he’ll have proper gloves, matching his pants, of course. You know, practical stuff.”
“Sweet! Can’t wait to see the reaction!”
I wasn’t so sure about the show, now. All the girls in boots, too. That could be a problem. Suppose they all wore thigh boots like Sandra? The thought was enough to consummate by erection. I slid my chair further under the table and pretended to be listening to the conversation, but my week of total abstinence was coming back to punish me. I slid my hand down and felt myself gingerly. It was very big. These pants seemed to be tailored from a thinner, smoother latex than my previous ones, which provided very little resistance. Thank goodness I’d be wearing heavyweight rubber next weekend! I squeezed myself experimentally and almost moaned out loud with pleasure. I had to be careful. I quickly removed my hand and tried to think of other things. But by now the conversation had shifted to Sandra’s new shorts, and she was standing up showing off the quality and suppleness of the leather to the others, smoothing her flat tummy with both hands to demonstrate the perfect fit. My eager, frustrated member throbbed faintly against my right thigh. I had to close my eyes to shut out the vision of Sandra squirming her pretty bottom more firmly into her leather pants.
“You all right, Simon?” asked Stella. Did she have a smile on her face? Probably just my imagination.
“Er, yes, Stella, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Didn’t sleep that well last night.” That was true, at least.
By dint of thinking of school work, Miss Benson, Alice’s “definitive collection”, and other unpleasant matters, I succeeded in relieving the pressure in my pants a little bit, though with contraction came the inevitable lubrication. At least I was feeling more comfortable. Then there was a ring at the bell.
“Oh, that’ll be Alice and Debbie, I expect,” said Mrs Thomson. I was nearest the front door, so Stella said, “Could you let them in, Simon?”
Well, I was almost respectable now. So I got up, taking care to shield my front from the others, and made my way to the door. On the way I took off my cap and clipped it around my belt, so I hung down over my crotch. I yanked open the door.
To my surprise, instead of Alice and Debbie, there stood two girls from year two, Debbie’s sister Chloe and another. Damn! They stared at me open-mouthed. I turned bright red.
“Oh, said Chloe, “hello. I was looking for Debbie. I stayed over at Charlotte’s last night” – Charlotte nodded, without shifting her attention from my clothes – “and she was going to give us some pocket money.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, flustered. ”I’m sorry, she’s not here at the moment….” I stood there like a lemon, not quite knowing what to do.
“Are you Simon?” asked Chloe, a smile spreading over her face. “Debbie told me about you. I like your outfit!”
“So do I!” said Charlotte, enthusiastically.
I was rescued by Sandra, who appeared beside me at that moment.
“Hello girls! How are you? You’ve met Simon, then. What do you think of his new outfit?”
“It’s brilliant!” cried Chloe. “Don’t you think so, Lottie?” Charlotte nodded vigorously.
“Come in girls. Debbie’s not back yet but I think I can find you a few quid.”
So in they trooped, laughing and giggling. I don’t understand why girls are always giggling like that. It gets boring, if you know what I mean. Sandra was whispering something to them, and they kept glancing in my direction and grinning. Annoying. They were invited to have some drinks and ended up taking my seat at the table, so I had to stand. I felt a bit awkward, not knowing them, and showing my newest outfit to a couple of second years wasn’t an ideal way to start the day.
“Simon, put your cap on and show the girls how nice you look,” said Sandra. I couldn’t very well refuse without seeming self-conscious, so I did. Thank goodness my boyhood was almost back to normal. I stood awkwardly on one leg with my hands clasped in front of me.
“Come on, let them see your new pants. Don’t be shy. That;s right. What do you think girls?”
“It’s really cute!” screamed Charlotte. “Can we take his photo?”
“Of course! You don’t mind, do you Simon?”
“Er, no, Sandra. Course not.”
“Smile then! Come on. Don’t look so sulky! Chloe? If you want to get all of him in you need to step back a bit, dear. You’re going to lose all his legs and his new Doc Marten’s otherwise.”
I had to smile and pose, and pose and smile, all over again. Great. Now all year two were going to know about me. Honestly. Little girls are such a pain. And I wasn’t very pleased with Sandra, either. I thought she’d be more discreet. But it wouldn’t be any good saying anything. She’d just stroke my cheek and call me a silly boy and I’d melt, as usual.
Then Stella said, “Charlotte? Will you be at the show next weekend?”
“Yes, Stella. I’m not riding, but I’m going to be helping out.”
“Did you know Simon’s going to be my groom?”
“Really? He’ll be the only boy groom there I think.”
“Yes, I know. And he’s got a new outfit to wear, a bit like this one.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “At the show? Wow! You coming Chloe?”
“Yes, I am now! Absolutely. And I’m going to tell the others!”
“You might as well. Your lot will all get in free anyway. You can cheer for me and Simon.”
Oh, great, Stella! I thought, why don’t you invite the whole bloody school while you’re about it? Just when I hoped they were about to leave, Alice and Debbie burst in, and I had to endure the same performance all over again. At least they were taking photos for the right reasons.
“That’s a very neat outfit, Simon,” said Alice, “really grown-up and well-coordinated. Though not many boys could carry it off. Those gloves and earrings are really cool, too.”
“I agree,” said Debbie, “I love the whole thing. A lot of my friends are really into fashion, especially men’s fashion, and they’d be very interested. Sandra’s got such a good eye for this stuff, don’t you think? Maybe you could come to my house one day in the holidays and we’d have a big barbecue. It would be so cool. Would you?”
I was very gratifying to be appreciated at last. The girls were clearly beginning to understand the rationale behind my outfits. I felt pleased, and a lot friendlier towards them. I know I criticised Debbie before, and called her a smart-arse, but I acknowledge that she is very sharp and intelligent. And so am I, of course. I’ve really got my shit together in school lately and me and her are probably top of the class now. Anyway, I agreed.
“Yeah, sure, Debbie. Thanks for inviting me.”
“And you’ll bring all your outfits?”
“Okay. Except the school pants. That was stupid, wasn’t it? My silly old aunt!” And I laughed self-consciously.
“Oh, absolutely! No, not those. But everything else, please!”
It was nearly lunchtime when Chloe and Charlotte finally left, and then they were outside the front door with Alice and Debbie chattering and giggling again for about twenty minutes. What do these girls have to talk about? Once they were gone I handed out my presents. Everyone was very pleased and there was a lot of kissy kissy. Then I and the girls played computer games until Mrs Thomson suggested we went into the garden. We messed around watering the plants and spraying each other with the hose till we were tired, after which we lay on the grass, waiting for Alice’s mum to make tea. The sun was shining and the rubber began to warm up, making me start to swell once again. My pants were slippery now, and soon I had a little sausage-shaped mound lying along my right leg band. I rolled over onto my tummy to hide it. I thought I was being clever, but Alice chose this moment to take advantage of my position by jumping astride my back shouting “Simon’s my horsey!” and bouncing up and down.
“No, he’s mine!” screamed Debbie, “He’s my Bobby!” And then they were both on top of me, squashing me against the turf.
I was rescued by Mrs Thomson calling from the kitchen that lunch was ready. The girls jumped off and ran to the house. Using my cap to hide the bulge, I followed them into the dining-room and manged to get seated without anyone noticing. I unfolded my napkin and spread it over my lap. Sandra came and sat beside me. She patted my leg.
"Having a good time, Sim?"
"Yeah! Sure!"
"Sanwiches and pancakes for lunch!"
Mrs Thomson makes the best pancakes. After the sandwiches she came in with two huge piles on two plates. There was lemon juice, sugar, maple syrup, honey and jam, too. We dug in. As I ate, my erection slowly subsided. At one point I dropped my napkin, but it no longer mattered. We sat there munching our way through the pile for the best part of twenty minutes. We all made pigs of ourselves. But in terms of greediness I am ashamed to admit I outdid the others. Finally we were all full, but there was one pancake left, and when Mrs Thomson offered it to me, I simply couldn't resist! I filled it with syrup – perhaps I went a bit overboard with it – and rolled it up. Yummy! As I bit into one end a huge glob of syrup oozed out of the other end and dropped right into my lap. Crap! I dumped the pancake back onto my plate and slid my chair back, closing my legs to prevent the syrup dripping onto the carpet. I tried to contain it with my hand, but only succeeded in smearing the sticky mess over the front of my pants. Mrs Thomson had seen what had happened.
"Simon, don’t worry. There's a cloth in the kitchen next to the sink. Sandra, could you help, darling?”
Sandra jumped up at once and, taking me by the hand like I was a little kid of about eight, she led me off into the kitchen. The maple syrup had landed right in my lap, and by the time we got into the kitchen it was trickling over the frills of my pants and down my legs.
Sandra led me over to the sink. She didn't hesitate. She pulled a fresh J-cloth out of the packet, wetted it under the tap, squeezed it out, and addressed herself to the syrup. First she wiped it off my hand. Then,
"Stand still, Simon, and we'll soon get you cleaned up. Open your legs a bit."
She held me by the arm, bent over, and began to wipe the syrup off my thighs and then off the frills of my pants. It had got between the pleats and eventually she had to kneel down and clean each one separately, tugging and wiping, a mere few centimetres from my slippery member. As she worked, I could feel an irresistible resurgence taking place. I held my breath, praying for her to finish. But Sandra was determined to be thorough.
At last she was satisfied she had got all the syrup out of the frills. “There. That’s that done.” I sighed with relief, and closed my legs, but my reprieve was short-lived. She stood up, went to the sink, and rinsed out the cloth in warm water.
“Am I done?”
“Not quite. It’s still all over your front.”
It was true. And my poor boyhood was now visibly swollen. It lay proudly across my thigh, resting on my right leg band, exquisitely delineated under the thin, taut latex. Worse, it was spattered and smeared with sticky syrup. Without further ado, Sandra took a position on my right and put her arm round my waist. I pressed my thighs together in consternation.
“Sorry about this, Sim, but it has to be done.”
Working from left to right, in a series of long, firm strokes, she slowly wiped the sticky mess off the front of my pants!
" There! Nice and clean!”
I was. But her assiduous ministrations had also brought me to the highest pitch of arousal. She rinsed the cloth, hung it on the tap, and, taking my hand, she pulled me back into the dining room. She introduced me like a ring-mistress ushering in the final act.
"Taraa!! Presentable again! Have I done a good job?"
I wasn't surprised at their reactions. Alice and Debbie whooped and whistled with delight. Mrs Thomson gasped, stared, and covered her mouth with her hand. Stella clapped and laughed:
"You've done an amazing job, Sandra!"
"Well, yes, Sandra," said Mrs Thomson, "Dear me. Quite astonishing!"
"Wow, awesome!!" Alice laughed, "Yes, Simon, that's much better! My sister's so clever!”
They all sat there gawping at me. There was a mirror on the far wall, and mercifully I could only see my upper half in it. What struck me forcibly at that moment was how easily I could be taken for a girl. It was a revelation. I was effectively two genders in one body. My upper half was delightfully feminine whilst the rest of me was definitely male. Momentarily I felt pulled in two opposite directions. Or were they opposite? No, perhaps not. Of course, I thought, everyone had these two elements within them. In some they were competing. In others fused together. In me? In me they had not yet arrived at a resolution. That was all.
My thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Alice.
“Mummy?”
"Yes, dear?"
"Could we do photos now? You said we would be able to, remember?"
Mrs Thomson nodded. "I don’t see why not. We can do them in the garden."
“One here first!” And before I could protest she had snapped me with her phone, right there in all my glory.
Sandra came to my rescue. “Girls! Hold on. How about some make-up first? Simon would look so much nicer.”
“Yay!” cried the girls, as one. “Let’s do it!”
“Okay. Let’s go to my bedroom. All the stuff is there.” I looked at Sandra gratefully. It would give me the chance to cool off a bit.
We trooped upstairs. Sandra assembled her extensive collection of make-up on the bedside cabinet. Then she got me sitting on the edge of her bed, which was quite low. She piled up pillows behind me and gently pushed me onto them so I was leaning back at an angle of about forty-five degrees. Alice and Debbie took up spectator positions cross-legged on the floor. Sandra pushed my legs apart and knelt between them. She leant forward, cleaning my face with little soft damp pads. It felt nice, though in leaning forward her left hip pressed gently against my erection.
When she was satisfied, she started to smooth something onto the skin.
“This is foundation, Simon. I’m only going to use a tiny bit on you, because your skin is already very smooth.”
“Okay.”
“Now a tiny bit of eyeliner, and a touch of mascara.”
“You’re going to be beautiful, Simon,” grinned Debbie.
As she worked on me, she kept on kneeling up to refresh the make-up, then leaning in again. Every time she leant forward she squashed me a little, generating a thrill of pleasure. Was it deliberate? Surely not. But now the girls were now standing either side of her to get a better view of my face, and she was pressed against me, and all the time almost imperceptibly undulating her hips in a steady rhythm, compressing and releasing, compressing and releasing. It was like being gently milked. I was breathing heavily. She needed to stop, and soon! Then all at once she turned to Alice.
“Darling? Could you and Debbie go and ask Stella for her rouge? I seem to have run out.”
“Okay!” they shouted, and darted off. “Close the door, girls!” I looked at Sandra.
“It’s code. Stella doesn’t use rouge. She’ll know what to do.”
She smiled at me and, supporting herself on her hands, resumed her movements, slightly faster now. I groaned. Sandra smiled.
“Come on Simon,” she whispered softly in my ear, “Let go. Just let go.”
She pressed her lips to my ear and I toppled helplessly over the edge. I literally saw stars, and I think I blacked out for a moment. I was overwhelmed with pleasure. Eventually I lay there under her, twitching slightly and totally exhausted.
“Is that better?”
“Sandra…why did you…do that?”
“Cos you needed it, you poor thing.”
We lay there together for some minutes, not speaking. Eventually I said,
“Well, you’ll have to go out with me now. Will you be my girlfriend?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. But you can be my girlfriend, if you like.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you’d be happier like that. Wouldn’t you?”
“I’m still not sure.”
“Well, there’s plenty of time.”
“Do you love me?”
“I’ve always loved you, silly.”
“But like that.”
“Looks like it, doesn’t it? But we have to be for ever wary about love.”
“Wary? What do you mean?”
She stood up and went to her bookshelf. She pulled down an old volume, and opened it at a marker. She read to me.
“Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Hold on. I haven’t finished yet.”
“Love seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another’s loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven’s despite.”
We looked at each other. She replaced the volume, came over, and held me in her arms. After a while she said, “You’d better get cleaned up. My bathroom’s there.” I went and showered. I didn’t know – I still don’t know – all that I felt. But deeply, eternally, happy.
We came downstairs a bit later. Everyone was strangely subdued. Everything had changed, somehow. We spent a quiet afternoon and my aunt picked me up after dinner. She looked at me oddly. She too was affected by the atmosphere. When we left, Sandra and I didn’t kiss as usual – we just touched hands for a few moments. Alice’s parting shot was:
“Bye Simon. Let’s do the make-up next time. At least I have one really hot photo!”
-
I adore this story, thank you for posting x
-
Thanks! I'm enjoying writing it. It may not be to everone's taste, so it's nice to have your endorsement. xx
-
Lovely I identify with Simone :P
-
Chapter IX: Show Time
Okay. It’s my turn now. He had had an easy ride at Sandra’s, thanks to her - what shall we call it? – ‘emotional involvement’. But as far as the next weekend was concerned, I was in charge. Sandra and Bea had done their bits, getting his outfit together. But now my dewy-eyed little brother was going to introduced to the horsey world; and he was going to find it a much tougher environment! My friend Sue Dawson, who owned Holly End Equestrian Centre, had seen some of the piccies and vids of Simon, and was very interested in getting him involved. We had already had some discussions about long-term plans. She thought his boot-cleaning skills, combined with his cute looks and sexy little outfits, were wasted on our small circle. “Imagine, Stella,” she said, “imagine if we had him here, all dressed up in his little rubber pants, as a permanent boot boy. You know what most of these horsey women are like. They’d go mad for him. And he’d be in seventh heaven, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he? Well, if not, too bad! I want him and I mean to have him!” She winked at me wickedly. It was a great idea, and the show would be the perfect introduction. I’d already given Simon some lessons the previous winter in leading a horse, both with a leading rein and simply a rope through the bit ring, so I was quite confident in his ability to do the job. But I was also hoping for some good fun on the day, to which end I’d arranged a little help from one of my mates, Phoebe, who would also be acting as a groom. Phoebe won the ‘best turned-out groom’ competition most years, and she wasn’t partial to interlopers! “Leave him to me, Stella,” she said, “I’ll make sure he’s put firmly in his place!” For myself, I always had fun at these events. It wasn’t even the competing, though I always aimed to win. I really am not a good loser. No. I have to confess that when I get out of my old working rags and into my poshest riding gear, it always turns me on. Suddenly all the wimps who ignore me all the rest of the time start taking an interest. I just love the feeling of them impotently salivating over my tight breeches and gleaming boots, knowing they’ve got no chance, not daring to say a word to me. If it’s a girl it makes me even hotter. And when I’m astride Bobby, nestled firmly against the hard leather saddle, looking down on them….well, best not go there right now. Let’s get back to Simon, and let him tell the story. I’ve left out all the stuff from the preceding week. It was mostly about Sandra, and rated 9.5 on a scale of soppiness! Love is blind!
Friday 24th June. It’s the show at Holly End tomorrow, so I had to get Stella’s equipment ready this evening. Auntie drove us round, and after supper Stella came with me to the garage and showed me my outfit for the big day. We decided I wouldn’t put it on until the morning so it didn’t get dirty. There were the heavyweight latex pants and the belt, a nice new ‘Boot Boy’ T shirt and cap, and instead of my choker, a wider, thicker pink collar with a tiny silver bell at the front and a steel ring at the back and a buckle which locked with a tiny padlock. I was a bit puzzled why it needed to lock. “In case I need to tether you!” joked Stella, showing me the key or her keyring. I also had my Doc Marten’s and my floppy socks, my latex gloves – proper gloves for the show - and a cute little purple and pink bomber jacket which Stella told me Sandra had bought. I packed all my clothes neatly into my rucksack. My aunt had bought me a little rubber care kit, consisting of a tube of latex polish, a tube of lubricant gel, and a little atomizer containing rose-scented perfume, which could be used to make rubber smell nice. I didn’t want to disappoint her, so I had let her pack it in the side pocket. I put the rucksack and my boots in the corner ready for the next day, and turned my attention to Stella’s boots.
I gave Stella's boots the full treatment. First, a second wash and brush, including the soles, to make sure they were spotless. Then I applied a rubber cream with cotton wool, and polished it off. I finished them off with a silicone spray and another polish with a soft cloth. By the time I had done that, they were gleaming! I waxed the spur straps and polished the little nickel spurs till they shone, then carefully strapped them in place. Finally, I brushed her show jacket and hat, both of which were a beautiful dark royal blue, and checked her riding breeches for marks. They were also immaculate, but I had a little bottle of talc in my rucksack just in case. That will always cover up any unforeseen speck of dirt. I felt proud that I was going to be leading her around, and that I was going to be a proper and responsible groom. I hoped I could at least impress Ms Dawson if no-one else.
We were up at six the next morning, ate breakfast, and drove to Holly End, arriving at seven-thirty. The weather was bright and warm, even that early. We paid a visit to one of the stable blocks, where Bobby lived. Today Stella was not going to have time to prepare him for showing, so the head groom Jane and another girl were working on him, trimming his tail, plaiting his main, brushing him, painting his hooves with some oily stuff, and making lovely checkerboard marks on his chestnut rump, which I think she called "quarter marks". He was looking very pretty, all shiny in the sunlight. I was introduced to Jane, but she was so busy she didn't have time to talk. She said she would tell me all I needed to know after I was dressed and ready. From there we walked up the track to the main building, which was larger than I had imagined, of red brick with glass doors. In reception, which was hung with lots of pictures of riders and horses, and decorated with plants in pots, a lady called Mary wished us good morning. She said she was sorry Sue wasn't there to meet me, but that she was busy preparing the show ground. She'd catch up with me after the show. Stella took me into the offices behind reception and showed me a room with an en suite bathroom I could use to change. She went off to get ready too. It took me only a few minutes to slip on my pants, T-shirt, boots and socks. I buckled my belt, stuffed my jacket, hat, and collar back into my rucksack, and headed off back to reception to meet Stella. She hadn't finished dressing yet, but Mary was there. She was impressed by my outfit.
"Wow, Simon, that's a really ... amazing costume! Did you choose it yourself?"
"Well, pretty much," I lied, "but my aunt and my friends helped. Do you think I stand any chance in the best groom competition?"
"Oh, that. You'll have some stiff competition. There's a prize now, so all the girls will be making a serious effort to look good. Watch out for Phoebe in particular. Though I don't expect any of them will be wearing anything like that. I'm sure you'll make an impression."
She stood back and looked me up and down. "Here, let me fix your shorts." And she knelt down and adjusted the leg bands, making them level and symmetrical. "I love the little pink frills! They're so smart!" She stood up. "And you've got matching gloves! If I can get off reception for a few minutes I'll come down and cheer you on later. Good luck, anyway!"
I could see Stella approaching. I was quite shocked by her appearance. Normally she was so carelessly dressed, but now, in her pristine riding gear and gleaming boots, her hard hat under her arm and her whip in her hand, she looked magnificent.
"Hi Stella. You look fantastic!"
"You look pretty good yourself, young man! Got your collar?"
"Right here."
"Come here and I'll put it on."
She turned me round and placed the collar round my neck. It fitted perfectly, and had a soft fleece lining which was very comfortable. I slipped on my new jacket in front of the reception mirror and zipped it up. It looked very neat, and was short enough to show off my new pants to best advantage. I stuck my Boot Boy cap on my head, and together we made our way out of reception and trotted down through the stables and fields towards the show ground. The little bell on my collar tinkled all the way. I didn’t think it was a great idea, but it would have been pointless objecting now. There were lots of girls in jods and boots walking about or leading horses. Some of them stopped and stared at us as we passed, or whispered amongst themselves. I wasn’t sure whether it was Stella or me attracting their attention. Either way I felt pleased. In one of the fields there were hurdles made of painted poles and two girls jumping their horses over them. A few more horses were just grazing in other fields. The school was much bigger than I had thought. As we walked down the path we got a clear view of the showground. Stella stopped and pointed out the main features.
"Look Simon. Nearest to us you can see those two lines of loose boxes. That's where the horses wait to go out. In between them, see that oval railed area? That's the parade ring, the paddock. That’s where you’ll be leading Bobby around when you’re waiting for me to come and mount. The idea is to let the horses loosen up before they go into the main arena, and also to allow the spectators to get a good close-up look at them. You can see the showing and dressage arena on the right.”
“It’s big. Bigger than I thought it would be.”
Well, there’s more than twenty horses to show, and those that aren’t performing have to wait in that roped off area on the left. Now, see the tiers of seats? They’re just temporary. The school hires them for shows. You’ll be sitting there while the showing and dressage is going on, so you’ll have a great view.”
“Who else gets to sit there?”
“All the grooms and helpers, and special people like relatives and officials. People like that. And see that table in front of the seats? That where the judges sit.”
“Who are the judges?”
Today it’ll be Mrs Dawson herself and another lady called Miss Strickland. She’s from the British Horse Society. She knows everything about horses.”
"I can see another field farther on with jumps in it."
"Yes, that's for the show jumping. I'm not doing that today but some people will be. Now, do you see at the end of that nearest row of loose boxes there's a long red-brick building? That's used as the grooms' waiting-room. It used to be a big stable. There are rings all round the walls where they used to tether the horses in the old days. You’ll get to meet all the other grooms in there while the horses are waiting in their boxes. Come on. Let's go and find Bobby. He should be in number five."
We walked on down the path. It curved around to the right and split, running around the paddock and along the front of the two rows of loose boxes, one on either side. A few girls were standing in groups talking. They stopped and stared as we walked by. Stella said hello to some of them. We carried on till we came to number five box, where Jane and the other girl were attending to Bobby. The girl was brushing him gently while Jane held his head. They both turned to greet us as we entered. The two girls gaped at me with amazement. I blushed and looked down. Jane was the first to speak.
"H-hello, Stella! Sorry, I didn't recognise Simon for a moment. Hi Simon!"
"Hi, Jane!"
"Hi Simon. Sorry. You look so different in your outfit. This is Denise. She's prepping Bobby."
Denise said nothing except “Is that a bell?”. Just stood there looking me up and down with a sort of disbelieving smirk on her face. Very rude, I thought. I addressed myself to Jane.
"Do you think it's ...okay?" I asked nervously.
"It’s very nice…very colourful. You’re certainly going to stand out amongst the girls. I really don’t know what the judges will make of it. They'll either love it or they'll hate it! Oh, sorry – I didn't mean ..."
"No, that's okay, Jane. I'm sort of nervous but everyone I've asked says it's pretty cool. Do you know how many people there are likely to be here today?"
"Oh, quite a few, I think. The weather's good and that normally means a good turn-out. Would you like to meet the other grooms while I have a chat to Stella? Denise, could you take Simon to the waiting-room, please?"
All the time Jane had been talking, Denise, who I reckoned was probably a couple of years younger than me, had simply been standing there staring at me with undisguised amusement, in the most irritating manner. Instead of responding immediately to Jane’s request, she coolly took out her phone, and I’m sure she took a photo of me, under the pretence of sending a text!
"Denise?"
"Sorry, Jane. Just had to text my mum. This way, Simon.”
She ushered me out of the box, still smirking, and walked ahead of me down to the waiting-room. She didn't say a word, just strode along while I followed on, singing some stupid song under her breath. The rudest girl I’d ever met! When we got to the door of the building she threw it open and shouted to whoever was inside, "Stella's groom!" – and suffixed it with a loud snort of mirth.
"Thank you!" I said, as sarcastically as I could, and walked into the room. There had been a hubbub of girlish voices, but as I entered it trailed off into dead silence. I was confronted by a group of about two dozen young girls, mostly in cream-coloured breeches and boots, with black or check jackets. Two dozen faces turned towards me, and two dozen pairs of eyes widened as they took me in. I didn't know quite what to say.
"H-hello." I began, taking off my rucksack. I paused. "I-I'm Simon."
No-one moved. In the silence that followed someone said, "Oh my god!" Someone else piped up, “Simon? Simon the Boot Boy! Look – it says so on his cap!” Another: “Have you come to shine our boots, Boot Boy? Better get started, then!” Then suddenly, pandemonium. They mobbed me, crowding round and jostling and pushing me, laughing and shouting and whooping. It was impossible for me to defend myself. This was nothing like I had expected. Stella had warned me these horsey girls can be a bit boisterous. But I thought they’d be nice to a new boy and I imagined them helping me and giving me advice! I was quickly disabused of this notion, however. They thrust me back against the wall and held me there by my arms and legs while the main body fell back to survey me properly. One girl came forward and took charge. She was a little older and taller than the others, almost my height. She alone carried a riding whip, which she stuck down the side of her boot as she approached me. Someone said to her, "What are we going to do with him, Phoebe?" So this was Phoebe. She was pretty, slim and blonde. Her hair was tightly pinned up and gathered in a net. She wore tall leather riding boots, expensive-looking cream breeches, a tweedy riding jacket, and a stock with a gold pin. She looked me up and down several times, and flicked my little bell, with a malicious smile on her face.
“So you’re the famous Simon. I was warned to expect you. What do you think you're wearing, little boy? Well?”
“I-it’s just my groom outfit, miss. Before today I didn’t really know what grooms wear, anyway. I’ve never done this before.”
She put her face close to mine and looked steadily into my eyes. I blinked nervously. I felt her tug at my leg frills, pulling the leg band out and letting it snap back onto my thigh. The heavy rubber actually stung as it hit my skin. “Ow!” She did this several times more. “Are these really rubber? (snap!) They are, aren’t they? (snap!) “How sweet.” (snap!) So what’s your game, Simon the Boot Boy in your little rubber panties? (snap!) “Hoping to catch the judge’s eye, are we?” (snap!)
“No! P-please stop. I just wanted to look smart for Stella!” I whined.
She looked at me incredulously. “Okay. Beth – give me a carabiner from the box, would you?” There was some movement in the corner and a girl came up and gave Phoebe an oval steel thing. She put her finger through the ring at the back of my collar and pulled me to a tethering point on the wall. Then she used the ‘carabiner’ to fasten my collar to the tether, screwing it up tight. She stepped back.
“Right. Now we’re going to get some answers. Aren’t we girls?” Cheering from the spectators. “Beth? Lock the door please.”
“I-I didn’t mean to c-cause you any problems.” I stammered weakly.
“Oh, it’s no problem, darling,” said Phoebe, “not for us, at least. Now tell us, where did you get these sweet little pants?”
“My aunt bought them for me.”
“Do you like them?”
“Y-yes. I’ve got more than one pair.”
“Really? How many?”
“I-I’m not sure. My aunt keeps them. They’re different colours.”
There was a general howl of laughter. I had recovered from my initial shock and was beginning to feel annoyed. I said something I shouldn’t have. Something pompous and stupid.
“They’re actually very cool. You may not understand fashion very well, if you just wear jods and boots every day!” There was a frosty silence. Phoebe drew her riding whip out of her boot. I was about to retract my last statement when the flap at the end of it struck me on my flank. “Ouch!” I yelled. “No, don’t do that!”
“Just be quiet, Boot Boy, or you’ll regret it.”
“But ..” She hit me again, this time on my bare thigh, leaving a red weal.
“Did you not hear me, boy?” I nodded. “Beth. Search his rucksack.” She resheathed her whip.
“There’s not much here. Tissues. Polos. Sandwiches. Oh, what’s this? ‘Rubbercare Travelling Kit’”
“Let me see,” said Phoebe. “Aha! Polish…and scent…and lube. Perfect! I think we should help Simon to show off his pants to best advantage.”
At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Jane called from outside, “Girls – oh, and Simon – five minutes and you’re on!”
“Okay, Jane!”
Phoebe held the lube in one hand, and with the other deftly unbuckled my belt. “Beth, hold his shirt up a moment.” Then she pulled open the waistband of my pants and squirted half the bottle of cold gel down my front. My hands were free. I could have tried to stop her. But the truth is, I was terrified of her now. Beth tucked my shirt back in, and Phoebe rebuckled my belt.
She stood back for a minute, smiling. She pulled out her whip once again, and prodded me with it. In particular, she pressed the flap firmly against the little mound of my sausage, lying against my left thigh. As my pants were now full of lube, it immediately slipped upwards. With the end of her whip she worked it up to the vertical, then down the other side – much to the delight and amusement of all present. Then back again. “It’s three o’clock again!” laughed one of the grooms. She did this a couple of times, commentating on its steadily increasing tumescence.
“It’s getting bigger.” “Oh, yes, definitely longer this time.” “And fatter!” “I think we’re nearly there, girls!” I squirmed and protested weakly, but thought it safer to let them have their fun. They had to let me go in a couple of minutes, anyway. At last she was satisfied.
“I think that’s it, Simon! Well done! Miss Strickland will be so impressed! What’s that, leaking out of your pants? Just lube, I hope? You shouldn’t use so much, you know. Never mind!”
“Now, polish. Mind you, they’re quite shiny already. But we’ll give them a final treatment.”
It was a cream polish. One of the girls found a clean cloth, to which Phoebe applied a big blob of rubber cream. She made me stick my bum out and applied cream liberally. “There, it’s really glossy now. The judges will be dazzled! Now, stand up straight.” She squirted more cream onto the cloth and polished it slowly into the rest of my pants, my flanks, my crotch, and my front, pushing my erection back and forth in the process. As the last vestige of cream disappeared from the gleaming purple latex, she checked her watch. “Hmm. Just nine. Okay.” And she used one finger to slide me into the appropriate position, along my right right-hand leg band. “There! Now you are telling the right time!” More laughter.
“Time to go Phoebe,” someone called from the door.
“One last thing.” And she picked up the atomiser and sprayed me liberally from my neck to my knees with scent.
“Okay, let us out.”
“W-what about me,” I asked.
“Oh, you can stay here, boy.” I must have looked horrified. “Don’t worry, I’m just joking. We don’t want to keep that lovely outfit from your public, do we? Beth, could you release Simon here before you leave, please?”
“Sure. Move, boy. Let me get at that ring. Ooh, you smell wonderful!” As the others were filing out, Beth unscrewed the steel link and set me free.
“Thanks.”
“No probs. See you in the paddock.”
I repacked the rubber kit in my rucksack and stowed it in a cupboard. By the time I reached the door the time by my special clock was rapidly approaching midday. The lubricant, which was now evident on the insides of my thighs, made it impossible for me to control. I walked out onto the path. What could I do? I pulled down the peak of my cap, kept my eyes on the ground, and made my way as quickly as I could to box five. Denise was there holding Bobby, who was now saddled and bridled and ready to be ridden. The first thing she did was to check out my pants. She reacted with another snort of laughter.
“Looks like you got the full initiation, then!” Then the perfume hit her. “You smell lovely! I hope it doesn’t frighten Bobby!”
She fastened a number band onto my left arm, and handed me the rope threaded through Bobby's bit ring. Then she retreated to the pathway, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she did so.
"Boy – just a quick one, please!" Before I could respond she had taken another snap. “Good luck! You’d get first prize in the sissy category, if there was one!”
I waited in box five. Jane was standing on the grass calling out the numbers. As she called a number, the groom leading that horse had to bring it out of its box and walk it down the path to the paddock to join the others. The paddock was big enough to accommodate twenty or thirty horses. They would be led around on the tarmac path which ran round the perimeter, just inside the railings. The riders would later congregate on the grass in the centre, whilst the onlookers could stand around the outside and get a good view of proceedings, as well as being within touching distance of the horses. Mainly as a matter of safety, it was customary for the grooms to walk on the inside of their charges. This is what I was thinking about as I waited for Jane to call my number.
"Five!"
-
Chapter IX: Show Time (continued)
I took a deep breath and gave the leading rope a tug. Bobby came willingly out of his box, but at a leisurely pace. I tried to hide myself beside him but really there was no way of disguising the state I was in. For the time being I was between the horse and the building, so it was not too bad, but when the path curved away to the paddock I'd have no cover at all. Worse, as I walked, my eager boyhood flicked slightly back and forth, like the hand of a metronome, from one side of the centre seam to the other. Where the rubber was joined it formed a little ridge, which grazed the sensitive underside at each stroke, precluding any possibility of recession. We turned into the gap in the rails and entered the ring. The horses were walking anti-clockwise, so I was now on Bobby's inside, with him between me and the people leaning on the rails. That was something at least. And it was still early, so there weren't many people around the paddock. But at that moment I heard my name called.
"Simon! Over here!" I looked across the opposite side of the paddock and there stood Alice, Debbie, and half a dozen of the girls from my class, and with them Chloe and Charlotte and a whole bunch of year twos, goggle-eyed with delight and all ready with their phones! “Bullshit!” I muttered under my breath. “Why did they all have to turn up?” I all but ignored them as we drew level, but Alice and Debbie trotted and skipped along beside us all around the ring. At least they weren’t allowed inside.
"Simon!" gasped Debbie, "You're so lucky! So many of our friends are here, and Chloe’s brought hers as well.!
“So I see,” I replied, “How nice of them.”
"We all want piccies, Simon! Will you be able to pose for us later? Miss Benson is here too, and she said we can put one up in the classroom if it's good enough!"
Miss Benson? Why was she here? She was supposed to be busy. But yes, there she was sure enough, laughing and joking with the others. And more of my classmates arriving along the path! No, it wasn't fair!
On the next circuit Miss Benson waved, and the rest of them were either jumping about with excitement, or trying to take pictures. I tried to ignore them. What else could I do? All the while my swollen member, stimulated by the gentle but regular oscillation, refused to subside. My ears burned with embarrassment. I held on tight to Bobby and pretended to be thinking about something, despite having my name called incessantly. Now the fluids in my pants, a mixture of the lube with my own natural secretions, were trying to escape. My right leg band slid up and down my thigh as I walked, generating a frothy slime along the line of the frilling.. I had no tissues on me and in any case the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to my plight. A lot of the competitors, including Stella and her friends, were leaning on the paddock rails chatting,. Some of them followed me with their eyes as I walked the circuit. Some of the women were very attractive, and being surrounded by all those tight breeches and shiny boots helped to keep me aroused, despite the fact that by this time the constant to and fro of my member was making me distinctly uncomfortable. Eventually the riders started to make their way onto the lawn in the middle of the paddock, and soon grooms were being summoned to being over their mounts. I gave a sigh of relief when Stella approached me. She patted me on the head and I helped her mount.
"Thanks, Sim. Great job! Wish me luck!"
"Yeah, go for it Stell!" I slipped the leading rope out of the bit ring and tied it round my belt.
As the riders left the paddock the grooms got into line again, and when the last horse trotted out of the exit they followed on. I tagged onto the back of the line, not quite knowing what was supposed to happen next. But then I heard Phoebe's voice behind me.
"Maybe I overdid the perfume a bit."
"Yes. And the lubricant!"
"Well, it seems to be doing its job. Come on, keep up!" And she gave the back of my leg a flick with her whip.
"Ow!" I looked round. "Where are we going?"
"We've got ringside seats, didn't you know? We've got the third row back, behind the relatives and dignitaries. Stick with me and I'll show you."
As we made our way to the seating alongside the show ground, my erection began to subside, but little beads of fluid were now escaping from under the frills and trickling down my bare thigh. By the time we arrived at the tiered seats I was sticky to my knee. The seats were no more than benches. Phoebe allowed a few girls to go in, then pushed me forward and followed on herself. The rest of the grooms took their seats to our left. I discovered that I had the annoying Denise on my right.
"You're not a groom!" I whispered, as I undid my jacket.
"Not today, stupid, but I'm the best prepper here. So mind your own beeswax!" She glanced down at my leg. “Oh, that’s so gross! Would you like a tissue?”
“Oh, yes please, Denise.”
“Well, I haven’t got one!”
It was hot now, so I wiped my leg with my gloved fingers and hoped the rest would dry by itself. Then I settled back to watch the competitions. The dressage was first. Stella did really well, but there were some really great riders and amazing horses out there, and in the end she was placed fifth. Then came the showing. This was more her style. There were even more competitors here, but Bobby looked beautiful, partly due, I had to admit, to Denise's work, and Stella sat so straight and haughty-looking in the saddle no-one could fail to be impressed.
"Good work on those boots!" whispered Denise, "I think we're in with a chance here."
It was a long process. The judges were conferring, narrowing down the field to the best riders. Stella and another girl were asked to appear again. The sun had dried my legs, warming the latex, and I could feel myself swelling again. I covered the bulge with my hand and tried to focus on the competition. We were all on tenterhooks. In the excitement Phoebe was gripping my left thigh, while Denise was nervously hanging onto the frills on my right leg. Their combined attentions made matters worse, and soon my unruly boyhood had regained its full proportions, its tip not far below my belt buckle. I leant forward in my seat as if engrossed in events on the field, attempting to hide my arousal. But my mind was elsewhere, so that the announcement over the Tannoy, and the immediate burst of applause took me by surprise. Denise jumped to her feet.
"She's down it! Hooray!"
"She's won, Simon! Stella's won!" Phoebe shouted in my ear. "You'd better get down there!"
"What?"
"Get down there! You have to lead Bobby up for the presentation!"
"No!"
"Yes, idiot! Go!!" She dragged me upright and pushed me in front of her. The line of grooms were all staring at me. I struggled past the first girl. There was limited room by their feet, and I could see that none of them was going to move to help me pass. I had to run the gauntlet, except I wasn’t running, but picking my way awkwardly along the line, bell tinkling, apologising all the way, my cheeks burning. They had an unrestricted eye-level view of my erection. “That’s a big one! The horse, stupid!” “Cindy, would you like my sausage roll?” “Has anyone seen my banana?” By the time I emerged onto the steps I had tears in my eyes, and as I descended clumsily to the field I noticed that my right leg band had started slipping against my thigh again. As I made my way to where Stella and Bobby were waiting, I heard my name being announced, amid cheers from my schoolfriends. I zipped up my little jacket and threaded the rope through Bobby’s bit.
"About time," she whispered, "Right, now lead us over to the judges table."
I led him forward. The two judges, Sue and Miss Strickland, sitting at their table, smiled and contemplated us with satisfaction. The sun was now overhead. I was perspiring freely and blinking in the strong light.
“Well done, Stella! Said Sue. “And you, young man.”
Miss Strickland read out the citation and Stella's score. I stood to attention, holding Bobby's lead with one hand and the other at my side and looked straight ahead; but I could see out of the corner of my eye Mrs Dawson was gazing fixedly at my pants, a faint smile on her face. I daren’t look down at myself, but I could feel the faint tickling sensation as a new dribble of fluid began to descend my thigh. It moved slowly, stickily, towards my knee. Sue seemed to be watching it with interest. I could do nothing about it. I felt it reach my knee and my tilting my head a little I could see a long string of clear fluid hanging from my knee and periodically releasing drops onto my Doc Marten’s. I could also see a blob of white froth hanging from the leg frilling of the left leg of my pants! I wanted the ground to open and swallow me up! My only hope was that they thought it was sweat dripping out of my pants. The heat of the sun sustained my erection, and the scent of warm latex mingled with that of summer roses. At last it was time for the presentation. Miss Strickland presented Stella with her prize, attaching the rosette to Bobby's bridle. I too was awarded a little rosette, which she pinned to my jacket. She congratulated both of us again, to more applause from the crowd, and then we had to submit to the inevitable photographs, first by one of the grooms for the school’s hall of fame, and then, more humiliating, by a photographer from the local paper, who wanted to ask me questions about being a boy groom! I fended her off, and as soon as I could, I led Bobby away back to the boxes. By the time we got there I was in a terrible state, though my erection had finally subsided. I grabbed a roll of kitchen towel and cleaned myself up, wiping my legs and boots and the inside of my pants until I was respectable again.
“Well that was some show!” said Stella.
“Yeah. Well done, sis. You were amazing!”
“You were pretty amazing yourself, little bro! But you’d better get back there for the grooms’ competition!”
“Oh, yes! I almost forgot!” I dashed back across the field. The grooms were all in line on the grass, now, and the judges were walking along inspecting them and asking questions. They had a microphone and the interviews were being broadcast to the crowd. I attached myself to the end of the line. The girl next to me grinned at me but said nothing. When the judges eventually got to me I think the whole line turned their heads to watch.
“So. This is Simon, I believe. We’ve already seen you once today, haven’t we?” said Mrs Dawson.
“Yes, miss.” (A few shouts of “Go, Simon!” from my schoolmates.)
“I understand you’re our Stella’s brother.”
“That’s right, miss.”
“And you’ve never done anything like this before?”
“No, miss, never.”
“Did you enjoy yourself today?”
“Very much, miss”
“And tell us, Simon,” said Miss Strickland, “Tell us something about your outfit. It’s most unconventional, though of course quite within our rules. Did you design it yourself? It looks rather American in style, I thought.”
“Well, to tell the truth, miss, it was mainly my aunt and my sister and my friend Sandra. But they took my taste into account, I think.”
“Well, I think your taste is very nice, and your family and friends most supportive. I know I speak for Mrs Dawson as well when I say we’d love to see you here as a groom again soon.”
“Thank you, miss!”
The judges retired to their table, and soon announced the winner, which was, predictably, Phoebe. But amazingly they gave me what they called a “special commendation” for innovation and, I think they said, “daring”! It came with a little pink rosette and a fiver! Cool!
As the show wound up, Phoebe came over and tweaked my ear.
“You did it, you little sexpot!”
“What do you mean?
“You got the judges going with that little display of yours. Smart work!”
“I don’t know what you mean!”
“Oh, never mind. Play the innocent, then. But make sure you come back soon. You’re fun to have around, Simon.”
“Oh, well, thank you, Phoebe,” I said, not knowing quite how to take that remark.
I saw Stella approaching across the field. I ran towards her, but at that moment all my schoolfriends arrived from another direction and mobbed me.
“Simon! You won two prizes!” shouted Alice, embracing me.
“Yes, Simon. And I would have given you another for having the biggest …”
“Debbie! Shut up!” interrupted Alice. “Leave him alone! I think he’s great!”
“Oh, okay Ally. I was just joking. Simon – my barbecue’s next Saturday. And we need to discuss costumes. Please can we get together tomorrow?”
“Ooh, yes, Simon, please!” echoed Alice.
I was in a good mood now. “Okay. Don’t see why not!”
But now Stella dragged me away. “Sue needs to talk to you before you run away, remember? Just follow me. She should be back in the office now.”
We headed back up the slope to the main buildings. Sue and Mary were in reception, talking to Miss Strickland. They greeted me ecstatically.
“Simon! Thank so much for coming!” cried Mrs Dawson, “You were great today!”
"Oh, thank you, Miss Dawson. I’m sorry about … you know, getting a bit over-excited and stuff. It was a very big day for me. I’ve never been to a proper show before.”
“Oh, Simon, my dear, I don’t know why you’re apologising. We couldn’t have been more impressed, could we Rebecca?”
“Not at all, Simon. You looked wonderful! You must tell me where you bought those gorgeous pants. I’d like to get a pair for my son.”
“Oh, my mum got them, Miss Strickland,” cut in Stella. “I’ll give you her email and I’m sure she’d be delighted to let you have all the details.”
“Thank you, Stella!”
“Why don’t we all go into the office and have a chat?” said Mrs Dawson. “Mary, could you keep an eye on reception for half-an hour? Simon, I hope you don’t mind if Miss Strickland joins us? She has an interest in the policies of equestrian establishments, and what I’m going to suggest is quite innovative.”
“Of course not, miss.”
“And please call me Sue from now on, and Miss Strickland is Rebecca. Okay?”
So it was that the four of us found ourselves sitting around Sue’s desk.
“Well Simon, you know already from your sister that we were thinking of utilising your obvious talents at Holly End. Originally, I was thinking you might come in and run our tack room. I was so impressed with your work on Stella's boots. But then I had an idea, an idea that could be good for both of us. And it came to me after so many of my clients had actually asked how Stella got her boots so glossy and bright. So let me get straight to the point. How about, if we set up a little salon for you in the school? You would clean and polish boots, we would pay you, and you'd get to keep all your tips. At the beginning you could work maybe just one day a week, and we'd see how it went. What do you think?"
"Oh! I see! But how would that work, exactly?” I asked. “Would people leave their boots with me to work on?"
"Oh, no, Simon, not quite. The idea would be, that you'd shine their boots while they were wearing them. The customer would have a nice comfy chair and you would kneel in front of them. We'd make sure you had all the proper facilities and mats and everything. You see,” she added confidentially, “the fact is this. A lot of my clients are quite posh, and maybe even a bit snooty. They often have a very high estimation of their own worth. Not all, of course! But quite a few. And they’re usually quite well-heeled, as it were. Do you follow me?”
“Yes, I think so,” I said, still a bit puzzled. “But I don’t really see why they’d pay for that. I mean, surely they could polish their own boots at home for nothing?”
Sue and Rebecca both burst out laughing. Rebecca said,
“Polish their own boots?” Not the people we’re thinking of, Simon! No, the people Sue is aiming at are those who’d still have a butler if it was acceptable or if they could find one. This scheme will offer the perfect channel for their pretensions, believe me.”
“Really? I’m amazed!”
“Shall I tell you something?” said Sue, “since you appeared on the field as a groom today, I’ve already had several enquiries about whether your services are available. And whenever I’ve mentioned my idea of a boot-shine, there’s been a…well, let’s say, an enthusiastic response. They would just love the idea of having their own little boot slave kneeling before them polishing away, doing their bidding.”
“Well, I’m not sure, Sue. I wouldn’t mind, I suppose. I mean, I do quite like being a boot boy, it’s true. But I’ve never thought of polishing someone’s boots like that before.”
The truth was that, as I thought of some of the beautiful women I’d seen at the show that very day, the thought of kneeling before them, polishing their riding boots, was already making my boyhood reawaken. My main doubt was, could I cope with it?
“Would you like to try?”
“I’d have to ask my aunt and my mother, of course.”
“We’ve already cleared it with them, Sim,” said Stella. “It’s entirely up to you.”
“Wow.”
"They seemed to think it was something you'd really enjoy, plus you would be earning some reasonable money,” said Sue.
"Er, about how much would I be earning?"
"Well, I'd pay you, say, seven pounds an hour to start, and I'm sure you'd get some good tips from the sort of clientele we’re talking about.”
"Really? That much?" I was gobsmacked. There were so many things I could buy with that sort of money. It seemed a bit like prostitution, I admit, but what the hell? For dosh like that there wasn’t much I wouldn’t have done. And this sounded like fun, as well.
"Gosh. Well, yes, in that case I'd definitely like to have a go..."
“Good boy!” said Miss Strickland. I don’t know what her interest was really, but she seemed very involved in the wholes scheme.
“Now, there’s just one big proviso, Simon, which I hope you feel able to agree to.”
“Yes?”
“Your uniform. You will be required to wear your uniform, which may be like the one you wore today, or may be varied at the Centre’s complete discretion.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t really have any objection to that, I suppose. I like wearing a uniform, anyway.”
“Oh, good!” said Sue, “You know it’s essential for our clients that you’re nicely dressed, and sometimes they’re going to want something a bit special. You know, maybe colours that they like, or fabrics, or whatever. They’re going to be paying a good price for your services so of course they have a right to decide the details. You understand I’m sure.”
I didn’t, but all I was thinking of was the money and the women. The offer had brought out the worst aspects of my personality. And when Sue produced a contract then and there, I didn’t even bother to read the small print. I just signed it confidently. The women looked at each other meaningfully. Miss Strickland rubbed her hands. “Well done, Simon!”
Before Stella and I departed, Sue walked us down the main path to the entrance to the Centre. Just opposite the car park was a longish brick building which was clearly in the process of being completely renovated. It had three blind walls and a row of high windows on the path side. There was one door at the upper end nearest the offices. Inside, new beams had already been put in, and the floor was being tiled. Cupboards and seats were wrapped in plastic awaiting installation. Also a big mechanical chair, like a hairdresser’s chair, at the far end. And there was wiring everywhere.
“This will be your headquarters, Simon,” said Sue. “Your salon, as it were. I took the liberty of getting work under way a week and a half ago, because I wanted it to be ready for the school holidays. I don’t know what we should have done if you’d refused.
“But I didn’t,” I smiled, “so everything will be all right!” I was even more committed now, seeing what Sue was investing in her idea. My own salon! I was going to someone once this got going. I didn’t know what I’d do if it failed.
“I hope I get some customers,” I said, quietly.
“Oh. I think you’ll get a few,” said Sue, “Don’t worry!”
-
From our story rules,
http://buffalobetties.net/fiction/index.php?topic=30.0
"* Story Part Sizes - Parts can be no more than about 8.5k in size. For standard browser text, that's about 2 screens worth here, or about enough to fill 6-8 of those little text boxes you type or paste your part into. It won't be a strict limit. A little over won't matter. Over-sized parts make oversized data packets which can be lost or corrupted during backing it up, archiving, repairs, or retrieving it. Many servers won't even accept oversize data packets, so would make it difficult if we have to move it or us to another server."
Thanks.
-
Noted. Apologies & thanks. Simonssister
-
Chapter X: Barbecue (Part 1)
That was the simple process by which we made Simon into our little boot whore, though he didn’t realise it at the time. Pity for him he didn’t read the small print. Never mind. I say “we”, because by the time we had hatched the plot we had a little committee consisting of Sue, Rebecca, Bea and me. Sandra was a bit ambiguous about the whole thing early on, but thought she’d see where it went. As long as Simon was enjoying himself she didn’t have any serious objections. I’d also had a word with Miss Benson after the show and we’d agreed we keep in touch as we had a common interest in Simon’s costumes. But this was for the future. Back to that week after the show. On Sunday morning, Alice called for Simon and they went off to meet Debbie and her mum, according to Alice to look at costumes for the barbecue the next weekend. Bea was a little taken aback at Simon’s willingness to get involved, but she attributed it to his improved behaviour and the steady disappearance of his aggressive moods. He was certainly becoming a lot more tractable, and he was also full of excitement about his new job, and eager to tell anyone prepared to listen about his new premises at Holly End.
Sunday 26th June. I stayed at Garden Road last night. I was so tired I fell asleep immediately. I dreamt I was tethered to the floor in a stable. I had a rubber bit in my mouth and boots were constantly coming and going, and people prodding me with whips. I woke at five, all hot and bothered, still a little sore from the day before, my night-time pants at full stretch. I touched myself gently for a few seconds and that was enough. I had to bite my pillow so as not to cry out. Then I felt better. I fell back to sleep and didn’t wake till nine. Stella brought me a cup of tea and ruffled my hair.
“How are you today, sleepy-head? Alice is already here. It’s okay, take your time. She’s having breakfast with mum. I hear you’re going round to Mrs Travers’ house to talk about the barbecue.”
“Yes. About costumes and stuff.”
“Well ring us if you think of anything you want. Your aunt’s still got loads of new clothes stashed away.”
“Yeah, I know. I will.”
I drank my tea, got up, showered and dressed. It was nice to get back into jeans and plain T-shirt for a bit. I made my way down to the kitchen.
“Hi, Alice.”
“Hi, Simon. How are you feeling? You must be knackered after yesterday.”
“A bit. What time we supposed to be at Debbie’s?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Eleven or so? Thanks for saying you’d come. I thought you might not be up for it.”
“Oh, no, that’s all right. Debbie’s okay. I like her really.”
“She is a bit of a tease.”
“Yeah, true, but she can’t help herself. I don’t take any of that seriously. She’s witty – I like that.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to wear on Saturday?”
“Not really. I need to recover from yesterday first.”
“There’s a lot of things here you haven’t seen, dear,” said my aunt, shall I show you?”
“Not right now, thank you aunt.”
“Oh, yes please, Bea!” cried Alice, “I’d love to see!”
I sighed a resigned sigh, and bit into a piece of toast. The other three were opening boxes which had been stashed in the cupboard, and rifling through piles of horrifyingly pretty-looking clothes. A gasp of delight from Alice.
“Ooh, Simon! Look at these!” She held up a satiny-looking silver blouse, with lace-trimmed collar and puff sleeves. “What about this?”
“It’s okay I suppose. I want to think about it. I’m not making any decisions right now.” But I looked at the blouse with some interest. There was some idea, some feeling in the back of my mind, which I couldn’t yet articulate. I could feel I wanted something new, something indefinable.
“That would be a good choice,” said my aunt. “Actually I bought it to go with these.” She handed Alice a pair of red latex hot-pants with silver frills and braces.
“Oh my god, Simon, they’re perfect!” she cooed, holding them up for me to see. “And look!” She turned them round and across the bum, in big silver capitals, was the single word, “HOT!”
“Oh, that’s so crass, Alice!” I said. That’s a definite no. I’m not going to be a clown again just so you and your friends can tease me all day. Forget it!”
“Oh, spoilsport,” she whined, “I think they’re sweet.” She smiled innocently. “Chloe and Charlotte were sort of hoping you might wear something like they saw you in at my house. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?”
“Well I’m not, so there!” I replied, reddening. “Do you know who else is going to be there?”
“Yes. There’s me and Debbie, of course, and there’ll be five of our friends. Chloe and Charlotte of course – they’re so excited, Simon - and maybe another one or two of Chloe’s friends. And you.”
“So like ten odd girls and me? Okay, I’m not making an exhibition of myself yet again.”
“You’ll do as your told, young man!” said my aunt with a smile that was not altogether benign.
“Oh, aunt, come on! Give me a break for once.”
“Well anyway,” said Alice, “most of us have already decided our costumes. We’ll show you at Debbie’s. But there’s less than a week left, so you’ll have to make a decision today. Maybe you’ll find something you like in Mrs Travers’ catalogue, or on line.”
We set off to walk to Debbie’s about quarter to eleven, and got there just after. Mrs Travers opened the door.
“Alice! And Simon!” She shook my hand and ushered us in. Mrs Travers worked for a clothing retailer. She was always smartly-dressed, even at home on a Sunday. “I haven’t seen you for ages. You’re still growing, I see. Upwards at least.”
“It’s been a while all right, Mrs Travers. Nice to see you again.”
“Come in and have some drinks. Debbie’s making cakes.”
“I can smell them. Yum!”
“You know Grant, don’t you?” Grant was Debbie’s big brother. He had been at Queen Alexandra but was now at college. He was okay, though I never had anything to do with him, really. In general, people in higher forms took no notice of younger kids, and vice versa. “Grant has volunteered to manage the barbecue. Not that I don’t trust the girls, but when I get back from work I’d prefer that the house was still standing.”
“Sorry, mum, can’t guarantee that,” said Grant. “But Mike’s coming over to help protect me from the screaming hoards.”
Debbie appeared from the kitchen, wearing an apron over her jeans and with flour on her denim shirt. “Shut up, Grant!” she retorted, “We won’t be screaming unless that horrid Mike of yours starts chasing us around, like he did the last time he came over!”
“You hope! It’s not his fault if you fancy him, is it?”
“I don’t, idiot!” But Debbie turned red and quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, we’ve got everything organised except some of the costumes. Simon? It’s going to be a dance themed party, so all the girls will be wearing dance dresses. Like modern dance, not ballroom or anything. My mum can get some of them from her work. She already sorted out Chloe and Charlotte and Chloe’s friend Amelia. Mum, can we see the catalogue, please?”
“Have something to eat first, and then we’ll get down to business,” said Mrs Travers. “Chloe and her friends have already chosen, so they’ve gone off to Amelia’s for the day. They’re having three matching witch outfits in pink, blue and green spandex.”
“Appropriate choice,” said Grant, a remark which everyone ignored.
It was after twelve by the time we had filled ourselves with Debbie’s cakes and fizzy drinks.
Mrs Travers opened her laptop and the girls started looking through page after page of dance dresses, mainly hip-hop and jazz stuff. They seemed to like all of them. “Ooh, that so pretty!” “That would look great on you!” “I love the sparkles!” And so on. I was taking a cursory interest, but I was thinking how I might get away with some more conservative attire than was planned for me. I was staring blankly at the screen, my eyes unfocussed, when something slipped past that caught my attention. “Hold on! Could you go back a couple of pages, Mrs Travers?” She scrolled back. “There! That’s it. That’s my costume!”
The girls looked at me, astounded. I had picked out a girl’s costume, a little pink top with a white collar and white flared skirt. I hadn’t noticed at that first glance but it was supposed to be a waitress outfit, and the girl wearing it was carrying a little tray of food! I didn’t know why, but for some reason my heart had skipped a beat when I saw it. I just knew I had to have it!
“Are you sure, Simon?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Is it available?”
“Let me check. Hmm, yes…it’s discontinued by there are a few left. I’ll need to measure you to make sure I get the right size.”
“I’ll pay you for it, of course. I’ve got money saved up.”
“Okay. It won’t be very expensive. You really like it, don’t you?”
I suddenly felt embarrassed. Alice and Debbie were staring at each other with delighted surprise. “Yeah, it’s okay. You know…I’d sooner blend in with the girls. It’s not fun being the only boy.”
“Yes, Simon! You can be Simone again next Saturday!” cried Alice.
“This is even better than soppy latex pants,” said Debbie. “You can be one of our girl friends for real!”
“And he can be our waitress, and bring us our food!”
“Yeah!”
I was momentarily overwhelmed with doubt. Why had I had such a strong reaction to this costume? I tried to rationalise my feelings, while Debbie’s mum measured me and placed the order. I looked at the picture again. It was certainly a cute little outfit, and the girl wearing it looked so happy. That’s how I felt I was going to be – happy. Comfortable. Carefree. Full of joy and vivacity. Free! That was the key, somehow – freedom! As near being a real girl as was possible. Was that what I had really been searching for?
“Would you like me to print you off a copy of the picture, Simon?”
“Oh, yes please, Mrs Travers. Then I can put it in my diary.”
“Okay.”
Debbie was reading out the description. “Waitress costume with ice-cream logo. Blouse in shiny spandex with puff sleeves. Skirt in poly/spandex with tricot underskirt and pink briefs. Cuffs and waistband trimmed with sparkly sequin bands, skirt with pink and silver sparkly ric-rac.”
“Ooh, Simone, pink briefs too! Lucky girl!” I didn’t care. I was buzzing with excitement, not fully understanding why. Yes, I would bring the others their food! I wanted them all to see me, to see how good I could look as a girl.
“Mum, can you send me that picture so I can show my friends?”
“Debbie,” I interrupted, “please could you keep it a secret? Is that possible? I’d really like it if I could surprise everyone at the barbecue.” I didn’t want half the school trying to gatecrash.
“Yes, girls,” said Mrs Travers, “Simon’s right. That’s a sensible idea. You might get other children coming round and spoiling the party. Do you see what I mean? Afterwards you can do what you like, if Simon agrees.”
“Simone, mummy! Yes, I do see. Let’s keep it as our secret, Alice!”
“Yes, that’s right. And you, Grant.”
“Oh, don’t worry. All your most boring secrets are safe with me!”
Alice was looking at me thoughtfully. “Sim, do you remember when Sandra was making you up? Maybe….”
“Yes! A little make-up too. You’d be the cutest of everyone!” screamed Debbie.
I gulped. I could hardly breathe. “Yes. That would be…. Alice, do you think you could ask Sandra for me if she could…… just a little, perhaps?”
“Of course, Simon. I’ll ask her tonight. I know she’d love to.”
And so my course was set. I went home that evening and told Bea, and showed her the picture. She smiled a strange, knowing smile.
“At last, Simon. It’s a very pretty first costume.”
“First?”
“You know, first girlie costume. Pink panties as well. Very nice. I think you’d better have a pair of thin latex briefs to wear underneath, don’t you? Just to keep you in check, as it were.”
“Yes, aunt. That’s a good idea. Please don’t tell anyone about this. It’s a secret until Saturday.”
“Of course. Don’t worry. But I’m so pleased for you. I think it’s going to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before.”
I went to bed still excited, but strangely peaceful, and fell asleep thinking about the barbecue.
-
Chapter X: Barbecue (Part 2)
Monday 27th June. Before I left for school this morning I got a call from Sandra.
“What you doing after school, Sim?”
“Nothing.”
“Want to come get your ears pierced? I’ve heard about next Saturday. I’ve seen a picture of your costume. If you get them done today, with luck you’ll be able to wear earrings by the weekend. I’ve seen some that would be perfect. What do you say?”
“Yeah, sure, San. Can I meet you somewhere?”
“I’ll wait for you outside school. We can walk to the jewellers in the High Street. They’re fine for piercings and that’s where I’ve seen the earrings I want to get you.”
Sandra was waiting for me when I got out. I saw her tall black-clad figure as soon as I left the school buildings, attracting attention from the boys as they left through the school gates. We went straight to Tilly’s the jewellers. While I sat there getting the piercings, Sandra was buying earrings. It hardly hurt at all. They put a pair of little gold keepers in for me, and we went for coffee next door.
“What did you buy?”
“Here. Happy dressing-up.”
I opened the little box. Two tiny ice-cream cones with pink ice-cream scoops!
“Wow. Perfect! Thank you, Sandra. That’s so clever of you!”
“You deserve it. I’ve hardly ever seen anything so cute at that outfit you chose. I want you to wear it when we go out to dinner together.”
“Yeah? I will if you say so.”
“Oh, I insist!” And she leant over the table, took me by the chin, and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. Sitting back, she added, “I’m taking Alice on Saturday. Shall I pick you up on the way? We need to be there by about eight because there’ll be preparations to make, and I’m going to be doing your make-up.”
“Thanks. Yes, that would be great. I’ll be ready by half seven, then.”
“Perfect!”
Wednesday 29th June. My piercings are fine. I’ve been washing them as instructed and I think I’ll definitely be able to wear my new earrings on Saturday. This evening I was in my bedroom when my aunt called me.
“Simon? Mrs Travers would like to talk to you.” I ran down and grabbed the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Simon. Cynthia Travers here. Good news. Your costume arrived this afternoon. It’s all ready for you. There’s even a little headband hat. I was just wondering what you would like to do.”
“Oh, thank you so much! Could you just keep it there? I was planning to come over early on Saturday with Alice and Sandra. Sandra’s going to help me get ready.”
“Of course. Fine. Why don’t you have breakfast here? All you’ll need is shoes and socks, but your aunt says she’ll arrange that. It looks lovely, by the way. There’s even a little headband hat to go with it.”
“Gosh, I can’t wait!”
“Oh, and Debbie said you should probably have a tray if you wanted to play your part properly. So I’ve found you a little round plastic one you can carry. It’s not very big but you could probably serve a couple of burgers or ice-creams on it.”
“Great! That’s very thoughtful of you. I’m really looking forward to it.”
After I’d put the phone down Bea said,
“I looked closely at the picture. I think the little girl is wearing tap shoes. Unfortunately you don’t have anything like that, but I was thinking your pink Mary Janes would go perfectly. You could wear them with white ankle socks or tights.”
“Ankle socks please, aunt. I want to look as like the girl in the picture as possible. Did you find my underbriefs?”
“Yes, darling. Here we are.” She produced a tiny pair of frilled pink latex panties from her drawer. “They’re very fine but the rubber is strong. When you put your costume panties on over them, the frills will look as though they belong to them. Not that anyone will see them underneath that gorgeous skirt, but it will all help you feel like a real girl. Here, take them now and keep them in your room till Saturday. And here are your shoes and socks as well.”
She dumped them into my arms and I scampered off upstairs excitedly. Things were really coming together now!
Saturday 2nd July. I was up before seven, had a shower and washed my hair. I dressed in shorts, T-short and sandals. I packed my few accessories in my rucksack, together with my toothbrush and toilet bag in case I needed them. My aunt had found a pink leather evening bag, no bigger than a purse, with a silver clasp, into which she’d put an embroidered handkerchief and a little bottle of scent. This time I accepted her gift happily. The concept of girlhood no longer seemed remote, not the possibilities unattainable. I waited nervously for the girls to arrive.
At twenty to eight Sandra’s car drew up outside. I was watching from the front window. I grabbed my bag and ran to meet her at the door. Today no black leather. Jeans and a blue shirt knotted around her waist. Ankle boots. She threw her arms round me and lifted me off the ground for a second. She set me down and I ran to the car and jumped in the back behind Alice.
“Hi Sim. Big day. Yay!”
“Yeah.”
“You have earrings as well, I’m told.”
“I do!” I took the box out of my pocket and passed it to her. She lifted the lid and laughed.
“Oh my god, perfect! I can’t wait for you to be all dressed up.”
Sandra climbed back into the car and we set off for Debbie’s house.
“What are you and the others wearing?”
“We’ve all got different costumes. They all have weird names. I’m ‘Baby Doll’. Debbie’s is called ‘Poodle’, for no better reason than that there’s a poodle on her shirt. Then there’s Ophelia. She has ‘Could it be Magic’ – that’s an amazingly cute little pink and blue outfit. Several of us wanted that but she bagsied it first. Then there’s Ruth, Helen, Maia and Viola. Ruth has got something called ‘Top of the Class’ I think – which she definitely isn’t! Viola is “Dance Music’, which is really nice and simple, a bit like yours, but a stripy top and a shiny pink skirt. And Helen… let me think. Oh, yes, Helen is a really pretty black and purple dress called ‘Stole the Show’. Maia? She always has to be different. She thinks she’s like, really cool, if you know what I mean. She’s chosen these sort of black spandex leggings and top, with a black scarf round her neck. She reckons she’s going to wear them with ankle boots, though if she does then it’s not really a dance costume, is it? I mean, you can’t do modern dance in ankle boots, can you? I think the only reason is she wants to look grown up so she can flirt with Mike.”
“I thought you liked Mike.”
“Oh, he’s okay. I don’t care really. I didn’t want to invite her anyway.”
“So why did you?”
“Because we had to invite Helen, we both like her. And for some reason she and Maia are always hanging out together. So we had to take them as a pair.”
“Complicated. Yeah, I’ve noticed Maia is a bit snooty, like she’s better than everyone else. I hope there’s no friction at the barbecue.”
Oh, no, don’t worry Simon. I think we can all manage to get on with each other for a few hours. I like all the others anyway. You can make up your own mind about Maia, and you’ll get to see all the costumes yourself. You’ll be as pretty as any of them, I can tell you!”
When we arrived at the Travers residence, there were already three half-dressed little witches running around.
“Simon!” cried Chloe excitedly, “What are you dressing up as? Are you wearing your purple pants? Or new ones?”
“You’ll have to wait and see, Chloe,” I said. “So you’re the blue witch, then?” She had blue hair and blue lipstick and a blue leotard beneath swathes of black gauze.
“Yes, I’m the blue witch, Charlotte’s the green witch, and Amelia’s the pink witch.”
“Which witch is the most witchy of the lot?”
“I am, of course, because blue witches are the most evil ones of all!” And she gave me her most evil grimace and cackle. “But wait till Alice has finished putting our black make-up on and then you’ll be really terrified!”
“Well, I’ve got to get dressed, Chloe. I’ll see you later.”
“Purple and pink ones, please, Simon!”
“Come on,” said Sandra, “let’s get you ready.” She had brought her make-up case from the car.
“You can use the big bedroom,” said Mrs Travers. “You’ll find Simon’s costume on the chair.”
“Thanks, Cynthia,” said Sandra, and led the way. “Go and get dressed first. Call me when you’re ready and I’ll come and do your make-up.” She left, laying her case on the bed and closing the door behind her. I saw my costume neatly folded on the dressing-table stool. I unfolded it carefully and held it up against myself. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I have to admit I was trembling slightly with excitement. My first girl’s dress! I laid it on the bed and opened my rucksack. First, on went the latex underbriefs, followed by the pink spandex briefs. Just as auntie had said, the pink latex frills looked as though they belonged to the costume panties. Then the costume itself, which was all in one piece. I unzipped the front zip a few inches, pulled it over my head and got my arms through the sleeves. The body of it was so stretchy it was very easy to put on. I pulled it down until the waistband fitted snugly around my waist, and zipped up the zip against to the collar. I walked up and down a little. The crisp, shiny skirt, supported on its frothy underskirt, bounced a little as I walked, lightly tickling my thighs. I pulled out my shoes and socks and managed to get them on without having to sit down and crush my skirt – not that it would have mattered, but I felt irrationally concerned about creasing it. I returned to the mirror, still buzzing with nervous tension, and tried to take in my transformed self. It was stupid, I thought, considering the outfits I had been wearing, that this simple costume should have such an effect. I stared at myself. I could easily be female. I started to understand how those kids had no difficulty believing I was a girl. My face no longer looked like that of an adolescent boy, the way I had got used to seeing it. If it hadn’t been for my mass of unkempt hair I could almost be a girl. I was breathing hard, and feeling slightly dizzy, so I sat down on the stool, making sure I didn’t sit on my skirt. I forced myself to inhale slowly and deeply, until I felt a bit calmer. Then I called Sandra.
She must have been waiting outside the door.
“Oh, my…. You look…. You’re beautiful!”
Too much, I thought. I can’t deal with my own reaction and hers all at the same time.
“I’m just a bloke in a dress, San,” I said, deadpan.
“Oh, no, you’re a bit more than that. And you’re not even finished yet.”
She made me stand up again, and fussed around rearranging the costume, straightening my socks, and running her fingers through my hair, trying to get it to lie down.
“There’s nothing for it. It’s the gel. Sit back down on that stool and face the mirror.”
She opened her case and pulled up a chair beside me. She started by combing my hair back from my forehead as hard as she could. I emitted a little cry of protest.
“Don’t complain. I’ve only just started.”
She worked a foamy gel into my hair and combed again. After a while the bulk had disappeared and it lay relatively flat on my head. She applied a doubled-up hairband to keep in place, and then somehow wound the ponytail into a tight bun, which she secured with innumerable hairpins. “This is almost long enough to plait, young man!” When she was satisfied it was quite secure, she picked up the little headband waitress hat, and slid it firmly in place.
“There. First phase done. Do you have your new earrings?
“In my bag.”
She found the box and replaced the keepers with the little ice-cream cones.
“Perfect for this outfit, aren’t they? Now for the face.”
I still wasn’t in any way relaxed, but as Sandra started to work on my face, her hair tickling my cheek and my nostrils full of her scent, I experienced a sense of immense well-being.
“No eye-liner. Too hard. The merest touch of pink eye shadow, a little mascara, a little face-powder, a hint of rouge. That’s all you need. Oh, and some appropriate lip-gloss, of course.”
I was pretty calm, right up to the lip gloss. But as she started to paint my lips, working with such intense care and precision, I began to become aroused. I was gripping my thighs in a determination to keep absolutely still, and she must have noticed my fingers were digging into my flesh.
“Relax, Simon. I’m nearly done here.”
I tried to reply but she shushed me. “Keep still. You can speak after it’s dried.”
At last she was finished. She sat back to admire her work.
“That’s about the best I can do. Wait till you see yourself.”
I was breathing through my mouth in order to dry the lip gloss. I got up and went back to the mirror. I was so dumbfounded I felt nearer to tears than smiles. I turned to Sandra and held out my arms. She put hers around me and hugged me.
“Oh, you poor thing! You look as though you’re going to cry! Come on, you look amazing!”
“Yes. Thank you.”
She squeezed me hard for a minute.
“Oh, goodness. You certainly look like a girl, but you don’t feel like one down there, you naughty boy! Why so excited?”
“It’s you, idiot!” I managed to articulate.
“Well I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a while, love. And me too. You’re Simone now, at a girls’ party. So behave like her! Here, have a squirt of scent!”
Sandra opened the door and ushered me out of the bedroom. I could hear a hubbub of female voices in the living-room. As I got to the doorway I could see all the girls were now in their costumes, showing them off to each other excitedly. I walked in. As the girls noticed me they stopped talking, all except Maia and Debbie, who seemed to be having an argument.
“I told you not to wear boots!” Debbie was saying, “It’s supposed to be a dance party!”
“So? I can dance in boots. I always do when I go to the club.”
“Not on our lawn, though. You’ll ruin the grass!”
“Well….” Maia began. But then she noticed Debbie had stopped arguing and was looking at the doorway. She followed her gaze.
“May I introduce…Simone!” said Sandra.
They all stared, speechless. For once I didn’t mind.
“H-how did you do that?” stuttered Debbie.
“Simon?” said Ophelia, “is that really you?”
“Wow! said Ruth, “You look like the real thing! I actually thought you were a girl when you walked in!”
“I feel like one,” I responded. “But you all look amazing! Ophelia, you look so glamorous! You all do! Maia, you look like Olivia Newton-John! Except for the boots, that is.”
“Told you so!” put in Debbie. But I could see Maia was gratified by my observation.
The next few minutes were occupied with the girls admiring my costume and make-up. Even Mrs Travers was impressed.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Simon…sorry, I mean Simone … but you look so beautiful as a girl, quite as pretty as any of the others. If I didn’t know you I would assume you were a girl.”
“I don’t mind at all, Mrs Travers. In fact it feels quite natural to me to be dressed like this.”
“You wouldn’t have said that a year or two ago, said Alice. “Do you remember what you were like? Always getting in trouble, and into fights!”
“I’ve grown up. I’m not anything like that any more. It’s much better now. I couldn’t have had you as a friend back in those days.”
Alice smiled and gave me a hug. “No, and I would be very sorry if we weren’t friends, Sim.”
“That’s a point. You can call me Sim whenever you’re not sure whether I’m Simon or Simone. It’s good for either scenario! Or both.”
“Can you be both?”
“I usually am.”
“Come on everyone, let’s go outside and play some music!” said Debbie. And we were soon in the garden, dancing or sitting around in groups. I was with Debbie and Alice. Debbie said,
“Do you want to be in our club, Simone? Me and Alice? We collect information on everyone in the school. We know things you wouldn’t even believe. Do you want to join? And then we can tell each other all our secrets as well.”
“Sure, Debbie. I’d like that.”
And that was how it went, the whole morning. The other girls accepting me as a friend. No teasing, no poking fun or giggling at me amongst themselves. It was as if I was simply one of them. And I realised that that was exactly what I yearned for more than anything. To be accepted as an equal, to be confided in, to have real friends. I was too old to have this close comradeship with boys any more. That was all over when you reached about twelve or thirteen. But with girls it persisted, maybe into full adulthood! And after years of feeling marginalised, distrusted and labelled a “difficult” boy, I saw a way of being part of a society with whom I already had a natural empathy. I revelled in the experience. Every girl in the garden came and sat with me at one time or another. Often they talked to me seriously, I imagine in a way they would never have talked to a normal boy. They didn’t feel the need to flirt, they didn’t seek my attention in any sexual way, but they clearly liked me and I liked them. Perhaps for them it was just the novelty, but there was a sort of mutual respect and they clearly felt comfortable being with me. The only exception was Maia, who talked to me but who couldn’t refrain from seasoning her conversation with a hint of sarcasm, as if she regarded me as a fraud, or an interloper, or perhaps a competitor. I tried to explain that I hadn’t always been happy as a boy, or at least the type of boy I had been, and that my attraction to taking on the trappings of her gender was not artificial or assumed. But I could understand her distrust, and I expected to encounter it frequently in the future if my transformation became more permanent.
By about twelve, everyone was getting hungry. Grant had lit the barbecue, and then Mike arrived and started helping prepare lunch. They were grilling burgers and peppers, and cutting up loads of tomatoes and cuc-umbers and lettuce on a trestle table. Mike was grilling burger buns and bringing bottles of ketchup and mustard and sauce from the kitchen. The food smelt lovely. As burgers became ready, I performed my function as the principal waitress. The girls were sitting round in groups on the law, and I carried their food to them on my little tray. I practised putting the plates on the ground without bending over and showing my knickers. I was very ladylike. Only the witches were rude enough to try and see up my skirt, until I threatened, as their official waitress, to give their ice-cream desserts to the others. After I had served everyone else, both with burgers and ice-cream, I sat down with Alice and Debbie to finish my own lunch. Grant and Mike were lounging by the barbecue having a beer. After a while, Mike wandered over to where we sat.
“Can I join you?”
“Sure, Mike,” said Debbie. “Sit down.”
Mike eased himself to the turf, and sat sipping his beer, not saying much, looking around the garden. He was at college with Grant now. I recognised him vaguely from when he was at Queen Alexandra. He was fair, clean shaven, and has nice, open blue eyes. Quite attractive, in fact. I could see why Alice, and probably a few of the others, might fancy him.
“Enjoying the party?” he asked.
“Yeah, great,” said Alice. She was about to say something else, when who should arrive at our little gathering but Maia.
“Hi, Mike,” she smiled, striking a pose, “how are you?” With the emphasis on the last word, and looking him straight in the eyes with an assumption of familiarity.
“Oh, hi, Maia,” he replied. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”
“Yeah, good. All the better for seeing you.” Mike looked slightly embarrassed.
Alice looked at me and Debbie with an expression which suggested imminent nausea. Maia didn’t notice, instead seating herself between Mike and me and, folding her legs under herself with studied coquettishness, tilted her head to one side and looked at him meaningfully. She ran one hand down the shiny black spandex of her thigh and contemplated her red nail polish. Mike clearly felt awkward. In an attempt, as I thought, to divert attention from this performance, he leant forward so he could see me.
“Hello. I don’t think we’ve met. I thought I knew most of Debbie’s friends.”
“Oh, sorry Mike. Hi. I’m…Simone. I’m in Debbie’s class at school.”
“Oh, really? You must be new then.”
“Oh…yes. Just this year,” I lied, "so that’s why, you know, you wouldn’t have seen me before.”
“I like you costume very much. It suits you. The pink, you know, looks really good on you.”
Now he was ignoring Maia completely, and she was not happy.
“I’ve got to get back to my friends,” she snapped, and she jumped up and flounced off.
Mike simply ignored her sudden departure, and carried on talking to me.
“So what do you think of Queen Alexandra? Do you like it there?”
“Oh, yes, very much. You’re at sixth form college now with Grant, aren’t you? What are you studying?”
At this point Alice whispered something to Debbie, Debbie said, “Excuse us. We have to go see my mum about something.” And they were gone. I was left with Mike, who, after chatting me up for another five minutes, finally got to the point.
“Er, Simone, er, I was wondering if you’d like to go for a drink one evening? Maybe a meal too. I’m sure you’re busy, but, you know, if…”
For a moment, I wanted to say yes. He seemed really nice. But apart from anything else, it would have been grossly unfair to him. So I simply said, “Mike, you know I would, I think you’re really nice, but unfortunately I have a boyfriend at the minute.”
Poor Mike was overcome with confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry, of course you must have. Lovely to speak to you, though. I’d better go see how Grant’s getting on.”
“You don’t have to go.”
“No, I’d better. Lovely to talk to you.”
“And to you.”
I sat there alone for some minutes trying to analyse my feelings. They were complicated. First, amusement at his error, but a certain pride in the fact I was able to compound his error even at close quarters. Second, a minor surge of vanity, because I had been found desirable by a very attractive guy. Third, a degree of curiosity at the outcome if I had gone on a date with him, either maintaining the pretence of being a girl or admitting the truth. And fourth, and most disconcerting, the fact I had actually felt some physical attraction to him, and been forced to consider the possibilities of a previously unthought of type of relationship. I was pondering all these matters when the girls returned.
“So did he ask you out?” queried Debbie at once.
“Yes. I said I already had a boyfriend.”
“Oh, spoilsport! You should have gone for it.”
“That's great,” said Alice, slightly peeved, “I’ve been hoping he would ask me out for ages, but he never has. You waltz in here and he’s all over you straight away.”
“Never mind, Alice,” said Debbie. “It was probably just the costume.”
“You know it wasn’t anything to do with that.”
“Seriously though, Sim, you could easily go out with a bloke, you know. I bet a lot of them wouldn’t care you were a boy, not if they liked you enough.”
“But I don’t know if I’m into that, Deb. I don’t know anything at the moment.”
“Look! That bitch Maia is going over to him! She’s gonna tell him!”
And indeed she was. She was clearly put out. Glaring at me she went straight up to Mike and spoke to him, pointing in our direction. He looked startled, then turned red, then had a word with Grant, said something abrupt, and left the party without looking back.”
“Oh, dear,” said Alice, “I don’t think we’ll see Mike for a bit now.”
And it rather put a damper on our mood. But as Debbie said, “He had to find out sometime, so better now than later.”
We looked at each other glumly. “Well that’s today’s excitement over, anyway.” Said Alice. But she was wrong.
-
Simonssister,
This is a well written story and your occasional included pictures help fuel my imagination in my mental image while I am reading it.
I'm looking forward to your next chapter.
-
Chapter X: Barbecue (Part 3)
Narrator’s note: You can probably understand how delighted we were at the turn things had taken. At last Simon had spontaneously and independently discovered his female persona, sweet and girlish. So when Alice related to me and Sandra the incident that occurred at Debbie’s that afternoon, we were quite shocked. It was only while reading his own account that we understood that he had not reverted to his old unruly self permanently. I’ll quote it in full:
We spent the first part of the afternoon after lunch in different groups. Helen, Maia and Viola were dancing to seventies and eighties stuff on the lawn. Alice and I were entertaining the three little witches, chasing them around the garden playing ‘He’ – or, as Charlotte insisted, ‘She’, when I was the pursuer. Hampered by their gauzy costumes and their little broomsticks they were not difficult to catch. Debbie, Ophelia and Ruth were inside using the laptop, already planning their Halloween costumes. At around two, Mrs Travers went out to go shopping with her friend, and Grant left also, so we had the place to ourselves. Ophelia and Ruth went outside to play with the younger girls. Debbie called Alice and me inside and asked us if we felt like raiding her mum’s drinks cabinet, so we ended up having a small Martini and a glass of white wine each, after which the girls started getting hysterical giggling fits and pretending to be various types of animals. It didn’t take much alcohol for them to regress a few years. Then Debbie’s phone rang.
“It’s Mike.”
“Okay.” Said Debbie. I hoped it wasn’t something to do with me. But no.
“Oh, my god. No! Not him!”
“What is it?” asked Alice, alarmed. Debbie put down her phone.
“You’ll never guess. Grant ran into that slob Lewis Tyler-Hyde in town. He let slip that I was having a party today, and now he might be coming round here.”
“He can’t! He’s disgusting and anyway he’s not invited!”
“That name sounds familiar,” I said, is he that big burly guy who’s….”
“Yes,” said Debbie, “big and very boring. He’s already left college and he’s going to some posh uni this year. He’s always trying to chat up the girls. He’s very persistent and intrusive. You can’t get rid of him. I hate him.”
I vaguely remembered him from when I was in year two. He tried to bully me about something, and we ended up having a minor confrontation.
“Yeah,” said Alice, “he thinks he’s the cat’s whiskers!”
“Dog’s arsehole, more like,” suggested Debbie.
“His dad’s some big fat lawyer, and Lewis is always boasting about how much he earns. Why did Mike have to mention the party?”
“I don’t suppose he thought for one minute that he’d try to gatecrash,” said Debbie. “Maybe he won’t actually turn up.”
But he did. We were still inside, and we saw him emerge from the side path. He looked around for a moment, then made a beeline for the three girls dancing at the end of the garden.
“Shit, Debbie, he’s here,” whispered Alice.
“Maia can take care of herself. I’m not so sure about the others. Who’s he after?”
“I think he’s cornered Ophelia.”
“Not surprised. She looks pretty cute in that little outfit. Yeah, look, he’s backing her up against the fence, the bastard.”
That was literally true. Lewis had taken possession of Ophelia, leaning into her whilst holding the top rail of the fence to prevent her escape. She was clearly intimidated.
“Ophelia’s not used to that sort of thing," said Debbie, "we’d better go rescue her.”
We headed out towards the bunch of girls down the garden. The music was still playing but no-one was dancing. They were standing around awkwardly, not quite knowing how to deal with this new guest. Except he wasn’t, of course. Only Maia looked in control, standing with her arms folded glaring at Lewis and saying something to him which he was ignoring. Ophelia was looking about for help, while being harangued by our unwelcome visitor. We approached.
“Lewis. Hi. What are you doing here?” shouted Debbie.
“Hi Debs!” he replied, without taking his eyes off Ophelia. “Mike suggested I drop in, so here I am.”
“Bullshit. He did nothing of the sort. I didn’t invite you, and this is my party. Please leave.”
“Oh, not very friendly, are we?” he replied with a smirk, finally turning round to face us. His eyes focussed on me. For a second I thought he had recognised me.
“Oh, hello, darling! I don’t think I know you!”
“No you wouldn’t, Lewis. Simone’s new round here.”
He relinquished his ownership of Ophelia and came towards me. I didn’t move. He brought his face as close to mine as his belly would allow. I was still slightly apprehensive he would see through the disguise, but there was not even a hint of recognition on his ugly face.
“Hello, Simone. I’m Lewis. I used to attend that pathetic institution they call a school, but I’m off to Oxford this year.” His brow puckered. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen. Same as them.”
“You could be younger. That’s a very sweet little costume you’re wearing.”
“Nice of you to patronise me.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“Ooh, a sarcastic one! Meow! Don’t worry, my dear, I can take everything you can dish out. And I mean, everything!” he added with a significant leer.
“I doubt it.”
“You do? Then maybe we should get together sometime soon, so I can prove it!”
“No thanks. I don’t date losers. Could you please leave? Debbie’s asked you once, and we were already bored with you before you opened your fat mouth!”
Lewis was, for a moment, speechless. The aforementioned mouth opened and closed, but no articulate sound emerged. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maia’s face light up with delight.
Then Lewis made his one big mistake.
“Why, you little bitch! You don’t talk to me like that!” That wasn’t the mistake. The mistake was, that with his right hand, he grabbed my left arm, digging his fingers into my bare flesh. He should have grabbed the other arm.
I can’t explain what happened. I thought the old Simon, not the one of a few weeks back, but the one of years ago, had been completely exorcised. But he was still there, deep down, my silent protector in times of danger. In that instant he rushed to my defence. His best punch was always the right hook. On the odd occasion he had had need of it, it had always served its purpose effectively. Simone took half a step backwards, and Simon swung the punch. I felt it connect with the side of Lewis’s face with a thud and a little pop, which I surmised was a tooth detaching itself from his lower jaw. His hand no longer gripped my arm, and his entire self now lay face down on the lawn. There was a collective gasp. A moment later he rolled over, blood welling from his mouth.
“You f---ing BITCH!” he spluttered, spraying it over his shirt and the grass. “You’re f---ing FINISHED!”
He attempted to struggle to his feet, but only managed to get as far as hands and knees.
“My Dad’s a lawyer, did you know that?” He was white with rage. “And I’m going to call the police, and…and.. you’re going to be arrested for assault, you little….”
“Lewis,” I interrupted, “before you go any further, let me tell you what’s going to happen. You call the police. The police will come here. I’ll be in tears. I’ll tell them you tried to put your hand up my skirt, and I managed to fight you off. I’ve got witnesses.” I glanced around, and the assembled company nodded enthusiastically, Maia adding a quiet “You bet!”. “The police will then arrest you for sexual assault. You will be put on the sex offenders register. You will probably get community service, picking up litter. Your place at Oxford will be withdrawn. Your parents will not be happy.”
He stared at me blankly.
“Do you want to use my phone?”
“F--- you! Just wait... f--- you!” was the most intelligent response he could come up with. He finally struggled to his feet, and without another word limped off out of the garden, leaving trail of blood behind him. I was Simone once again. Simon, the old Simon, had made an unostentatious departure, leaving Simone alone to receive the plaudits of her delighted friends.
“That was amazing, Sim!” cried Debbie.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” said Ophelia.
“Where did Simone learn to punch like that?” asked Ruth, quizzically.
“Oh, she was taught by a friend, many years ago,” I replied, “a very good friend.”
Upon interrogation, the witches reassured me they had not been in the least frightened, being used to much more dangerous events in their chosen occupation. They further assured me, though without much conviction, that they would not breathe a word of what had passed to anyone, even under torture.
There was general rejoicing, and I’m sorry to say that Mrs Travers’ drinks cabinet was further depleted before she returned home. She found the company in very high spirits, and with admirable discretion suggested an early supper. We broke up after supper and went our various ways. Before she left. Maia drew me aside.
“Simone, I’m sorry I shopped you to Mike. To be honest, I was a bit jealous of your attractiveness. But I love what you did to that lout Lewis, and I just want you to know I’m your friend for life – if you need me.”
“Thanks. Maia. I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to get in your way. I would very much like you as my friend.”
I was a little afraid of repercussions, but all I heard was that Lewis’s mother had been to the school asking after a girl called Simone. Apparently it wasn’t to lodge a complaint, but to apologise to her if her son had been rude to her in some way at a recent garden party. Unfortunately the school authorities were unable to identify the individual she was looking for, and neither could the girl whose party it was. She went away puzzled if not reassured.
When I returned to school the following Monday, Miss Benson asked to see me after class.
“Simon, I just wanted a word about the freshers’ show. You hadn’t forgotten you’d promised to do an act, had you?”
“No, Miss Benson. Course not.” I could tell she was just revelling in her little piece of blackmail.
“Oh, good. I thought we’d better talk now as everyone is going to need to rehearse. I hope you’ll be free to come in the odd day in the school holidays?”
“Sure. Weekdays would be best for me.”
“I was thinking,” she smiled an evil smile, “I was thinking you could sing “My socks don’t match”. That’s one of the numbers we’ve pencilled in. What do you think?”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“Of course you’d need to be dressed as a girl.” I could see she was waiting to see my reaction.
“Okay. No problem.” Her face fell.
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’ve just bought myself a very pretty dance costume that would be ideal. Can I bring it to show you sometime?”
“Oh…yes, Simon, please do.” She was obviously totally gobsmacked. Her little plan had completely backfired. I enjoyed a rare moment of triumph.
“Is there anything else, miss?”
“Er, no thank you, Simon. Not right now. I’ll, er, have a word with your aunt, then, shall I?”
“Feel free, miss.” I could see she couldn’t wait to get on the phone to find out what was going on.
“Bye, miss!”
“Bye, Simon. Thank you.”
And I waltzed out of the classroom and headed home.
-
Chapter XI: Preparations (Part 1)
My little brother had a quiet week at school. He told us that Miss Benson had asked him to come in on Saturday morning to discuss the show. Then later that day he was going to see Sue to check how his boot salon was coming along. She had told me it was going to be ready in a couple of weeks, certainly by the start of the school holidays. My mum and I had already been in touch with Miss Benson – Patricia – about Simon’s costumes for the show, and she had a little surprise for him, which I’ll let him relate in his diary entry. All I can say is, she wasn’t about to let him spoil her plans, and we hadn’t finished having our fun with him.
Saturday 9th July. Had to see Miss Benson this morning about the freshers’ show. I took my new costume to show her, to see if it would be acceptable.
“It’s very pretty, Simon. Your aunt had already described it to me, as a matter of fact. I’m quite happy to let you wear it for your first appearance, or anything similar that takes your fancy. I know Debbie's mum ordered several very pretty dresses for the barbecue. We can easily alter the lyrics slightly to suit.”
“My first appearance? What do you mean?”
“Yes, your first appearance. We want you to open the show and close the show, because we think you’re going to be the most memorable act of all.”
“Really? You know I’m no performer. I can dance a bit, but my voice is pathetic.”
“Your voice is fine. And you’ll have a microphone. Your costumes will be the main talking point, though. The joke is this, that you’ll sing the same song to open and to close, but when you open you’ll be a girl, though no-one will be quite sure if you are or not, and when you close, it will quickly be quite evident you’re really a boy! We think that’ll make you a big hit, and bring the show to a great climax!”
“Oh, so what’s my second costume going to be, then?”
“Well, I’ve discussed it with your aunt, and I think we’re going to go for a nice spandex leotard with your favourite purple and pink latex pants. I found a lovely one which matches perfectly. Of course, you’ll be wearing odd socks with both outfits and tap shoes as well. I'll email you images of your leotard and shoes when I get home this evening. I’m going to send you to Miss Morel for dance and singing classes and tap is her speciality. What do you think?”
She knew exactly what I thought from the expression on my face.
“Miss, no, please? Please don’t make me wear that on stage. That’s not fair!”
“Fair Simon? Fair? It’s not supposed to be fair. You weren’t fair to me all those times you disrupted my class, were you? You weren’t fair when you made all the children laugh at me with your continual silly comments? Well, now I want you to find out what it’s like to have a whole room of people laughing at you!”
“But I’ve turned over a new leaf, now. I’ll never be like that again.”
“Well that’s gratifying, but the show must go on, as they say.”
“I’m not doing it!”
“Oh yes you will. Did you really think you were going to get away with one little act in your pretty little party dress, with all the women cooing over you? No way! I have the full cooperation of your aunt and your sister, and they assure me you’ll do what you’re told. Look at it this way. You’re going to be a celebrity. And remember, we always video all the shows, and sell the discs afterwards, so if you want my advice, I would make sure you put on the performance of your life. If you’re professional, and you sing and dance with a smile on your face, you might get away with it. If, on the other hand, everyone sees you’re totally humiliated by what you’re doing, they’ll know you’re a real sissy, and you’ll never live it down!”
I knew she was right, but I couldn’t imagine how I could carry it off.
“I ran a little competition yesterday amongst the older girls to modify the original lyrics to fit in with your new costumes. These were the winners. This is for your first appearance, and this is for the final one.”
She handed me two sheets of paper. Each had verses printed on it. I read the opener first:
“I’ve got a dimple in my chin,
I’ve got a pretty little grin,
My hair is a delightful thatch, but
It’s quite true, my socks don’t match.
I don’t know if I’m girl or boy,
When I am asked, I go all coy.
But you’ll admit, I’d be a catch,
Except, you see, my socks don’t match.
I think my costume’s very cute,
My gorgeous little waitress suit.
I serve the food with such despatch,
A shame it is, my socks don’t match!
You ought to know, it is my aim
To get another pair the same.
And then, with simple transposition,
My socks will match in apposition.”
“Not bad, is it?. Now tell me what you think of the closer.”
I picked up the second sheet.
“I’m back again, unless I’m dreaming.
My spandex leotard is gleaming.
Admittedly it’s rather brash,
And you may think
My socks do clash!
My collar matches, and my hat,
You’ll say I look a little brat!
In purple tap shoes I am shod.
Why is it that
My socks are odd?
And when my pretty pants I wear,
They make the people stop and stare.
With frills of pink and heart-shaped patch,
It's not my fault
My socks don’t match!
I love to dance my pretty dance,
So please don’t look at me askance!
I wear my little cap askew.
But different socks?
It just won’t do!”
Now you have seen that I’m a boy,
My girly act was just a ploy!
I’m quite the teasing little fairy,
So can you wonder that
My socks are also quite contrary?
I looked at Miss Benson, horrified. “P-please…” I stammered.
“Clever lyrics, I thought. Both girls envisaged you doing hand gestures as well – for instance, you will need to point at your chin or whatever when you sing the word, and maybe tug at your pants when you mention them in the second song. You know, Simon, the keyword is “cute”. But Miss Morel will handle all that.”
“Cute?” I grimaced.
“Yes, cute. I’ve booked you in for lessons every Friday evening after school, and right through the holidays. I expect you to be very proficient by September. Now, take the lyrics home and learn them off by heart. Listen to the original, too. You’ll see you have quite a bit of leeway with phrasing, but Miss Morel will make sure your enunciation is loud and clear. In a couple of weeks we’ll have a rehearsal, but I’ll let you know about that.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Miss Benson placed a finger on her lips.
“No, Simon. No more. Now off you go.”
“Yes miss. Thank you, miss,” I said sadly, as I left.
I went home to eat. I didn’t even bother to ask auntie if she was in on the plot. She was putting the phone down as I walked in the door and I was sure it was Miss Benson. She was all full of the joys of spring. My surmise was proved correct, because as I was leaving to meet up with Sue, she stopped me at the front door.
“Don’t be down, Simon. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
“I don’t know if I can do it, aunt. The final number, I mean.”
“Nonsense! You’ll be a huge success, I’m sure!”
“For all the wrong reasons.”
“Not at all. Everyone’s going to love you. And we all think you’re very brave.”
“I think I’d just like to be a girl from now on. It feels a lot easier.”
“Well, I think you enjoy being a girl so much because you know you’re a boy!”
“I don’t understand.”
“Never mind. “Enjoy being a girl”, did I say? There’s another song with possibilities!”
“Don’t, aunt, please. I’m going to Holly End. Back later.”
-
Chapter XI: Preparations (Part 2)
I took a bus to the riding school. I came in the main entrance past the building where I was going to be working. I tried the door but it was locked. I carried on up to reception, where Sue was waiting for me.
“Simon, hi. You’re very punctual,” she said, looking at her watch. “We might as well go straight down to the salon. Let me get the key from my office.
We walked back down the path together. The building now had a new roof, and the bricks looked as though they had been cleaned and repointed. There was a new solid oak door.
“You’ll see we’ve replaced the old windows with one long high window fitting. If you stood on a box or something you could peep in, but I don’t suppose anyone would go to those lengths. In any case, there are blinds on the inside which you can close if you want to. Some clients might like absolute privacy, so you can even lock the door if you like. I’ll give you a key when we get back to reception.
She opened the door. I was amazed by the transformation. There was no ceiling, so the roof space was clear, with wooden beams running from side to side at roughly metre intervals. Sue switched on the lights, which were downlights positioned on these beams. The walls were all painted white, apart from the left wall, which hung with a darkish patterned wallpaper, so the effect was dazzling.
“You can have it very bright if you like, but all the lights are dimmable. Now, do you like the floor?”
The floor was lovely polished wood blocks. Along the left-hand wall was a carved wooden couch, upholstered in red velvet, and between it and the door a shelf with a coffee-machine and cups, and under the shelf a water dispenser. On the right, under the high windows, was a row of wooden cupboards with little brass handles. And at the far end of the room was the customers’ chair, made of steel and padded red leather, positioned in between two low shelf units which looked as though they could also be used as little tables.
“This chair was a bit of an investment, Simon. It’s a high-tech hairdresser’s chair, actually. If you look here – she pointed to the right arm rest – you’ll see there’s a control panel. Your client can adjust the height of the chair, the position of the foot rest, she can recline or be upright, she can adjust the head rest. You may need to help, though it’s very self-explanatory. I guess you should make sure your customer is comfortable and correctly positioned as soon as they sit down. It’s primarily designed for the customer’s benefit, but also to make sure that her boots are in the right position for you to work on.”
“So where will I be, exactly?”
“See these steel rails in front of the chair? This will be your work station. We’re having a very comfortable kneeling-platform fitted here. You’ll be able to adjust the position forward or back by hand. It will slide and lock. It’s going to be properly padded and covered with red leather, like the chair. These cupboards to your right and left can be used to house your cleaning equipment, or as tables for your customer’s coffee, and in the cupboard to your right there’s a sink and brushes – see? – in case you need to wash any of the boots. But we’re not going to encourage clients to come in here with muddy boots. This is a strictly a finishing service."
"What's that cupbaord on the wall to the left of the chair?"
"Oh, that's, er, just for the client to store her belongings."
I tried the door. "It seems to be locked."
"Well, er, yes, at the moment. The customer will be given the key before the session in case she needs it."
"Okay, I see. There's also another room behind the chair?"
"That's going to be a little toilet and shower-room for you, to save you the trek up to reception. It's not quite finished yet. So what do you think of the place?”
“It’s amazing! Much more sophisticated than I expected. And I like the design so much. Oh, and I see you have a full-length mirror on the back of the door. That’s a good idea.”
“Indispensable. They’re all going to want to see how they look after you’ve done your work.”
“And what are these hooks above the couch and on the opposite wall?”
“Well they’ll be for pictures, but we haven’t got round to thinking about that yet.”
“What, like horses and things or just views and stuff?”
“Well, maybe horses, yes, and riders even, but I sort of had in mind that we could eventually have a few of you in your various outfits.”
“My various outfits?” I repeated.
“Yes, you know, we’re planning to change your outfits every so often – maybe every week even – to give some variety. Also clients may aqsk you to wear certain things. It’s going to be all part of the marketing strategy. Your aunt says she has a whole collection of clothes that have never even seen the light of day. And I have a few ideas myself.”
“Oh. But Sue, I sort of thought I would have some input into that…”
“Of course we’ll take your ideas into account, Simon, but ultimately the committee will decide what you wear here. Some clients will have very specific wishes or requirements, and we’re going to do our best to satisfy them.”
“Of course, Sue. I quite understand. But there’ll be limits, won’t there?”
“Well, not really, darling. If you look at your contract you’ll see it says that you will wear whatever the committee, “in its absolute discretion”, prescribes. So if Mrs Smith wants you dressed as a baby and suc-king a dummy, or Mrs Brown wants you stark naked, I’m afraid that’s what they’re going to get.”
“I don’t remember seeing that.”
“Read your contract, Simon. Always a good idea. Anyway, to get back to the pictures, I think initially we’ll have some photos of our girls, or customers, up there. There are some very pretty girls around the school, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. We can update them as we build up an album of your costumes.”
“I’m going to be photographed?”
“Regularly. Get used to it. And while I’m on the subject, I’d better show you these.”
She led me back to the chair. “See these light fittings up on the wall?”
“Yes.”
“Well they’re not light fittings! They’re tiny HD video cameras pointing at the client and at you. It’s partly for our and your protection, in case you get accused of negligence or rudeness or anything. All your sessions will be recorded.”
“I see. Are those the same, under the window?”
“Well spotted. Yes, they are pointed at the couch.”
“Is that for people waiting to be attended to?”
“That’s right. Or sometimes just family or friends, come to watch. Maybe deciding if they’re going to books a session.”
“Oh, I see. I didn't realise I might have an audience as well as a client.”
“Well there'll often be someone apart from the client in here whilst you're working - daughter, mother, friend, or just the next customer. Really I don't know any better than you how things will transpire. I guess we just have to wait and see.”
As we walked back up to reception I was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. But I did need the money. “Sue, when do you think it might be ready?”
“Definitely two weeks from today. That’s when we’re planning the launch. In fact, the platform is being installed this week, and we’ll hang a few pictures too. The only reason you can’t start next weekend is the gymkhana.”
“Gymkhana?”
“Yes, you know, it’s like a less formal show. Lots of fun competitions, races, jumping, and stuff. The kids get to participate as well as the grown-ups. And we have stalls selling things and all sorts of games. It's a family day out and it's nice because all the staff get to relax a bit and mess around. We have two every year, one at the beginning of the holidays and one towards the end. All the takings go to charity. This year it’s the donkey sanctuary down the road. My friend Violet runs it. She takes in horses and goats and other animals too. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask you if you’d be prepared to help us out.”
“Doing what?”
“What you do best. Running a boot-shine. If it’s dry you could be outdoors. We’d find you a site and rope it off for you. If it were raining then you’d have to be in one of the marquees. That wouldn’t be much fun, and the boots would all be muddy, too!”
“Er, I’m not sure…”
“I was hoping you’d say yes. It would be the perfect way to launch your salon. We'd charge a nominal amount - probably a pound for jodhpur boots and two for riding boots. You could hand out leaflets for the salon and even take bookings. It would get you off to a flying start, I’m sure.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course. There’ll be a lot of people there. You’d have to wear your Boot Boy outfit, of course. I don’t mind which version. Just so long as people get the message.”
Frankly, I didn’t fancy it. Private sessions were one thing. But I’d already had experience of public exposure at the show and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I was about to make an excuse when we arrived at reception. A middle-aged woman with greying hair and a rather kind face was waiting for us. Sue greeted her ecstatically.
“Violet! I was just talking to Simon about you! Simon, this is Violet Willoughby, who runs the donkey sanctuary. Violet, Simon.”
“The famous Simon! Hello, Simon, lovely to meet you!”
“I was just asking Simon if he’d like to set up his Boot Boy stall at the gymkhana.”
“Oh, really? Oh, it would be so great if you did. I’m sure you’d rake in the cash. You’d be doing a great service for my poor little animals!”
“Oh, well, I’m not sure…”
“Of course, I quite understand if you can’t. You must be so busy with school work.”
“Oh, no, not really, Mrs, er, Violet. If you think it would help…”
“Oh, Simon, you’re so kind! You must come over and visit us soon. Would you do that?”
“I’d love to. Thank you.”
I got the key and put it on my keychain. I got comprehensively kissed goodbye and made my way back down the path. I gave my building a parting glance. It was quite posh all right. As I sat on the bus going home, I wondered exactly what I had let myself in for. Well, it was done now, though I felt I'd been rather bamboozled into it. Never mind. It would be a good way of promoting the salon, it’s true. And the thought of all those athletic horsey women in riding boots…. No, I said to myself, I’d better not think of them. There were going to be plenty of them around if things worked out. But that contract. I resolved to find it as soon as I got home and see what I had actually signed up for.
-
Chapter XII: Empathy (Part 1)
Mum was shocked to read this entry. I wasn’t. I’ve known Sandra too long to be surprised by what she gets up to!
Saturday 9th July (continued). Auntie had my supper ready when I got in. As a member of the “committee” (or the politburo as I prefer to think of them), she already knew I’d been recruited for the gymkhana next Saturday.
“What were you thinking of wearing, Simon?” The inevitable question.
“Look aunt, I know I’m required to put on my Boot Boy costume, but I’d really like something a bit plain and low key this time. Is that possible?”
“Well, Sue said she forgot to give you your Holly End T-shirt this afternoon. That’s red with a green design.”
“I know. I’ve seen them. Why can’t I just have red everythings, then? Pants, gloves, cap, socks, trainers. Can we do that?”
“Of course, Simon. This is only a practice run, anyway. You may find yourself in something more exotic from the following week.”
“I know, aunt. I’ve been warned. Okay, that’s settled then.”
“Yes. And Sue is going to try and get a few leaflets printed for you by Saturday, so you can publicise the salon.”
“Oh, yes. She mentioned those. Great.”
It was a relief about my uniform. To allay any lingering suspicions, I asked Bea if she could find the stuff right away. To her credit, she came up with the lot. The pants and gloves had the usual frilling, but they were a uniform cherry red. The baseball cap has “Boot Boy” in green across the front, matching the Holly End T-shirts. She must have covered virtually every possibility when she knew I would be working there. There was a pair of plain red ankle socks, and I already had a pair of nice chunky red trainers. Perfect, so long as it didn’t rain. I took the lot upstairs and stowed them away in my drawer. Then I looked out my copy of the contract and checked the small print. Sue had been telling the truth. Paragraph five read:
“During working hours (including breaks and lunchtime) the aforenamed employee agrees to dress in any way the committee in its absolute discretion prescribes, deems suitable, or is required by the customer. Failure to conform to this rule may result in the withholding of wages or tips, publication of recorded material relating to the employee, or corporal punishment whether inflicted with the compliance of the employee or under duress, in any form the committee in its absolute discretion may consider appropriate.”
She’d been telling the truth, but not the whole truth, apparently. I read on. Paragraph six went a step further.
“The aforenamed employee may be required by the committee in its absolute discretion at any time to consent to any restraint, submissive behaviour, humiliating or otherwise, application of bodily aids or equipment, or anything else that it is thought appropriate to impose upon him. Similar penalties as those detailed in paragraph five above or any other penalties not herein specified may apply in the event of any contravention of or resistance or non-compliance to this regulation. The same penalties may be applied in the event of any attempt by the employee to tamper with the fittings of the salon, in particular the anchor points on the kneeling platform and any chains, bars, straps, locks or other restraints attached thereto, or with the contents of the clients’ private locker.”
The ‘clients’ private locker’? That must be the side cupboard I noticed by the chair. Why would I want to interfere with a customer’s personal stuff? It didn’t make sense.
Paragraph seven spelt it out even more clearly.
“The aforenamed employee agrees unconditionally to comply without question to the customer’s instructions, whether reasonable or not, whether forewarned or not. Customers’ requirements will be agreed with the committee prior to the session, and the substance of those requirements is not the concern of the employee.”
So there it was. That was what I had so blithely signed up to. Well, that was at least two weeks away. I couldn’t worry about it now.
I lay in bed thinking everything over. The freshers’ show was still a worry. Queen Alexandra had instituted a sixth form starting this year, and me and most of my friends had signed up for it. We liked the place on the whole, and we thought the standard of teaching would be better than in any of the local colleges. That was before I knew I was potentially going to be humiliated in front of all the new kids. I’d be famous but not in the way I might have hoped. There wasn’t much I could do to mitigate the closing act, but if I wanted to avoid being called ‘Simon the little waitress’ for the rest of my time there it might be an idea to change my costume. I decided to go and see Mrs Travers to see if she had an alternative.
I called her the next morning.
“Oh, of course, Simon. Do come round. Everyone’s out this morning so come over now if you can make it. I’ve returned some but there are still a couple here you could try on.”
I took the bus over that morning. In the event, there were only three things to choose from. A pink leotard – no thanks. A stripy ginger catsuit with ears. I don’t think so. And one quite pretty pink and black dress, with a stretchy bodice and a lovely crisp, wavy skirt. I tried it on. It fitted perfectly, and felt so nice. Why do I feel so comfortable in really girly things? Anyway, Mrs Travers very kindly went to town, finding me shoes and socks and matching panties and doing my hair up in the most amazing way with pink gauze and stuff from her box of accessories. She has a little studio upstairs where she photographs models for her company, and she even took a picture of me and printed it out so I could show “my friends”! I’ll clip it into my diary afterwards. I prefer this dress. It’s not so juvenile as the waitress one. She packed it all up for me in tissue in a little polka dot box so I can take it to show Miss Benson next week. But before that there was another person I wanted to show, so I kept my hair just as it was and called Sandra.
“Sandra, hi.”
“Simon, how are you? I was going to call you today. I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy with college work, and I got a part-time job in that new clothes shop in the High Street last week.”
“I’m fine. I’m at Debbie’s house. Her mum has found me a new dress for the school show in September. I wondered if you’d like to see it.”
“I’d love to, of course. The reason I was going to call you was to see if you wanted to go out for a meal this evening. My first free evening for a week.”
“Yes, please! I’d love to.”
“Why don’t you wear your new dress?”
“Do you think I could?”
“I think you should! Why not? We talked about this before, didn’t we?”
“I know. It just feels a big thing, the first time I’ll have worn a dress in public.”
“You’re going to be wearing one on stage soon, in front of hundreds of people! Please do! You’ll be with me, anyway. And I bet no-one even realises you’re not a girl.”
“Mrs Travers has done my hair too. It looks amazing!”
“Well I want to see that as well, so keep it as it is. I’ll pick you up from home at six, so I can have a good look at you before we get to the restaurant. I’ll think of a nice place to go. Deal?”
“Deal! See you later, then!”
-
Chapter XII: Empathy (Part 2)
I was so excited! I felt like a young girl on her first date! Sandra had tutored me a little in making-up, and I spent an hour carefully applying modest quantities of powder, eye shadow, mascara and pink lip gloss. I had a few pairs of earrings by now, and a found some sparkly ones to wear, and dabbed a little scent behind my ears too. Looking in the mirror, I noticed that, now and then, it was possible to get a glimpse of my little pink panties. So I put on my latex underbriefs to keep myself as flat as possible. Sandra arrived at six, and she was obviously delighted at my appearance.
“Simone, darling! You look stunning! I love it!” She turned me round a couple of times, fluffing my skirt. “This is the one. You’ll stop the show.”
Bea was beaming all over her face. “I never thought I’d see the day, Sandra, but here it is! She’s a beautiful young woman.”
We got into the car. Sandra was wearing her usual outfit, with her newly-acquired leather shorts. I found that I had quite lost any nervousness I had about going out in public. No-one could possibly guess I was anything but a real girl, could they? Admittedly the dress may have still looked a little juvenile, but I had a young face, but the main thing was, Sandra herself was obviously more than happy with how I looked.
“Where are we going, San?”
“Do you know Empathy? Pretentious name, but nice simple food and subdued lighting.”
“Okay, nice.”
We parked in the far corner of the car park and made our way to the entrance. A waitress conducted us to our table, next to the window. She paid me a lot of attention, though she did treat me like a kid, which was a bit annoying.
“Darling, that’s such a sweet dress! And your hair is beautiful! Have you been to a party?”
“Thank you. Not today.”
“She just loves pretty dresses,” said Sandra. “There doesn’t need to be a special occasion.”
“Oh, she looks so sweet! Is she your sister?”
“My niece. I have a sister the same age, though.”
“Why don’t you sit against the window, darling, and your aunt can sit here at the side. Would you like something to drink, girls?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and, Simone? What would you like?”
For the sake of simplicity I decided to continue the charade. “Can I have some cherry pop, please?”
“Of course. Back in a minute!”
My skirt was not ideal for sitting in, at least in the confines of a restaurant table. When I sat on the back of the skirt, the front tended to stick up. But I spread my napkin over it to keep it down and protect it from spills. Sandra put her hand on my thigh and patted me reassuringly under the table. “Are you okay, Sim?” I nodded happily. We each ordered salmon, and I had surreptitious sips from Sandra’s wine. A woman on the other side of the restaurant looked over disapprovingly, and spoke to her friend, who followed her gaze.
“Take no notice, Sim,” said Sandra, patting me again. She left her hand there and ate with her fork in her other hand. As she ate, her fingers crept up to my panties, and began to explore. I stopped eating for a moment and looked at her wide-eyed. She smiled at me, but didn’t stop. She traced a path over the slippery satin till she arrived at the little bulge in the middle of my panties. Then she began, very gently, to massage it. In a matter of seconds I was growing and stiffening. She continued eating with an expression of total innocence, but within a minute or two her stroking had brought me to full erection. I was breathing deeply, and could feel my cheeks reddening, but I didn’t move. Now she slipped her fingers under the satin, and began to work on me through the fine rubber of my underbriefs, squeezing the shaft and fingering the tip simultaneously. I felt faint, and took another sip of wine. Even when the waitress came over to ask if we were enjoying of meal she didn’t stop, just said “Oh, yes, thank you. It’s lovely – so moist!”
By this time, I was a stage past being moist. My pants were slippery with juice. She was now squeezing the head rhythmically between thumb and finger, sending waves of pleasure through me. I was lapsing into a sexual trance, when I was awakened by a tapping on the window. Someone was gesturing to Sandra. For a moment I thought we had been discovered, but Sandra waved back and beckoned whoever it was inside. She sat there holding me as a blonde girl in a little black sequin dress and black knee boots came through the door and approached.
“Sandra! What are you doing here?” She noticed me. “And who’s this?”
“Hi, Danielle! This is Simone, my niece. We thought we’d celebrate her getting a new party dress. Simone, meet Danielle. She’s my manager at the shop.”
“Hi, Danielle,” I gasped.
“Hi, Simone. What a pretty dress that is! Well worth a celebration.”
“So where are you off to?”
“Off to meet the boyfriend. No hurry. You can rely on him being late every time!”
“Have a seat, Danielle, and a glass of wine. Come on, just a quick one!”
No, please don’t, I thought, but Danielle didn’t take much persuasion. She sat down opposite me, called the waitress, and soon she and Sandra were chatting away happily. But – to my horror – Sandra’s fingers resumed their gentle kneading. The arrival of Danielle had resulted in my erection subsiding a little, but soon Sandra had me at full stretch again. I couldn’t move, but I clamped my legs together. I vaguely registered that my empty plate had been removed and that she had ordered eclairs and cream. I took a bite of mine in an attempt to appear unconcerned. I nearly choked on it. Sandra had now put her hand inside my underbriefs, and deftly extracted my slippery member. I sat up very straight in my seat. Without once interrupting her conversation, she wrapped her fingers firmly around it and began sliding the lubricated foreskin back and forth with relentless regularity. She turned to me for a moment.
“Simone, darling, you’re not eating your éclair.”
“Are you all right, darling?” enquired Danielle. And to Sandra, “She looks a bit flushed, dear. It is quite warm in here, ain’t it?”
“Yes, it is. And she has had a bit of a cold this week.”
“Well, I’m going to have to make a move, I think,” said Danielle, reluctantly, making as if to get up.
“Oh, before you go,” said Sandra hurriedly, putting her hand on Danielle’s arm, “just run through that inventory again quickly, would you? Is it the evening dresses go to the Wenstock branch?”
“No, dear, listen. The evening dresses….”
But I heard no more. Sandra’s hand was moving faster, and squeezing gently. Another two or three strokes, and …. Oh! Oh! YES! I was overtaken by a huge climax, which jolted me in my seat, nearly knocking over my drink. As I began to spasm uncontrollably, Sandra thrust my foreskin right back, simultaneously rocking my engorged boyhood from side to side under the table, directing the powerful spurts at her friend's legs as coolly as if she were using a garden hose! I pretended to be convulsed with a paroxysm of coughing. In the heat of the moment it was all I could think of to account for my discomposure.
“Oh, the poor dear!” said Danielle. “She should really go home to bed, I’m thinking.”
“Yes. I don’t think she’s even going to finish that éclair, are you darling?”
I gasped some inarticulate response. Danielle had got up and was kissing Sandra goodbye. She patted my cheek affectionately. When she was half way to the door, Sandra suddenly called after her.
“Danielle! Don’t forget we’re getting together on Friday!”
Danielle turned briefly to acknowledge Sandra’s words, and in the low restaurant lights I saw with dismay blobs and strings of my own slimy juices glistening all down her leather boots! After a minute or so, Sandra returned my now flaccid member to its proper place, and, wiping her sticky hands on her napkin, finished eating her eclairs. I was still recovering.
“What a bad girl! All over my friend’s nice clean boots! She’s going to need a boot boy now!”
“Sandra. That was too much. She’s bound to notice.”
“Well she’s not going to suspect my sweet little niece of anything, is she?”
We made our way back to the car. Sandra was so bad! I could hardly believe it.
“Get in the back seat, Sim.”
“Why?”
“Go on!”
She got in beside me. She looked into my eyes. “I’m not a nice girl, you know.” Was all she said. Then she kissed me on the lips, supporting my head in one hand, and with the other skilfully pulling my panties down to my knees. The car park was dark, and her windows were coated. We were quite private. She took me in her hand again, and soon had me aroused. I tried to reciprocate, but there was no penetrating those tight leather pants. I was groaning with pleasure when she dipped her head down and took me in her mouth, the tip of her tongue exploring my most sensitive place. As I came for the second time in an hour, I wound my hands in her hair and cried out with ecstasy. Shortly she came up, licking her lips.
“You taste wonderful. I would have liked some of that on my eclairs.”
“Sandra…”
“Yes?”
“Can we do it properly, sometime?”
“Wasn’t that proper?”
“Well, yes, I suppose…”
“Listen, Sim. First, I’m not much into vanilla. My sex organs are mostly in my head. I don’t much care for all those boring men I meet at college and work. But I like you, better than anyone I’ve ever known, and all I want is to focus on you, so please don’t have any expectations of a ‘normal’ sex life. I don’t care what gender you are, or want to be, or end up being. Please just take me as I am. Do you like me?
“I love you.”
“I hope you always do. Now shall we go home? To my place, I mean.”
“Yes please.”
And so we did.
-
Chapter XIII: Gymkhana (Part 1)
We laughed at poor Simon’s misfortunes at his first gymkhana! I want to emphasize I had nothing whatever to do with any of it. I suspect Phoebe may have had a hand in it somehow. I’ve taken the liberty of leaving out a lot of the stuff about Sandra, and replacing it with a little row of dots! Now read on.
Sunday evening. I spent the evening in Sandra’s room. Mrs Travers discreetly left us alone, though Chloe kept finding excuses to interrupt. When she first saw my dress she stared and said, “Simone, you are so pretty!” which made me feel stupidly gratified. We were still up after everyone had gone to bed, so I called up my aunt and stayed with Sandra. (……….) She drove me back early the next morning. For the rest of the week I was in a state of euphoria mixed with sexual arousal. Friday night was busy. After school I showed my new dress to Miss Benson. She loved it. She’s going to amend the lyrics slightly accordingly. After that I saw Miss Morel and we discussed choreography. She worked out basic steps and gestures for the first number. She said we’ll look at the second one next week, and then start practising. I left school at five thirty and went straight to Garden Road, to have supper and sort out Stella’s boots. No special treatment today, as tomorrow is just the gymkhana. My aunt had brought my stuff over in my rucksack. I went to bed early, so I’d be fresh for a long day tomorrow.
Saturday 16th July. Stella drove us to Holly End at eight this morning. We parked in the staff car park, which was separate from the public one at the main entrance. Arrangements for the gymkhana were slightly different from those for the show. The field entrance, which was beyond the show field, became the main entrance. The competitors would use the show field itself and the jumps field. There was no seating – Stella said most people sat on the grass and ate picnics or just wandered around. All the stalls were down at the bottom of the show field near the loose boxes, or even in the paddock area. We found Sue, busily handing out instructions.
“Simon! Just the person I want. Stella, could you help Josie with the marquee? Thanks. Okay, follow me young man, and I’ll show you your pitch.”
Sue led me into the paddock, where there were already a couple of traders setting up. In the middle was a big display from the local tack shop. At the near end were two ladies selling farm produce, eggs and cheese and milk and preserves and things, from a covered stall. Sue took me along to the far end, where there was a second break in the rails. The first thing I saw was a big hand-painted notice in red letters pinned to an A board, “BOOT BOY SIMON – BOOT SHINE WHILE-U-WAIT”, and underneath the prices, long boots £4, jodhpur boots £2. On the tarmac path just inside the rails was an old leather armchair, and in front of it a big padded vinyl mat, surrounded by polishes, creams, bottles, brushes and cloths, all neatly arranged in wooden boxes. Next to the armchair was a row of three wooden benches, presumably for the queue Sue hoped would form. There was also a little cabinet full of leaflets, and on top a dispenser crammed with more. A dark-haired girl in white jods, long boots, and a Holly End T shirt, whom I vaguely recognised from the groom competition, was standing around looking bored. She had a belt with a big zip-up purse on the front, and a riding whip stuck down one boot.
“Simon, meet Laura, if you haven’t already. She going to be collecting the money and handing out the leaflets.” I smiled at Laura. “Hi. I’m Simon. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said in a surly voice, “I clocked you at the show, like everyone else.”
“Okay, guys, I’m going to leave you to get on with it. I’ve still got a lot to do. But I’ll catch up with you later,” said Sue. “The gymkhana opens at nine-thirty. Simon, you can change over there in box number three. You’ll find your Holly End T-shirt in the cupboard, oh, and a little something extra, too.” And she hurried away.
Laura suddenly became more interested. “Change? Are you gonna put on that outfit thing like you was wearin’ the other day?”
“Er, not quite.”
“What yer wearin’ then?”
“Just practical stuff. Nothing special.”
“Yer wearin’ yer little rubber panties again?” she queried with an insolent grin on her face.
“Maybe,” I replied, trying to be casual. “They’re not “panties” though. They’re for boys.”
“I ain’t never seen no boys wearin' nothin’ like them before!”
“They’re part of my boot boy outfit. You have to wear them if you’re doing boot cleaning, otherwise you’d get polish and stuff all over your trousers.”
She laughed. “You gonna get all ‘ot and bovvered again like last time? ‘Ope so!”
“No! I didn’t, anyway! Please just do your job. I’m going to change.”
“’Urry back, Simon.”
I felt angry. Why had Sue given me such an annoying assistant? I strode into the loose box. It was empty except for a small table and a cupboard. I undressed and pulled on my red pants. Bea had obviously lubricated them as they slid on easily. I would have preferred talc. I pulled on my red socks and my nice robust trainers. I opened the cupboard. There was my Holly End T shirt. As I picked it up something fell out onto the table. It was a plastic bag with a note attached. I read the note:
“Simon, here is your T-shirt which I forgot to give you the other day. I would like you also to put on this collar and lead. It’s a little gimmick the committee dreamed up to promote the salon. Also, give the envelope to Laura when you return. Thank you and good luck! Sue.”
“What?” I said out loud. “Seriously!” But clearly I didn’t have much choice, so I finished dressing, shirt, gloves and cap, and then tore open the plastic bag. There was the lead all right, and a red leather collar about four centimetres wide with silver studs, a silver ring and buckle at the back, and a ring at the front from which dangled a disc engraved with the words “SIMON. If found, return to Holly End Stables.” Very funny. The lead was narrow, and must have been a full metre long, also of red leather. And there was the envelope for Laura. Well, there was no way I was putting this on in front of her! I rolled it all up, picked up the envelope, and headed out back to the paddock. The women on the farm stall and the tack stall stared at me rudely as I passed. There was Laura, now deep in conversation with Beth, smartly attired in breeches, long boots, white shirt with Pony Club tie, and a check jacket. When they saw me approaching they both started laughing and Beth pretended to collapse on the ground with mirth. Ha bloody ha.
“Oh my gawd!” cried Laura, “Better than ever!”
“That’s it. I’m going to ask my mum to buy me a boot shine,” said Beth, still sitting on the grass. You’re priceless, Simon! Laura, will you take a photo for me?”
“You bet!”
“Laura, that’s enough!” I said, trying to sound like a boss, “You’re just here to assist me, remember! And, oh, yes, Sue left this for you.” I handed her the envelope.
She tore it open and read the note inside. As she did so, a big grin spread over her face. She handed it to Beth. “Read this out loud, Beth!”
Beth produced a pair of round reading glasses from the breast pocket of her hacking jacket, and, clearing her throat, started to read. As she did so, her tone became more and more surprised and gleeful.
“Dear Laura, I have issued Simon with a collar and lead. Please make sure he puts the collar on at once. You will find a padlock and key in the leaflet cabinet which you can use to secure it. It would be a nice touch if you could hold the lead whilst he works as if he’s your little slave boy. I’m putting you in charge of both him and the stall for the day. If he makes any objection, remind him of his contractual obligations. If he makes any trouble, you are empowered to use your whip – gently but firmly. In the event of disobedience, you can summon me, but I hope that won’t be necessary. Sue Dawson.”
They both looked at me with evil delight.
“Oh, so I’m just ‘ere to assist you, am I? grinned Laura, “It don’t look like it, mister! Come ‘ere and get yer collar on!”
What could I do? Beth had already found the padlock and together they buckled and locked it around my neck. The lead clipped neatly onto the ring. “Now, doggie, down on all fours, please!”
The collar and lead had an immediate disempowering influence. I felt totally impotent and servile. When the girls took turns to walk me around my pitch on my lead like a little dog I complied with meek submissiveness. I was aware that the people on the other stalls were watching and recording the spectacle, but I felt pathetically helpless. Beth took a seat in the armchair. Laura led me over to the kneeling mat, shortening the lead until my face was a few inches from Beth’s shiny rubber boots.
“Kiss Beth’s boots, doggy.”
“Laura, please…”
“Kiss Beth’s boots!”
I actually did as I was told, whilst Beth recorded the moment on her phone. I don’t know what else might have occurred if at that moment the announcement that the gymkhana was officially open had not come over the loudspeakers. Beth jumped up.
“I have to go! I’m supposed to be helping out with the races!” As she ran off, Laura lengthened the lead and took up her perch on the end of the nearest bench.
“You stay right there, boy, an’ wait for yer customers.”
-
Chapter XIII: Gymkhana (Part 2)
I knelt up and waited. Laura picked up one of the leaflets and started reading.
“’Ave you seen these?”
“No, not yet.”
“You gonna to be our permanent boot boy then? Really? They’ll eat yer alive!” She opened it. “What the … Wait till yer see this!” And she tossed one down in front of me. It was a glossy sheet folded once, entitled “Holly End’s NEW Boot Salon”. It continued:
“Whatever sort of boots you prefer, rubber, leather, long or short, you can be assured of professional attention and a perfect finish at our new Boot Salon, under the management of our resident Boot Boy, Simon Saunders. Simon has been cleaning and polishing riding boots for several years now, and his work is admired throughout the School. Let Simon give your boots the care they need and that you deserve. Treat yourself to total boot titivation and the skilful, rubber-gloved hands of our little “genius of the boot world”. His sweet and colourful latex pants and imaginative costumes will thrill and enchant you! Have a special interest or request? Simon can be dressed to order from a range of cute outfits – or, for something more personal, place a special order with the committee. Just see Sue Dawson or one of her assistants to discuss.”
And so on. On the back was a price list. I opened the leaflet. Inside, to my horror, were two pictures. On the left, a view of the interior of the salon. On the right, me! It was one of those taken at the show, when I was leading Bobby. I looked professional, I suppose, leading a big horse round the ring, but it had been taken just after I had been released by the grooms, and it left nothing to the imagination.
“Why did Sue have to use that photo?” I wailed.
“Don’t yer know? You’ll be bleedin’ mobbed by some of those women,” declared Laura, “mobbed and gawd knows what else. You gonna be Holly End’s little cash cow, I’m finkin’!”
By now the first visitors were arriving. Within ten minutes I had a queue of eight women, and was busily polishing away at my first customer’s boots. Laura sat by my side giving my lead little tugs of encouragement. She was quite clever though.
“If any of yer want photos it’ll cost yer a pahnd a go. Videos will be two pahnd. Yes, Madam? Put my whip on his bum? No probs, there yer go! Anyone else want a special pose?”
And so it went on all the morning. The money poured in, not just the flat payment but loads of tips as well.
“All proceeds to the donkey sankchewery!” cried Laura. “Get yer boot shine here, girls! Don’t forget to take a leaflet!”
I worked harder than I’d ever worked. Sue came round at about eleven thirty and insisted I take half an hours break. Laura gave her a fistful of notes to take away. “I ain’t got room for any more, miss. I think the tack stall’s getting a bit jealous.”
“I see what you mean. They don’t look too pleased, do they? Well they’re not collecting for charity, anyway. They just pay us a flat rate to be here. Well done, you two! I’ll see you get some sort of reward for this.”
We went off to get something to eat and drink and go to the loo. Despite all the teasing I was feeling quite chuffed at being such a nice little earner for Mrs Willoughby. By the time we got back the queue had grown again, and people were standing beyond the benches. It was no longer just riding boots I was being asked to service. Women with fashion boots were now in the queue as well.
“Am I supposed to do them as well, Laura?” I asked
“Don’t matter. S’all dosh, innit?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
We resumed where we’d left off. It must have been about twelve thirty, and I was feeling ready for lunch. I was also thirsty again. I saw Beth and the awful Denise hanging about nearby. They were messing about with a bag of balloons and carrying cans of drink. They saw me looking at them.
“Want a drink, Sim?” called Denise.
“Wouldn’t mind!”
“Okay!”
I finished one customer. The next was a mother and her little daughter. The daughter had obviously been competing because her boots were very dusty. She sat herself in the chair waiting for my attention. The girls came over to where I was kneeling.
“Mummy, he’s not doing it!”
“I’m just going to get a drink. I won’t be a minute.”
“Why isn’t he cleaning my boots, mummy?” she persisted, swinging her legs and kicking me in the chest.
“I don’t know darling. Excuse me, young man! My daughter’s been waiting here for twenty minutes! Can you attend to her please?”
This was the type of customer I hated most - spoiled brats with doting mothers.
Laura addressed the mother. “’E needs a drink, darlin’. Keep yer ‘air on!” Laura went up in my estimation after that. But the woman was no so easily put off.
“Excuse me, young lady, but we are your customers, you know. Your first duty is to us!”
“Well I’m sorry, yer ladyship. After ‘e’s ‘ad a swig, e’ll grovel as much as yer like!”
Denise handed me a can of lemonade. I could see from the condensation it was ice cold.
“Thanks, girls.”
I stood up and prepared to take a drink. Beth was standing right in front of me. I opened the can, put it to my lips, and tilted my head back to drink. As I did so I felt the front of my pants being jerked open, and something dropped with a soft plop inside!
“Damn! What the heck?”
The fizzy lemonade went straight up my nose and left me coughing and spluttering and dripping it all down my T-shirt. Beth and Denise screamed with delight. I was almost speechless.
“You little …” I was about to say “bitches” when I remembered the little girl, and just manged to stop myself in time.
“Boy! Are you going to clean her boots or are you going to play games with your friends?”
“I’m sorry.” I stammered. I had no choice but to get back to work. I could hardly start groping around in my pants in full view of everyone. I dropped to my knees and began brushing her daughter’s boots. The girls hung around, and squatted down one on either side of me. Laura kept me on a tight lead. Perhaps she thought I was in danger of losing it in front of the customers.
“You idiots!” I hissed at the girls. “That was a water balloon, wasn’t it? Was it untied?” I could feel something seeping into my pants even as I knelt there.
“It was untied, but it wasn’t water, Simon!” whispered Denise, “How boring would that be? It was a special recipe, just for you. If you’d really like to know what it is, we’ll tell you. Do you want to know?”
“Yes, I want to know!”
“You want to know what’s in your little rubber panties?”
“Yes! Tell me!”
“Well say it then,” chimed in Beth, “Say ‘Please tell me what’s in my little red rubber panty-poos!’”
“Come on, say it!” persisted Denise. “Say it just like Beth told you to and then we’ll tell you!”
I can’t say how much I hated them at that moment. It was just as well I was fully occupied with the daughter’s boots.
“Please tell me what you’ve put into my rubber pants!”
“Little rubber panty-poos,” from Beth.
“Little rubber panty-poos then,” I repeated dutifully.
“Okay, we’ll tell you,” said Denise. “You know how much you like sticky things? Like when you got yourself all messy with maple syrup?”
“Yeah, Stella told us all about it!” chimed in Beth.
“And you know how slimy you like to get?” continued Denise.
“Like at the show!” cried Beth, as if I might have forgotten.
“Well,” said Denise slowly, “well, we found something very sticky…”
“Yeah! Condensed milk!”
“…and we found something very slimy…”
“Egg white!”
“… and then we mixed them together, and we used a plastic bottle to fill up a party balloon….”
“And now it’s all inside your pants!” screamed Beth. And they both jumped up and ran off whooping with triumph.
I must have turned bright red, partly with chagrin but also with fury. I kept my thighs clamped together to try to contain the gloop which I could feel was still leaking slowly into my pants. I dealt with the brat and moved on to the next customer, a middle-aged woman wearing ancient leather riding boots. She was engaged in conversation with the next in line. I glanced quickly across at her, and my heart gave a little skip. A very beautiful young blonde woman in her early twenties, in full pristine riding habit, holding her hard hat in her lap. The older woman was telling her, “I was just wandering by when I noticed this stall. What a good idea! And this young man is so polite and efficient.” The equestrienne replied,
“Polite, efficient, and rather cute, don’t you think? I was riding here at the show a few weeks ago, and I noticed him then. I wasn’t going to bother to come to the gymkhana, but then my friend rang me to tell me about this. I immediately got dressed and drove over.”
“What, just for the boot shine?”
“Oh, yes. I just love the idea of having a little slave grovelling at my feet, don’t you?”
“Well, I must admit I hadn’t thought of it quite like that, but I suppose it is quite flattering.”
“Oh, darling, it’s positively erotic. Have you seen this?” She waved one of the leaflets she had been reading. “He’s going to be running a boot salon here! I’m going up to book a session right after this. I can’t wait to have the little sweetie all to myself for an hour or so!”
Well, looks as though Sue’s idea is paying off, I thought. That’s one good thing, anyway. I finished up the leather boots, and knelt back to allow my glamorous admirer to sit down. She lowered her shapely backside onto the leather seat, and sat there smiling at me with her legs crossed. Laura could see that this was not a customer I might be tempted to escape from. She had dropped the lead and was chatting with a friend in the queue.
-
Chaper XIII: Gymkhana (Part 3)
“I’m ready when you are, darling,” she smiled, pouting slightly and looking me up and down.
In truth, her boots were already spotless. But I wasn’t going to miss out on this.
“If you wouldn’t mind putting your feet side by side on the mat, miss? Thank you.”
Her boots were rubber, but the highest quality. She leant forward slightly so she could watch me working, adjusting her black kid gloves. I felt my boyhood stirring and beginning to grow. I decided to use a liquid cream, and squirted a little on her left boot.
“Ooh, that was a very little spurt, my boy. Will there be any more?” she asked, opening her eyes wide with mock innocence.
“Oh yes, miss, quite a bit, I hope,” I replied, feeling myself rapidly hardening. In the kneeling position, with my pants full of slippery gloop, my unrestrained erection was soon horribly conspicuous. As I polished, she leant forward a little more, looking straight at it, and whispered, “I love your little hot pants. They must be so comfortable, even when…” she paused, “even when you’re…working. I hope you’ll wear them for me when I come to the salon.”
“Oh, yes, of course, miss,” I gulped. She smiled again, and sat back in the chair, squirming her buttocks slightly into the seat as if getting comfortable. Things had gone a little further than I would have liked. I continued polishing with greater urgency, thinking this was not the place to be getting myself into such a lather, and hoping I could get things back under control before I was required to attend to some of the less wanton customers further down the queue. I had finished polishing in the cream, and it only remained for me to give her boots a final dust over with a clean, soft cloth, when to my dismay I noticed globs of sticky whitish fluid beginning to ooze out from both legs of my pants. Without thinking, I dropped the cloth and pressed my hand over my crotch in an attempt to conceal the emissions. The result was disastrous! All I succeeded in doing was forcing more of the sticky mess out onto my thighs. In panic, I tried to wipe it off with my other hand. In no time my gloves were smothered with sticky white fluid. The blonde, reclining elegantly in the armchair, was ignorant of my plight.
“Please hurry and finish up, boy. I’ve got things to do, places to go.”
I grabbed the finishing cloth and attempted to complete the job. That was a mistake. The cloth, which had been on my lap, was in no better state than my gloves. All I succeeded in doing was wiping the sticky mess all over those gorgeous gleaming boots! In blind panic I attempted to scoop it off with my hands, merely succeeding smearing more and more of the disgusting concoction onto them! I think I let out a wail of horror, for she suddenly sat up and looked down at herself. I was trying vainly to wipe my gloves on my T-shirt, and getting myself in a bigger mess as well. She sat there, open-mouthed, for a moment. I heard someone in the queue exclaim, “That’s gross! Look at the state of him!” Then with a scream of rage she jumped to her feet.
“Why, you…you…little bitch! Look at my boots!”
She looked about her for an instant, then snatched a riding whip from a girl in the queue. I didn’t wait to see what her intentions were. I’m not generally a coward, but I struggled to my feet and ran for it, the lead trailing behind me, scattering little sticky white blobs as I went.
I ran all the way back to reception, never looking back. Mary was behind the desk.
“What the …Simon! What’s happened?”
“It was Denise and Beth!” I blurted, “They put stuff in my pants!” I wanted to cry.
“You’d better go and get cleaned up,” she said. “You know where the shower-room is. I’ve got clean T shirts here.”
I made for the shower-room, still dripping goo. I stripped off all my clothes except my pants and my collar and got into the shower. Then I took my pants off too and washed myself and them. My T shirt was wrecked. I rinsed my socks and wiped off my shoes and dried everything as best as I could. I powdered my pants, got dressed again, all except my T shirt, and headed back to reception. Mary gave me a new T shirt and listened sympathetically to my complaints. Inwardly I swore to get even with those little pranksters at the first opportunity.
“Are you going back?” asked Mary.
“I have to. It’s only lunchtime. I hope I’m not in too much trouble.”
But my fears were well-founded, for at that moment in walked my customer, accompanied by Sue.
“That’s him!” She pointed an accusing finger at me. She must have returned the whip, thank goodness. Her boots were smothered with gloop.
“I-I’m so, so sorry!”
“You’re supposed to be cleaning boots, not … doing this!” said Sue, angrily.
“I know. I know. I couldn’t help it. Someone played a practical joke on me, and things sort of …escalated.”
“Well it seems to me you played a joke on Miss Faversham here. Not a very nice joke. I’m not even going to ask what this stuff is.”
“It’s a mixture….”
“No, Simon. I don’t want to know. First, Miss Faversham is going to sit in the office, while you take her boots outside and wash them. Then you’re going to report back here.”
“Yes, miss.”
Miss Faversham sat down and took off her boots. She held them out for me to take. She still looked very angry. I went outside and washed them under the tap. When I returned Sue ushered me in and locked the reception door. Miss Faversham silently put her clean boots back on.
“You know you have to be punished.”
“Yes, Sue.”
“Whipping or spanking?”
“W-what?”
“Whipping? Or spanking? Decide quickly or it’ll be both!”
“Er, spanking?”
“Right. Sadie, would you like to sit on the couch?”
Miss Faversham took a seat in the middle.
“Simon, across Miss Faversham’s knee, please.”
I was in a state of shock. I complied without protest, lying along the couch with my tummy on her legs. I prayed she wouldn’t take down my pants.
“Pants on of off? It’s up to you, Sadie.”
“He can keep them on. They’re very thin. It would be too dangerous to take them off while he’s in this position!” Sue and Mary laughed. But she was right. The mere contact with Miss Faversham’s thighs was already making me swell again. In a moment she would feel it pressing into her legs.
“Take it away!”
Miss Faversham had an extremely hard hand and a faultless technique. I got twelve massive spanks, spaced out over about five minutes. After the third or fourth each one forced a cry of pain from my lips. When I was finally allowed to climb off, my bottom on fire, I’m ashamed to say there were tears in my eyes. But I was also hugely aroused. Miss Faversham stared at my bulging pants.
“He’s incorrigible!” she remarked, disbelievingly.
“As some sort of apology, I’ve allotted Miss Faversham a session with you on your first day, free of charge. I hope you make a better job of it than you did today.”
“I will, miss. I’m sorry, Miss Faversham.”
“Well, no more apologies, Simon.” She smiled. “We’re even now. I look forward to you serving me.”
Sue unlocked the door. “Off you go. Back to work. Put your lead back on, please. Fortunately, this unpleasant incident doesn’t seem to have affected your popularity. I understand from Laura that the queue’s longer than ever!”
I trotted back to the paddock. Laura was waiting, and immediately grabbed my lead.
“Don’t you ever go runnin’ off again like that, Simon Saunders! It reflec’s bad on me, you know!”
“Sorry, Laura. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Look at yer thing!” I was still aroused from the spanking, as evidenced by the elongated mound lying across my right thigh. “Keep yer eyes off the totty and focus on the footwear from now on!”
“Okay.” I started attending to the next customer. Laura looked back down the long queue.
“Oh, hold on. Here’s someone that’ll sort you out!”
I followed her gaze. Beth had joined the end of the queue. She waved. “I told you I'd ask my mum, didn’t I?”
“Oh, no,” I said, out loud.
Half an hour or so later she arrived in the armchair, and sat there grinning, waiting for me to start. She leant forward and checked my pants.
“What a bad boy you are, Simon. Always so hot and sticky! Now, get to work please.”
“You got me in trouble, and now you want me to clean your boots?”
“Ironic, isn’t it? Get on with it, or I’ll put in a complaint.”
With a sigh, I reached for my brush. At the same time, Beth pulled the armchair forward a few inches. Then, without warning, she placed her right boot in my lap, trapping the shaft of my swollen member between my left thigh and the instep! I gasped with surprise.
“Well, get started. And don’t cover me with your mess, like you did that poor lady!”
She was pressing down quite hard now, making the head bulge out at the side of her foot. I thought the best tactic would be to get on and get finished as soon as possible. She kept me pinned down like that while I brushed the dust off her boots. But when I applied the rubber cream and started polishing, she began moving her foot, gently at first, and then more firmly, sliding it back and forth, squeezing and rolling my poor trapped sausage as if she were rolling out a cylinder of pastry! Laura squatted down beside me, blocking the view to any curious eyes, and watched with interest.
“You gonna teach ‘im a lesson, Beth?”
“Yeah. He snitched on us to Mary, you know.”
“Beth, please, don’t do that! Please stop!”
“Just do your job and stop whining, Boot Boy.”
“But I can’t concentrate when you’re doing that!”
“Try! You need to learn some self-discipline, that’s obvious.”
She kept on steadily squeezing and rolling, rolling and squeezing. She clearly knew exactly what she was doing. Her technique was flawless. Within a minute or two I was lubricating copiously, my engorged member slipping about freely in my pants, sending little thrills of pleasure through my body. I groaned helplessly.
“Don’t stop, Beth,” murmured Laura, “You’ve got ‘im goin’ now!”
Faint plopping noises could be heard from inside my pants, keeping time with the rhythm of Beth’s riding boot.
“It’s so juicy now,” whispered Beth, “so hard and slippery!”.
“Yeah, I can ‘ear it squelching!” said Laura, looking from Beth’s foot to my face and back again, and holding on tight to my lead. “I think he’s nearly there!”
She was right. I was rapidly approaching the point of no return. I vainly tried to restrain the steady kneading of Beth’s boot, but she had strong legs and I was weakened by my aroused state. I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. “Please…Beth…no…”
In reply she merely increased the tempo slightly, bringing me immediately to the most intense orgasm. I grabbed her boots with both hands to steady myself. I couldn’t stifle a little cry of ecstasy.
“E’s coming!” cried Laura triumphantly.
“Good boy!” murmured Beth. “Go for it!”
Even as I came Beth didn’t relent, but continued massaging my pulsing sausage. I spurted into my pants again and again, whimpering with ecstasy, the spasms so intense they were almost painful. Eventually, my pants flooded with my hot milk, I collapsed forward, my face resting against the cool smooth rubber of her boots, unable to move.
“Wow, Beth! That was somefink!” said Laura, admiringly. “Just wiv yer foot!”
“Yeah. He’s such a little boot slut, isn’t he?
“’Specially if they’re rubber!”
“I’m glad he’s staying, Laura. He’s such a cute little sissy. We’ll have some fun with him, wait and see!”
I was quite exhausted, but of course I couldn’t stop work, and after a few minutes recovering, I had to pick myself up and carry on. Beth went hurrying off to boast about her exploits to her friends. It wasn’t until after five that Stella came to collect me, and Laura consented to unlock my collar.
“How was your day, Simon?”
“Oh, uneventful. Profitable, though.”
“Really? That’s not what I heard. Ready to go home?”
“You bet, sis!”
-
Chapter XIV: Boot Salon
Oh my god! Mum and I just curled up reading that last entry! I think my dear little brother may be in for some further ordeals at the hands of the Holly End girls. I do hope so, anyway. He had a few days to recover from the gymkhana before the grand opening of his boot salon. As Sue had everything under maximum surveillance, and we all got to watch the recording, I could describe his first day to you myself. But I think his account will be funnier.
Saturday 23rd July. My first day at the Boot Salon! I really didn’t know what to expect. Sue had asked me to get there early so she could show me the finished article before I started. I met her at reception. She looked very businesslike – unusually she was wearing breeches and boots, and a leather jacket over a cream turtle-neck. She took me straight down to the building – my building. She unlocked the door and showed me inside. The first things that struck me were the big pictures on the left wall, over the couch. Three girls in full riding gear, with very shiny boots, of course, all smiling proudly -smirking would be a better word. I realised they were girls from the school, namely Phoebe, Beth, and another one I didn’t recognise. They were the last people I wanted to see in my private space when I was working.
“Sue, does it have to be them? Specially Beth!”
“Well, the pictures will be rotated regularly. The frames are all standard poster sizes and we can fir in whatever images we want. Soon there’ll be some of you there, I hope.”
I grimaced.
“Oh. Simon, I thought you would like them. I thought Phoebe and Beth are your friends. The other girl is Clara, whom you haven’t met yet, but she volunteered because she has a brand new pair of boots.”
“Yeah, well, just so long as they don’t come here wanting boot shines, I guess it’s okay.”
“Oh, but I’m sure they will, dear. They’ll be offered concessionary rates, of course, and all our girls are constantly fussing about their boots.”
“What? I’m not doing it, Sue! Especially Beth! They’re just out to embarrass me. I absolutely refuse!”
Sue looked at me, startled. Then her expression hardened. She took me by the shoulders and sat me down firmly on the couch. She glared at me. I shrank back a little.
“You’re not doing it? Not doing it? You don’t seem to understand your position, my lad. So let me enlighten you.” She stood over me, hands on hips. “First, you’re under contract. A very specific contract, which you signed, under which you do what you’re told, without question, and with a good grace. You know the penalties for non-compliance. Ultimately, total public humiliation. But if you so much as question my orders, or for that matter the orders of any member of the committee, there may be preliminary penalties as well.” She smiled grimly. “How would you like to find yourself across my knee in the middle of the riding hall, dressed in a pretty party frock with the skirt pulled up and your knickers round your ankles, with all the girls sitting comfortably around watching, while I administered the soundest spanking you’ve ever had? Eh? Does that appeal to you?”
“No, Miss,” I whimpered, my eyes filling with tears, “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. I'll obey instructions, I really will! Please ….”
“Good, Simon, that's better,” she said, breaking into a warm smile, “I’m so glad to hear it, and so glad we understand each other.” She patted my head and helped me to my feet. “Now, dry your tears and come along and look at the other new features we’ve installed.”
I was already looking around. On the left side, under the long window, the new wooden cupboards had been polished till they gleamed. But I now saw that behind the door there was a shiny silver pole running from floor to ceiling, bolted firmly to both. I stared at it, uncomprehending.
“That’s where you’ll do your pole-dancing,” Sue grinned.
“What?”
“No, it’s all right, Simon. Just joking. Don’t be afraid. Here, come and stand against it.” She manoeuvred me until my back was against the steel shaft and stood back slightly, checking something. “Perfect!”
“What’s perfect, Sue?” I wheeled round to see what she was looking at, and only then noticed rings welded to the back on the pole, three rings, one at neck level, one opposite my wrists, and one down by my ankles. I looked at her questioningly, alarmed.
“Yes, that’s right, Simon. In case you need restraining. So I suggest you behave yourself with your clients and hope they don’t find the need to tether you up.”
I was speechless. Sue continued blithely.
“Now the cupboards and drawers here contain a wide range of costumes. They will be kept unlocked during the day so that clients can select or change what you’re wearing at will. You will always, of course, change in the back room. No dressing or undressing in front of them.”
“Thank goodness for that, at least.”
“This end cupboard is for special personalised costumes or accessories requested or bought by an individual client. It will be kept locked and the key will only be given to the client in question at the beginning of a session.”
“What’s the cupboard next to the chair for, Miss?” I asked. I had been curious about that one since I’d first noticed it. It was to the right of the sitter, and I would have to pass it every time I used the bathroom. Sue had had a pot plant placed at the farther end of the couch, and now this cupboard was half hidden behind it, making it even more intriguing.
“Ah. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and see, darling.” (I was always suspicious when she called me “darling”.) “That is clients’ use only.” But I had my suspicions.
“Is it anything to do with the pole? Or, with that!”
I was pointing to the kneeling mat from which I was to conduct my business. Well, it wasn’t really a mat. Now it was fully installed I could appreciate its sophistication. It was a steel platform about sixty or seventy centimetres long and forty wide, upholstered in red leather. It had little wheeled runners so it could slide back and forth on it rails to attain the ideal position, when it could be locked in place. But it also had little rings welded to the four corners and to the middles of the four sides. In a flash I understood their function.
“What are those rings for? Is that so’s they can fasten me in place? Is it?”
Sue hesitated for a moment, obviously slightly embarrassed.
“Well, now… Simon, you know, that might be an option..”
“I knew it! I’m to be a sort of little slave to all these women! They’ll be able to do anything they like to me!”
“Well, within reason…”
“And who’s going to stop them?”
“Oh, don’t fuss so, you silly boy! There’ll be someone watching on the closed circuit the whole time, so…”
“Yeah, watching and having fun at my expense!”
“Well so what? So what? Get used to it, Simon! You belong to us, now! You’re going to be well paid. You were quick enough to sign up when you thought of the money! So, my little greedy one, now we call the tune. And believe me, you’re going to dance to it!”
There was no answer to that. I stood there, frowning impotently. Sue resumed in a calmer tone of voice.
“Your first client is due in less than an hour. She wants you in these.” She pulled open a drawer and pulled out a heap of clothes and tossed them onto the couch. Holly End T-shirt. Red towelling headband. Red latex pants, red frills. Red socks. Red trainers.
“It’s Mrs More-Burley and her daughter Elizabeth. You know, the one with the red boots. That’s why …” She indicated the heap of clothes. “So you’d better get ready. Make sure to tuck your shirt in neatly and check yourself in the mirror. You need to look smart.”
I grunted assent.
“And after that Miss Faversham. I don’t know what she’s got planned. She’s bringing a friend, apparently. And she’s also booked you for a party on Wednesday.”
“What? A party?”
“Yes, a hen party. Some friend of hers – a thirtieth, I think. You’re booked for the entire day. Again I don’t have any details.”
“Oh, thanks for telling me!”
“Look Simon, if this rudeness continues that spanking will be coming sooner rather than later. I’m serious. This is what you signed up for. So suc-k it up!”
“Sorry. I’ll get ready.”
“Good boy. I’ll send them down when they arrive. Please be nice.”
“Course.”
Sur departed. I locked the door behind her, and with a sigh picked up my first outfit and went to change. Elizabeth More-Burley! A right little brat. She had got herself a pair of red rubber riding boots from somewhere. Red! Anyway, she was constantly showing them off, and making everyone want to vomit. “Oh, have you seen my new red boots? No? You know they’re the only ones in the whole country? My mummy got them from America, you know. They were very expensive. They have to be specially cleaned, of course.” Which was bullshit. And now I was going to have to grovel and polish them like a total idiot. And every second would be watched and recorded in the office. I had no doubt the likes of Beth and the others would be offered a viewing. I could just imagine them wetting themselves laughing. I would have to do my best to maintain my dignity. Not easy. Crap! What had I let myself in for?
-
Chapter XV: Boot Boy
It took me a few minutes to throw off my normal clothes and slip into my outfit. My pants were soft and cool. I had dusted them with talc inside and out and I polished them with a soft cloth to give the latex a misty glow. It somehow looked more normal and functional than a gleaming, reflective surface, and made me feel more like a professional workman than a professional tart! I came out of my bathroom and took a look at myself in the mirror behind the main door. I was thinking of what Sue had said about needing to look smart. I tried to tuck in my T-shirt neatly but it always looked untidy under the fine latex. I went to the cupboards and managed to find a much smaller size. That was better; it was tight, but short enough not to need tucking in. It gave a glimpse of my tummy but it looked better than a lot of bulky cotton spoiling the line of my pants. My boyhood was clearly happy to be back in its favourite material, and was getting a little unruly. I moved it from one side of the centre seam to the other, but neither was quite aesthetically satisfactory, and it wouldn’t stay put in the middle. I should have just left it alone, because predictably its response to being continually handled was to swell to conspicuous dimensions and then refuse to recede. I checked the clock nervously. It was nearly nine-thirty and there was no way I could open the door to my first customers in this state. I wondered whether I had time to take appropriate action but even as I did so I heard the crunch of boots on the gravel, and there was a peremptory knock on the door. In a rare flash of genius I remembered something I had seen in the cupboard. In a second I had rummaged and found of little frilled pink latex apron! Fastening it on I hastened to answer the door. There stood Mrs More-Burley, with an expression of superiority and disdain on her face, as if determined to convey in a single expression both her expectation of the highest standard of service and her equally devout expectation of being disappointed. In front of her she held her little daughter, who had clearly made the most of the muddy puddles on the path to render her famous red boots as dirty as possible.
“Good morning Madam! And Mademoiselle!” I added, sycophantically, my erection subsiding rapidly at the sight of them. “Do come in, please.”
They marched in, Elizabeth leaving a trail of muddy boot prints on the floor. The mother said nothing, but looked about critically. She was a tall, strong-looking woman, with an aura of dissatisfaction about her person. She was, I guess, in her late thirties. She had an angular face and her black hair was tightly pinned into an uncompromising bun. She stood looking around her with her hands on her hips, a key on a ribbon dangling from one hand. I wondered if it was the key to the secret cupboard. Her daughter, who was about ten, and, except for her boots, neatly turned out in breeches, tweed jacket, white shirt and Pony Club tie, started to explore the cupboards.
“Liz, leave those please. Go and sit on the couch. He can do me first.”
“Mummy, what’s that pole for?”
“That’s private. Go and sit, please!”
She complied reluctantly. “Mummy, why is he wearing an apron? It’s not even red.”
“Yes, boy, why are you wearing a pink apron? I didn’t request that, did I?”
“No, no, Madam, I’m sorry. I put it on because it’s a wet day, in case either of you had muddy boots. I see your daughter’s are quite muddy…”
“I see. Well take it off. You can put it back on when you attend to her.”
“Yes, of course.” I could take it off now without fear of scandalising the clientele. “Please take a seat.”
But now Mrs More-Burley was opening the little customer’s cupboard and exploring the contents.
“What’s in there, Mummy?”
“Nothing that would interest you, darling. Sit quietly, please.” Then to herself, “Goodness me, I need to come back here another time, I can see. Without my daughter. Do you know what’s in here, er, what’s your name?”
“Simon, Madam.”
“Have you looked in here?”
“No, Madam, I’m not allowed to.”
“Oho,” she laughed, “I wish I’d known about this. I would have left Elizabeth at home.”
Putting her finger to her lips she held up a butt-plug for me to see but out of sight of her daughter. I gasped. Then a gag, anatomically correct, on a leather strap. I could see a lot of other stuff too, as well as the glint of chains and rings and padlocks. She closed the door, grinning.
“I’m booking another session as soon as I get out of here,” she said, quietly. “Oh, Simon, we’re going to have such fun. I’m tingling already just at the thought.”
She seated herself in the chair, adjusting her posture with the controls until she was comfortable. I knelt on the platform, my thoughts in a whirl, and slid it forward to the appropriate position, locking it into place. Her boots were old but good quality tan leather, and I was soon brushing and polishing. Her demeanour had changed completely, and she was now smiling down on me as I worked with a degree of interest and satisfaction.
“Did you know there’s a nice collar and leash in there, Simon?”
“What’s in there, Mummy?” asked Elizabeth, overhearing.
“A collar and leash, darling, in case I had a dog I needed to walk.”
“Oh. We could bring Rex one day, then.”
“We could. Or I could see if I could find a nice little doggy here somewhere to take outside. What do you think, Simon? Would that be a good idea?”
“We don’t have a dog here, Mrs More-Burley.” I said.
“Oh, dear, what a shame! It would be so nice to walk a good obedient little doggy around and around, to let him nuzzle in all the secret places with his little wet nose, and feed him nice sweet sticky treats, don’t you think?”
I gulped, but said nothing.
“I’m sure if I offered him something tasty and juicy he’d lap it up eagerly, don’t you? You know how little doggies are when they are offered something they can’t resist, and how excited they get, how they jump up and stand on the hind legs and have to be cuddled and stroked and stroked until they’ve had enough.”
“Yes, Mummy, Rex is like that sometimes, and then after all the excitement he just goes to sleep, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, dear, he does. The secret is, to play with him and play with him and stroke him and tickle him for ages and ages, to pull his ears and let him lick you so much, and then tickle his tummy until… oh, suddenly he can’t take anymore! You see, Simon, we know all about little doggies and how to please them, don’t we Lizzie?”
“Yes, Mummy. Simon looks very hot. You look very red, Simon. Are you hot?”
“Oh, I think Simon is red because he’s going to clean your red boots in a moment. Is that it Simon?”
“Yes, Mrs More-Burley, that’s it,” I gasped, desperately trying to hide what had become a massive erection by leaning forward as far as I could and pretending to polish the toecaps of her boots. Elizabeth took the opportunity to slide forward on the couch and rest her feet on my back.
“Darling, I’m not sure Simon likes you doing that.”
“Do you mind me doing that, Simon?”
“No, no, not at all, Elizabeth.”
“Oh, he’s such a nice boy, isn’t he dear?”
“Yes. I like Simon, Mummy. This s a nice place, isn’t it? Perhaps we can bring Rex too, next time.”
“Perhaps. I think it’s Elizabeth’s turn now, Simon. Perhaps,” she added, peering down at my pants with slightly raised eyebrows, “perhaps you should put your apron on again now. Do you think?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Yes.”
I clambered up awkwardly, quickly turning my back on Elizabeth, but unavoidably giving her mother a perfect view of my bulging pants, eliciting from her a little delighted gasp as her hand went involuntarily to her mouth in surprise. I stumbled over to the cupboards where I had dumped the apron, and quickly secured it around my waist. Mrs More-Burley climbed out of the chair and Elizabeth slipped in. I was aware that even the apron might be insufficient to hide my embarrassment, so I slipped back into my kneeling place as quickly as I could, tucking myself in as much as possible. Elizabeth was playing with the controls but her mother took over, lowering the chair as far as it would go, and then retracting the foot-rest.
“There, dear, you can put you foot in Simon’s lap for him to work on. Here, like this.”
And without giving me a moment to react, she placed her daughter’s left boot squarely in my lap, squashing my poor swollen sausage against my tummy.
“Ah!” I exclaimed in surprise, grabbing the boot and lifting it quickly into my midriff, “Ah, yes, I’ll clean them like this.” And for the second time that day my erection was rapidly aborted, much to the evident amusement of Mrs More-Burley.
“Are you cooling off a bit now, Simon?” she asked, innocently. “I hope you’re not sick. I thought I noticed a little swelling just now.”
“Was he swelling, Mummy? Really?”
“Well maybe in was my imagination. Probably he was just a bit red. But in any case, I know just how to deal with swellings.”
“Do you? What do you do if you see someone swelling?”
She took a seat on the couch immediately to my left, and leaning forward, began to talk in quiet, even tones.
“Well, darling,” she said, as I distractedly wiped and brushed at the red boots, “you need to massage lots and lots of cold cream into the swollen parts, very, very gently of course, and very slowly. If someone’s cheek is swollen, you massage round and round in little circles, like this. Here, I’ll demonstrate on Simon.”
And she began to stroke my cheek with her finger tips in a circular motion, to which I reacted by instantly turning bright red again.
“Simon’s very red again,” said Elizabeth, looking at me anxiously. “Do you think he’s swelling a bit too?”
“Hmm, he may be, dear. Let me see if I have any cream here.” I groaned.
“Are you feeling all right, Simon,” asked Elizabeth. “Mummy, I think Simon may be feeling a bit ill.”
“I’ve found some cream. Let’s put some on your poor hot little face. Here, turn towards me a little.” And she proceeded to massage cold cream softly into my cheeks, Elizabeth looking on with concern. After a while she transferred her ministrations to my burning ears, fondling and pinching them gently until I felt myself swelling once again. Helplessly, I let go of the boot, and it slid back into my lap, resting on my rapidly hardening erection. Fortunately, Elizabeth’s boots had thick soles, and she was quite unaware of my engorged state. Her mother continued to play with my ears, teasing me expertly nearer and nearer towards a climax. Just by her delicate touching of my ears she had worked me into a state where my organ was throbbing with excitement, releasing a steady flow of warm juice into my slippery pants, and bringing me closer and closer to orgasm. Now she relinquished my ears, began to demonstrate how to deal with a swollen finger, using mine as examples, first smeared with cream, then massaged with firm gentleness in a steady milking motion. Elizabeth watched intently as her mother dealt with each finger in turn. I was in a sort of trance, but all at once I realised that if this continued I was in danger of passing the point of no return, and if that happened I was sure I would not be able to suppress or disguise my climax. So I whispered urgently, “please, please, Mrs More-Burley, please, I really don’t feel well now. If you do make another appointment, I swear I’ll do anything you want, but please let me go now, or, or…I’ll…!”
“Oh, of course, Simon,” she smiled. “That really wouldn’t do, would it? But I’m so gratified to see that you have such a romantic and imaginative spirit.” And to her daughter, “Elizabeth, darling, I’m afraid we must go.”
“But Mummy, Simon hasn’t finished my boots!”
“I know, darling, but Simon is not feeling quite well. We can come again, or perhaps we could book a home visit. Would you ljke that? You could show Simon all your dolls, and introduce him to Rex!”
“Of, yes, I would like that, of course, though I was really hoping…”
“I know, dear, but Simon really needs to rest. Come on, we can go up to the café and have a nice drink and a piece of cake. Would you like that?”
She took Elizabeth’s hand, and led her towards the door. I made as if to rise. "No, no, better if you don’t get up, Simon. We’ll see ourselves out. We’ll see you soon.”
“Bye bye Simon,” said Elizabeth, sadly.
“By bye,” said her mother. She returned and kissed me good bye, and added as they left, “and please call me Edith.”
As soon as the door closed I collapsed on the floor. After the multiple frustrations of the morning I desperately wanted to come, but I needed to clean up both myself and the room, and Miss Faversham was due at eleven thirty, so there was no time to relax. I mopped the floor, then showered and slipped on some shorts and a shirt. I made myself a coffee and tried to regain some of my composure. I had no instructions about costume for the next session, and no idea what would happen next, but I was beginning to realise this job was going to be more difficult than I had imagined!
-
Chapter XVI: Sadie and Clarissa (Part 1)
They arrived early. Miss Faversham and a slightly younger lady, the first blonde and the second auburn, both immaculate in full showing gear. I was so taken aback by their appearance that I actually stammered at them like an idiot.
“Oh, er, good m-morning, er, ladies, P-please come in, and, er, t-take a seat.”
They walked in, dutifully wiping their feet on the mat, and looked around.
“We have been here before, Simon, I should tell you,” said Miss Faversham. Sue kindly showed us around the other day. So we know the scene.”
“Oh, g-good,” I replied, conscious of being outmanoeuvred already, “I only saw the finished salon this morning. I – I hope I can offer you a satisfactory...experience.” It sounded weak and stilted, but I was at a loss, not really knowing what they wanted.
“You know me, Simon. Sadie Faversham. You will call me Miss Faversham, if you don’t mind. I want you to understand our relationship from the outset. I’m not your friend, but in effect your employer, and I expect obedience and respect. This is my friend, Clarissa Mitchell. Miss Mitchell. You may have seen her. She rides here occasionally. She also rides for the county. She is one of the best judges of horses, and of people, that I know. You will behave towards her as you behave towards me. Understood?”
“Yes, of course, Miss Faversham.”
“You may of course address us simply as “Miss” if that’s easier. Now, we are here, as Sue may have told you, to assess your suitability to attend our friend’s hen party on Wednesday. We need to make sure you can fulfil our expectations and we also need to decide on your costume. Our friend, Harriet Sylvester, is turning thirty. She is a professional, a lawyer, and works long hours during the week. On Wednesday she has a rare day off to celebrate her birthday with her friends. Our mission is to give her something we know she wants and for it to be a surprise. Your role is to supply that something.”
“Oh. I see. Thank you for explaining. What is it that she likes?”
“I’m coming to that. There will be about a dozen friends at her party. We have discussed what you will be required to do. First, you will be required to wear a pretty dress. Harriet likes boys, but she likes them feminised. I understand you have no objection to that – not that it would matter if you did. But I understand you have dressed as a girl before?”
“Yes, Miss. I think - I feel – sometimes that I am a girl, not a boy.”
“Good. That makes things simpler. We have discussed your costume between us, and have reduced the possibilities to five. We have obtained all five costumes, in your size, and our first task is to decide which one is most becoming. Here. You may view them on my phone.” She pulled out her phone and flicked through a series of photos.
“Excuse me, Miss Faversham, but would it be possible for you to send me the photos? I’d like to look at them myself.”
“I don’t see why not, do you, Clarissa?” Clarissa, who was sitting on the couch, shook her head. “What’s your number? We should have it anyway, in case of any problems on Wednesday.”
I fetched my phone from the back room and she sent me the photos. I’ll attach some here, and some to the next part. I plucked up courage to ask a further favour.
“May I also have a photo of Miss Mitchell? She is very beautiful, and also I have never seen such immaculate boots. I could never presume to offer to clean such jewels, but I would love a photograph.”
Miss Mitchell smiled, obviously flattered by my remarks. Help yourself, Simon, if it pleases you, “she said pleasantly. “After all, I’m going to have plenty of pictures of you by the time the week is out.”
I took my photos. It seemed to me that after that the atmosphere warmed a little. Miss Faversham became less authoritarian and more friendly.
“Simon, I said Harriet likes boys. She particularly likes handsome boys like you, and I know you’re going to enchant her. You must go along with what we ask, and let her do what she wants. I don’t want to go into greater detail than that at present, but I can assure you you should have no fear of any unpleasant experiences, only great pleasure and affection. Will you take my word for that.”
“Of course, Miss Faversham. But in any case, it is my function to serve.”
Miss Faversham looked at her friend approvingly. Miss Mitchell nodded and smiled at me.
Miss Mitchell then when to the locked costume cupboard, and began to take out some colourful, gauzy clothes. I looked at the pictures on my phone. As I flicked through them I felt only elation and excitement. This was a new adventure!
-
Chapter XVI: Sadie and Clarissa (Part 2)
Soon Miss Mitchell had piled up a little heap of costumes on the couch. She smiled at me.
“Now, Simon, would you like to go and change? One at a time, please, and we’ll make a final choice.”
I selected the bright pink ballerina costume and went into my bathroom. I knew the ropes. Before anything else I slipped into a little pair of fine pink rubber briefs, to keep my shape roughly feminine and also for purposes of hygiene. I knew the costumers would all have attached knickers, and some, like this one, tights to be worn underneath. It was a lovely feeling to pull on something so light and pretty and girlish. All those feelings swept over me at once, a sense of purity and innocence and cleanness that were in some way opposed to my nature as a boy. With that sense came renewed confusion, an ambiguity that was in part unsettling but in part also fed by tension, and therefore sexually stimulating. But I emerged almost trembling with excitement. The women made me parade, twirl, curtsey, and bow. They took photographs, made notes, and conferred in undertones. The same process was repeated with the other dresses. By the time I had tried on all five, I was buzzing.
“Well, Simon?” asked Miss Faversham, “what do you think? Any preference?”
“You’re going to think I’m silly.”
“No we won’t. We liked all of them to some extent. Tell us.”
“I liked the nurse costume best. Not because it’s a nurse costume, but because I love the skirt and the socks. The tulle in the skirt is so light and stiff, it just bounces as I walk, and my legs feel so free an airy. That’s all.”
The women looked at each other and laughed.
“That was our choice too, Simon,” cried Miss Mitchell. “Well done! We all have the best taste in clothes!”
“Also, Harriet is going to be ecstatic when she sees you in that,” added Miss Faversham. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she needed immediate resuscitation!”
“It has little gloves, too, and a cap, and you should probably have some sheer tights to make your legs shine a little,” said Miss Mitchell.
“And there will be a small addition to the costume, but we won’t worry about that until the day. No, Simon, don’t ask what it is. You’ll find out soon enough.” She paused. “Well, now that’s settled, I think you’d better clean some boots. Let me see, what should you wear?”
She went to the cupboards and began looking through the costumes. “Oh, these are rather nice!” She pulled out a little pair of lemon yellow frilled latex panties, with a front zip. The zip, attached to a silver ring, was not of the usual sort, but was closed when the zip was in the crotch, and opened as it was drawn up. The waistband was continuous, so the zip stopped just below it. To go with them she found a matching spandex short-sleeved top with little pink hearts scattered over it, and a pair of yellow and pink hooped hold-up stockings.
“Go get dressed, little boy,” she ordered, pushing me towards the bathroom.
When I emerged she was in the chair, and Miss Mitchell was back on the couch. They looked me up and down.
“So cute!” exclaimed Miss Faversham. I squirmed with embarrassment. The panties allowed little room for my boyhood to lie comfortably. The high legs and tight crotch forced it into a more vertical position, next to the zip. They kept me standing there for some time, watching me with enigmatic smiles on their faces. I pulled up the stockings as far as they would go, shifting from one leg to the other.
“So this is the bad little boy who ruined my boots at the gymkhana? He doesn’t look so dangerous now, does he? Do you remember, Simon, you promised to wear your little rubber hotpants for me at your salon? No? Oh dear, you do have a short memory! Never mind. These super little panties will have to do, I suppose. Clarissa, could I borrow your whip for a moment, please? Thank you. Now, Simon, I’m going to tap you very gently on the side of your buttock, and you’re not to move. Understand?”
I nodded.
“Understand??”
“Yes, Miss.”
She began to tap me softly, then a little harder. I think I whimpered a bit, not knowing what might be coming next.
“You will not make a sound! Understand?”
“Yes, Miss.”
She continued.
“Do you remember when I spanked you?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“I would have liked to whip you as well. I would have liked to see you dance and scream, skip and cry, beg for mercy. What do you think of that?”
“You spanked me hard, Miss. It hurt a lot!”
“But it didn’t satisfy me. I wanted to hurt you more for what you did, humiliating me like that. But on Wednesday it is you who are going to be humiliated. There is no escape. You will have great sensual pleasure, but total humiliation. And still I will want to whip you, until I am satisfied. And I will, soon, I promise you. Now…”
She drew the flap of the riding whip down the outside of my thigh, across the top of my stocking, and up my inner thigh. She flicked it against my balls, which were compressed by the crotch of the rubber panties. She stroked it gently back and forth. I must have moved back slightly, still shifting from leg to leg.
“DON’T!”
I quickly resumed my former position. Looking me straight in the eyes, she continued to toy with my balls, until I felt the inevitable swelling of my frustrated boyhood. Steadily it grew and filled and lengthened, the head moving upwards towards my waistband. She watched with satisfaction. “Good boy,” she murmured, encouraging it with little smacks and digs from the tip of the whip, teasing it into full, hard erection. I squirmed like a kid needing the toilet.
“It’s gorgeous,” said Miss Mitchell, “Harriet’s going to be so happy. I can’t wait to see her face.”
“How does it feel, Simon?” continued Miss Faversham. “Is it very hard? Is it?”
“Yes. Miss,” I moaned. “I had a bad morning.”
“Oh, really? Tell us all about it.”
And she made me relate the events of the morning, which they found so entertaining they couldn’t stop giggling for some minutes.
“And poor little Elizabeth never got her boots cleaned properly! You selfish boy! I might have to tell Sue about that.”
Oh, no, Miss, please don’t! I’ll probably get into trouble.”
“Oh, Simon, I think you may already be in trouble. Now, I want you to touch yourself – there, where I’m prodding – and tell me how hard it is. Go on! No prevaricating!”
Gingerly I moved my hand onto the front of my panties and felt myself. I was hard and throbbing. I wanted badly to release all my pent-up tension.
“Is it really very firm there?”
“Yes.”
“Feel the very tip and tell me what it’s like there.”
I moved my fingers up. It was at bursting point. If I had touched it in that sensitive place under the glans I would have come at once.
“Wouldn’t you like to be able to come, to let it all out?”
“Ye…yes.” I whispered.
“Speak up!”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Now, Simon, suppose I told you that Miss Mitchell here would like nothing better than for you to kneel at her feet, take out your poor overwrought little sausage, and come and come all over her wonderful shiny riding boots, to deluge them with your sperm, and massage it in with your hands What would you say?”
“No, it’s not true!”
“Yes, Simon. It’s perfectly true,” said Miss Mitchell with a smile. “Fresh sperm is absolutely the best thing for polishing rubber riding boots. As far as I am concerned, the only useful function of oversexed boys like you is to provide boot polish for accomplished riders like me. So if you want to earn my respect, you’d better get on with it.”
“But…but it will spoil them!”
“Not at all. They’ll end up twice as glossy as before, you’ll see. You have a leather in your kit?”
“Yes.”
“Well get it quickly, smother my boots with all your lovely creamy polish, and leather it of while its warm. Go on!”
I looked at Miss Faversham for approval.
“Go, stupid!
I grabbed my leather from my cupboard, and slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, while Miss Mitchell transferred to the chair. In a moment I was kneeling before her, those beautiful boots inches away. Miss Faversham sat on the couch and prepared to take a video. Nothing mattered now except my duty. I hooked one finger through the ring and pulled. The zip travelled up smoothly, and my stiff sausage, gleaming with my juices, leapt from its confinement. I took it firmly in my left hand and slid back the foreskin so I could aim the jets of hot sperm which immediately burst from its tip. Almost fainting with ecstasy, and convulsed with the spasms of my climax, I maintained enough self-discipline to direct the spurts equally over each boot, spreading and massaging it into the rubber with my right hand as I did so.
“My goodness, so much!” I heard Miss Mitchell exclaim. And indeed, I managed to cover almost every inch before I knelt gasping and exhausted before her.
“Quick, Simon, the leather!” Miss Faversham urged. I set to work again, and as I leathered vigorously the rubber took on a deep healthy glow. I worked till every little fleck of white cream had disappeared, then buffed the boots with a soft duster. Miss Mitchell had been right. They were even glossier than before.
“Thank you, Simon! I’m going to appoint you my official boot boy from now on. Do you accept?”
“Thank you, Miss, yes! Yes, of course!” I gasped, totally drained but also totally at peace.
“You’d better get some rest, dear,” said Miss Faversham. But remember, we’re coming for you Wednesday morning. No more orgasms for the time being, please!”
But that was the last thing I wanted now.
-
Oh my Goddess! such a fantasy for me,, or is it a future reality?
-
Chapter XVII: Party Time (Part 1, Guests)
I hope you enjoyed that last entry, readers. We certainly did! And the tapes from the video cams which Sue dutifully copied for us. I desperately wanted to see what went on at the hen party, so Sue had a little word with Sadie and, after consulting her friend Harriet, she generously offered to let me attend as an unofficial guest! I thought that might surprise my little brother, and it did! But I got a few surprises of my own! I’ll let Sim’s diary relate the whole story.
Wednesday 27 July. It had been arranged that I should meet Miss Faversham at the school at nine thirty. I was nearly there, just walking down the lane to the car park, when a familiar figure appeared at my side, puffing and blowing.
“Sim! What yer doin’? I haven’t seen you for ages!”
“Billy! How are you? What you doing here?”
“I’m fine. I was on my way to the park, but then I saw you coming down here. Are you working today? I thought you only did weekends.”
“Well, sort of. Only today I’ve been booked to go to a party.”
“Booked? What do you mean? I know you do all this weird boot cleaning stuff – Alice told me all about it – but what you gonna do at a party?”
“I dunno, Billy. I just have to go. I have no idea what I’m needed for. That’s just how it is with this job.”
“But you make some cool dosh, I heard. You’re lucky. I only got two weeks’ work this summer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” We were nearing the school now. “Look, sorry mate, but I’ve got to go. Can’t keep the customers waiting.”
“Can I come too? I’d keep out of your way.”
“No, they wouldn’t allow that. I’m really sorry, Billy. Maybe we can get together later this week.”
“Nah, I’ve got jobs to do at home this week. I won’t be allowed out again till they’re finished.”
He looked really disappointed, and I felt miserable I couldn’t spend the day with him, too. We both stopped for a minute.
“Well, I’ll see you round, Billy.”
“Yeah, I s’pose.”
“Simon! Are you coming?” It was Miss Faversham, standing next to her car, waving at me.
“Gotta go.”
“Simon! Who’s that boy with you?”
“Just a friend, Miss!” I called back.
“Bring him here.”
“Yeah?”
“Bring him here. Now!”
“C’mon Billy – she wants to meet you, I guess.”
We trotted over to Miss Faversham. As usual she looked pretty cool and sexy – shiny black pants, high ankle boots, leather jacket. She had had her blonde hair cut short and brushed back. She wore black-rimmed glasses, which I hadn’t realised she needed. She noticed me looking at them.
“I usually wear contacts, Simon. But this is easier some mornings.” She turned to Billy. “Introduce me to your friend,” she purred, fixing him with a voracious stare.
“This is my best friend Billy, Miss. Billy – Miss Faversham.”
“Pleased to meet you, miss,” said Billy, wide-eyed, shaking hands.
“And you, darling.”
“Billy was just asking if he could come to the party, and I was explaining it’s a private party, and…”
“Of course he can come! He’s your best friend, Simon.” She let go of Billy’s hand. “Please join us, Billy. It would be lovely to, er, have you along!”
“Oh,” I said, surprised, “I didn’t think he’d be allowed. And, Miss, I mean, you know, I don’t know what my… what my duties will be, sort of thing…”
“I think we can make an exception for you, Billy. Hop in and let’s get going.”
We climbed into Miss Faversham’s black car, and were soon on our way. I was doubtful about the turn events had taken. But Miss Faversham clearly had a plan.
“Billy, you know this is fancy dress, don’t you?”
“No?”
“Yes. You boys will have to wear costumes. I think we have a spare one for you.”
“Oh, okay. Sounds like fun!”
“Oh, it will be. It’s a hen party.”
“Hen party? Will I have to dress up as a chicken?”
“Billy, you idiot!” I yelled, when I had stopped laughing. “A hen party is a party just for ladies! No men – except us, that is.”
“Oh.” He thought for a minute. “Are the ladies going to be in fancy dress too?”
“Oh, yes, Billy,” said Miss Faversham. “I’m going to be a vampire, my friend Clarissa is going to be a prostitute – oh, a very tasteful prostitute, of course - and my friend Harriet will be dressed as Catwoman.” I felt my heart miss a beat at that name. “Yes, Simon,” she added, looking over her shoulder at me, “I hear she’s bought herself a lovely black rubber catsuit especially. She doesn’t fancy the mask, though – she reckons it’ll catch on her hair. But she’s asked to borrow my riding whip to substitute for a bullwhip. So I wouldn’t get to close if I were you – not that you’ll be able to avoid it.”
I felt the blood rush to my face. “Really,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could, “that should be fun. What does she look like?”
“You’ll see. She looks pretty normal, but be careful – she’s a bit wild, that one!”
“We should have brought her a present.”
“Oh, we have, silly. You’re the present!” And she burst into peals of laughter.
“What does she mean, Sim?” whispered Billy.
“I dunno exactly, but it doesn’t sound good. If I were you I’d keep a low profile.”
“Oh, and your sister’s going to be there.”
“My sister? Why?”
“She wanted to come, according to Sue, I think to make sure you didn’t get into mischief. So I thought it wouldn’t do any harm. Do you mind?”
“I suppose not.”
“She is on the committee, you know. I guess she has a right to check on the employees.”
“Really? She’s on the committee? I never knew that. Who else?”
“Whoops, I probably shouldn’t have told you. I think the committee likes to keep the identity of its members secret. I don’t know who else there is, apart from Sue.”
I mused on this piece of information as we went along. I suspected several people. My aunt, of course. Mary. Maybe even Jane. Mrs Willoughby? Speculation was pointless.
We seemed to have been driving for ages. We were right out of town now, on a winding country lane. At last the car turned off down a narrow track, and we could see we were approaching a biggish house of red brick with a big front door at the top of a flight of stone steps.
“This is it, boys.”
The track turned into a gravelled driveway, and we parked next to a row of other cars. Two girls were sitting on the steps, laughing and smoking cigarettes. I noticed that they had wine glasses, and a bottle next to them. It was only about half past ten.
“Yes, Simon, the girls like to make an early start when there’s serious celebrating to do. You guys can have a drink later.”
“My mum won’t let me drink yet,” said Billy, glumly.
“Well you’re old enough, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, actually I’m older than Sim by five days!” he grinned.
“Well you can drink here, as long as you don’t overdo it. I’m sure Stella will keep an eye on you both. Come on, let’s go meet the gang!”
Miss Faversham said hello to the girls on the steps as we passed. I think they were Kathy and Trish. They smiled at us as we passed between them and one of them winked. She led us down a shady corridor to a bright room as the back of the house, a big room with lots of armchairs and a couple of tables and a huge classical marble fireplace with vases on the mantlepiece and columns either side decorated with big gold rings like doorknockers and a polished parquet floor. As we walked in we were greeted by a chorus of squeals, whoops and whistles. Some of the women were already in costume, others not. Everyone seemed to have a glass in their hands.
“Yay! The floor show!” someone shouted, and there was a lot of laughing and giggling. Billy looked at me nervously, but I put on the bravest face I could. I had a feeling that the worst thing we could do was to look intimidated.
“Where’s the woman of the moment?” asked Miss Faversham.
“In the kitchen, Sadie. Clarissa’s helping her do up her catsuit.”
“Come on boys, this way.” We followed Miss Faversham as she weaved through the guests and entered the kitchen, which was almost as big as the living room. There was Miss Mitchell. My eyes must have almost popped out. She had already put on her costume. From the top, frizzed hair partially dyed red; a lot of bright red lipstick and mascara; a studded leather choker; a translucent black blouse, under which a black bra with open cups, so that her nipples strained against the blouse; a leather skirt not quite long enough to conceal her red latex panties, which were fitted with suspenders, supporting black fishnet stockings; high-heeled ankle boots which came half way up her calves, and which were secured with a row of three buckles; and black leather fingerless gloves which immediately reminded me of Sandra. Standing next to her was a blonde woman in a very tight black rubber catsuit and black rubber gloves, also in ankle boots. They both turned as we entered, and simultaneously their faces broke into broad grins.
“Sadie, darling!” said the woman in the catsuit. “What have you brought us, you bad girl?”
“Happy birthday, Harriet,” smiled Miss Faversham, “allow me to introduce Simon, and his best friend Billy.” She pushed us forward for inspection. “Simon was supposed to be your birthday present, but I managed to pick up the other one on the way. So double happy birthday!”
“Oh, you’re so clever, my love! Darlings, come here!” She embraced each of us separately and then together, pressing our faces against her firm, rubber-encased breasts. I thought I was going to faint, and Billy had already turned bright red.
“H-happy birthday, miss!” I said, “So nice to meet you!” Then I turned to Miss Mitchell.
“H-hello, Miss Michell,” I stammered, desperately and unsuccessfully trying to normalise the situation. “I hope you are well. Your costume is very nice.”
There was a momentary silence, then all three women doubled up with laughter.
“’Nice’ is a very sweet way of putting it, Simon,” said Harriet, still laughing. “Don’t be shy, boys, we’ll make sure you have a nice time. I’m sure you’re both hungry. Sit down and we’ll get you some pastries and drinks – no, I mean juice or coffee, no what those sluts next door are swigging!”
“Yes, relax,” said Miss Mitchell, “the party won’t get going for a while yet. We’ve got all day – and all night if we please. Have something to eat and drink, have a look around, and then we’ll organise your costumes.”
“Yes,” said Miss Faversham, “Simon’s is all ready, and we’ll find something appropriate for you, Billy. I think maybe the polka dots, Clarissa, don’t you?”
“Perfect. They’ll go with his lovely curly black hair.”
Billy looked at me questioningly. I avoided his gaze, and beckoned him over to the kitchen counter where Miss Mitchell was unpacking a variety of delicious looking pastries from a big box. Harriet produced a selection of drinks from the fridge.
“Why don’t you boys go into the garden and eat? Go say high to Henry. I think he’s up the top there.” She threw open the back door. The “garden” was in reality a huge field. At the far end we could see a bay horse quietly grazing. Harriet put all the eatables on a tray, and added a carrot and an apple.
“Here, give Henry some breakfast too. He’ll love you for ever.” She handed me the tray, and we trooped outside and headed for Henry.
“Wow, Sim, this is some place!”
“Yeah. It’s crazy.”
“What was that stuff about polkadots?”
“Dunno, Billy. Look! Henry’s coming to meet us!”
And he did. He was more interested in the cakes than the vegetables, so we gave him a little treat too. There was enough for four people, anyway. After we had finished eating we lay in the sun, listening to Henry munching the grass.
“Those ladies are pretty…hot!” observed Billy.
“Hotter than you know, Billy.” I replied.
“And there’s a lot of them.”
“More than we can deal with. You’ll just have to go along with things. Don’t try to fight them.”
“Why would I want to fight them? I think they’re nice.”
I sighed. Poor sap. But there was nothing I could do now.
“Simon! Billy! Time to get changed, boys!” It was Miss Faversham calling from the back door. We picked up the tray and headed back. The kitchen was empty, so I dumped the tray and bottles on the counter and we headed back into the living-room, where we could hear a hubbub of voices. We entered hesitantly, and stopped in our tracks. All the girls were now in fancy dress. Miss Faversham looked seriously threatening as a vampire, but there was plenty of variety. A maid with frothy knickers peeping out from under a starched skirt, and her nipples visible over the top of her apron; a pirate in the highest thigh boots I’d ever seen, wearing a huge hat adorned with a blue feather; a black pussy cat in a velvet suit with a cat mask with ears; a ‘boy scout’ in full uniform with the tiniest little pair of zipped khaki spandex shorts, stretched over a sausage-shaped bulge lying upwards from the crotch; and so on. Batgirl was there, all in purple spandex, along with Catwoman. And talking to Miss Faversham I saw my sister, in full show gear. I suppose, if she didn’t have a costume ready, that was quite a good substitute. She certainly seemed to fit in with the atmosphere of the party. Miss Mitchell saw us, and quickly conducted us in, introducing us to the guests. I really could not remember which was which. There was Janice and Tracey and Natalie and Vera and Trish and Rana and Betony and Jen and Ellen. We were introduced to the pirate. That was Jen. I was having trouble breathing freely.
“You’re Simon, then? I’ve heard about you. You’re a professional boot boy, is that right?”
“Er, yes, Jen, I guess I am.”
“Would you like to polish my boots later, Simon?”
“Of course, if you wish.” I replied, subserviently.
“I know they’re rather long,” she said, lifting the hem of her tiny leather skirt to show that they actually reached her crotch, and to reveal a pair of tight black kid leather panties fitted with a ring-pull silver zip that disappeared between her legs, “but after you get to the top you could just keep going, if you like.” She smiled sweetly. “By the middle of the afternoon I don’t suppose I’ll be in a fit state to object if you overstep the mark a little.”
“You’d better not overstep the mark with me, young man,” interrupted Harriet, “or you’ll feel a taste of my whip!” She was now flourishing a dressage whip, making it whistle in the air.
She laughed. “That boy’s already had a taste of it, haven’t you sonny?”
The boy scout, who I learnt was called Betony, stepped forward.
“Yes, it’s true. All I did was brush up against her with my thing, and she gave me a crack over the bum! Are you two in the scouts?”
“As a matter of fact, we are,” I said, “we’re Explorers.”
“Really? Do you hear that, girls?” she shouted, almost spilling her wine in her excitement, “These two are Explorer Scouts! Shall we let them do some exploring today?” Everyone laughed and shouted. They were all half tipsy already.
“Sadie!” said Harriet, “Why aren’t they wearing their Scout uniforms? That would have been such fun!”
“Good idea, darling. Next time. But they’ve got something just as nice to put on today, you’ll see!” A chorus of oohs, and aahs, and “get them dressed, then!”
Betony noticed Billy staring at the bulge in her shorts. “Would you like to see my thing?”
And without waiting for a reply, she unzipped the taut spandex and pulled out a gleaming black vinyl dil-do, anatomically perfect and apparently firmly attached to her person. We goggled at it in disbelief. Billy actually gripped my arm in fright. She grinned. “If you’re good boys I’ll let you play with it later.”
“If you’re bad boys you may find it playing with you, so be careful!” remarked Miss Mitchell. “Come on, boys, you should have had your costumes on ages ago. Follow me.”
She led us upstairs to a bedroom. “Simon – and you Billy – you can call me Clarissa and Miss Faversham Sadie today. Just today, mind. Because it’s a special day and we’re all amongst friends. Now come in here and let me show you what we have for you.”
And we followed her anxiously into the scented, thickly-carpeted bedroom.
-
I just finished re reading everything up to now. Looks like the 2 boys are in for something they are not expecting. Wondering what their costumes are and how the take the whole experience.
-
Chapter XVII Party Time (Part 2, Girlfriends)
We stood awkwardly by the bed while Clarissa – I can call her that now – went to the wardrobe. She opened the door and rummaged inside for a while before bringing out - something I hadn’t expected. A mauve T-shirt?
“Oh, Simon, before we dress you, I’ve got you a little present to commemorate our session last Saturday. I do hope you like it, and that you’ll wear it for us sometimes.”
“Oh, thanks. A new T-shirt.”
“I reached out for it, but she held it back.”
“Do you know the Gummi Bears?”
“Course.”
“Well then you’ll understand the allusion. You’re my little bear.” And she turned it round so I could see the front. I won’t say any more, but I’ve attached a photo of it to the next page. “Keep it in your salon, will you?”
Billy looked at me enquiringly, but I ignored him. With a wink, she brought out the thing I had been expecting - my little nurse’s costume.
“Simon. Here we are.” She laid it on the bed.” Go on. You can change in the en suite if you like. It’s that door on the left. Call me when you’re ready and I’ll bring in the accessories.”
“Yes, Clarissa.” I replied, picking up the dress and heading for the door.
All the while Billy had been looking at me aghast, or rather, looking from me to the dress and back again to me. His mouth was open but he hadn’t managed to get a word out. At last he spoke to Clarissa.
“Is he really going to wear that?”
“Of course. And you’re going to wear this.” And she held up the pretty polkadot dress I had tried on a few days ago.
“What? No way!”
“Are you refusing?”
“You bet I am! And I’m leaving!”
I stopped in my tracks, and turned around to see what would happen. Billy headed for the bedroom door. He had taken two paces when Clarissa grabbed him by the collar and pulled him backwards onto the bed. She held him down and climbed astride him.
“You are not leaving, sonny, and you are putting on this dress.” She said, calmly.
“I’m not! You’re crazy! I’m gonna call my mum!” he shouted, struggling to extract his phone from his jeans pocket.
“You’re not calling anyone,” said Clarissa, wrenching the phone out of his hand. “You’re going to do as you’re told. You wanted to come to this party, and now you’re going to abide by its rules.”
“Problems?” asked Sadie, strolling into the room.
“Only one.”
“Leave him to me. I’ve borrowed my whip back from Harriet for a minute. Can you turn him over?”
“No problem.” Clarissa bodily threw him over on his front, and sat on him again, facing his legs. Muffled protests emanated from behind her. She used her legs to immobilise his arms, while Sadie grabbed his thrashing ankles.
“Simon,” she called, “before you disappear, could you hand me some cord? You’ll find it in the right-hand drawer of the dressing table. I obeyed. There was indeed a coil of soft rope, and a few other rather interesting items too. I tossed her the cord. In a moment she had wrapped it around Billy’s ankles, and then tethered them to one of the bed legs. Having secured him to her satisfaction, she coolly pulled down his jeans and underpants in one swift movement. She stood back a little and raised the dressage whip. I watched, fearful for Billy but fascinated all the same. Clarissa sat back, pulling up Billy’s shirt at the same time so that his bare bottom was fully exposed. Neither of them spoke. Using the whole length of the whip, Sadie administered three hard strokes, a few seconds apart. Billy’s buttocks clenched under the onslaught, and I could actually see a red weal appear a moment after each blow connected. Poor Billy didn’t scream, as I was expecting, but made a sort of choking, gasping sound, his body jerking spasmodically in time. Only after several seconds did he begin to weep loudly. Sadie showed no emotion.
“Now, Billy, I want a straight answer. Are you going to obey us, or do you need another three strokes?”
For some moments he was unable to answer, and Sadie sighed, “Oh, dear. Well if that’s what you want…”
“No-o, p-please miss, please, no!” cried Billy. “I’ll do what I’m told, I p-promise!”
“Are you sure, Billy?”
“Yes, m-miss, quite sure. Quite sure. I’ll wear the d-dress. I swear!”
Billy was no coward, but those three quick strokes had been enough to subdue him utterly. His rebelliousness had been tamed in a moment. In a way I wasn’t surprised. The pain that can be inflicted by even a single stroke of such a long, thin whip shaft, when applied by an expert like Sadie, is difficult to comprehend unless you’ve experienced it yourself. But not only that. The demonstration of the girls’ utter ruthlessness was chilling, a clear warning they would stop at nothing to impose their will. I was immediately disabused of any sentimental feelings I may have harboured for them. It was a lesson for me as well which I would not forget.
Clarissa dismounted and allowed Billy to prise himself gingerly off the bed. At that moment Batgirl appeared at the door, apparently having heard the noise from the adjacent toilet. Billy was standing on one leg next to the next, whimpering quietly, not daring to touch his stinging posterior. When Batgirl saw him, and the three thin weals, she immediately hurried over and took him in her arms. She laid him back on the bed, face down, and looking from Sadie to Clarissa, demanded, “cold cream? Where is it? C’mon, where is it?”
Sadie indicated the dressing table with a dismissive wave of her hand. Batgirl went over, opened the middle drawer, and returned with a blue pot. Seating herself next to Billy, she began gently to apply the cream, whispering comforting words in Billy’s ear. Even the careful application of the cold cream stung him, and he sobbed, quietly.
“Hurry up, Kathy, it’s time to get him dressed,” was all that Sadie could say. Batgirl Kathy, whom I remembered had winked at us when we arrived, mouthed something not very complimentary at Sadie, patted Billy on the head, and left the room. Clarissa lifted him off the bed, pressed the polkadot dress into his arms, and propelled him towards me.
“Now go get changed. Both of you.”
Inside the bathroom, which was spacious to say the least, I commiserated with Billy.
“Are you all right? That was terrible!”
“I’ve never felt anything like that before, Sim. She’s cruel!”
“Yeah, she is. I’m sorry you came with me. I know what to expect – especially now!”
“We better get into these things.”
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
We pulled on the costumes, with their attached panties. But imagine our surprise to discover that the front of the crotch on both costumes had been neatly altered, so that now there was round aperture hemmed with elastic in the most vital place!
“What the heck?” I exclaimed. But before either us could make any further observations, Sadie called from outside.
“Got them on?”
“Y-yes,” I replied uncertainly.
“Right. I’m coming in.”
We both instinctively covered ourselves. Sadie pushed open the door and strode in. She was wearing black rubber gloves and carrying something.
“Right. You first, Simon. Stand here.”
I stood where she had indicated, still protecting my interests. She dropped some rubber things on the floor next to me, and then took up one of them.
“These first, please. Hold up your skirts.”
I dutifully stepped into what appeared to be a pair of fine pastel blue latex briefs, though the layers of crisp tulle rather impeded my view, and she pulled them up over the panties of the nurse’s costume.
“Blue because you’re a boy.” She remarked.
But I could feel something loose at the front, and, flattening my skirts against my chest, I saw there was a fine, translucent latex sheath attached to the front of them. Where it was attached to the briefs, there was a ring of thicker latex apparently designed to fit firmly behind my balls.
“Right. Now I’m going to stretch out the hole and I want you to put your thing into the sheath, please.” And she reached inside the briefs and stretched the aperture open with her fingers. Remembering what had just happened to Billy I kept my mouth shut and did as I was told, feeding my member into the sheath.
“Right in, please. Those as well,” she added. So through went everything, after which she released the bottom of the sheath, which snapped firmly into place, gripping the base of my member. I looked down. The sheath had a special little sac below the basal ring which held my balls compact. It comfortably accommodated my flaccid member, which came perhaps two-thirds of the way along its length. Its end was open, but it tapered to a narrow sphincter, just like the neck of a party balloon. I looked at her questioningly.
“This way your dress knickers will stay clean, Simon. The sheath is open to allow you to go to the toilet when you please. But be warned, it is also designed to keep you firmly under control. There is a little flexibility, but full erection is impossible. We can't have sweet little girls in fancy dresses walking about with their panties bulging, can we?"
She then picked up a pair of pink latex panties, trimmed with pink lace, and with a short ring-pull zip at the front so that, Sadie explained, I could use the toilet without removing them.
“Pink because you’re also a girl,” she smiled.
These she slid on over the blue ones. The pink latex was thicker felt quite strong, so that it flattened my sheathed boyhood firmly against my tummy, making it relatively inconspicuous. This done, she directed me back into the bedroom where Clarissa was ready to help me with my cute little shoes and socks, my little white gloves, and my nurse’s headband. They had even got me a little red first-aid case to carry around! Meanwhile Billy was getting the same treatment, and emerged a few minutes later to have his outfit completed with a red hair-ribbon, matching the heart on his frilly sewn-on apron, white ankle socks, and blue trainers. I almost felt jealous, he looked so cute!
Sadie checked our costumes, making us turn around and around till she was happy everything was correct.
“You look lovely, boys. Time to make your appearance!”
My heart was fluttering as we were led downstairs to the living-room. As we approached the door I could see the table was laid for a buffet lunch, but I had no appetite any more. The hubbub of voices was now louder, and punctuated with loud exclamations and bursts of hysterical laughter. I guessed the wine had been flowing freely whilst we had been upstairs. Sadie gestured us to wait while she went ahead. I saw her beckon Stella over to the door. She said something to her, and she disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with her camera hung around her neck and a video camera in her hand. She retreated to the far side of the room and prepared to film. I had noticed that Sadie and my sister seemed quite close. I know they used to ride together. I suspected a conspiracy of some sort. But now I had other things on my mind. Having got the photographer in place, Sadie ushered us into the room. Apart from Harriet and the pirate, who were engaged in a loud argument, the rest of the room was momentarily stunned into silence. Then uproar. Whistles, squeals, shouts of “Oh my god, look at them!” “They’re so cute!” Harriet and Jen broke off their conversation and stared. Then they too joined in the clamour. Then we were mobbed, and engulfed in a cloud of perfume and alcoholic breath.
“Now, now, ladies!” called Sadie, “Please. These pretty boys are Harriet’s birthday present. Please allow her to unwrap – I mean, examine – her gifts. Harriet!”
The women fell back a little, and Harriet approached, her catsuit squeaking and rustling, wonderment on her face.
“Happy birthday, darling!” said Sadie.
“Oh, my dear! This is more than I could ever have even dreamed of! Two of them! And they’re so…so…delicious!”
“Well, you can taste them any time you like, darling!” winked Clarissa, to general mirth, “I think you’ll need to blow their candles out before the party’s over!” (“Oooh, naughty”, from the pussy cat.)
“They look scrumptious, all right,” said the maid, but they need a bit of make-up, don’t you think? Shall I oblige?”
“Yeah, go on, Janice. You’re the expert.”
And so it was that we found ourselves on the sofa, me first and then Billy, having foundation, mascara, eye shadow, a little rouge, and lip gloss (Billy red, me pink), applied to our burning faces, while Janice explained that she worked in a beauty salon frequented by Harriet. She made us up with commendable restraint, so as not to spoil our girlish looks. The softness of her touch on my face, not to mention her bare thigh pressed against mine, and the sight of her pink nipples peeping over the top of her dress, soon began to have the inevitable effect. But to my chagrin, the anticipation of pleasure quickly gave way to the realisation of pain! Whilst the base ring of the sheath caused my boyhood to swell with unwonted vigour, the sheath itself and the tight panties prevented it attaining its desired proportions, causing me considerable distress. As I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat, I noticed Sadie observing me with a malicious smile on her face, and I realised that my unhappy state was probably not entirely accidental! In my frustration, I considered running off to the toilet to allow my member a moment’s relief. But I restrained myself when I considered that if, in its present state, I once released it from its confinement, I would probably be unable to get it back again! Instead I had to bite my lip and pinch my thigh in an effort to control my arousal.
When Janice had finished, we were paraded in front of the company to universal admiration.
“Oh my god,” said a schoolgirl in an impossibly short pleated skirt, who I think was Vera, they really are, to all intents and purposes, girls! They don’t look like boys at all!”
“Yes, it’s true,” added a girl dressed all in tight cycling gear. (This was Ellen, who actually wore this stuff to go cycling, and it was as sexy as any costume there!) “We could take them out and no-one would bat an eyelid.”
“I wouldn’t say that!” put in a little hotel page-boy, (Trish), “I’ve never seen teenage girls dressed like that. It’s normally old jeans and T-shirts. Can you imagine the attention they’d attract on the streets?”
“Yeah, we should do it sometime, girls,” suggested a tall dark girl dressed up as a ring mistress, in a black body, fishnet tights, cowboy boots and a short red tunic. This was Rana.
“Could we, Sadie? Could we have them dressed up another time?”
“Of course, girls,” Sadie replied, confidently. “They are our playthings, and we can do as we wish with them.” She said this in such a matter-of-fact way that I knew she was perfectly serious.
“I’m gonna get some piccies!” exclaimed Jen the pirate.
“Why not wait till after lunch, dear,” said Sadie. “We’ll have them pose for you then. In any case, Stella’s recording everything and she’ll edit it afterwards and you’ll each get a copy.” And she smirked at us arrogantly.
It was a relief to have attention diverted for a moment away from us. Whilst everyone else sat at the table, we were ordered to stand so that we didn’t spoil our dresses, and to wait upon the rest. Sadie had us running back and forth with plates of food and bottles of champagne, topping up every empty glass – of which there were many. The guests were getting more and more tipsy and playful, so that we were continually trying to fend off groping hands and mischievous fingers. Our little bouncy skirts – especially mine – merely encouraged them, while providing no defence at all. At one point I brought in some sort of big cold sausage all tied up with twine. Sadie prodded it gingerly with her fork and looked at me.
“This reminds me of something I saw earlier, Simon. Do you remember? In the bedroom!”
Of course, they all thought that was hilarious, and there followed a whole slew of dirty jokes. Honestly, women are so annoying, sometimes. But in general, Sadie and Clarissa kept apart from the others, and I also noticed that they drank very little, just taking an occasional sip, as if they had important business in hand for which they needed to remain sober. The others were the opposite. On one occasion, while I was refilling her glass, Jen the pirate caught me round the waist with her left arm and held me tight, while beginning to fondle the constricted bulge in my panties with the other, making some stupid remark about “taking me as her cabin-girl”! I had to spill some champagne down her cleavage to escape.
Though the women seemed to have an infinite capacity for alcohol, things were definitely getting wilder now. As I went to the kitchen for another bottle, I saw Harriet grab Billy and pull him onto her lap. When I returned, she was feeding him champagne from her glass, with all the company shouting encouragement. Jen, persistent in her attention towards me, soon pulled me onto her booted legs and followed suit. It was impossible to resist the collective will of a dozen boisterous women, and in any case I think we both needed something to alleviate our nervousness. It certainly did the trick. I hadn’t really drunk champagne much before. I think I’d had a couple of glasses on Stella’s and Sandra’s birthdays, but otherwise it had mainly been beer. I downed a glassful and Janice quickly refilled my glass. It was nice, and I started to feel warm and friendly towards everyone, as well as a little dizzy. I put my arm around Jen and buried my face in her neck, inhaling her scent like a drug. She giggled and squirmed as my breath tickled her skin. I felt her hand alight on my upper thigh, and I didn’t care, despite the uncomfortable swelling of my boyhood. I wondered whether she might unzip my panties - and I wouldn’t have attempted to stop her if she had - but she contented herself with stroking and teasing. I remember someone else wanting to cuddle me, and then being passed from one to the other in a confused whirl of warmth, scent, groping and cuddles. I was intoxicated in every sense. Out of half-closed eyes I saw Billy with his face inside Clarissa’s blouse, apparently fastened to her right breast, whilst she gently stroked his hair! That sight woke me up a little. In my confused state I smiled to myself, having already forgotten what she and Sadie had so recently done to my friend. And clearly Billy had forgotten it too! I noticed Stella, still filming, whilst Sadie whispered in her ear, glancing all the while from Billy to me and back again. Even in my dazed state I vaguely perceived that Sadie was somehow orchestrating the whole day. I wondered hazily what might happen next. I soon found out.
Everyone had now eaten, and was sitting back sipping their drinks and chatting. Sadie rose to speak.
“Right, girls!” she called, clapping her hands. “Time for the boys’ photo session, I think. Boys? Over here, please, by the fireplace. Girls? Would you like to take your seats in the comfy chairs, and by all means have your phones ready.”
There was a general movement from the table to the sofas and armchairs, accompanied by lots of giggling and falling about. Clarissa detached herself from Billy and pushed him towards the hearthrug. I made my way circuitously towards him. We hung onto each other a little unsteadily. Billy couldn’t stop giggling.
“This is a great party, Sim. Thanks for bringing me!”
“Are you drunk, Billy?”
“No, I ain’t. I’m slober!”
“Slober?”
“Ha ha ha, you know what I mean! I’m stoned cold sober!”
“Stoned is right.”
“Now boys, please don’t be silly! Could you just pose for the girls, nicely now?”
“Better do it,” I whispered. “Don’t want a repeat of … you know.”
“Please hold hands and smile for the cameras.”
I was a little reluctant, but Billy took my hand at once, and smile what he obviously considered his sweetest smile. I followed suit. I knew we looked idiotic, but I also was too far gone to care.
“Prove you’re really girls!” shouted Clarissa. “Give us a curtsey!”
Our attempts at curtseying had everyone falling about. But we liked the attention so much we continued to play the fool.
“If you’re really girls, show us your panties!” shouted Harriet.
And soon we were flashing our little pink lacy panties to the delight of the company, even turning our backs on them, touching our knees, and wiggling our shiny rubber-encased bottoms! Sadie and Clarissa were standing to one side, a little apart from the others.
“What little show-offs!” said Sadie. “That Billy pretends to be so grown-up, but she’s just a little girl!”
“Yes,” replied Clarissa, “I don’t suppose she’s ever kissed a boy in her life!”
“Have!” shouted Billy.
“Never!” returned Clarissa.
“I have!” he shouted louder.
“Prove it!” put in Sadie.
“How?”
“Kiss Simon! He’s a boy!”
“Yes!” cheered the girls. “Kiss him!” and they started chanting, “Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!”
“Okay!” said Billy, defiantly. And he leant towards me and gave me a peck on the cheek.
“That’s not a kiss!” exclaimed Clarissa, “See? I told you so.”
“Kiss him on the lips, Billy,” said Sadie. “Go on – show her!”
“All right. I will.”
I didn’t draw back. I wanted him to kiss me, to tell the truth. The champagne had stripped us of our inhibitions. For my part I wanted to see what it was like to kiss – and to be kissed by – a boy. And my best friend Billy was the ideal one to do it with.
He put his hands on my shoulders, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to mine. They were soft and warm, but also smooth with lip gloss. I wondered how long he would keep them there. I was almost swooning with pleasure. As he didn’t draw back, I put my hands on his waist and reciprocated the pressure, closing my own eyes at the same time. Our skirts crushed together. Our lips began to adhere. I wondered how far he would go. The girls were whistling and whooping. He persisted. At last I took the plunge. I opened my mouth and pushed the very tip of my tongue inside his. I could hear gasps and oohs from the audience, and I felt Billy stiffen for a second. Would he break away in disgust? I held my breath. And then, to my infinite delight, I felt the tip of his tongue touch mine. Instantly we pulled each other close, pressing our bodies together passionately, and thrust our tongues as deep as we could into each other’s mouths, desperately, hungrily, like long-separated lovers!
-
Chapter XVII Party Time (Part 3, Party Games)
I think our arousal, heightened by the champagne, had made us almost oblivious to our surroundings. Our audience had now sunk into a state of silent fascination, and we were focussed only on each other. Thrusting forward, I slid my hands from Billy’s waist down to his buttocks, and pulled him to me, relishing the pressure of him against me. Then, sliding my hands onto his hips, and gently separating our bodies again, I felt for the zip of his panties. I already had my finger through the ring, careless of the consequences, when Sadie’s voice broke the spell.
“Yes, Simon. Go on - do it. He wants it so much!” she murmured in hushed but clear tones.
I opened my eyes for the first time, and saw her and Clarissa a few yards away, Clarissa gripping her friend’s arm, and expressions of intense anticipation on both their faces. To their left, Stella was crouched behind her video camera, recording every moment of our encounter. The sight of their eager faces jerked me back to reality. I stared at them for a second, then quickly detached myself from our embrace and took a step back, leaving Billy standing in the middle of the hearthrug looking dazed. The suspicion that we were being manipulated, whether for their entertainment or for something more sinister, became a conviction. I’m sure the fact that Clarissa was dressed as a tart and Sadie as a vampire didn’t help. Sadie’s costume had at least as much suggestion of sexual voraciousness as Clarissa’s. I found afterwards which catalogue she had got it from and pasted the photos in here to remind me. However, the atmosphere of disappointment in the room was palpable.
“No!” I shouted at Sadie and Clarissa. “We’re not your puppets!”
“Pity!” I heard someone in the audience exclaim, to laughter.
Sadie and Clarissa exchanged a few words. Clarissa left the room. Sadie looked serious.
“I’m sorry if you feel we were taking advantage of you, Simon. I assure you that wasn’t our intention. But you and Billy are obviously very close, and I have to admit we were enjoying seeing you expressing your affection so freely, that’s all.”
Had I overreacted? I felt suddenly stupid and naïve.
“I’m sorry, Sadie, I just got a bit nervous at being watched, I guess…” I said, lamely. She seemed genuinely repentant.
“Never mind, darling. I’m sorry too. But we have a couple of little – very little – presents for you, to show our appreciation for your agreeing to come to the party at all. Clarissa’s just getting them now.”
At that moment, Clarissa returned with a velvet drawstring bag. She reached in, and with a smile pulled out two little red leather collars.
“I hope you like these little chokers, boys. They’re not much, but they’ll complement your costumes perfectly.”
I didn’t know what to say. They didn’t exactly look like chokers, being quite broad and robust and decorated with steel studs, with a little silver bell at the front of each. But I felt guilty at having accused them of using us, and now it would be difficult to reject them.
“Here,” said Sadie, “let us help you on with them. Turn around.”
I was trying to see what they were like, and I suspected they were the sort that locked shut with a padlock. But Sadie swivelled me round and I couldn’t do much but stand and submit. She had me standing at one side of the fireplace and Clarissa took Billy to the other side. What exactly was going on? I soon found out. The collar – for that’s what it was – was buckled about my throat. Sadie took pains to make sure it was comfortable, not too tight and not too loose. I was standing with my back to one of the columns. I heard the sound of something metallic being slid in place, my head was suddenly jerked back, there was a click, and to my utter disgust I found myself somehow pinned against the fireplace!
“What? What’s going on?” I cried, struggling ineffectually and trying to feel behind my neck. A brief exploration revealed that the locking padlock of the collar had also been attached to one of the big gold rings on the fireplace column. I was stuck! Sadie was smiling with cold satisfaction. Turning my head sideway with some difficulty I could see a bemused Billy similarly attached to the left column.
“You bitches!” I yelled. “Let us go!”
“Let you go? No way, kid. You know, Harriet always said this fireplace was only lacking a couple of statues. Maybe we’ll leave you here permanently!”
I stood there, helpless, dumb and fuming. Fancy falling for that! The guests, on the other hand, were finding it most amusing.
“I have to hand it to you, girls, you organise the most fun parties!” said Harriet. “I won’t ever forget this one!”
“If you do, you’ll always have the video to remind you, dear,” said Clarissa, indicating Stella, who was panning from Billy to me and back against with her recorder.
“What you gonna do with them, Sadie?” asked Jen. “They can’t kiss each other no more, can they? I was just enjoying that.”
“Oh, we’ll think of something. But first we’re going to make them a little more comfortable.”
Clarissa was now pulling more straps out of the bag, little soft red cuffs fitted with locking rings and tiny padlocks. We stood unresisting while she neatly cuffed our wrists and ankles.
Our wristcuff buckles were then padlocked to lower rings on the columns, whilst of ankle cuffs were simply padlocked together. We were totally secured, like two statues indeed. Two sissy statues.
“There!” exclaimed Sadie. “Now they’re quite safe whilst we decide what to do with them next.”
“While I decide, you mean!” said Harriet. “They’re my property today, I believe!”
“Oh, quite so, darling, quite so. They’re all yours. But I can’t imagine what you might have in mind,” she added, looking us up and down with a leer. The backs of our crisp little skirts being pressed against the marble, the fronts had risen up almost vertical, giving everyone a clear view of our pretty, taut little panties. Stella had immediately taken advantage, panning from our ankles upwards, lingering on our panties, and then up to our embarrassed faces.
“F… off, Stella!” I hissed.
“Such language, Simon. Tut tut. Lucky you’re all tethered up or I’m sure Sadie would give you a good spanking.”
“Yes, Simon. Stella’s right. But I think calling Clarissa and me “bitches” probably demands something a little more inventive. We’ll see. We’re going to sit down with the girls and discuss it. Just wait there, would you, if you don’t mind?”
So they all sat down comfortably in the armchairs and sofas and continued chatting. More champagne was brought in. I noticed Betony and Janice with their arms around each other on one of the sofas, getting very friendly. Betony was leaning over Janice, kissing her and playing with her nipples. Janice was holding tight to Betony’s neckerchief with one hand, and fondling at the bulge in Betony’s spandex shorts with the other. I tried to ignore them, but my gaze kept returning involuntarily. Sadie had been keeping an eye on me. She called over.
“Do you like that, Simon? You probably wish that was you there in your Scout uniform.”
“No.”
“You know it’s no surprise Betony chose that outfit. You love the girls, don’t you Betony?”
Betony detached her lips from Janice’s for a moment.
“I do,” she smiled lazily, “and some of the girls love me, too.”
She returned to her snogging, and Janice’s fingers crept up to the zip ring. Everyone watched as she slowly slid it down, allowing the bloated, shiny phallus to spring out of Betony’s shorts. The general chatter slowly died away as the guests watched the pair, waiting for developments. I looked over at Billy. He was riveted on the scene, eyes wide, an expression of desperation on his face.
“Billy! Billy! Look at me.” He glanced over. “Don’t watch that. It’ll just drive you crazy, and if you start to get aroused it’ll make you very uncomfortable as well! Let’s ignore at and talk to each other.”
“That’s easily said, Simon,” complained Billy, sulkily, “especially as it was you who got me all worked up there earlier, and then left me up in the air. I can’t help it. I’m not a complete sissy like you!”
That last remark really hurt me. I wasn’t a sissy, any more than he was, was I? Just because he seemed more interested in those girls’ stupid games didn’t make him somehow normal, and me …. I frowned with annoyance. Sadie’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“What’s going on over there? A little disagreement between friends?”
“Just a spat between sissies, Sadie. Nothing for us to worry about,” laughed Clarissa.
“I think Billy’s obvious interest in events over here is making Simon jealous,” remarked Sadie. “Is that right, Simon? Do you want your little girlfriend all to yourself?”
“Shut up!” I grunted, under my breath, fuming.
“Beg your pardon?” I bit my tongue and kept quiet.
“You know what I think, darling?” Sadie was addressing Harriet. “Of course it’s totally your call, and I know you had plans for the, er, climax, of your party, but how about if we…..”
Her voiced trailed off into a whisper. Harriet was listening intently, and all at once her face broke into a big grin.
“You are such an awful ….” Her voice dropped too, but I heard “… I’ll leave it to you.”
Sadie and Clarissa were conferring, and Clarissa left the room. By this time Janice had her head in Betony’s lap, licking enthusiastically. Billy was clearly in some discomfort. The combination of the tight sheath and the restrictive panties would have prevented him getting a normal erection, and the more aroused he got the more uncomfortable it would have become.
When Clarissa returned there was more conferring, and she and Sadie, still carrying her champagne glass, sidled over to the fireplace. I guessed some mischief was afoot. Sadie went to Billy, stroking his hair and being all sympathetic. Clarissa came over to me. She went to do the same, then suddenly said,
“Oh, Simon, what’s happened to your little hat?”
I naturally tried to look up – not that I could have seen it – and in an instant she had rammed something soft into my mouth. I struggled but because I could hardly move my head at all I didn’t have a chance, and within a few seconds she had buckled on a gag on a red strap. She made sure it was firm and secure and stood back to admire her work.
“There. That should keep you quiet. Not too tight, I hope?”
All I could do was to make muffled sounds of protest. The strap was tight around my cheeks, and the rubber plug in my mouth was, well, anatomically correct.
“We chose it especially,” she smiled, “it’ll be good practice for you. I hope it’s not too large. Now Billy can make his own decisions without interruption.” She patted my cheek condescendingly. My tears began to well up. She put on a fake sad face.
“Oh, you poor dear, don’t cry. We’re going to let you have another treat later. You’ll see.”
Meanwhile, Sadie was talking to Billy. She was blaming me for his plight, trying to turn him against me. She was also allowing him frequent sips of her champagne, softening him up.
“You know, Billy, personally I wouldn’t have involved you in all this. But Simon had always told us about his “best friend” Billy, and how he could make you do anything he wanted, so when you suddenly appeared at the car park, I felt I just had to invite you along as well.”
“Really? He said that?”
I tried to shake my head, but I could hardly move.
“Oh, yes. He said you’d be really easy to control, and that if we had any trouble we could keep you in line with a few strokes of the whip. He even suggested a finder’s fee!”
“A finder’s fee?”
“Oh, yes. He’s quite into money, you know. He gets paid a lot at Holly End, and he’ll get another big pay-off for today.”
“Yeah, I heard he got good dosh for this stuff…”
“Don’t worry. All the girls are going to have a whip-round for you, later. We’ll see you all right. But I was thinking it may be time to teach our friend over there a lesson.” And they both looked at me, Billy with a distasteful frown.
“Yeah. He deserves it all right. What sort of lesson?”
“Well, I can see from your reaction to the girls that, unlike your friend….”
“My friend? I thought he was.”
“Well, all right. Unlike him, you’re obviously totally heterosexual. I bet you wish that you were over there with Janice, instead of Betony, don’t you?”
Billy nodded thoughtfully.
“So how would it be if you got to watch the girls, you know, whilst Simon there…” and her voice again sunk into a whisper.
Billy looked rather shocked, I thought. He stared at Sadie for a minute.
“It would be a nice, ironic touch, don’t you think? And a good punishment,” cajoled Sadie, giving him another mouthful of champagne. Billy gulped it down.
“It would serve him right, I guess. I’m so hot watching them. Would he really do it?”
“Oh, he’ll do what he’s told. He so scared of losing his fat pay cheque. And we have some amazing stuff on him, Billy. Maybe you’d like to see it sometime?”
“Yeah. Cool!”
“What do you think, then?”
“Yeah, why not? Let’s go for it. He’s used me, now it’s my turn!”
Phew! I’m quite exhausted copying all this stuff out. I think that’s enough of the diary for this episode, at least. Of course, we’ve got it all on video, but my little bro has a way of describing these things, I have to admit. Anyway, the party's not over by a long way. I was just saying to Bea the other day, when we started this little project we had no idea what fun it would be, or how long it would go on, or what interesting people we would encounter! If you hadn’t guessed, Sadie and Clarissa are both honorary members of the committee now, and they really seem to have no inhibitions at all, which is nice for us girls but not always so nice for poor Simon. But don’t worry. He’s got plenty of friends who’ll make sure he never comes to any harm. Sweet boy!
-
I love this story. Now you got me sitting on the edge of my seat trying to get stiff in my chastity not fair..giggles. Looking forward to the plans for both of the sissies, although Billy is unaware he is one..giggles maybe a good dose of suc-king the dil-do Betony is wearing lol.
-
Chapter XVII Party Time (Part 4, Revelations)
[Editor’s note] When I read the end of Simon’s description of the party, I was quite shocked. I never imagined he would go into such detail about what he had done, although he has already proved a meticulous narrator of his own experiences. But I’m sorry to say he was so explicit that I had no choice but to censor one section severely – rules are rules, I guess - though of course I copied it for the edification of the Committee! So I’m afraid you will have to make do with a row of dots and your imaginations here and there! Enjoy! Stella.
I was feeling seriously alarmed now. Sadie didn’t waste any time. She directed a heavy refectory table by the window be placed in front of the fireplace. The girls pulled up chairs and seated themselves on the far side, and at the right-hand end. A few lounged in armchairs. Sadie took up a position next to Billy. Clarissa fetched a sofa cushion and put it on the left-hand end of the table, then beckoned to Betony and Janice. They got up from the sofa and came over to the table. Betony adjusted her woggle, knotted the ends her neckerchief Scout-style, and positioned Janice facing the table. Then she pushed her face down on the cushion, so that she was bent over the table, her frilly knickers exposed. Janice turned her face sideways towards us, gently biting her lower lip in apparent anticipation. Ellen, who was sitting close to her, stroked her head affectionately. Billy and I had a perfect view. Only then did it begin to dawn on me what we were about to witness. I blinked nervously, not knowing whether, in my present state, I wanted it or not. I could feel myself beginning to swell uncomfortably. I shook my head. “No,” I murmured, “not now, please…” But Betony was already preparing. Squatting down, she slid Janice’s knickers right down over her black, lace-trimmed hold-ups to her ankles, and made her step out of them. Then she took hold of her ankles and spread her legs apart. Clarissa, apparently satisfied that everything was going to plan, came over and stood at my side.
My heart was beating fast. Standing up, she placed herself between Janice’s open legs, the phallus poised for entry. She looked as us and winked.
“Ready, boys? Look away now if you’re of a nervous disposition!”
Slowly she pushed her hips forward. It slid in effortlessly, eliciting a gasp, and then a suppressed cry of pleasure from Janice. Betony drew slowly back, and then thrust in again, a little more firmly this time. Janice stretched her arms along the table, and a couple of the girls gripped her hands in moral support. I was so absorbed in the spectacle I even forgot about the gag filling my mouth. Soon she was thrusting with long, regular strokes, Janice making weird little whimpering noises. My discomfort grew with my arousal. After several minutes the regular pumping began to generate a sticky lather, adhering to Betony’s shorts and spattering Janice’s black stockings. I wanted to avert my gaze, but I couldn’t. I was almost sobbing with frustration. I could see Billy was in a similar state of distress, and for a moment that shared misery afforded me a little solace. But then Sadie made a movement. Reaching down, she pulled down the zip on Billy’s bulging panties, allowing his engorged member to burst forth! A tremor ran through his body, making the little bell on his collar tinkle, and he gave a great sigh of relief. I gaped, and several of the girls stood up for a moment to get a better view.
…………………………………………………………………..
There was a little chorus of suppressed gasps. Then another performance began. Sadie threw up her hands in mock surprise.
“Goodness, Billy. You are enjoying our little show, aren’t you? However, it’s not very ladylike, is it? Perhaps this will help.” And she produced a length of red satin ribbon, and squatting down, proceeded to tie it around the middle of his member, knotting it firmly and tying it in a big bow. “There, that’s much better!”
“That’s all very well, Sadie,” cried Clarissa dramatically, “but that poor boy needs help urgently! If there was only a doctor, or a nurse…” She broke off, pretending suddenly to notice me.
“Thank goodness!” She began feverishly to unlock me from the column, first my head, then my hands, though she left them locked together behind my back, and finally my ankles, which she freed from each other. I stood unsteadily, not knowing what was going on. She produced a red leather leash which she clipped to my collar, and led me, unresisting, to where Billy was tethered. She pushed me onto my knees in front of him, unbuckled my gag and tossed it aside.
“Your friend needs your help, Simon,” she said, softly. And then, to the others, who were now, with the exception of Janice, all on their feet, “Nurse Simone’s patient is in severe distress. Fortunately, Nurse Simone knows how to relieve his suffering. Don’t you, nurse?”
I looked up at Billy. He was no longer angry or vengeful, just desperate for relief.
“Please, Sim! I can’t stand this much longer. Please! Help me!”
How could I refuse him? The atmosphere of anticipation in the hushed room was palpable. It was a simple thing, something I felt no aversion to, though I could have wished for a less public arena. There was no choice. Without further delay, I leant forward and took him gently in my mouth, closing my lips around the shaft, the bow tickling my nose. I heard someone murmur, “Go Simon!” .....................................
I heard Janice orgasm. She told me the next morning that it was watching us that triggered it.
............................He climaxed at once, with a jolt and a great groan of relief.......................
I had for those few seconds been solely focussed on Billy, on his pleasure and satisfaction, and though I had not had an orgasm myself I felt totally drained. I allowed myself to collapse slowly sideways onto the hearthrug, where I lay still, in a mood of utter peace and fulfilment. Billy himself was still twitching, hanging exhausted from the fireplace rings.
There was a sudden rush of assistance from the girls. Billy was freed, I was uncuffed, and we were both helped upstairs to a bedroom, where Kathy and Ellen undressed us, buttoned us both into soft cotton nightdresses, and put us into a large double bed. It was still light, but Kathy drew over the heavy curtains, making the room dark except for a night-light on the bedside table which she switched on.
“Okay, boys, you can sleep now, yes? No-one will disturb you. You can stay here as long as you like. Night night, sweeties.” They left, closing the door softly behind them.
I lay there unmoving, facing my friend. He looked very handsome in the dusk, his black curls fringing his forehead. I liked this contrast between us, me so fair and he so dark.
“Night night, Billy,” I whispered. He half opened his eyes.
“Night, Sim,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine.” I paused. “You know all that stuff she said? You know none of it is true, don’t you?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was just a bit angry with you, an’ I was a bit drunk, an’ I wanted to get my own back. I’m really sorry.” And he reached out and took my hand in his.
“Billy,” I whispered very softly, “you know I …” But he was asleep, his dark lashes still thick with mascara, resting on his cheeks.
When I awoke I could see bright daylight through the crack in the curtains. I realised Billy was still holding my hand. I lay there looking at him, wondering how he was going to feel about the previous day. I felt completely at peace. After a few minutes he too awoke. His eyes opened and he looked at me blankly for a few seconds. I grinned. I saw recollection engulf him. He smiled suddenly, a sweet, embarrassed smile.
“Oh, shit!”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Oh, f---, Sim, what did we do? What did you do?”
“Don’t you remember?”
“Course I do, idiot!” He detached his hand and punched me in the ribs in his confusion. And he actually blushed!
“Why are you hitting me? Didn’t you like it?”
“Shut up!”
“Well I did, anyway,” I laughed, “’specially when you pleaded for it!”
That was too much for him. He jumped on top of me and wrestled me out of bed. We fell onto the floor in a heap with a thump. As we lay there, helpless with laughter, there was a knocking on the door. Kathy’s voice called, “Are you all right in there?”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” I giggled, Billy having decided to punish me with tickles.
“Come down for breakfast when you’re ready.”
“Be there soon!”
After we had sufficiently exorcised each other’s embarrassment, we lay there talking for a few minutes.
“But seriously, Billy, last night you kept saying you were sorry. Were you sorry we did it, or were you just apologising?”
“I was saying sorry in case you felt obliged to do something you didn’t want to. But if you did want to, no, I’m not sorry. Quite the opposite. Now I think back, it seems to me you didn’t take much persuading!”
“You were in a terrible state. And I like you, Billy. You’re my friend. I’d do anything for you. Even though you’re “totally heterosexual”, of course!
“Yeah, well, that myth’s been totally exploded, hasn’t it?”
“Has it? Weren’t you envying Betony, thrusting away there?”
“As a matter of fact, I was identifying with Janice more. But in any case, you already knew how much I liked you from that amazing kiss. This is how it is - if I like someone, it doesn’t matter to me if they’re male or female. And I suppose I like sex, too, so it’s natural to want sex with someone I like. And I like you a lot, Sim. I always have. But I’ve never felt confident enough to tell you. And we don’t see that much of each other apart from at Scouts, being in different schools.”
“It’s true. It’s been crap. But it’s going to change now.”
“I know. I’m really happy I got dragged in, whatever else happens.”
“You might want to reserve judgement on that, Billy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. But I feel the same as you. The two people I really like above all others are you and Sandra. I want to be close to both of you. Sandra’s very cautious. She thinks it takes us years to understand our own feelings. All I know right now is that yesterday, I cared only about giving you pleasure. Nothing else.”
“You certainly did that.” He looked at me with a sort of strange delight in his eyes. “I know yesterday was weird. We were being egged on by all those girls, and manipulated by those two, I don’t know what they are, exactly, those two women, and it wasn’t really a normal loving encounter, yet still it has made me feel very happy somehow.”
“I know what you mean. I don’t want to say the word….”
“But do you?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
We were quiet for a bit. Our ordinary clothes had been left on the chair, and we began to get dressed. Our little party dresses were still draped over a chair.
“What about those?” I asked, “didn’t you like dressing up as a girl?”
“Oh yes. It made me feel weird, sort of like a kid, wanting to show off. And to be honest I just love the feel of the material, all soft of soft and starchy at the same time. And the feel of wearing little panties, with my legs all bare and cool right up to my bum. And the smell! Did you notice? I think they must have sprayed them with perfume.”
“There’s scent everywhere in here. Like being in a perfume factory!”
“That big fuss I made about getting dressed – you know why?”
“Why?”
“I could feel I wanted to, and it frightened me. I started thinking, ‘Am I gay?’ I wanted to be forced, so I could feel it wasn’t my choice. But once I was dressed, I just felt such a buzz inside.”
“Yeah! That’s right! I know just what you mean. Imagine what it’s like for me. They have so much on me that I have to do just what I’m ordered. There’s no choice. But that’s part of the thrill. I don’t even think they realise. Of course, I’m always terrified they’re going to go too far, and I’ll be totally humiliated and never be able to show my face in public again. That’s a risk I can’t escape.”
“That must be a bit scary.”
“Yes. But don’t you see, Billy? This is what I meant just now. They’ve got stuff on you now. Do you really think they’re not going to use it?”
“Oh! Do you think so? I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Course! Those two must be over the moon the way things turned out. Just wait and see.”
“Oh my god. Do you think they’ll tell my friends, or my mum, or show that video to someone?”
“No! There’s no reason. If they did that, they’d have no more leverage over you. They don’t want to ‘out’ either of us. They want to use that stuff to make us do want they want. They get off on power, on making us their slaves, on amusing themselves with our humiliation. We won’t be able to refuse, ‘cos if we refuse then we are no more use and they might as well let everyone know the things we got up to. Get it?”
“Oh, shit! Yeah!”
“You may be lucky and get away with it. But somehow I doubt it. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“What about the girls. Will they talk?”
“I dunno. Let’s go down and see what’s they’re up to.”
We descended the stairs together and approached the living room timidly. Billy hung back, but I took his hand and pulled him in with me. Everyone was there, drinking coffee. Their costumes had all be replaced with their everyday clothes. Every head turned, and we were greeted with cheers and whistles.
“The boys are here! Come in and join us, you little pair of lovebirds!” cried Betony.
“Come on, angels. Here, sit at the table and we’ll wait on you, this time, smiled Harriet. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you, Harriet,” said Billy, “and thank you for loaning us your nighties.”
This went down very well, and soon we were being served coffee in flowery bone china cups and hot croissants on matching plates. Sadie and Clarissa sat apart in armchairs watching with wry smiles on their faces, but all the others were so pleasant and friendly we felt like celebrities. I noticed Stella was absent, and I wasn’t sorry. For nearly an hour we sat about, chatting and being kissed and cuddled and caressed. Kathy just sat there smiling at us. In a rare hiatus in the conversation, she remarked, “You two look perfect together. I can see you have something very special.” We looked at each other, a little embarrassed, but happy too.
“They do,” said Rana. “Please boys, stay in touch. We want to see you again soon. We won’t ask you to perform again, I promise! Not for a little while, anyway!”
“We’ve been talking this morning before you came down,” added Harriet. We’ve made a pact. None of us will talk about yesterday to anyone outside this circle, be assured. And,” – and here she produced two fat envelopes – “we had a little collection. This is to thank you for coming along and making my party such a success. And you will find all our phone numbers in there as well, so you can easily get in touch any time you want to. We all wish you all the luck in the world.” And she handed us an envelope each, and kissed each of us in turn.
After many goodbyes we eventually climbed into Sadie’s car, us in the back and Clarissa in the front, and were driven home. We didn’t talk much. We both had a lot to think about. Billy got dropped off first. He just touched my hand and smiled as he got out. "Talk soon, Sim." Before he could walk to his door, Clarissa reached out of the car window.
“Here, Billy, don’t forget this. A record of your day. Enjoy!” And she pressed a flash drive into his hand. He stood motionless as we drove away. That was it. That was the unspoken message, that now they owned him as well. When we got back to my house I got mine too. I slid quickly out of the car and slammed the door.
“Bye Miss Faversham. By Miss Mitchell.”
“And did you remember your new T-shirt?” asked Sadie.
“Oh, no, I must have forgotten it, Miss. I’m sorry.”
“Never mind. I remembered it.” She held it up. “Don’t worry. I’m seeing Jane tomorrow. I’ll give it to her to put with your other clothes in the salon.”
“No, I’ll ….” But they were gone. Damn. Not the sort of thing I wanted Jane seeing. I made my way inside, my mind distracted by conflicting emotions.
-
nice to see that they now have something on Billy as well, but they are handling it nicely at the moment. The fly in the ointment maybe Stella, just have to wait and see
-
Chapter XVIII: Aftermath
We – the Committee, that is – had arranged to have an extraordinary general meeting the following Saturday evening. Before the party Sadie had promised everyone an interesting session, but none of us had anticipated just how interesting it would turn out to be. I had put the finishing touches to the editing of the film, and I had promised that if Simon wrote the party up in his diary, and if I could get it copied in time, I’d read it out as an introduction. I couldn’t describe the expressions on their faces as I read his description. You can imagine the sense of anticipation as I prepared to show the video! But afterwards, as you will see, I discovered that the crafty little rascal had been lurking outside in the bushes checking us out!
Saturday 30 July. I kept a low profile for the rest of the week. I did go and polish Stella’s boots on Friday, but I went around in the afternoon while she was out. Somehow I didn’t fancy meeting her face to face so soon after Wednesday.
I had a full book of clients today. But checking the list in reception I had no reason to fear anything out of the ordinary, and there were no ‘specials’ – special dress requests or other arrangements. In the morning Sue let me wear a Holly End T-shirt and some plain red rubber pants. Oh, and a pair of thigh-length red and green hooped socks, which I thought was a bit unnecessary but which she assured me the customers would love.
“Come on, Miss, do I have to?” I pleaded.
“Yes, Simon, you do. Please don’t query my choices.
“No Miss. Sorry Miss.”
“And your red Doc Marten’s please. And your red gloves. Quickly then. Get dressed and let me see you.”
I returned from my changing room and presented myself for inspection.
“Yes, that looks nice,” she mused, fiddling with the tops of my socks. “Don’t forget to wear your cap. And remember to keep your socks at the same height. Use your mirror! How many times must I tell you?”
“Six times a day, Miss?”
“Dear me, you’re such a clown, sometimes, Simon Saunders.” Sue doesn’t have a great sense of humour. “Now behave yourself and keep the customers happy today. I’ll see you at lunch, I expect.”
“Okay. See you later.”
“Oh, Simon.” She stopped as she was opening the door. “I forgot to tell you. Something very important.”
“Yes?”
We’ve finally got the two-way going.”
“The what?”
“You know. Not only do we get sound and video from in here, but we can now speak to you from the office. We have a microphone and if you look up there” – she pointed to a tiny black box over the door of my bathroom – “you’ll see the speaker.”
“Oh great. That might be useful.”
“It will be. I’ll test it today sometime to check you can hear me okay. See you!”
The morning went without incident, and without excitement. Mainly mothers with daughters. The last client before lunch was a Mrs Westfeather, a large lady with very well-worn leather boots, with her little daughter. The daughter, a serious-looking little girl with piercing black eyes and straight dark hair, I took to be about seven. I addressed her accordingly when it was her turn to have her boots polished. She was looking at me with an expression I interpreted as a combination of shyness and anxiety.
“Now darling, just put your feet on this little platform here…that’s right…now, this won’t take a moment….”
“Why are you talking to me as if I’m an idiot, boy?”
“She’s eleven,” stated her mother blandly, with the air of someone who was used to correcting such misapprehensions.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought…”
“What did you think?” asked the girl. “Don’t judge people by their appearance. If I judged you by your appearance I would probably think you were some sort of gay fairy!”
I was speechless. I knelt there blushing. Mrs Westfeather smiled sympathetically at me and nodded, as if to say, “now you understand what you’re dealing with.”
I got on with polishing her boots, keeping my head down so I didn’t catch her eye any more. But she wasn’t going to let me off so easily.
“Why do you wear rubber pants, anyway? And rubber gloves. Do you like wearing them?”
“Geraldine….”
“I’m only asking a question, mummy.”
“So tell me…what’s your name?”
“Simon.”
“Tell me, Simon.”
“Well, it’s my uniform. And it’s so I don’t spoil my ordinary clothes with polish. I don’t choose them myself. Mrs Dawson is my employer, you see, and she makes the rules.”
“But do you like wearing them?” she frowned.
“I don’t mind.”
“I think you do. You look very comfortable.” I made no response. I could feel her staring at me, weighing me up.
“Actually, they suit you. You look sweet. You should wear them all the time.”
Imagine my chagrin. It’s one thing being patronised by a young woman in her twenties, quite another when it’s a precocious little brat. I fumed inwardly but said nothing.
“Darling, I don’t think Simon wants to wear his work clothes all the time. People like to change when they go home, you know, just like you change out of your school uniform when you come home in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve already told you I don’t like the look of my new school uniform. I’d rather change out of it before I go to school!”
“But darling, Queen Alexandra’s a lovely school. You’re going to be so happy there.”
I froze. I knew this was going to happen one day, but I’d been refusing to face up to it.
“Which school do you go to, Simon,” asked Mrs Westfeather.
“I, er…er, I er, go to….” I stammered, trying desperately to remember the name of Billy’s school. But at that moment Sue’s voice cut through my embarrassment.
“He goes to Queen Alexandra too, Mrs Westfeather. He’ll be in the sixth form this year.”
“Oh, you do? That’s lovely. You’ll see Geraldine there, then.”
“Oh, er, yes. I just couldn’t remember the name for a minute…”
“You didn’t want to tell us, did you?” observed Geraldine, slyly. “Were you afraid I’d tell all my friends about your little rubber panties?”
“Geraldine! That’s enough! Apologise to Simon at once!”
“Sorry Simon,” she said in a sing-song voice, “I was just joking.”
“Thank you. I’m so sorry. She can be quite wilful, you know. She’s awfully clever for her age.”
“That’s all right,” I said, finishing her boots. “I’m all done now, anyway.”
“Thank you. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“But will you be my friend at Queen Alexandra, Simon?” asked Geraldine, innocently.
“Yes, Geraldine, of course.” I thought I’d better appear compliant.
“And mummy, could Simon come to my birthday party next month?”
“Oh, I don’t know, dear, I don’t suppose he’d want to go to a party full of little girls….”
She smiled at me, apologetically.
“Wouldn’t you want to come to my party, Simon,” Geraldine said sadly, pretending to be on the verge of tears. It’s on a Saturday.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, I’d love to come, Geraldine, but I have to work here on Saturdays. Mrs Dawson wouldn’t be able to spare me. I’m so sorry.”
The speaker crackled. Sue’s voice cut through the silence again.
“Oh, Geraldine, don’t be sad. I may be able to arrange for Simon to come. If you and your mum would call in at reception we’ll have a look in the diary and see what we can do.”
“Yippee!” shouted Geraldine. “Thank you, Mrs Dawson! Come on, mummy, let’s go! Bye bye, Simon. Maybe you can come to my party after all!”
They left, closing the door behind them. I slumped onto the couch, head in hands.
“Never mind, Simon, I’m sure you’ll have a great time with all those little girls,” said Sue over the speaker. There was a pause. “Miss Faversham tells me you have a little nurse’s costume now. Maybe you could wear that?”
As I returned from lunch, I was thinking the day couldn’t get any worse. I was walking back down the path when I bumped into Jane.
“Hi Sim! Sweet outfit! How are you? How was the party on Wednesday?”
“Hi Jane. Fine. Yeah, it was fun. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m very well, thank you. I’ve put your new T-shirt in the locker. Is that your name now?”
“No, so don’t even think of it!”
“I asked Sadie what that was all about, but she just laughed and wouldn’t tell me. Maybe you’d like to?”
“No thanks.”
“Oh, well. I’ll find out eventually, you know that, don’t you,” she said, with a mischievous grin. “Have to go. Got a lot to do, and there’s a meeting tonight.”
“Meeting?”
“Oh it’s nothing. Accounts or something.” She looked flustered. “Gotta go. Bye!”
I found my next customer waiting at the door of the salon. I unlocked it and let us in. Very smart expensive leather boots. She talked incessantly the whole session. I didn’t mind at all. It allowed me to think. I wanted to see Billy again. He’d been busy with jobs on Thursday and Friday, and now I was busy the whole weekend,. Maybe Monday. After she left I dropped him a text. He replied when I was working on the next customer, but using my phone in the middle of a session was not cool, so I waited till I was free. Great! He would be free on Monday so we could get together. I said I’d phone him Monday morning.
It was a busy afternoon. By five o’clock I was knackered. I think I was still recovering from the party. I slumped on the sofa. I felt so tired I decided to have a nap, so I locked the door, turned off all the lights, and lay down. I slept longer than I had intended, and was woken by a knocking at the door.
“Are you in there, Simon?” asked Sue’s voice. I struggled to a sitting position, and was about to reply, when I heard another voice which I recognised.
“He wasn’t back when I left. He’s probably either on the way or he’s gone to Billy’s.” It was my aunt. What was she doing here? I kept quiet.
“Yes, he normally leaves at five. Come on, we can have a drink before the others arrive.”
I heard them retreating up the path. I gave them a minute, then quietly unlocked and opened the door. I could see them standing just outside reception, chatting. Jane was with them. This must be the meeting. But about what? It could only be the Committee! I decided to do a bit of spying.
The path ran from the car park to reception. The lane leading to the car park ran roughly parallel with it, but between the two was a grassy bank, thick with gorse bushes, and with a perimeter fence running along the ridge from the entrance gate at the bottom to the beginning of the main fencing way past the office complex. I crept out, locked the door behind me, and scurried across the path and up the bank until I could hide myself in the bushes. I noticed people in the car park as well. Then I made my way cautiously up the hill, until I was overlooking reception. I squatted in the bushes, watching them. Yes, sure enough, there was Sue, Bea and Jane, engaged in conversation. I was about to write “earnest” conversation, because they literally had their heads together, but there was a lot of sniggering so that wouldn’t be entirely appropriate. Then I noticed figures coming through the gate and walking at a leisurely pace up the path. Stella! Not in her riding gear, so she had clearly been home and changed. And – surprise – Sadie and Clarissa, Sadie in leather pants and jacket, Clarissa jeans and leather jacket. Stella was carrying a little black case, and it dawned on me suddenly what this was. The party film premiere! It must be. No wonder Jane was flustered. But Jane! Why was she in on this? She must be on the Committee then. If so, I was totally stuffed. She was so thick with Beth and all the others, she could never keep her mouth shut about it.
The three newcomers joined the others – much hugging, “mwahs”, and laughing. Mary appeared with a tray of wine glasses, and they stood there, sipping away and chatting happily. Oh, if I only had had a few stink bombs with me, I would have spoiled their fun for them! What were they waiting for? Then I saw. More arrivals. Mrs Willoughby, with someone else. Not Sandra, please, I thought. Leave me one friend. But no. Not Sandra! Miss Benson!! I could hardly believe it. My teacher was on the Committee as well! The phrase “done up like a kipper” passed through my mind. Sue greeted her like an old friend.
“Patricia! Darling! So glad you could make it! From what I hear, you would have been mortified to miss it!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have missed this for anything, Susan. He’s my favourite pupil!”
“Do you know the other one? Billy something?”
“No, unfortunately. He doesn’t seem to be at Queen Alexandra. But when Stella rang me, she said he’s just as cute! I hope so!”
“Where is Stella?” asked Sue.
“She’s just adjusting the screen,” called Clarissa, and we’re getting the chairs sorted. Is everyone here?”
“We’re just waiting for Rebecca. She got held up. Oh, is that her?”
A figure was hurrying up the path. Rebecca? I was trying to think who that could be. But once she got near, waving to the others, I realised it was the judge from the horse show. That didn’t surprise me. I remembered how enthusiastic she’d been about my outfit.
So the coven was assembled. I stayed hidden until they’d all drifted inside, then scrambled down the bank and ran back down the path. My face was burning at the thought of them all sitting round sipping their wine and watching the whole thing. They’d all get copies, of course. And not one of them could be trusted to keep it to herself. It was a disaster. I spat on a couple of the cars and headed home. I got a bus. I wanted to think. If only I could get something on them! But I couldn’t see a way. Oh well. Work again tomorrow. Then I’d get paid. And Billy on Monday.
-
Love it i wish there was a way Simon and Billy could get the ladies back.
-
Chapter XIX: Sunday
31 July. I went to reception when I arrived to check in as usual. I noticed the recycling bin outside was full of bottles. Mary was at reception, looking a bit the worse for wear. Sue was nowhere to be seen.
“Hi. I’m here.”
Mary immediately brightened up, staring at me with an idiot grin on her face.
“Oh, Simon!” she cried, as if she hadn’t been expecting me, “how are you today?”
“Same us usual, thanks, Mary.”
“You look very nice today,” she wittered, still gawping. Mary didn’t know much about me really. I couldn’t imagine she was one of the inner circle, but as the permanent receptionist they couldn’t very well have excluded her from the viewing. I guess she was trying to reconcile her mundane view of me as the pathetic boring little boot boy who always did what he was told with the gay transvestite sex maniac she had seen on the screen the night before.
“Just called in to check my schedule.” I went to the notice board. Fully booked. The first session after lunch had been altered, “Erikson” deleted and “Faversham” written in over the top. My heart sank.
“Oh, yes. Mrs Erikson cancelled, so Miss Faversham said she take the spot,” she explained, apologetically. “Wants to have a word with you, I believe.”
“Okay. See you later, Mary.”
I headed down to the salon. I could see Jane hanging about by the building, but on seeing me she suddenly started up the path, looking at the ground and pretending she hadn’t noticed me. We met half way up.
“Oh, Simon, hi!” she cried with fake surprise.
“Hi Jane. Okay?”
“Yeah. Just heading up to check Gabriel. He had a bit of colic last night, I think.”
“Really? Better go, then.”
“Oh…yes. Er, you all right, then?”
“Yup. Fine.”
“Cos someone said, you know, you’d had a hard time at that party, and I thought…”
“Come on, Jane. You’ve seen the video. I know.”
“Oh my god, Simon, it was so hot!” she suddenly blurted out, actually reddening in her excitement. “You were so hot! Oh god, I wish I could have been there. And I love your friend! I’m sorry, it’s just that I didn’t know you were gay.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not? No, that’s what Miss Benson said! Oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“Don’t worry. I know everyone that was there. What did she say?”
“Oh, well, er, just that, you couldn’t be called gay, cos you like girls too, that that other stuff was just cos you were…” She paused, embarrassed.
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Jane, what did she say I was?” She looked at me, doubtfully. And the, slowly,
“She said…. you were a classic sissy!”
“Oh, that was nice of her. What do you think?”
“I dunno. I don’t care, actually. But I thought you were great! So sexy. I felt all tingly. And some of the women were…you know! I know we’d all been drinking quite a bit, but they all got so excited. When I left they were watching it all again. I’m sure that Miss Strickland was, like, orgasmic! I was watching her. She wanted Sue to employ your friend too, so she could have a session with both of you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! And Miss Faversham said “no problem, Rebecca!”.”
“Oh, did she? Shit.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Just don’t mention anything to the girls, okay?”
“Oh!”
“Already?”
“Sorry, Simon.”
“Never mind. I’ve got to go. I can see my first customer’s here,”
“Okay.”
“Oh, one more thing.” I hesitated. “Did you get a copy of the film?”
“No. Me and Mary never got one, but everyone else did. I think it was only for the Committee proper.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
All through the morning I was thinking how I was going to keep Billy out of this. But there seemed no way. I was still cogitating as I walked back up the path to get lunch. Leaning against the wall of the offices were Beth and Denise, smirking all over their faces. They were each holding one of those milk lollies They had melted lolly all round their mouths and running down their chins.
“Hi Sim!” called Beth, triumphantly. “Would you like a taste of my lolly?”
“No thanks, Beth. Kind of you to offer.”
“You should!” said Denise. “They’re so sweet and milky and sticky!”
“Yes,” added Beth, “the shaft is quite hard but when you put it in your mouth it just melts, and all this lovely tasty gooey cream oozes onto your tongue. Can you imagine what that feels like?” And they both collapsed in hysterics.
“Sod off,” I said, rudely. I was annoyed with them but I couldn’t think of a good put-down.
“Ooh, what grumpy sissy! Missing your little lollipop, are you? Never mind, I’m sure he’ll soon be back for more!” retorted Beth.
I ignored them and headed for the canteen. Denise called after me, “See you later, nurse!” How much had Jane told them? Thank goodness she hadn’t been given a copy of the video.
Returning after lunch I saw Sadie waiting at the door of the salon. No riding gear, just the same outfit as last night. We didn’t speak. I unlocked it and let her in. She seated herself in the chair. I waited for instructions. With a slight motion of her hand she indicated I should kneel.
“We need to make some plans, Simon.”
“You do.”
“Yes, sonny, and that means you do too!” She glared at me. “Your friend Billy. We’re going to need him. When will you next be seeing him?”
I wasn’t going to make it too simple for her. “Well, I’ll probably see him at Scouts Tuesday evening, if he comes. Otherwise…”
“Well you’d better make sure he does, or I’ll go and drag him out of his house in front of his mother. I want you both here Wednesday. You can ring me and make an appointment, but I need to see you that day.”
“What’s the big hurry?”
“The “big hurry”, as you call it, is because Miss Strickland is having a little soirée on Thursday for a couple of her friends, and she wants you boys as waiters. Miss Strickland is very important to Holly End. As an important official he’s been instrumental in raising the profile of the shows and gymkhana, and she’s supported Sue in all her plans for expansion and publicity. Sue owes her a lot. And when she saw Stella’s film, she was so impressed…”
“I heard,” I remarked.
“What? Be quiet when I’m speaking, please! As I was saying, she was so impressed that she asked for you two to come over on Thursday. So you’re going, and that’s all there is to it. Understand?”
“Yes, Miss. I’ll speak to Billy on Tuesday.”
“Yes. Speak and make sure he understands.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“And whatever she wants, you do. Clear?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?
“Yes, Miss.”
“And you address her as Madam. And don’t forget it.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Right. Stand up.” I did as I was bid. She reached out and for a few moments toyed thoughtfully with the frills on my pants. Then she began to run her finger-nail playfully up and down the mound of my boyhood.
“That was a great show you put on the other day, Simon. Well done. Miss Strickland enjoyed the video very much. But I got the distinct impression she’d be even more thrilled to see the real thing. If that turns out to be the case, please don’t disappoint her, will you?”
I felt myself hardening under the gentle touch of her fingers. She registered it too, with obvious satisfaction.
“No, I see you won’t. Good boy. I’ll hear from you on Wednesday then.” And she rose, smiled an ingenuous smile, and left.
I gave a sigh of relief as the door closed. I wondered how Billy was going to react to this development. Not well, I guessed. But I’d have to convince him, or there’d be trouble for us both.
-
Interesting now sounds like the women have more plans for Billy, looking forward to finding out what they may be.
-
Chapter XX: Needs Addressed
Monday 1 August. I rang Billy this morning, and we agreed I might as well come straight round. His mum opened the door.
“Hello, Simon. So nice to see you! Billy’s up in his room. Come down and have a coffee and some cake when you feel like it.”
I like Billy’s mum. She’s normal, not like a few of the people I’ve been mixing with lately. And she’s not rich like them, either. She feels more like my own mother, always a bit hassled, a bit worried, but just getting on with it. She works part-time in the office of the local supermarket, very often odd hours, and as well as Billy she has a little boy of six, Robert. Billy helps with him when she’s at work. Her husband ran off a few years ago. He’s never mentioned.
I galloped up the stairs to Billy’s room. We greeted each other perhaps a little shyly, but them with a hug and a long kiss, after which we both felt more relaxed. I was nervous about telling him the news, so I thought I’d leave it till later.
“How you been, Sim? Busy weekend?”
“Pretty busy. I found out some things. The Committee had a meeting Saturday evening, and I was there, watching who went in. The usual suspects, of course, but along with them was a woman who was one of the judges at the horse show a few weeks ago – and my teacher, Miss Benson! Can you believe that?”
“Your teacher from school? Why?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story, but she has it in for me too. I feel like there’s no escape.”
“That’s crap.”
“It is. Then on Saturday some little kid wanted to invite me to her birthday party, and I think Sue is going to arrange it for me.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Just out of spite. It’s this month sometime. Worse still, this kid is going to Queen Alexandra this year, and now she's seen me all dressed up, and she's too clever by half, so then she’ll have dirt on me too. Anyway, I wasn’t going to tell you this till later, but there’s something else.”
“Go on.”
“Sadie Faversham wants to see us – yes you as well – on Wednesday, and we’re being asked – well, told – to attend some sort of get together at this horsey woman’s house on Thursday.”
“What for?”
“Ostensibly as “waiters”. But I think there’s going to be more to it than that.”
“You were right, then. It’s started already.”
“I’m sorry, Billy. I didn’t think you’d be roped in as soon as this.”
Billy looked thoughtful. “Never mind, Sim. It’s not your fault, anyway.” He sighed. “I have to take Robert to school Wednesday morning, then I’m free till about three. Where does she want to see us?”
“Holly End.”
“Okay. Shall I come to you, and we can go together?”
“Sure. I’ll tell her eleven, then. What’s been happening with you?”
“Ah. That’s a good question. You know we were talking about dresses? Girls’ clothes and stuff? Well, I’ve sort of been thinking about it ever since. I’ve been looking online and there’s such a huge variety of stuff. Like, boys have no idea! All we get is the same old trousers and T-shirts and coats, all black or dark blue, or the favourite – sludge colour. It’s like no wonder we get depressed, wearing all that boring shit! But girls! Wow, I’d wear girls’ clothes just for the colours, apart from all the different materials and styles.”
He was getting quite worked up about it. I understood perfectly, but I hadn’t expected quite such enthusiasm from my friend. Go back one week, I thought, and I would have been totally gobsmacked.
“Yeah, I know. That’s why getting dressed up in girlie things is so energising. It’s no wonder more and more boys are getting into it.”
“They are, Sim. You’re right. Now look at these.” He grabbed his laptop and sat down on the bed. I sat next to him. He began to scroll through acres and acres of little dresses and skirts and blouses and tops he had bookmarked. Panties too, I noticed. His eyes were shining, and he was more animated than I had ever seen him. We may be a pair of sissies, I thought, but there was nothing wimpish about Billy. We were soon immersed in the world of girls’ clothes, criticising this, dismissing that, enthusing over another, picking our favourites.
“Simon, we have to get a couple of outfits,” he smiled, “don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely. I’ve already seen about six or seven I’d really like.”
“I have a confession. I was feeling so desperate yesterday I went wandering down to that boot fair on Sanders Field. I go there sometimes Sunday morning anyway. But I decided to look around for girls’ stuff. I’d be too embarrassed to walk into a clothes shop and start looking at skirts and knickers and things in any case. I found something…. It’s not exactly ideal, but I just wanted to dress up. I said it was for my sister. I’m sure the lady didn’t believe me. I could tell the way she looked at me. Anyway, do you want to see it?”
“Course! Where is it?”
“Hold on.” He jumped up and rummaged in the top of his cupboard, pulling down a carrier bag.
“Shut your eyes then. I’ll tell you when to look.”
I turned my back. There was a lot of rustling and grunting. I was already laughing before he said,
“Okay. What do you reckon?”
I turned and couldn’t help breaking up. His face fell.
“Oh, Billy, I’m not really laughing at you. But you must admit it’s not the most elegant creation you’ve ever seen.”
“No, it’s true,” he grinned. “But it was all I could find that I thought might fit me. And it does, just about.”
His outfit consisted of a long-sleeved top with a floral print that reminded me of my grandmother’s wallpaper, with a pale blue gauze collar and skirt. The waistband had a yellow flower thing attached, and he had contrived to put a white one in his hair. I stared at it, puzzled.
“Oh, she threw this in,” he said, by way of explanation. “The whole lot only cost me three quid.”
“Cheap at half the price,” I muttered. “No, you look fine. In fact, you look scrumptious!”
And I grabbed him, threw him on the bed, and snogged him till we were out of breath. We lay there cuddling each other for some minutes.
“I want to reciprocate for last Wednesday,” he suddenly whispered in my ear, “when my mum goes out.”
“Is she going out?” I whispered back.
“Dunno.” And for some reason we both started giggling uncontrollably. But yes, I’d been thinking of that for some days, wanting sex with Billy, and my frustration was building up.
But we both had quite busy lives, even in the school holidays, and love had, for the time being, to give best to work.
“Let’s go down and get coffee,” I suggested, “your mum said she had some cake too. It’ll be one of her cakes, and they’re the best.”
“Okay,” he said, preparing to take off his dress.
“No! Leave it on!”
“What?”
“Leave it on. I want to see her face. You can tell her it’s for Halloween. Anything.”
“I don’t know…”
“Course! Don’t make an issue of it. Get her used to it. It’s not a crime.”
“You’re right. I don’t know why I felt frightened for a moment.”
So we trooped downstairs. It was worth it for the look on his mum’s face. But of course she was totally unphased.
“Oh, that’s nice, Billy. Suits you. Coffee?”
“Thanks, mum. Yeah, got it at the boot sale. Thought it might do for Halloween or something. Or maybe I’ll just start wearing girls’ clothes!” he said this with a laugh, like he was joking. But his mum wasn’t stupid.
“Well, dear, as far as I’m concerned you can wear whatever you like. You're good-looking enough to carry anything off. Isn’t he, Simon?” she added, turning to me with a half-smile on her face. I was slightly taken aback. She must have guessed there was more to our relationship than male friendship. She was one of those quiet but highly perceptive women who could see below the surface of things – and people.
“Y-yes, Mrs Turner, he is.” I was going to qualify my remark with a joke, but something made me say instead, “He’s the cutest guy I know.”
There was a moment’s silence, and we all looked at each other. A moment of revelation.
“Do you boys want some cake?”
“Yes, please!” And we sat down to her home-made lemon drizzle cake and coffee.
Well, we didn’t get to make out that day. Mrs Turner was busy inside, and we sat around upstairs choosing dresses. We both had some money now, and we ordered a couple of things online. We went and picked up Robert after school. I went home for supper. Billy was busy the next day, but we arranged to meet in the evening to go to Scouts. And before that, I have to ring up Sadie to make our appointment for Wednesday. Then we’ll probably find out what our “duties” will be. I can’t wait.
-
well looks like Billy just surprised Simon and Billy's mum seemed ok with it. By the looks of all the dresses the boys are in little girls dresses. Love it.
-
Chapter XXI: Redress (Part 2, Judgement Day)
Mum and I were so excited when we heard that Sue had recruited Billy. She’s pretty cute, that one, getting him signed up like that right in front of Simon. And what better initiation could he have than a visit to Rebecca Strickland? People who don’t know her think she’s a very straight, virtuous individual, but we know she actually extremely naughty! I’ve been to her house once, and I can vouch for the fact it’s full of interesting things. The boys didn’t get to see half of them – she didn’t even introduce them to her dungeon – but I’m sure she was only saving such pleasures for a later date. Simon takes up the story.
Thursday 4 August. Billy and I cycled over to Miss Strickland’s house in plenty of time. We wouldn’t have dared be late. On the way Billy asked me about our host.
“I don’t really know anything about her, except she’s an expert on horses and riding. I guess she’s about forty. Bits of grey in her hair, very keen blue eyes, would have made a good interrogator, I should think.”
“When you say interrogator, do you mean torturer?” laughed Billy.
“No, I don’t. Except there’s something about her that makes you feel she’s not someone to be messed with. You’ll see.”
“She sounds scary.”
“Not exactly scary. But I admit you do feel there’s some sort of potential threat if you were to defy her. I can’t explain it.”
We found the house just on the far side of the village. A biggish, red-brick Victorian place with bay windows and turrets and a gravelled forecourt just off the road, surrounded by big trees full of cawing crows. There were three cars parked outside, two nondescript ones and a little bright pink Mini.
“I wonder who that belongs to?” said Billy.
“I bet it’s one of her guests,” I said, “it doesn’t look like the sort of thing she’d drive.”
It was a stupid remark to make, but it turned out to be true. I got the impression Miss Strickland liked to be seen as a very mature, upright pillar of the equestrian world.
We parked our bikes next to the front steps and climbed up to the door. I gave two raps with the big polished brass knockers. Miss Strickland answered the door.
“Boys! Lovely to see you. Come in, come in. Yours bikes will be fine down there. Would you mind leaving your shoes by the coat rack? Thank you so much.”
We found ourselves in a dimly-lit corridor. I was beginning to get used to these big country houses, I thought. Miss Strickland led us into the back room, lit by a sparkling chandelier, and furnished with a polished dining table, very luxurious-looking armchairs and sofas, and even a big grand piano. In two of these were seated two young women, with their heads turned towards us, awaiting our entry.
“Ladies, allow me to introduce you to our two Holly End lads. That’s right, isn’t it, Billy? I’m told you’ve been signed up as well.”
“Yes, Miss. I’m going to be working with Simon now.”
“Madam, please. You may call these ladies “Miss”. They are two of my best friends.” The girls stood up, smiling. “This is Carmelita Ashford-Jones,” she said, indicating a pretty girl of nineteen or twenty of medium height with a mass of frizzy ginger hair and a scattering of faint freckles. “She is young but already an accomplished rider. I hope she will come to excel in the dressage ring. And this,” indicating a taller woman a few years older, darker and more muscular, and also more serious-looking, “this is Tamsin Stratford. I’ve known Tamsin since she was a child. In fact, I taught her to ride. She is already a qualified judge and often sits with me on show panels.”
We all shook hands, rather formally, but that was all right with me. I was wary of shows of affection. As far as I was concerned, this was work, though Carmelita gave the impression of being very pleasant and vivacious. Tamsin, in appearance at least, seemed the opposite. I thought it would be a good idea to appear relaxed and nonchalant, to show I was, in my own way, as professional as them.
“Nice to meet you, Miss.” Carmelita smiled brightly.
“And you, Miss Tamsin. Billy and I have been friends for a long time. We…”
She held up her hand. “‘Miss’ is quite sufficient, thank you. Please don’t waste your breath telling us what we already know. We’ve read Mrs Dawson’s report. You’re here for one reason and one only - to serve us. It’s better that you keep that uppermost in your minds.” I reddened slightly and shut up.
Billy asked about the Mini. It was Carmelita’s, as we would have guessed. The girls resumed their seats and Billy and I were offered the sofa, where we sat close together defensively. We had the feeling we were being subject to the closest scrutiny by all three of them. Tamsin, after staring at us for a while, actually leant over and whispered something to Rebecca behind her hand, which I though very rude, and to which Rebecca returned a grim smile.
Tamsin looked to mean business, I thought. She was wearing a loose white blouse tucked into some pretty heavy-duty blue lyra riding pants, and highly-polished rubber riding boots. Carmelita must have been the others’ acolyte. She wore a black leather skirt, red sweater and thigh-boots. She was pretty and vivacious-looking, and kept smiling at us encouragingly, unlike Tamsin who regarded us with an expression suggestive of critical appraisal. Miss Strickland addressed us:
“So, boys, I should explain the rules. We are alone in the house. My son has gone to stay with his friend. My son is fourteen. He’s been a difficult child, but I adopted a similar plan to your aunt, Simon, after I met you at the show, and it’s working wonders.” Billy looked at me, questioningly. “Rubber pants, Billy!” she explained, to his amazement. “So we are quite alone. I no longer have a husband. That’s why I am ‘Miss’ Strickland. The maid has the day off. We have decided to have a rare evening pampering ourselves. I am going to cook, which is a pleasure I rarely have time for these days, and you two are going to look after the service and our comforts. You will be waiting on us during dinner, and once you have loaded the dishwasher you will be expected to serve drinks and provide any entertainment we request. Understood?”
“Yes, Madam,” we chorused.
“Excellent. First things first. We have uniforms for you. Tamsin will take you upstairs to change.”
“Come,” said Tamsin shortly, indicating us to follow. We understood that this evening was to be a much more disciplined affair than Harriet’s party, and we jumped to obey. She led us to a bedroom. Two dresses were laid out on the bed.
“You are pink.” She said to Billy. “Dress and come down quickly, please.” And she left us.
We looked nervously at each other.
“She’s scary!” whispered Billy. “We’d better hurry.”
The two outfits were identical, though mine was turquoise and Billy’s pink. His was slightly smaller. They had clearly been chosen very carefully. Each consisted of a puff-sleeved satin maid’s dress with a very short skirt, all the edges trimmed with white lace, a stiff gauze underskirt, a little lace-trimmed apron, and white gloves. The panties that came with them looked familiar.
“Hey, these are the panties we wore last week, Billy!” I said.
“They are. I guess they’re okay without those horrible sheath things we had to wear before.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
There was also a white satin garter belt and a pair of long white stockings with lacy tops. We had to help each other with those, but eventually we had them on. We also had a little maid’s headdress, in white lace with a central bow matching our dresses. This was fitted on a plastic headband, so it was easy to put on. Our shoes, which were also colour-matched, had about three-inch heels and broad ankle-straps with padlocks. There were no keys but we guessed we were expected to lock them on, so we did. When we were finished, we looked at ourselves in the long mirror on the back of the wardrobe door.
“We look total sissies!” I exclaimed.
“Yeah, I suppose,” responded Billy, thoughtfully, smoothing down his skirt in an attempt to hide his shiny pink panties, “but they do fit well, Sim, and I sort of like the feel of the stockings. They’re so smooth, and the clip things feel nice on my legs.”
“You like it, don’t you?”
“Well, a little bit,” he admitted. “It’s the first grown-up girl’s outfit I’ve ever worn.”
I laughed. “You’re the best. You do look incredibly cute, I must admit. But we’d better get back.
We hobbled to the door and got downstairs with some difficulty, hanging onto the bannister at every step. With trepidation, we presented ourselves to Miss Strickland.
“Beautiful! Beautiful! Aren’t they, ladies?”
Carmelita looked genuinely impressed. “They’re so cute! They’re prettier than your usual maid, Rebecca!”
“Hmm, I think you’re right, Carmelita. Maybe I should keep them. But would you do the honours, please?”
“The honours” turned out to be a complete makeover. Carmelita told us she had trained as a beautician. I watched as Billy was being powdered and painted, and he made no attempt to hide the fact he was enjoying himself. He sat upright and still on the chair, his hands clasped prettily in his lap, unable to stop himself smiling and flashing frequent grateful glances at Carmelita as she worked, shutting his eyes obediently for the eye shadow. In coordination with his outfit, this and his lip gloss were pink. When she was finished, I actually heard him ask her in a whisper whether we were getting a squirt of perfume. She was only too happy to oblige. My thoughts were conflicted. There was an element of faint dismay at his eager readiness to be feminised, but it was overwhelmed by a powerful attraction. To see my friend who, up to recently, had been the archetypal boy, transformed into this beautiful creature, the personification of my desire, made my heart flutter with excitement.
It was my turn next, and I received similar treatment, except difference being the shade of eye shadow and lip gloss, which matched my turquoise dress. After the makeover, we were fitted with colour-coded chokers in soft, padded leather, and matching wrist cuffs. That immediately put me on my guard – not that I could do a thing about it. We were then made to stand side by side while Rebecca fussed with our stockings and garter-belts. When she was satisfied she stood back to admire us.
“Adorable! Those little skirts don’t quite hide their panties, do they? Perfect!”
Tamsin relaxed in her armchair eyeing us with amusement.
“Little sluts!” she murmured. “Just begging to be groped. Aren’t you?”
“N-no, Miss,” stammered Billy. “I like my dress very much, that’s all.”
Tamsin gave a scornful laugh. “Hear that, Rebecca, he likes his dress! Oh my god! You chose well, my dear.”
“Boys or outfits, darling?”
“Both! I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep my hands off them until after dinner.”
“Well do your best, Tamsin. If you start messing with them now, we’ll never get our dinner!”
“It’s your dinner party, Becca, so I’ll be good. For the time being.”
“Good girl, Tamsin. But the first course won’t be ready for half an hour or so. Do you remember what we were talking about earlier?”
“What, sex toys?”
“No! Not that, you bad girl! Gilbert and Sullivan!”
“Oh, that! Yes, I remember.”
“Why don’t we make them…?”
“Oh, yes!” cried Carmelita, “That’s a great idea!”
Rebecca turned to us. “Boys, do you know who Gilbert and Sullivan were?”
“Did they write operas, Miss?”
“Clever boy, Billy! Now, did you ever see ‘The Mikado’?”
We thought shook our heads.
“Carmy, can you get it up on Youtube again, please?”
Carmelita, skipped over to the laptop on the table, and soon we were watching a chorus from the opera – “operetta”, Rebecca called it – in which three ladies were singing a song about “little maids”. It was quite silly and funny.
“Do you think you could sing that?”
“Maybe,” I said, “but there’s only two of us.”
“Don’t worry. We can adapt the words. Tamsin, could you accompany them?”
“Sure. It would be a pleasure.”
“I have an idea. Boys, give us five minutes. Go into the kitchen – there – and help yourselves to what’s on the counter. You’ll find pizza and crisps and fruit, and there’s plenty to drink in the fridge. We’ll call you when we want you.
We retreated to the kitchen with relief. There was loads to eat, and we seated ourselves on stools and tucked in.
“Be careful not to get it on your dress,” Billy cautioned me. “I don’t think they’d be very happy, somehow.” So we found some napkins and covered ourselves with them.
“What do you reckon?” Billy asked.
“Ask me again later. It’s that Tamsin that I don’t like much. The other two seem fine.”
“Yeah. She looks tough, all right.”
“If we just do everything they ask we should be okay.”
“Depending what they ask,” said Billy, doubtfully.
After about ten minutes we heard the tune of “Three Little Maids” being played on the piano. We crept back to the door and peeped in. Tamsin was clearly an accomplished pianist, even though it seemed to us out of character. But she smiled at us as we watched her, and I began to modify my opinion of her.
“Come in, boys, if you’ve finished. I mean, girls, of course, said Rebecca. “Take your time – I know you’re a bit unsteady on those heels.”
We made our way carefully over to the piano. Rebecca handed us a sheet of paper.
“You heard the lyrics just now, but we’ve modified them slightly to suit the circ-umstances. There’s only three verses and I want you to learn the words so you can sing them without looking at the paper.”
We read the new lyrics together. Whenever I hear that tune, these are now the words I think of.
Two little maids from school are we,
Pert as a schoolgirl well can be,
Filled to the brim with girlish glee.
Two little maids from school.
Two little maids who all unwary,
Each dressed up as a little fairy,
Panties quite extraordinary.
Two little maids from school.
Two little boys turned into missies,
A fine little pair of proper sissies,
Longing to start exchanging kisses.
Don’t you think we’re so cool?
Don’t you think we’re so cooool?
We looked at her aghast.
“Here, I’ve made a copy so you can both have your own. You’ve got ten minutes. Then you’re on.”
Tamsin smiled at us sweetly, playing variations on the tune to pass the time.
“Well don’t just stand there, get learning. Repeat the words to each other till you have them perfectly. Any mistakes and you’ll be sorry,” said Tamsin, emphatically. She nodded towards Carmelita, who had acquired a dressage whip, which she swished threateningly.
“Yes, boys,” she said, “I know how to use it. And it’ll be across the backs of your legs – both of your legs – if even one of you gets a word wrong.” This from the girl I had thought so nice and friendly.
Needless to say, we had the whole thing off pat well before time was up. Then we had a rehearsal, and though we were word perfect, we were also tone deaf. Until, that is, Carmelita applied the whip to the backs of out thighs. The pain was sudden, intense, and lasting. We dared not risk a second stroke in the same place. We both yelped, and Billy would have toppled over if I hadn’t grabbed him. But it made us sing, and somehow we got pretty near the right notes. When they had schooled us to their satisfaction, Rebecca made us stand next to the piano. Then she knelt down and carefully linked the padlocks on our ankle-straps together, so that we were close together. Then we were made to hold hands. The final indignities were, that when we sang “panties quite extraordinary”, we had to use our free hands to lift our skirts right up and show them. And after the final “cooool”, we had to turn to each other and kiss on the lips. “And hold the kiss till I say you can stop!” added Rebecca.
We did it. All of it. Several times. Rebecca filming on her phone, which she put on a tripod. When at last we were done, Rebecca separated us, and placed us a few metres apart. Then she padlocked our ankles firmly together. Neither of us could take even the tiniest step. We had to stand immobile, watching while the ladies picked the best take. At last they were agreed. They seemed delighted with the result.
“Well done, boys. This is absolutely fantastic.”
Rebecca plugged her phone into the laptop, and we got to watch our own performance. It was quite polished, but utterly, devastatingly, embarrassing. Totally humiliating. But they seemed so thrilled I almost felt proud of us! Until, that is, Tamsin said,
“Where shall we upload it, then?”
“Both their Facebook accounts. I have their details from the committee.”
“What?” I shouted. “No! You can’t! Please don’t! You f***ing can’t!”
The ladies looked at each other for a moment, then Tamsin strode over to me and slapped my face, hard. Tears welled up in my eyes, more from shock than pain.
“How dare you? How dare you speak to us like that! Carmelita, three strokes, please!”
Unhesitatingly, the pretty, sweet-natured Carmelita picked up her whip and approached me with an innocent smile playing on her lips. She stood at my left side, and with undisguised relish applied the thin whip to the backs of my legs. Three cuts, a few seconds apart, using its whole length. I nearly fainted with the pain, and was unable to stop myself sinking to my knees, sobbing. Tamsin stood over me.
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I-I’m sorry, M-Miss,” I blubbered, “please forgive me. It won’t happen again… I promise.”
I was now on all fours, crouching at her feet. She seemed somewhat mollified. She looked down at me, regarding my tear-stained cheeks with an expression of triumphant satisfaction.
On a whim, it seemed, she went and sat in the nearest armchair, her feet on the floor,
“Come here, boy.” With my ankles still tethered, I had to almost drag myself over to where she sat.
“Kiss my boots,” she ordered, quietly. I looked up at her in mute entreaty.
“Do I have to tell you a second time?”
Obediently I began to kiss the shiny rubber.
“Lick them,” in the same quiet tone. “Lick them as if you’re licking up your friend’s sperm, which you like so much.”
I licked enthusiastically.
“Listen carefully. On that laptop there are now two episodes of your behaviour. One is your little performance today. The other is your performance at Harriet’s party last week. If you don’t want your friends to see what you did so prettily today, then we can easily substitute the other one. Make your choice now.” I didn’t hesitate.
“Please Miss, upload our performance this evening.”
“Are you sure, Simon? You’d really like to show it to all your friends from school? Oh, and all your fellow Scouts?”
“Absolutely. I beg you to upload it at once.”
“I thought you might. Go ahead, Carmy. Hit it!”
“Simon! How are we going to explain it?” wailed Billy.
“Well, Billy, I’ll tell you what. We’re going to allow you two to write whatever supporting text you like. You’re very inventive boys. I’m sure you’ll come up with an explanation. You can say it’s for Halloween, or it’s a satire on Gilbert and Sullivan – though I don’t suppose most of them have even heard of Gilbert and Sullivan. Or you can tell the truth – that you’re a pair of big sissies and you’re in love. We’ll be interested to see what you come up with.”
“Yes,” added Rebecca. “The videos live now, so you’d better hurry. You’ve got ten minutes before you need to start serving dinner.”
-
Oh this is great, not only are Billy and Sim embarassed now in front of 3 ladies, their school mates are going to see it.
They i think will be teased by their mates at school and scouts so why not admit to being sissies and outed?
-
Chapter XXI: Redress (Part 3, Desperate Measures)
The ladies headed for the kitchen, leaving us to our own devices. Tamsin’s parting shot was, “Take it down if you like, and then I can upload the other one.”
“We’re stuffed, Simon,” moaned Billy, “we’re totally outed!”
It did seem hopeless. On my Facebook page the ‘likes’ were already popping up, and the comments didn’t bear reading, quite apart from the multiple “OMG!!!”s. But I wasn’t going to lie down and die so easily. I was thinking fast. I had to come up with something, and it couldn’t be some weak excuse that would only generate more ridicule. No. I had to attack.
Then I remembered something.
“Billy! Isn’t there some sort of arts festival in Leicester this week?”
“Is there?”
“Wait. Let me check.”
Yes, there it was. This week was Leicester Arts Week. I scrolled through the events. Paintings, performance art, music, stand-up…..the lot. Right.
“No-one’s seen us for two days, right? I mean none of our friends. Not since Scouts. Okay. I have an idea.”
Billy looked at me, uncomprehending. I was viewing the video again. Just us, the piano, a big curtain behind us, the polished floor. There was still a chance. I started to draft a commentary.
“Hi. morons. Billy and I performing at Leicester Arts this week. Arts. Look it up if you don’t know what it means. This is our take on Gilbert and Sullivan in the 21st century, “G & S go LGBT” we called it. Most of you will probably have to look them up as well, but check out the girls’ chorus from the Mikado and you’ll get the idea. We performed on a pop-up stage by the town hall and we got a fantastic reception. We were even offered a booking for the Dublin Arts next year, but we’ll probably be too busy to go. Hope you like the act! (If you don’t, drop dead.) PS. Our thanks to Angela Clifton-Bright of Grimsby Arts, who made our costumes, and Tamsin Clayton-Smythe, who played piano."
“Who’s Angela Clifton-Bright, Simon?”
“I just made her up, silly. None of those idiots are going to follow up on that! What do you think?”
“Will they swallow it?”
“No idea, mate, but we’ve got to try. I’ll post it and copy it onto your page. I’ll just change the “Billy” to “Simon”.
“Time’s up, boys. Dinner time!”
“We’re done, Madam. Just coming.”
Tamsin reappeared. “You’ve written something then. Let me see.” She swivelled the lap top round and read my description. She burst out laughing. “That’s not at all bad! So I’m “Clayton-Smythe” now, am I? Very good. That’s really quite inventive. Clever boys.”
“It was all Simon,” said Billy, modestly.
“I thought so. Cute in every sense of the word. Girls! Come look at this!”
Rebecca and Carmelita were equally impressed. “That is pretty smart,” said Carmelita. “Pity we didn’t get to post the other video. I wonder what you would have come up with for that, Simon?”
Tamsin suggested something that I’m not going to record. But it was dinner time. Time to get busy.
-
Let's see if simon managed to get them out of the predicament or just further in trouble lol
-
Chapter XXI: Redress (Part 4, Grassed Up )
We were getting more used to our unaccustomed footwear, and managed to lay the table without too many mishaps. Beautiful bowls and plates, polished cutlery, shining glasses. Tamsin and Carmelita sat down. I brought in a bottle of claret and poured some for them. They carried on talking, ignoring me. This is how posh people treat their servants, I thought. That’s fine with me. I’d prefer not to be noticed.
Rebecca was filling bowls with soup. Billy carried two and I the odd one. The women seemed to be looking at him, though, with particular interest. I heard Tamsin make some remark which sounded like “so innocent”, with an unpleasant smirk on her face, and Carmelita whispered something in her ear which made her laugh. It reminded me of things that had been said about me before. As the ladies started eating, we stood obediently against the wall, as Rebecca had instructed us. Billy leant towards me and whispered,
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Sim.”
Tamsin immediately called over, “No talking. And don’t look at us while we’re eating. Keep quiet and look straight ahead! Tut, tut! Servants these days, Rebecca!” And they all laughed.
“Sorry. Miss,” said Billy.
“What were you talking about, anyway?”
“Nothing, Miss.”
“Nothing? Please don’t lie, boy. You know what you’ll get.”
“Sorry, Miss. I just asked Simon if he knew what you were having for dessert.”
“Oh, did you. And why should that interest you, may I ask?”
“Just because I can smell something sweet in the kitchen, and it smells nice, Miss.”
More laughter, and they carried on eating their soup. When they had finished, we collected the bowls, and brought in the main course as Rebecca plated it up. I served more wine, both red and white, and by the time we had cleared away the plates they were all very happy indeed. Dessert was profiteroles with chocolate sauce and cream. They were served in pyramids on big plates in the middle of the table. We were heading back to our station when Rebecca called us.
“Come on girls, come and share!” We didn’t need a second invitation. We pulled up chairs, and sat together between Carmelita and Tamsin, Billy next to Carmelita. Rebecca fetched a bottle of champagne and five glasses. I made a mental resolution not to drink too much, but as we helped ourselves to the delicious profiteroles and sipped champagne, and the ladies seemed more and more friendly and nice, it was difficult to stick to it. Tamsin started chatting to me as if I were an equal, smiling and touching my arm every now and then in such a friendly way, that I began to imagine she actually liked me. Then she said,
“While you were in the kitchen I took the liberty of doing a little research.”
“Research?”
“Yes. About Leicester Arts Festival. I found out the name of the organiser – a Ms Jacquetta Wright.”
“Really? Why?”
“I thought she should know about your amazing contribution. All her details were there so I used your Facebook to send her an invite, and I wrote to her myself and sent her the video and congratulated her on having such an amusing act at the Festival.”
“You did what?”
“Sorry, Simon. I thought she would appreciate your little joke.”
She showed me a picture of Ms Wright at the Festival. For a moment my anger evaporated, ousted by my intrinsic fetishism, as I gaped at a smart young woman dressed in a tight latex top and flared skirt. I gulped and tried to recover myself.
“Yes, quite, Simon. When I saw her picture I knew I had to do something.”
“W-well, you shouldn’t have. That’s not f-fair, Tamsin.”
“You’re right. But it’s too late now, darling. Never mind, I don’t suppose she’ll even open my email or respond to your invitation. Such people have better things to do than respond to strangers.” She glanced at her phone. “Oh, no, I was wrong! Look at that! She’s already written back to me! Let me see…..”Thank you for writing about your young friend. I’ve now had a chance to watch the video – several times – and to read his explanation. I’m afraid I don’t remember either him or his friend at Leicester this week, and there was no “pop-up stage” near the town hall. I intend to make further enquiries about this interesting matter, and if you have any details that would allow me to contact him direct, I’d of course be most grateful. Best Wishes, Jacquetta Wright.” What a nice email! Of course I’ll send her your phone number at once!”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Oops – too late again, Sim. You really should be quicker off the mark.” I covered my face with my hands in despair. “Where is your phone anyway? Oh, still upstairs? I’ll bring it down – just in case she calls, you know.”
She hurried off upstairs and returned a minute later.
“Nothing yet, but I’ve sent you her picture. It would be so exciting if she did, though, don’t you think?”
I replied only in my thoughts. Tamsin resumed her seat. She looked at Billy.
“I think Billy likes that dress,” she laughed, “more than the clothes he came in! Don’t you Billy?”
“Yes Miss. An’ I like to stockings, too. They feel all silky, and I like the feeling of the tops around my thighs.”
“You look so pretty, darling,” cooed Carmelita, “good enough to eat!” And she leant over and nibbled at Billy’s neck, making him collapse in a fit of girlish giggles.
“Come on, drink up boys,” said Rebecca, “I’ll get another bottle.”
By now I was feeling distinctly woozy, but to drown my anxieties about Ms Wright I knocked back the rest and waited for a refill. Billy had if anything drunk more than me, and I could see the effects were beginning to kick in. Carmelita was leaning over with her right arm around Billy’s waist, and her left hand resting on his stockinged leg, whispering in his ear until he was squirming in his seat and helpless with laughter. I felt I should try to calm him down somehow, so I grabbed his hand and squeezed it to get his attention. He looked at me blankly for a moment, but then Carmelita’s hand moved up onto his little panties and began gently to massage the bulge of his boyhood. Tamsin leaned across to me.
“That’s good, Simon. You hold his hand while Carmy has her fun with him.”
Her fingers worked slowly but rhythmically, and she leant her head on his shoulder, observing with a satisfied expression the little mound growing and hardening under her caresses. Billy eyes closed and his head fell back. He began to moan quietly.
“Good boy. There, there. Just relax,” murmured Carmelita. Rebecca had returned, and stood behind her holding an open bottle of champagne, watching the developing spectacle and smiling. She glanced at me.
“She looks so innocent when you first meet her, doesn’t she, Simon?” Then,
“Refill, darlings?” she asked, and topped up all our glasses.
“Thanks, Becca,” said Carmelita, running her fingertip thoughtfully along the length of Billy’s erection. “Like some more champagne, Billy?” she asked, and, taking a mouthful herself, kissed him softly on the lips, dribbling the champagne into his mouth. I saw him gulp it down. She let her hand rest on his taut panties.
“This one’s a natural girl,” she said. “He’s so happy when he’s in a dress, and the sexier the better. I don’t blame you for fancying him, Simon. He’s irresistible.”
“I don’t ‘fancy’ him. I love Billy. And you should leave him alone!” I blurted.
“Oh, you really do, don’t you?” She paused. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? That’s it! You’re jealous of me playing with him. Admit it!”
I blushed. It was true. Why was he still so susceptible to females? But then, I thought, so was I. We were the same. Not gay, but sissies through and through! “No,…,” I replied, doubtfully.
“He says he’s not, Carmy,” said Tamsin, “so why don’t you put him to the test?”
“Yes, I will. Why not? If he’s not jealous, he won’t mind, will he?” And with an evil grin, she hooked her finger through the zip ring of Billy’s panties and began to tug it down in little jerks. I let go of Billy’s hand and sat back in my chair. I wanted to leave but Tamsin held me tight.
I kept my eyes shut for most of the next fifteen minutes. It didn’t make much difference. I could imagine exactly what was happening, just from the sounds, and in any case, Tamsin’s reactions provided a sort of commentary. After a minute or so, Carmelita exclaimed
“It’s so slippery I can’t get a proper grip!”
“Don’t you have your riding gloves with you?” asked Tamsin.
“Oh, yes! Could you get them for me? They’re in my coat in the hallway.”
I heard Tamsin get up and go out of the room, returning a few moments later. She thrust something in front of my face.
“At least look at these!” she laughed. I half opened my eyes. She was holding up a pair of black, kid leather gloves, with silver buttons at the cuffs.
“Let me show them to you. They’re leather, but the palms and the insides of the fingers have this bobbly rubber surface which helps you grip the reins if it’s wet. Clever, eh? Just the thing for this situation!” She handed them to Carmelita, and I shut my eyes again. After a minute or so I heard her say, “That’s better!” Another silence and then a faint sound, a rhythmic ‘plop, plop, plop’, punctuated by Billy’s soft moans. This went on for several minutes, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. I found myself getting aroused despite my feelings. Then Tamsin said, “Careful, Carmy - I think perhaps…” The plopping sound stopped, I felt Tamsin grip my shoulder tightly, and then sound of muffled slurping, which culminated suddenly in a cry from Billy, and Tamsin murmuring, “oh my god”. After a pause, there was the sound of the zip on Billy’s panties being closed, and then she added, “All right, Simon. You can open your eyes now.
Carmelita was wiping her hands and face on several napkins, smiling like the cat that got the cream. She stripped off her riding gloves and took a mirror out of her bag.
“Oh, dear!”
“Yes, darling, it’s in your hair too,” laughed Tamsin. And indeed, there were milky droplets decorating the ginger curls next to her right cheek. She shook her hair out, gathered it up, and tied it up behind her head. “I’ll leave that as a remembrance.”
Billy was lying back, eyes half closed. The hem of his little pink dress was all slimy and one of his suspenders had come undone.
“You look a mess!” I exclaimed, irritably.
“Sorry, Sim. She, sort of, took advantage of me…”
“Oh, you poor thing.” I said, sarcastically. I was suffering from two types of jealousy now. Jealousy because Carmelita and not me had made love to him, and jealousy because Billy and not me had been the object of her attention! And by now I was again as frustrated as hell. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my phone rang. I prayed it wasn’t that woman. Tamsin grabbed it and answered.
“Hello? Simon Saunders’ phone?”
“Oh, really! Yes, I am. I’m Tamsin Stratford. How nice of you to telephone! Simon’s here, yes. Let me put you on speaker.”
She placed the phone on the table. “It’s Ms Wright, Simon? Isn’t that nice?”
“Hello? Simon?”
“Hi.”
“Hi. This is Jacquetta Wright. Your friend may have told you I run the Leicester Arts Festival.”
“Yes, Ms Wright.”
“Well I’ve seen your act. It was great. But it had nothing to do with our Festival, did it?”
“No, Miss.”
“So why did you pretend to be a part of it? Please explain. I’d be very interested to know.”
Tamsin looked at me, hard. I took it to mean, “You’d better not implicate us – or else.” I took the hint.
“It’s a long story, Miss, but me and my friend Billy,” – here I cast a glance of disgust at him, still languishing there like a ravished tart – “we performed this act for some friends of ours,” – here Tamsin smiled approvingly – “and then after it got put up on Facebook we realised all our schoolfriends would get the wrong idea, and we’d get ridiculed and maybe even beaten up over it. So we devised this explanation. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you - or anyone.”
“I see. Well it wasn’t very clever. I was bound to hear about it eventually.”
“No, it was stupid. We’re both really sorry.”
“Well then, apology accepted. But I’m interested in you two. When I first watched the video I actually thought I was watching two girls. You’re very accomplished female impersonators, I must say. I’d like to meet you. Is that possible?”
“Oh, I’m not sure…”
“Ms Wright,” cut in Tamsin, “both the boys work for Holly End Riding School. That’s near Kilton on the Hill. It’s not far from Leicester. You can always find them there at the weekends. I can give you the contact details of the proprietor if you like, Sue Dawson. She’d be more than happy to help.”
“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind. And actually I know where that is. I live south of the city, anyway, so it’s only a short drive. Perfect!”
Tamsin switched off the speaker and wandered off into the kitchen, still talking to Ms Wright. Oh, thanks a bunch, Tamsin, I thought. Though she did look pretty cool, that lady, I had to admit.
“Any profiteroles left?” asked Carmelita, enthusiastically. I looked at her, disbelieving. There was still a blob of goo on one side of her neck that she had missed.
“Sorry. I just love that sweet cream. Can’t get enough of it!” she giggled.
-
Lucky Billy, poor Sim. Wonder what further trouble is to come to the 2 sissies.
-
Chapter XXI: Redress (Part 5, ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore)
I must have been looking miserable, because Miss Strickland looked over at me with a sympathetic smile and asked,
“Are you feeling a bit left out, Simon? Having to sit there and watch everyone else having fun?”
“Bit, I s’pose. I’m fine, though.”
“I don’t think you are, darling. Come with me and let’s see if we can cheer you up.”
I followed her out of the room and upstairs to what I took to be her own bedroom. There were some framed posters and photos on the walls, several of horses and riders, either standing in fields or jumping poles. There was a picture of a girl in red breeches with hair of a familiar colour, on a beautiful horse.
“Is that ….?”
“Yes, that’s Carmelita. That was a couple of years ago, when she wore her hair long. I can’t remember what show it was, but I remember she won a prize.” She took a photo of it. “I’ll send you this for your album!”
One big poster made me do a double take. It was of a little girl in full riding costume perched proudly on her mount. But her mount was a person! To be precise, a lady in a black rubber catsuit and rubber hood, complete with little hooves, ears, a tail, and a proper saddle and bridle! Her legs were strapped up so she had to walk on her knees and her arms were strapped into plastic retainers so that she couldn’t straighten them. It gave me a funny feeling just to look at it. I stood staring for a moment. Then I noticed auburn curls projecting from under the hood.
“Oh.…Surely that’s not her as well?”
“Oh, you’ve noticed that. Yes, that’s her. That was only last year. She always been a wild one, that Carmy, but she was getting a bit full of herself, so we decided to give her a little specialist schooling, to remind her of her position. She was still just a trainee, after all. Please don’t ever mention it to her, though. She’s still a bit sensitive about that episode. And she still resents the fact we’ve kept the video.”
“I won’t, of course. Any chance I could …?”
“I’m sorry, Simon. No, you can’t copy the picture and you can’t see the video. She’d be furious if she even knew I have this on the wall!” She smiled to herself. “It was fun, though. Tamsin and I kept her trotting around the field all afternoon!” She looked at me thoughtfully. “We must do it again some time. We haven’t properly ‘ponified’ anyone since.”
I began to look at the other pictures. Some were of a dark place, with chains and shiny black leather things hanging on the walls. I’m sure I saw Miss Strickland in one, and also Tamsin. I was about to ask more questions, when she took my hand.
“Don’t worry about those, now, Simon. Come here and look at some of the lovely costumes we brought over.”
She opened the doors of a huge wardrobe. Inside were hanging all sorts of dresses, sleek and sexy, long and flowing, short and frothy. Below were stored all sorts of underwear and accessories.
“The dressing-room at Holly End was getting so full we decided to bring some of the things here. I’m hoping you and Billy will spend more time here in the future. You’ll have access to all these lovely outfits, and my friends will be here a lot of the time. Don’t worry, we won’t ask you to be servants all the time. You can have a lot of fun!”
“Well I’m sure Billy will be well up for it, Madam, if Miss Ashford-Jones is around,” I said, sourly.
“Oh, don’t blame him, darling. She can make herself irresistible when she feels like it.”
“Well I know one thing. He won’t be able to resist all these cute dresses. I can just see him parading around in this!” I laughed, lifting out a lemon yellow party dress, all frills and flounces and petticoats.
“Yes, I can see what you mean,” smiled Rebecca, “he does love his pretty dresses, doesn’t he? That one has little lacy knee-socks and matching shoes, too, and a yellow satin headband. But what sort of thing do you like?”
“Dunno, Madam. I think I like more grown-up stuff. I like the outfit I’m wearing, for one thing. It feels sexy.”
“You like sexy?”
“Yeah, I suppose I do. Especially when I’m feeling sexy.”
“Ah! Yes, you poor thing, you must be. Tell you what, I’ve an idea. Why don’t we find you something really sexy to get you noticed?”
“Okay, I guess…”
“Now, let me see…. Ah, there’s a very slinky latex dress here. Figure-hugging. Blue. Will go well with your complexion.”
“Maybe…”
“Or we could simply go totally slutty. What about this?”
She produced a black rubber skirt no more than ten inches long, and a very short red spandex top. “Why don’t you try the whole outfit?”
So I did. First, little red latex panties, semi-transparent. Fishnet stockings and a red latex suspender belt. Then the skirt, which, if I stood up straight and held the hem down both sides, just hid my panties. It came with a vinyl belt, from which hung a little read leather belt-purse. “You’ll find a supply of condoms and bubblegum in there,” smiled Rebecca. Then the spandex top, close-fitting, long-sleeved, but short enough to show my belly button, with a high collar. The collar had little loops, and through that Rebecca fed a black leather collar, which buckled at the front. From the buckle hung a little black plastic disc with the words “FREE BLOW-JOBS” printed on it! The costume was completed with a pair of fingerless black rubber gloves, and high-heeled patent leather ankle boots with a row of three buckles. The mere feeling of wearing this stuff was already making me hot. I bit my lip, trying to fight back my arousal. I looked at myself in the mirror.
“Wow! That’s cool! I look totally, like….”
“A complete whore, darling! You do. Do you think he might pay you some attention now?”
“It’s possible!” I grinned. “Can’t wait to see his face, anyway.”
“Shall we go, then? I’ll be your pimp.”
We made our way downstairs. I looked through the crack in the door. Billy had tidied himself up a bit, at least, but to my disgust he was now sitting on Carmelita’s lap in one of the armchairs, her hand resting on his thigh, as if he were her girlfriend. I put a piece of bubblegum in my mouth and sidled into the room, my nose in the air. Assiduously ignoring Billy, I wandered over to the kitchen door, which was now shut, and leant provocatively against it, loudly chewing gum and blowing the occasional bubble. Nobody spoke, but I could feel their eyes on me. Rebecca followed me in.
“If anyone wants her, fine – but she’s expensive. Fifty pence for the hour, money up front.”
“I’ll take that,” exclaimed Carmelita, thrusting Billy off her lap and jumping up.
“Hey, he’s my friend!” wailed Billy.
“Too bad, darling. Where’s your money?”
“It’s upstairs in my jeans. I’m gonna get it!” shouted Billy, running out of the room.
Carmelita had other ideas. She went to her handbag, took out her purse, tossed Rebecca a pound coin – “sorry, darling, that’s all I have” – which she deftly caught, and grabbed me by the hand. A moment later we were through the kitchen and into the garden. Unhesitating, she led me to what she called “the garden shed”, which was in fact a largish summer house with big windows. She pushed me inside and locked the door behind us.
In one corner was a low bunk bed, and before I could collect my thoughts I found myself flat on my back on it, with Carmelita nibbling at my ear and stroking my tummy.
“I – I was trying to get Billy’s attention,” I protested, weakly, already half intoxicated with her scent.
“Too bad. I got there first! He’ll have to wait.”
“But…but…”
But it was too late. Her hand had reached the tops of my stockings, and a moment later I was lost.
“Ooh, these panties are so thin! I can feel everything! And see it, too!” she remarked, looking down. “God, what a little tart! You’re hard already!”
Her tongue was soon deep in my mouth, her fingers around my boyhood, kneading gently. I lay there in helpless ecstasy. After a minute or so, I became aware of a knocking at the door. After a while the knocking stopped and I saw movement outside the adjacent window. I turned my head slightly to the left and there was Billy’s face, staring at me aghast, and Rebecca and Tamsin behind looking on. Carmelita saw him too.
“Oh, your girlfriend. Let’s give her something to stare at, shall we?”
Her face disappeared from my field of vision, and the next thing I knew was that my panties were yanked down and my member engulfed in Carmelita’s warm, expert mouth. I groaned and squirmed with pleasure as, holding it carefully between her teeth, she explored its head with her muscular tongue. My eyes were almost closed, but to my satisfaction I could see Billy’s dismayed face riveted on us. Your turn now, I thought. Serves you right! I hope you can hear all these lovely succulent sounds, too! Having been frustrated for so long, I was in the process of preparing myself for a pretty serious orgasm, when Carmelita suddenly relinquished my bursting member. I opened my eyes in surprise. She unbuttoned my belt purse and pulled out a condom.
“Aha! This is what I need.”
Expertly she rolled it on, pulled up her skirt, and straddled me. Billy watched, horrified.
“Have you done this before?”
“N-no. It’s my first time.”
“Well, enjoy.” And with that she sank slowly down on me, with a sigh of pleasure. I slid into her effortlessly. She closed her eyes, and, sitting back, began to squeeze me rhythmically. I tried to fight back the inevitable climax, but she must have realised I could not hold on long, because all at once she began to pump with firm regular thrusts of her pelvis. She grabbed two handfuls of my stretchy spandex top.
“These are my reins,” she gasped, “you are my pony, and this…. this is called the rising trot!” And, much to the fascination of the onlookers outside, she proceeded to ride me as if she was in the saddle, sitting very straight and moving up and down with controlled regularity, eyes closed in silent elation.
My orgasm was the most explosive I had ever experienced. I cried out loud, and hit the wooden edge of the bunk with my fist in the intensity of my ecstasy. It seemed to last for ages, but Carmelita maintained her disciplined motion until my convulsions ceased and my body went limp. Then she allowed herself to sink gently forward on top of me, planting a soft, lingering kiss on my lips, and cupping my head in one hand. We lay there for several minutes, unmoving. My eyes were closed and I no longer knew if we were being watched. Eventually she slipped off me and knelt on the floor by my side.
“There. All’s fair now. But this” – he she carefully removed the full condom – “is mine!”
I heard her unlock and open the door. There was some murmured conversation, then silence.
I must have fallen asleep for a few minutes. When I woke, there was no-one to be seen. I sat up, and after a few minutes climbed off the bunk, adjusted my clothes, and made my way to the door, which was ajar. I walked across the garden to the house. The kitchen was empty, and I found everyone except Carmelita in the dining room, sitting around the table. Billy looked at me with a wry smile.
“I’ve got the fifty pence now, but you don’t look as though you’re even worth that any more.”
I slumped into an armchair, exhausted.
“Difficult client, Sim?” asked Tamsin with a smile. “It happens, in your profession.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone to the shower. She’ll be down in a minute,” said Rebecca. “You can use the shower in my bathroom if you like.”
“Yeah, thanks.” And I went out and climbed the stairs wearily.
When I came down, Carmelita was there, as fresh as a daisy. She had changed into jeans and a jumper. Her feet were bare. She smiled at me with utter insouciance.
“Hi Sim. Nice shower?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Me too. I’m feeling a bit hungry now.”
“What an appetite!” laughed Tamsin.
“Any profiteroles left, Rebecca?”
“No! You ate the last one. But there are a couple of chocolate eclairs in the fridge.”
“That’ll do.” And she jumped up and trotted into the kitchen.
“Boys,” said Rebecca, “obviously you’ll be staying tonight. I’ve asked a friend over tomorrow morning, and I was wondering whether you’d be able to meet her.”
“Well, I don’t have to be back till about three thirty,” I said, “but I have a dance lesson with Miss Morel at school in the evening.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They’ve signed me up for the freshers’ show. I daren’t skip the lesson. Miss Benson will punish me if I do.”
“Oh, yes. I think she mentioned it to me. Pity Billy couldn’t appear too.”
“Yes, that’s a point,” I mused. “Could you, Billy? It would be evening, anyway. Just for moral support?”
“I dunno,” said Billy, “Let’s talk about it later. But about tomorrow. I have to be back by three to pick up Robert – that’s my kid brother, Madam. So I guess we could stay till two. Who’s your friend?”
“She’s headmistress of St. Catherine’s School. That’s a private girls’ school just along the lane. I wanted her to meet you two. She should be here about ten. You could stay for lunch and leave in plenty of time.
“I’ve got a bike carrier in the car,” said Tamsin. I could drive you back. It’d be quicker.”
“Thanks,” we chorused.
“Where’s that Carmy got to?” said Rebecca.
“Here she is,” said Tamsin, “with yet another plate of food.”
Carmelita came over and sat at the table. “Sorry, I had to whip the cream.” She put down her plate, on which was a large eclair topped with chocolate and capped with a big blob of cream. She began to eat it with a spoon, savouring every mouthful.
“Miss Greedy!” laughed Rebecca, reaching over and scooping up some of the cream with her finger. She put it in her mouth. Her expression changed immediately. She stared at Carmelita.
“You haven’t! I don’t believe it! You are such a naughty girl!”
“It’s too good to waste, Rebecca,” grinned Carmelita, swallowing another mouthful and licking her lips. And anyway, it’s good for you!”
Billy and I went to bed soon after. Rebecca found us a pair of soft, short nighties and matching loose knickers. We had planned some games if we stayed over, and also we wanted to talk, but in the event we were both so tired we just fell asleep in each other’s arms. I vaguely remember someone coming into the room and tucking us in. But I knew no more until morning.
-
The ladies like using the little sissies. Seems like they both had fun. Looking forward to the Head Mistress coming over from St. Catherines
-
Chapter XXI: Redress (Part 6, An Offer We Can’t Refuse?)
I woke early in the morning. The curtains must have been open last night. The sun flooded the bedroom and turned Billy’s skin to gold and made the down on his lip and arms sparkle. I regarded him with awe, glorying in the feeling that this angelic creature actually loved me. Me! I felt unworthy of such an honour. It seemed too wonderful a thing to be true.
I lay there for some time, thinking. I want to remember what I thought, but the train of ideas has evaporated. I know I started thinking about that poem Sandra had recited to me. I was wondering which stanza was appropriate to me. “Love seeketh not itself to please” or “Love seeketh only self to please.” Was that it? I could flick back these pages to quote it verbatim but it doesn’t matter. That is what I started thinking about. I imagined that Billy had met someone else, probably another guy, who felt about him as I did, and he wanted to leave me and go off with him. How would I react? Of course I would be crushed, torn apart with pain and jealousy. But I knew quite clearly and certainly that I would stand back and let him do what he wanted. I would actually conceal my pain to free up his decision. I love him enough to want him to be free and happy whatever the cost to me. That seemed something, anyway. Then I thought about the mystery of love. The mystery is not something universal, as people always claim, but something belonging to each individual relationship. I hate the desire to generalise about it. It just obscures what is real and true. In the context of our love, our little games with Carmelita, for instance, were irrelevant. I knew neither of us felt real resentment, and that momentary frisson of jealousy was merely a light seasoning of our passion for each other. I decided that for me sex is delightful, but meaningless unless in the context of my love, when it became a necessary and ideal confirmation of regard. It was not an index of affection, or a statement of commitment. Sex with Billy was almost a statement of self-effacement; with others an irresistible, inescapable quest for quietude. I understand why the poets thought sex close to death.
The worst thing, I thought, is the implication that sex for its own sake is ‘bad’ - immoral or even evil. So for many people, sexual feelings have to be hidden, and even generate guilt. How can such a lie persist? Should it be allowed to cripple lives? Do not the damaging or aggressive sexual acts often have their origins in a misguided moral rigidity which can only be evaded by secrecy, and which causes pathological resentment and the desire to revenge oneself on perceived normality? I can’t remember all my thoughts now. They seemed very rational and clear at the time. But I should return to my narrative.
When Billy woke, which he did easily and quietly, and smiled, almost laughed, at seeing me, I knew his love for me also was real. We kissed as if after a long absence, and then indulged our passion until we were sated. Lying side by side in that quiet room we talked with great seriousness of matters inconsequential to anyone but ourselves, until we heard noises downstairs and were brought back to mundane concerns. We showered and dressed in our ordinary clothes and went down to breakfast.
The ladies were already seated at the breakfast table, looking smug and rather too pleased with themselves.
“Nice sleep, guys?” asked Tamsin.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Billy.
I looked at them closely. I suspected… But never mind. We sat with them, and Carmelita brought us croissants and jam and cups of coffee. I felt euphoric. It was the feeling of loving and being loved when it finally comes home to you. You wallow in it, like rolling in the shallows of a warm sunlit sea. I will never forget that first morning I experienced that sensation. But to continue.
“My friend will be her at ten, boys. Her name is Antonia Mortimer. She’s been headmistress of St. Catherine’s for four years. She’s very highly regarded. I believe she has a proposition for you. I have no idea how you’ll react, but please hear her out.”
“A proposition, Madam?”
“Yes, Billy. I’m not going to say any more.”
We looked at each other with puzzlement. What possible proposition could it be, from someone who’d never even met us?
“She knows a little about you. It’s not completely arbitrary.”
Miss Mortimer was punctual to her hour. Rebecca conducted us into a front room, and we shook hands. She was a woman of Rebecca’s age, tall and intelligent looking, with short dark hair and blue eyes, dressed in a blue trouser suit. Every inch a headmistress, I thought.
We all four sat down. After some small talk, from which I gathered Rebecca and Miss Mortimer had known each other since university, she addressed us direct.
“I won’t waste your time, boys. I should explain that St. Catherine’s is a small, fee-paying, private girls’ school. We have seven years, with between twenty and twenty-four girls in each year. The two sixth forms have twenty girls each. We are partly charitably funded. Some of those charities, perhaps influenced by government guidelines or current educational thinking, have put a certain amount of pressure on the trustees, of which I am one, to make some sort of gesture towards co-education. The trustees were reluctant to adopt this suggestion, but the threat of a reduction in our funding has persuaded them to agree to a small intake of boys at sixth-form level, by way of experiment. The figure of ten percent has been agreed, which amounts to two boys – I hope you worked that out for yourselves” she smiled, “- two boys in the lower sixth this year.” She looked from one to the other of us to let this sink in, before continuing.
“Now, personally I oppose this move. I see no advantage in introducing boys at this stage, and many disadvantages. But my hands are tied, and I need to resolve the matter urgently. That is not to say I am approaching you, Simon, and you, Billy, as any sort of last resort. You both come with very high recommendation form your respective schools. Yes, I have been in touch with both your headteachers. I have seen your reports, and you are clearly both highly intelligent, and in recent times at least,” (looking at me), “well socialised. Most important in my estimation is your natural gentleness of manner and regard for the female sex. I believe the ingress of certain types of adolescent male would be disastrous for St. Catherine’s. I do not consider either of you fall into that category.”
“You’re offering us places at St. Catherine’s?” I asked, astonished. “What about fees?”
“You will pay no fees. Your education will be entirely funded by the trustees. You will also receive a travel and uniform allowance, and free meals. You will be eligible for free board if you wish. We have a small proportion of boarders already.”
Billy and I stared at each other in disbelief.
“But before we go any further, we’d have to ask our parents,” said Billy.
“Of course. I have already written to your mothers. I wouldn’t have considered conducting this interview without their permissions.”
“They’ve agreed?” I asked.
“They both readily agreed to my interviewing you and making the offer. I have spoken to them both, and they are prepared to leave the final decision to yourselves. You realise that as you are now of age, the choice of school is ultimately your decision to make.”
“Excuse me interrupting, Antonia,” said Rebecca. I just wanted to say, boys, that St. Catherine’s is recognised as one of the top secondary schools in the Midlands. It has outstanding results and a wonderful staff.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that, Rebecca, but that should not be the first consideration. We want you to be happy and fulfilled. Obviously, you can’t make a decision now. Would it be possible for you to come and visit one day next week? A couple of the senior girls would be happy to come in for the day to show you round, so you could at least get the feel of the place. If after that you were still interested, we would arrange a four-week trial period at the start of next term. Only then would I ask for a final decision. If at any time you decided it was not for you, you could go back to your old schools.”
“But then what of your co-education experiment?”
“Then we would have tried, but we would be justified in postponing it for a term or even a year. You’d have no obligation to us whatsoever.”
“Miss Mortimer.” I hesitated.
“Yes, Simon?”
“How much do you know about us? Do you know we…we often dress as girls?”
“I do know that, yes.”
“Has that influenced you?”
“Well, it would be dishonest to say it hasn’t. But only insofar as it demonstrates a feminine side to your nature, which I believe would aid your acceptance by your peers.”
“I mean, would you expect us to dress as girls in school?”
“I don’t know whether I would anticipate it. I certainly would not require it. You would have a uniform, of course, but whether you wore a skirt or trousers would be your choice. We have a very liberal attitude to gender dressing, and I think it is universally accepted that girls may now wear trousers and boys skirts if they wish. I am not asking you to pass yourselves off as girls, or adopt female personae. But if you wished to do so, that would not be a problem. I would only say I would favour consistency.”
At this point, Carmelita appeared with a tray of coffee. I needed to talk to Billy alone.
“Do you mind if we…?”
“Please, go ahead. I understand you will need to discuss it properly.”
We left the room and headed for the garden. Once outside, we looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“What do you think, Sim?”
“I’m tempted. I could get away from Miss Benson, from all those nosey little first years, and some of those stupid macho blokes in my class. I’d miss Alice, though. What about you?”
“I’d go for it in a moment if you would. My school’s horrible compared to yours. I’m sure I’m going to get beaten up over that video on the first day!”
“Shall we do the visit then, and see what we think? You heard what she said – we can get out of it any time. And we can meet a couple of the girls and see what they’re like.”
“Deal! I wonder what the uniform’s like?”
“Trust you! Whatever it’s like, I’m sure it won’t be frilly and frothy enough for you!”
“Shut up! It won’t be tarty enough for you, either!”
“That was a one-off, Billy. My sole intention was to get you away from Carmelita and closer to me!”
“Oh, really? Epic fail, then, slut!”
The upshot was, we agreed to meet Miss Mortimer at St. Catherine’s the following Tuesday. I don’t think either of us really believed the transfer would ever happen, but it was an exciting diversion, anyway. We fantasised about it all the way home in Tamsin’s car.
“I hope it works out, boys”, she said as she dropped us off. “You’d be near Rebecca’s and we’d see a lot of each other. We have so much more to show you!”
-
Oh i love to see two sissies in an all girls school. I really hope they choose the skirts as that is what every sissy should wear.
-
Chapter XXII: Billy’s First Day (Part 1, Billy’s Dream)
Oh, if only I could have been there with my video recorder to capture Simon’s first full sexual encounter! All we have is a rather short vid from Tamsin’s phone taken through the window of the summer house. They’ve already got started , but at least we can appreciate Carmelita’s skill in the saddle and we do get to see that amazing climax. Poor Simon nearly bucked her off in his frenzy! What they did get, however, was a beautiful record of the boys in bed in the morning, quite unconscious they were being filmed in full HD. Rebecca’s not so stupid as to let that one slip by. There are as many hidden cameras upstairs in that house as there are in the dungeon!
Saturday 6 August. Billy’s first day at Holly End. We arrived early and reported to Sue in her office.
“Welcome, both of you. Billy, welcome to Holly End. How are you feeling?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“Simon. How do you feel about working with your new colleague?”
“I’m happy he’s here, of course. But I have to admit I don’t fully understand the practicalities. I mean, as the salon is arranged, there’s really only room for one of us to work at a time.”
“Quite. But I’m not planning to have you both cleaning boots at one time. I’ve been thinking for some time about ways to expand the business, and as soon as I heard about Billy I started putting my ideas into effect. Come with me, please.”
She led us out of her office and along the corridor.
“Simon, you remember the old tack room that used to be in here before we moved it outside?”
“Yes…”
We arrived at the door. It was no longer a drab brown, but had been repainted in a shiny pale blue.
“Voila!” She threw open the door and clicked a switch. The dirty old tack room had been transformed. The walls were painted pink. The floor was tiled in a pale blue. The ceiling sparkled with downlights, some giving a faintly pink-tinted light. Around the edges of the room were pillar-box red benches, and at the near end a row of three changing-rooms, through the open doors of which I could see red seats and long mirrors. And along the length of the room ran two rows of shining chrome clothes-racks, hung with every variety of girls’ dresses!
“Wow!” exclaimed Billy, “That’s amazing!”
“Gosh, Sue! It really is! What’s the idea?”
“We’re going to start selling girls’ clothes. I hope!” she smiled. I walked in and surveyed the rows of satin, lace and general froth. I noticed one section marked ‘Accessories’, with everything a girl could desire neatly laid out for inspection. Billy made his way straight to it.
“I thought maybe you wanted to give Billy a glimpse of heaven!” I grinned. “But it is impressive, I have to admit.”
“Well, this is where Billy comes in. This is my idea. Tell me what you think.”
“Go on.”
“You carry on as usual, but Billy will be your assistant and will also attend to the customers’ other needs, coffee, maybe manicure. Stuff like that. My friend Janice – I think you met her at Harriet’s party – has offered to train him.”
“Cool!” exclaimed Billy, delightedly.
“But Billy” – she looked at him meaningfully – “Billy will be the girl. His main function will be to model all the clothes we have in stock here in smaller sizes. You know how many of our customers bring their little daughters with them. The theory is, that when they see Billy all dressed up they’re going to want what he’s wearing, and, we hope, will drag their mothers up to our new shop here. What do you think?”
I could see Billy’s eyes shining at the prospect, as he wandered up and down in a dream feeling all the satins, silks and brocades.
“I think….I think you’re going to make Billy very happy! But no, I think you may really be onto something here. You’re right about the little daughters. And they’re all such princesses. They’re bound to love this stuff.”
“You could call it the ‘Princess Lounge’, suggested Billy.
“Brilliant!” said Sue, “That’s perfect. We’ve been mulling over names for days!”
I examined the merchandise. “This is really good quality, Sue. It must have cost quite a lot. Where did you source it?”
“Oh, I have a contact in the trade. This is the sort of quality it’s difficult to find online. It costs a bit more, but I’m going to keep our margins to a minimum. What’s most important at this stage is getting ourselves established. Let’s face it, we’re making our money from the salon, now. That’s what has financed all this, and it’s largely thanks to you.”
“Yes. That’s the key. I think this could work. The customers we’re getting now are all pretty well-heeled – you need to be, to keep horses – but they’re also smart, they understand quality, and they don’t throw money away.”
“Yes. We thought of opening a tack shop, but we would need to build new premises for that. This room is big, but not big enough for stuff like saddles and all the rest. So this is our idea. And Billy would be our perfect salesman! If he agrees.”
“Oh yes please, Miss! I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more!”
“Look at him,” I laughed, “like a kid in a…in a dress shop! Now you not only get to wear this stuff, but you actually get to model it too. You can show off to your heart’s content, and instead of being ridiculed you’re going to be worshipped!”
We retired to Sue’s office, Billy still in a state of euphoria.
“So. Where are we? Billy – do you fancy getting started today. You don’t have to do anything fancy. You can really just hang around and offer the clients coffee, or play some music on the CD player. You’re fully booked, but I don’t know if there are going to be any prospective customers. In any case, the shop won’t be open until next weekend. It’s going to be staffed by some of the girls most of the time.”
Billy looked momentarily disappointed.
“Oh, don’t worry. You can have a turn too, when you’re free – which won’t be very often.
Now about tomorrow. Simon, you’ve got a couple of customers in the morning, but at eleven Miss Faversham and Miss Mitchell are going to call in, and they’d like a word with you. So I’ve left that hour free.” I grimaced. “Billy. Janice is coming round at ten, and she’s going to start your makeover lessons. You can use the other office where Simon used to change.”
“Great!”
“In the afternoon I’ve booked in a Ms Jacquetta Wright and friend? I believe you know her?”
“Er, sort of.” Billy and I looked at each other.
“I gather it’s an interview rather than an appointment, but she was happy to pay, anyway. She said might have some plans for you two, but she’s promised to discuss them with me first, so there’s no conflict of obligation. You performed a little show, boys?” We nodded. “I’ve heard about it, but I’ve not got around to watching it yet. I seem to have a backlog of things to watch!” she added, mischievously. I looked at her questioningly, but she only returned an innocent smile.
“Let me see, what’s the time? Ooh, time you boys were getting ready. Billy, as it’s your first day, why don’t you choose any dress from the costume room? Starting next weekend, I will be choosing your outfit, of course. Simon. You’ll find yours in your bag behind the door. You have a couple of clients this morning. I can’t remember who they are at least one repeat I think. Should be pretty routine, but Billy can practise his twirls.”
We scurried off to get our costumes. While Billy was pondering on the respective merits of a yellow party dress and an exactly similar one in salmon pink, I took a peek at my outfit. Oh, no! Super embarrassing. A little short girl’s top, with “Hello Pretty” in silver script on yellow background dotted with tiny red hearts. Yellow lace-trimmed ankle socks with red Mary Janes. A yellow open cap. Little yellow latex shorts with red frills, fitted with belt loops through which ran a shiny red vinyl belt. Red plastic clip-ons and a matching necklace. Yellow latex gloves with red frills to match the shorts. Damn! Let’s hope we don’t get any of those types who try to take photos, I thought.
“Shall we change here, Simon?” asked Billy, having plumped for the yellow.
“No! Do you think I’m running the gauntlet of Holly End in these?” I held up the shorts.
“Ah. No. Maybe not.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
We headed off for the salon.
-
Chapter XXII: Billy’s First Day (Part 2, Simon’s Nightmare)
I went into the bathroom to change, leaving Billy with his armful of froth in the working area. When I emerged, he had dressed and was adjusting his yellow satin-covered Alice band in the mirror.
“Sim, would you mind zipping me up, please?”
“Okay. Stand still a minute.” I zipped up the dress and connected the hook at the top. I felt a bit like a husband zipping up his wife’s dress preparatory to an evening out. The material was a heavy brocade, and the skirt was supported by layers of tulle. Even I could appreciate the quality and understand how enjoyable it might be to wear. Billy had chosen white stockings - hold-ups – and pale yellow court shoes. I flicked up his skirt. Yes, matching satin knickers. He had good taste.
“I haven’t got time for makeup today,” he explained, rather sadly, “but after a few lessons from Janice I’m sure I’ll be able to do my own as well as other people’s.”
“I’m certain you will.”
“Then I could start buying my own wardrobe,” he continued, excitedly, “actually choose my own outfits!”
I pretended cynicism, but the truth was I really liked it when he turned himself into a female. I wanted to hug him and smother him with kisses. I would have done then, but I caught sight of myself in the mirror and realised it would make a ridiculous spectacle. I like the sensation of rubber next to my skin, of course, but these costumes Sue came up with seemed designed for maximum humiliation. My cheeks burned at the mere thought of opening the door to the next client.
Thankfully, the first two were middle-aged ladies who understood that I didn’t choose the outfits myself. They refrained from any comments, complemented Billy on his choice of dress, and behaved themselves discreetly in every way. I love ladies like that. Nothing shocks them, or if it does, they don’t show it. They don’t feel the need to humiliate you, to make wisecracks or smart-arse remarks. They are usually mothers, and they understand it’s difficult enough just being adolescent, without some idiot wanting to provoke you. So by ten thirty, when we were due a fifteen minute break, I was feeling quite relaxed. I had decided to take one day at a time, so I wasn’t going to worry about tomorrow’s appointments until tomorrow. Billy made me a coffee and I sat on the couch peacefully sipping it, while he fiddled with his stockings in front of the mirror. Then came a soft knock at the door.
“Shall I…?” asked Billy.
“Yeah. See who it is.”
He opened the door. I heard a vaguely familiar woman’s voice ask to see me. I put down my coffee and went casually to the door, opening it wide. I froze. My jaw dropped. Mrs Westfeather – and standing beside her, with an undisguised smirk on her little face, Geraldine!
She took in my costume in one glance.
“Ooh, Mummy, look at Simon’s new outfit!”
I considered slamming the door, but Mrs Westfeather had already walked boldly into the salon.
“I-I’m sorry, Mrs Westfeather, we-we’re on our break now.”
“Yes, I’m sorry to intrude, but we were here, you know, and Geraldine wanted to tell you something.” She smiled down at the diminutive figure at her side. “Darling?”
“Yes, Simon.” Pause. “Is that Billy?”
“Hello. Yes, I’m Billy.”
“I like your dress, Billy. It’s pretty.”
“Thank you!”
“Simon, I wanted to say…I wanted to tell you….we’ve been to see Mrs Dawson…Mummy?”
“Yes dear?”
“Can I have a dress like Billy’s?”
“Maybe, dear. But you wanted to tell Simon something, remember?”
Yes. That’s right. Simon, I was going to say…..Mummy?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Can I take a picture of Simon on my new phone?”
“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind, darling? You don’t mind, do you, Simon?”
“I-I-I’d rather she….”
Too late. She was pretty quick on the draw, this kid, this little pain in the arse.
“Simon?”
“Yes!”
“Mrs Dawson says you can come to my party. It’s on the third of September. That’s a Saturday and she says she’s giving you the day off, and Billy will look after the salon for you. Isn’t that great?”
Something snapped inside my head. “Oh, shit!” I groaned.
“Mummy? What did he say? Did he do a swear, Mummy,” she whined, pretending to get distressed. Mrs Westfeather seemed to inflate like a giant balloon attached to a cylinder of gas.
“How dare you, young man! How dare you swear in front of my daughter!”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t a swear, really. I just remembered something!”
“Don’t you dare try to get out of it by lying to me, young man. We’re going to see your employer right this minute!”
And, grabbing Geraldine by the hand, she stormed off out of the salon and up the path towards reception.
“Oh, shit, shit, shit!” I cried. “What have I done?”
Billy put his arm round me and tried to comfort me. “Don’t worry, Sim, it’s not that bad. Listen, I have an idea. We can say you were saying “chic”, meaning, like, that would be really cool. And they misheard you.” He looked at me eagerly.
“Are you f***ing serious?” We stared at each other for a moment, then both of us collapsed in fits of laughter. “Billy,” I choked, “that is without doubt the most pathetic attempt at an excuse I’ve ever heard!”
But our hilarity was soon nipped in the bud. Sue’s voice crackled over the speaker. She did not sound happy.
“Simon. Get up here at once. At once, do you hear. I want you here in twenty seconds!”
I had no choice but to go as I was. I could see mother and daughter standing outside reception. Outrage was in every line of Mrs Westfeather’s considerable body. I legged it up the path. As I did so I heard a girl’s voice calling, “Come quick, you guys! Simon’s outside in his panties!”
The confrontation took place outside reception. Mrs Westfeather, Geraldine, and Sue were standing in a row, like a firing squad. I was aware of Holly End girls arriving from all points of the compass, and the sound of sniggering and suppressed giggles. I felt totally vulnerable in my tiny little latex pants.
“I have been informed that you swore at this young lady, Simon. Is that correct?”
“No Miss. I did not swear. I used a mild and common expletive. It was not directed at her, but was a general comment upon the complications of life. I also apologised if it caused her any offence. And I apologise to you as well.”
“I see. Is that all you have to say?”
“And we were on break. And we did not invite them in, they walked in.”
“So are you trying to blame them?”
I sighed with frustration. At that moment I was on the verge of swearing at Sue, and the word I had in mind wasn't "shit". I struggled to keep my cool.
“No, I’m not. I’m simply explaining what happened.”
“I see. Well you will be punished for this. The Committee will decide your punishment at the next meeting. Mrs Westfeather will be informed of their decision.”
Mrs Westfeather looked triumphant, but still vindictive. Geraldine wiped an imaginary tear from one eye.
“You will apologise to Geraldine now, in front of me. You will tell her you are looking forward to attending her birthday party on the third. On that day, as you will be acting as an employee of Holly End, I have the privilege of deciding your costume. But I hereby hand that privilege to Geraldine herself, since she is the one to whom you will owe duty and obedience.”
“I’m sorry, Geraldine. I’m really looking forward to your birthday party,” I lied.
“Huh,” retorted Mrs Westfeather. “Darling, Mrs Dawson is letting you decide what Simon should wear to your party. Anything you like!”
Geraldine regarded me wide-eyed, but she couldn’t hide the spiteful edge in her voice or the evil glint in her eye when she said, “I think the costume he’s wearing is very pretty….if he wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s completely up to you, dear,” smiled Sue, kindly. “Anything you want…”
“Okay, then, yes! Just as he is now!”
“You have your instructions, Simon,” said Sue coldly. “I’ll keep this outfit aside for you.”
“And the Committee’s decision?” asked Mrs Westfeather.
“I’ll be in touch. My apologies again for this distressing incident.”
As the offended pair strode away down the path, the girls crowded around.
“Oh, Simon! It’s the perfect little party outfit!”
“You’re going to be so admired! All those little girls….”
“What a sweet little girl! I do hope they have a good photographer. Will you show us the piccies?”
Sue turned and went inside without another word. The girls followed me all the way back down to the salon, tugging at my frills or trying to pinch my bottom. I got inside and locked the door behind me. Billy looked at me with an expression of sympathetic enquiry.
“Don’t ask.” I said.
-
I am surprised the little brat didn't want Sim in a little toddler's frock. I think the girls mum would have approved.
-
Patience
-
Chapter XXIII: Two Visits
I worried about that party all the afternoon. I was distracted and worked badly. Billy kept giving me anxious glances, and when the last customer had left he put his arm round me and tried to cheer me up.
“Don’t let it get to you, Sim. Maybe I could get permission to come with you, if that would help.”
“Thanks, Billy. It would, but it wouldn’t alter the fact that I’d be in the middle of a bunch of kids who are all going to be in my school this year, dressed like a juvenile tart. I remember Sue showing me that costume when it arrived, I whispered. “We’ve had it made especially for you!” she said, smirking like the bitch she is. I hoped I’d never have to wear it, but now I’m supposed to parade about in it in front of a bunch of eleven and twelve year old girls! I can’t do it!”
“It certainly is a bit cruel.”
“Cruel? That’s exactly it. And ruthless!” I added.
Billy looked thoughtful. “Is it worth pleading with her?”
“I would, if I thought it would do any good. But she’s actually looking forward to it. I can tell. If I plead, she’ll only say, “Sorry, Simon, it’s out of my hands now.””
“Yes, that was a clever move, wasn’t it, giving that Geraldine the decision. Could you plead with her or her mother, then?”
“I’m going to try. I’ve no other option.”
At that moment Sue’s voice came over the speaker. “Hurry up and change, boys. I’m coming to collect your costumes in five minutes.”
When we had changed, we carefully folded our costumes and put them back in their cloth bags ready for collection. Billy was sitting on the couch, deep in thought, when Sue arrived. She took the bags without further ceremony. “Don’t be late in the morning, boys. Billy, Janice at ten, remember.” And she started off up the path.
She had been gone only a few seconds when Billy suddenly jumped up and ran out of the door.
“Hey, where are you off to?” I shouted after him.
“Back in a minute!” he called back. I saw he had caught up Sue and was walking by her side. Maybe he was going to plead on my behalf? If so, he was wasting his time.
I slumped on the couch feeling miserable, wondering what I could say to Geraldine to change her mind. I’d have to ring her mother and make an appointment. I’d do it Monday – give them time to reconsider. Maybe I should write a letter of apology first.
Billy returned. I looked up. His eyes were shining.
“Well? What was that about?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, I have a punning clan.”
“A what?”
“You know, a bunch of Scotsmen making silly linguistic quips.”
“What?”
“A cunning plan, thicko.”
“Really? I know, disguise myself as a horse and mingle with the others in the field where she won’t notice me?”
“Not quite. I’m just trying to help. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Okay. Well I won’t start celebrating yet. I’m going to write to Mrs Westfeather, and hope she’ll allow me to go round there and grovel.”
“Yeah, well, I suppose there’s not much else you can do now.”
“Let’s quit this joint.”
“Yeah, let’s.”
Sunday 7 August. I was back in a more standard outfit for today’s sessions – red pants and gloves, Holly End T-shirt, red socks and trainers. My early customers left full satisfied. I had fifteen minutes break before Sadie and Clarissa were due, so I made myself a coffee. As I sat sipping it, it occurred to me that I should change into the T-shirt Clarissa had given me. It would be a nice gesture, and there’d be no-one else to see. When they arrived she registered it at once.
“Ah, my little Bear! What a nice surprise! Look, Sadie, he knows his name now.”
“His name and his nature! How are you, Simon?”
“Fine, thank you, Miss.”
The women seated themselves on the couch. I remained standing facing them. They both wore full riding gear, but not showy stuff. They lay their whips down next to them.
“We were coming for a hack today,” continued Sadie, “and we thought we’d look in on you. Where’s Billy? I thought he was working with you now.”
“He’s getting beautician lessons. He’s going to model all the dresses and things.”
“Oh, is that so? That’s perfect. You’ll make such a pretty couple. Anyway, down to business. We heard about your little expedition to ‘Miramis’.”
“‘Miramis’? Oh. You mean Miss Strickland’s house. How do you know the name? Have you been there?”
“Oh, yes,” said Clarissa, with a mischievous smile, “we’ve been to ‘Miramis’ a few times, haven’t we, Sadie? There’s more to that place than meets the eye, Simon, as I hope you’ll discover one day.”
“Seems you had fun, from what I’ve heard,” continued Sadie. “That redhead rather took over, Tamsin said.”
“You know Tamsin?”
“Oh, a little bit. She had other ideas, but Rebecca decided they should be nice to you as it was your first time. Next time Tamsin will be mistress of ceremonies. Then you’ll see.”
“She did seem quite scary, it’s true.”
“She is, believe me. Anyway, Clarissa and I were planning our own little party - a week Wednesday – and we would like to invite you and Billy – purely as guests, of course!”
“Ah. Miss Faversham. I’m awfully sorry, but Billy and I are at Scout camp all next week. We can’t get out of it. We’d love to, otherwise, of course.”
“Scout camp? Where?”
“In the New Forest. Near Lyndhurst. Very far away. I’m so sorry, there’s no way we could get back.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Yes, absolutely! It’s been planned for months.”
“Hmph!”
“We could insist….” said Clarissa.
“No, let them have their fun with their little Scout knots and their Ging Gang Goolies. They’re just kids, after all. We can wait.”
“It’s not like that, Miss. We do all sorts of things, orienteering, map-reading, learning survival techniques…”
“Oh, perfect. Survival techniques! Yes, you’re going to need them when we get our hands on you!” And they both burst out laughing.
“Hey, Clarissa,” exclaimed Sadie, “we’ve got another half hour. Let’s try out his new discipline pole while we’re here, shall we?”
“Good idea!”
Sadie produced a key and went to the private cupboard. Cue lots of laughter at my expense. I was soon fitted with a collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, and attached to the silver pole, standing up nice and straight, secured at neck, wrists and ankles, and unable to move. It was the first time this had happened to me, and I didn’t relish the idea of being at the mercy of these two. I must have showed it.
“Ooh, look at that sour face!” laughed Clarissa. “Here, this should cheer him up.” And she produced a gag from the cupboard. “Open wide, Simon! There, that’s much better!” she laughed, as she forced it into my mouth and buckled the strap behind my neck. “I’m sorry. It’s probably not as tasty as Billy, but you’ll have to make do!”
“Not as big, either!” added Sadie with a meaningful wink at her friend.
They went at sat on the coach, facing me.
“I had a chat to Rebecca yesterday,” said Sadie. “She told me you were fascinated with some of the photos in her b3edroom. Especially that Carmelita’s. Right?”
“Mmph!” I replied, gagtalk for “maybe”.
“Do you think Billy would like to be made into a pony?”
“Mmmm!” with a frown and a vigorous shake of the head.
“You, maybe?”
“Mm-mm!”
“Oh well, it was just an idea. Not that either of you could refuse, after what Rebecca has on you now! And I don’t mean the sing-song.”
I waited for an explanation.
“You and Billy are really “into” each other, aren’t you?” said Clarissa, with a short laugh.
My suspicion that our lovemaking had not been entirely private was confirmed.
“So just remember that when we next get together. Maybe all of us, Rebecca and Tamsin included, if you’re lucky!”
I did my best to glare at them, but you need your mouth free to glare effectively.
They got up to leave. “Sue will release you, I expect,” said Sadie. “Have a nice time at Scout camp. No hanky-panky in the tents, now! We’ll see you after you’re back.”
“Oh, and good luck at St. Catherine’s,” added Clarissa. From what I hear it would be perfect for you two.”
I was left tethered to my pole. That bitch Sue didn’t release me. She sent Jacquetta Wright and her friend down to the salon where they discovered me still in the same position! They were surprised, to say the least. Ms Wright had her PA with her, a studious-looking girl of about eighteen, her hair in a single plait, dressed in purple top and grey skirt, who blushed when she saw me. They took their time looking me up and down and taking me all in, pants and T-shirt and all, before Ms Wright suggested her colleague might remove my gag. When she extracted it from my mouth and saw the shape of it, her eyes widened, but she made no comment. Jacquetta Wright wasn’t fazed, however.
“Good afternoon, Simon. Nice to meet you. Billy’s on his way. This is Amanda, my assistant.”
“G-Good afternoon.” I paused, blushing myself, and not quite knowing what to say. I was desperately trying to remember where Clarissa had left the key. “I-I’m really sorry. Sue was supposed to release me. I, er, I’m sure she’ll be along any minute now.”
“No problem, Simon. Amanda, can you see if you can find the keys anywhere? What’s that on top of the cupboard? Yes, those. Try them.”
Amanda knelt in front of me and unlocked my ankles. “Yes, this one works.” Then she moved to my wrists, but instead of going around behind me, the silly girl, she stayed kneeling in front of me, working behind my back. I had to squirm sideways so she could get a better view of what she was doing, and she took ages. Jacquetta passed no comment, simply took a seat on the couch and looked round the room with casual interest. She wasn’t wearing the outfit I had admired in the photo I had seen, but her black skirt was definitely made of some sort of textured latex, and complemented by leather boots and jacket.
“Sue tells me you do quite well here. It’s a great service. We should book a couple of sessions, eh, Amanda?”
“Yes, Miss. I can do that before we leave if you like.” She finally freed my hands and stood up. She looked even more flushed, and there was a faint smile on her lips. Her breasts pressed against me as she undid the padlock on the back of my collar. I had taken her to be a little naïve, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll just go and change and I’ll be with you.”
“No, stay as you are,” said Jacquetta. At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and in walked Billy.
“Sorry I’m late,” he blurted, out of breath, “my makeup lesson overran a bit.”
“So I see,” said Jacquetta, observing the vision that stood in front of her. Billy certainly looked beautiful. He wore a short peach-coloured dress in some sort of sparkly spandex material, red sandals and a thin red choker with a bow at the throat. His face had been powdered and lightly rouged and when he moved his cheek bones sparkled slightly in the light. He wore bright red lipstick and red dangly clip-ons, which he kept fussing with. His hair had been styled, so that it was flat, except at the front where little black curls decorated his forehead. His eyes were shaded a delicate pink, and his lashes fluttered self-consciously as we all stared at him.
“Wow, Billy, you look great!” I exclaimed. I was thrilled at his appearance. I liked this look so much more than the frothy ‘little girl’ style he seemed to favour. I hoped his lessons would steer him further in this direction.
“Janice is taking me to get my ears pierced tomorrow,” he continued, excitedly, “so I can wear proper earrings.”
“Billy, this is Jacquetta and this is Amanda.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you!”
“And you, Billy. You look amazing. We saw your little performance. We weren’t so keen on the narrative, but that’s all forgotten now.”
“Ms Wright organises provincial arts festivals in the midlands,” said Amanda, “and she has a special interest in trans acts and trans burlesque in particular. That’s a difficult genre to define, but you two look as if you’d be perfect. You can project an aura of gender ambiguity which is just what we’re after.”
“So what I was wondering, boys, is whether you’d be prepared to get involved? We’d train and rehearse you, and if everything went to plan, we’d be thinking about starting performances early next year.”
“I don’t quite understand what we’d be doing,” I said, “could you explain it a bit more?”
“It’s difficult to provide a clear description,” said Jacquetta, “in fact, a lot depends on the performers and how we think they will come across. In your cases we might, for instance, play on the fact that you are both capable of appearing to be female, and then use some revelation of your true gender to shock the audience. You may be asked to be a little risqué at times, but you don’t give me the impression that would be a problem.” She smiled at me as she said this. “A lot of the time I present my work to private female audiences. I find they’re more appreciative and responsive than the general run of theatregoers. And they pay quite high prices for tickets, especially if the show gets a reputation for, shall we say, unusual spectacles. So we’re not asking you to perform for free, you understand.”
I looked at Billy. “Let’s have a go, Sim! Sounds like fun.”
“Okay, we’re in. But we have a lot on at the moment, plus we have to go back to school in a few weeks.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure we can arrange something with your school so you can rehearse in school hours. We have quite a reputation as a festival organiser and I’m sure working for us would qualify as ‘cultural education’!”
“We’re at different schools at the moment. But we’re both going to look at a new school next week, so we’ll let you know how that works out.”
“Okay, great. We’ll wait to hear from you, then. Jacquetta rose, Amanda opened the door, and they went out, giving us little waves as they left.
“Life’s getting complicated, Billy,” I observed.
“Yeah, but in a nice way,” he returned.
-
ChapterXXIV: Counter Measures
Monday 8 August. I spent the morning composing a letter to Mrs Westfeather. I had found her address in the Holly End visitors’ book. I would have been reluctant to ask Sue. It took me about eight drafts before I had something I felt able to send. I was still not happy with it, but I wanted to catch the post, so I sealed the envelope and ran to the postbox. This is what I wrote:
Dear Mrs Westfeather,
I am writing about Geraldine’s party in September. First of all, I would like to apologise again to you and to Geraldine for my unforgiveable behaviour on Saturday. I really didn’t mean to be rude, and my stupid comment wasn’t directed at either of you but was just because I’ve had so many humiliations recently. It can be quite difficult being at everyone’s beck and call all the time.
My other reason for writing is to ask you if there is any chance that you and Geraldine would permit me to wear a different costume for her party. Really, I would wear anything you chose, but this one I find so embarrassing, especially as Geraldine and many of her friends will be joining my school in a few weeks, and I don’t doubt several of them will have taken photos of me which they may decide to share with the rest of their year. I would be willing to do anything to assist you if you felt able to help me in this matter. Perhaps you would like me to clean your house on a regular basis free of charge, run errands, or do laundry. Or maybe you need someone to babysit Geraldine or help her with her homework? I really would be for ever grateful. I made a terrible mistake and I now regret it very much. I am attaching my email address and telephone number if you would prefer to contact me in either way. Thank you for taking the time to read this letter.
Yours very truly and humbly,
Simon Saunders
Yes, I know it was horribly grovelling, but I had to do something. I didn’t know how I could go through with it otherwise. I hoped she would reply quickly. My anxiety was growing each day that passed.
I didn’t do much for the rest of the day. I went onto the St. Catherine’s website and read about the school we were due to visit the next day. It sounded great, and they had all sorts of societies the students could join. They had a prefect system, and the prefects seemed to have quite a bit of power. It looked as if the teachers’ function was limited to teaching, and the prefects dealt with discipline and reported direct to the Headmistress.
It was about eight thirty in the evening when the phone rang. It was Billy.
“Sim, hi! Are you in?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I come round?”
“Course. What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there.”
He was here in fifteen minutes. Bea let him in and he came bounding up to my room.
“I may have saved your bacon.”
“How?”
“Right. You know I followed Sue the other day?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay. I wanted to see what she did with your costume. You know she normally leaves them at reception for Jane to sort out. Well, she took yours out the back and I saw her go into her office. I guessed she was going to hide it in there until it was needed. While I was in reception I took the opportunity, when no-one was looking, to take off my watch and toss it into the lost property box. I’ll explain why in a minute. So this evening I sneaked along to the school after Sue had left – you know she always leaves around six. I climbed in over the fence by the lane, and hid by the tack room. I could see Mary at reception. She always does the evening shift. The only other people I could see around were Jane and a couple of the girls, but they were down in the bottom field sorting the horses out and putting them in their stables.”
I listened, fascinated. “Go on.”
I waited till Mary went off to the loo or something. Then I nipped in, grabbed the keys from the board, and slipped out the back. I let myself into Sue’s office…”
“You broke in?”
“I didn’t break anything. I opened the door with the key, and started searching the place. You know the counter behind her desk? I unlocked the left-hand drawer and there at the back was your bag.”
“You stole it?”
“No, I’m not stupid. I did something much cleverer. I pushed it over the back of the drawer so it fell down behind the cupboard. It won’t be easy to get out, but it’s still there. I reckon if she doesn’t check before the day of the party she won’t be able to find it.”
“F***ing brilliant!” I exclaimed. “Wait a minute. How did you get out? And how did you return the keys?”
“This is what I did. I went out the fire exit at the back. Then I sauntered back to reception. “Oh, hi, Billy,” says Mary, “How can I help you? What are you doing here today?” “Oh, I think I may have dropped my watch here at the weekend,” I said. “Could you have a look for me?” Well, you know the lost property box is always put in the kitchen cupboard at the end of the day, so off she goes to check. I replace the keys to Sue’s office, she comes back with my watch. “Is this it?” “Oh, great, thanks so much, Mary!” And off I go.”
“You’re a genius!”
“Yeah, I know. It may not work, of course, but it should do providing she doesn’t check the drawer. There was nothing else in there, so you have a chance.”
“Thanks, Billy! You should work for MI5.”
“Maybe I do,” he laughed. “If I did, I wouldn’t even tell you.”
“And we still have the St. Catherine’s plan,” I said. “If we move schools that will solve a whole lot more problems.”
“Yes. I can’t wait till tomorrow. Fingers crossed.”
-
very interesting!
-
Chapter XXV: St. Catherine’s
Much excitement amongst the Committee at the prospect of the boys ending up at St. Catherine’s. There’s a lot more to that school than meets the eye, as Rebecca well knows. Her scheme to introduce them to Antonia Mortimer worked perfectly. Antonia appears so straight and open, no-one could imagine…. But then, she and Rebecca go back a long way, and share a lot of interests! Well, better not say any more at the moment. I don’t want to anticipate developments. Suffice it to say we did all we could to clear the way for them. Anne’s completely on board with the plan. She had so much trouble with Simon when he was younger that she always quite liked the idea of nurturing his feminine side. A move to St. Catherine’s would represent the flowering of that growth. She was so grateful to Mum when she started the ball rolling by putting him in rubber pants.
Mum and I contacted Mrs Turner and we all got together to discuss how we could help her with Robert if Billy went off to boarding school. She’s a really nice lady, and we got on well. We agreed that I would help out with the school run. Also, he really likes animals, so I’ll be taking him to Holly End once a week to let him meet the horses, and maybe even start him on riding lessons. So we were hoping the boys would take to St. Catherine’s of their own volition. It would have been so unpleasant if we’d had to insist! But as you will see from Simon’s diary, it looks as though we’re not going to have any problems!
Tuesday 9 August. This morning Billy and I cycled over to St. Catherine’s. We had an appointment with Miss Mortimer at ten. We had to cycle past Miss Strickland’s house to get there, and we realised how close it was – only a few hundred yards further along the lane. We were both so excited when we turned into the entrance. There was a semi-circular gravel drive, with a big parking space and bike racks to the left of the main building. Beyond the parking space we could see other buildings and fields. But as for the school itself, it looked enormous. It had obviously started off as a huge Victorian mansion, orange-red brick with stone corners and windows and lots of turrets like witches’ hats. We pushed our bikes up to the main entrance, which was at the top of a broad flight of stone steps. We noticed there was a gulley about six feet wide all around the house, protected by bars. Below we could see the basement - darkened windows and pipework. “That’s the moat!” quipped Billy. We left our bikes next to the steps and climbed to the front doors – big black double doors with brass fittings. They seemed to be locked, so we pushed the bell labelled “HEADMISTRESS”. Nothing happened for about a minute, then we heard the sound of unlocking. The door opened. I suppose we expected to see Miss Mortimer, but instead we were greeted by a tall, slim girl with dark hair wearing a dark green jumper and skirt. Pinned to her chest was a blue badge with the word “PREFECT” on it in gold.
“Saunders and Turner? Please come in and follow me.” She turned and walked quickly ahead of us down a long, unlit corridor. We hastened after her.
“The main lights are all turned off during the holidays,” she explained blandly, without turning round, “so you won’t see the place at its best.”
“Is it a nice school?” asked Billy, nervously.
“You can ask me questions later. I’ll be giving you a tour. Here we are.” She stopped dead outside a green door, knocked, and entered. “Miss, Saunders and Turner are here.”
“Show them in! Boys, how nice to see you! Do come and have a seat. Alicia, I’ll call you in half an hour or so.”
“Yes, Miss.” And Alicia left us alone with Miss Mortimer.
“Welcome to St. Catherine’s, boys. I hope you’re excited. I certainly am.”
We smiled. She seemed such a nice woman. “Alicia is a prefect, then?” I asked.
“Yes, she’s in the upper sixth. Such a nice girl. Would you both like some coffee? And I have a few little pastries here too, in case you’re hungry.”
While we ate and drank, Miss Mortimer filled us in on the history and workings of the school. She told us the school itself had been founded in the Edwardian era. When she took over as head, things had been a little chaotic by the sound of it. But the present school was organised purely according to her principles.
“I don’t believe in asking teachers to oversee discipline. They are there only to teach, and I employ them solely on the basis of their academic abilities. Asking them to keep order as well has two adverse effects. First, it distracts them from the business of teaching. Second, it creates complicated relationships with individual students. And that is exacerbated by the fact they belong to a different generation. That is why I created the system of prefects. All the girls in the upper sixth get to be prefects. At any one time there are five prefects, and they change roughly every eight weeks. The order is decided by ballot, and then I draw up the schedule for the whole year. They have almost absolute power to discipline or punish. It is rare for any student to have to be referred to me, but if that were to happen the question of expulsion would have to be considered. That is why the prefects exact such complete obedience from the other girls. The first group of prefects this year will be Alicia, whom you’ve met, and four others whom you will be introduced to if you decide to take up the offer of places. Prefects, as you may have inferred, address students by their last names, and students address prefects as “Miss” or “Miss Smith” or whatever.”
Billy and I looked at each other. “I think it sounds like a great system,” I said, “I have a teacher who victimises me all the time. I’d much rather report to another student.”
“Well, it seems to work,” said Miss Mortimer. “Now, here are timetables for the coming year.” She handed us a sheet of paper each. “You would be expected to work quite hard, but we place of limit on homework of two hours per night, and none at weekends. We intend that you should do your learning in class. You will also see that you have a morning break of twenty minutes, a full hour for lunch, and a fifteen-minute break in the afternoon, unless your lessons finish early, which they will two days of the week. I understand there is only so much the adolescent brain can absorb in one day! Of course we aim to get you good grades in your exams so that you can go to university, but we also place great emphasis on your personal development, so that you will find there are numerous societies and pursuits available to you. Any questions so far?”
“Are we really going to get all this for free, Miss?” asked Billy. “I’m just asking because my mum’s not that well off, I don’t think.”
“Please don’t worry about that, Billy. It’s all taken care of. This is a wealthy institution. People pay substantial sums to have their daughters study here, and we also have partial charitable status because we subsidise several of our students for that very reason, that their parents could not otherwise afford to pay for them. In fact, we would encourage you, if you decide to join us, to board with us. I understand from your parents and guardians that your domestic duties can easily be taken care of, so you have no worries on that score. I think Simon’s sister and aunt have already spoken to your mother about the care of your brother – Robert, is it? – and he won’t suffer in any way. Quite the opposite.”
“When does term start?” I asked.
“Term this year starts on September the sixth, which is a Tuesday. You could come in a day early to settle in, if you wish. But before we make any plans, you’d better take a look around. Then you can decide on whether you want to do the trial period. If you want to join us without a trial period, you’d be very welcome of course. But it’s totally your decision, boys.”
“Thank you, Miss Mortimer.”
She picked up the phone. “Alicia? They’re ready, if you’d like to come and collect them.”
As we sat and waited for Alicia, Billy chatted with Miss Mortimer. I fantasized how nice it would be to be here, away from all the complications just around the corner. Geraldine’s party on the third. Would Sue find that costume, or had Billy’s ‘cunning plan’ worked? Thinking about costumes led my mind to the school show on the first. I’d almost forgotten about that! I knew what costume I was expected to wear for the opener. Whether it was that or the pink dress I’d got from Mrs Travers was irrelevant. No, what was really worrying me was the closer, and the leotard and pants I was supposed to wear. How embarrassing! I blushed at the mere thought. And then, in the back of my mind, there was the ‘punishment’ Sue had promised me for my behaviour in front of Geraldine. Could she have forgotten? No, don’t be stupid, I thought to myself. She was probably hatching up some evil plan at that very moment. But I was saved from further pointless speculation by the return of Alicia.
“This way, please. Follow me.”
“Thank you, Alicia. Bring them back here when you’re finished.”
Alicia led us back down the corridor to a wide oak staircase. “I’ll show you the classrooms first. She ran up the stairs, the concussion of her school shoes echoing in the empty stairwell.
“We’ll go up to the third floor first. On this floor, first and second years.” She marched us past modern, light classrooms equipped with double desks and computers and whiteboards, their walls hung with posters and children’s artwork. At each end of this corridor there were toilets, and spiral staircases wound upwards from stone portals.
“What’s up there?” asked Billy, craning his neck.
“Storage. And prisoners’ cells.” She smiled, enigmatically. I assumed she was joking.
We descended. The next floor was for the third and fourth years. Then down to the first floor.
“This is for the fifth and lower sixth. You’d be here if you joined us.”
“They’re really cool classrooms, Simon. They make my school look a real dump.”
“Mine too.”
“The upper sixth has one classroom on the ground floor at the back of the main building. I’ll show you. But first, the dormitories. They’re in the east wing. You can access them through doors on any of the first three floors.” She conducted us into a separate part of the old building. There were three levels with about ten double rooms on each level, five on each side, and a staircase at the east end. “About half the girls are boarders. If you decided to board, you’d of course share a room. Let’s have a look at one.”
She opened a door to reveal a cheerful room painted a pale green, with two desks, PCs, and two single beds, with a well-equipped bathroom en suite. The window looked out over a side garden with trees and neatly laid-out flower beds. “The ones on the other side look over the front drive,” said Alicia, “so these are better really.”
“Wow, it’s so nice,” mused Billy. “Imagine how great it would be for us here, Sim.”
After we had checked out the dorms, she led us back down the staircase, and past the head’s study, to a large, airy room which looked out over gardens and fields. This was the upper sixth classroom. There were desks, but they were arranged differently, around three sides of the room, each equipped with a PC. On the left was a door marked ‘PRIVATE’. Alicia noticed me looking at it.
“That’s the prefects’ room. Come on, I’ll show you.”
She unlocked the door with a key she produced from her skirt pocket, and took us into a room almost as big, with a few desks around the walls, a bookcase, armchairs, and a little side kitchen. Here there was only one strip of windows high up on the outside wall. At the far end was another door, jet black with a barred circle painted on it in red. It was fitted with a combination lock.
“Where does that go?” asked Billy.
“Never mind. Better for you if you never find out,” replied Alicia, mysteriously. She quickly changed the subject. “Now, all we have left to see are the new buildings at the back.” She led us out and through a back door. There was a short path through the nearest gardens leading to a large group of low, modern, grey buildings. These, it transpired, housed the school canteen, a gym, a swimming pool, a dance room, and a little theatre, with all necessary facilities such as toilets, kitchens, changing rooms, and even a bar! We were astonished. But I think we had already made up our minds some time earlier.
“We’ve gotta go for it, Billy,” I whispered.
“Too right, Sim. This place is amazing. I can’t wait to get away from that shithole I go to at the moment.”
“Yeah, and I can escape from Geraldine and all her disgusting little friends. I mean, I don’t know them, but I bet they are.”
“Okay. Trial period?”
“Forget it!”
“I agree. When do you think we’ll get our uniforms?”
“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” I laughed. “Soon enough. Skirts?”
“You bet!”
By the time Alicia had conducted us back to Miss Mortimer’s office, we were bubbling over with enthusiasm.
“Well boys? What do you think of our school?”
“It’s amazing, Miss. We’d like very much to transfer here. We don’t need a trial period. We’re certain”
“Yes, totally!” added Billy.
“And we’d like to be boarders, too, if that’s all right.” I said.
“Oh, I’m so pleased, boys! I’m sure you’ve made the right decision.” And she actually got up and gave each of us a hug! If that had been Miss Benson, I’d have been expecting a knee in the crotch!
“Alicia, thank you for coming in today. Please look after the boys for the first week or so at the beginning of term. Make sure they get to know the ropes.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Miss. I will!”
“Thank you so much for showing us around, Alicia,” added Billy.
“No problem,” she replied. “But remember, please, when you start here, I’ll be ‘Miss’ or ‘Miss Kelderman’ to you. Get used to it. Familiarity to a prefect is an offence.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Miss. I’m sorry,” blurted Billy, turning red. “I won’t forget.”
Alicia – Miss Kelderman – left. Miss Mortimer looked at us ruefully.
“Yes, they’re very strict about that. About lots of things, actually,” she added, thoughtfully.
“But back to practicalities. I’ll be writing to your parents to confirm your places, and I’ll handle all the formalities with your present schools. Now, would you like your uniforms today?”
“Oh, yes please, if it’s possible, Miss,” said Billy, all excited.
“It is, Billy. We keep extensive stocks here. I’ll ask Miss dic-ks, the school secretary, to take you to the uniform room and get you sorted out. She picked up the phone and pressed a number. “Miss dic-ks, I have two new pupils for uniforms. Thank you.”
A knock at the door. Miss dic-ks entered. A plump, middle-aged woman with steel-blue eyes.
“Ah, the new boys. I’ve heard all about you, gentlemen. Please follow me.”
As she led us to the uniform room, which was near the front entrance, next to the school office, she eulogised about the school and about our joining it.
“I’m sure you’ll be happy here. The girls are all so nice! It’ll be so lovely to have some boys here too at last. I’m sure you’ll both be in great demand. Both so good-looking as well.”
We grinned at each other behind her back.
“Right here we are. Everything is arranged in sections. Now, first I need to take your measurements, then I’ll be able to find you the right sizes.”
As she measured us, she approached the crucial question with some hesitation.
“Now, boys, the Head did mention to me that you, er, might be gender flexible? I just need to confirm what…what type of uniform you’d be looking for. Obviously, we do have trousers available, as a lot of the girls prefer them, especially in winter.”
“No thank you, Miss dic-ks,” I answered boldly. “We’re really very keen to fit in and so we’d like proper girls’ uniforms please. Everything the girls wear.”
“Oh, of course…. Absolutely. But the summer knickers may not be suitable,” she laughed, indicating a box of shiny, lace-trimmed panties in a variety of designs.
“Oh, they’re beautiful!” cried Billy, diving (metaphorically) into the box and riffling through them.
“Oh, goodness…” said Miss dic-ks, a little startled. “Well, of course, you can have anything you want. You have an allowance of seven pairs of summer and seven pairs of winter knickers …panties, if you like …the same of gym knickers, the same of tights, of stockings, of knee socks. You have shirts and ties and jumpers and track suits, T-shirts, shoes, of course, skirts in three different lengths depending on the weather, oh, and even green school hats and straw hats for summer. Does that sound good?” We nodded enthusiastically. She smiled. “Let’s get started, then!”
By the time we had finished we had a huge mound of new clothes each. Miss dic-ks said that as we were going to be boarders, they’d be placed in our room ready for us when we arrived.
She seemed genuinely happy for us. She had a motherly way with her. Having sorted out our clothing to our mutual satisfaction, we said goodbye, and returned to Miss Mortimer’s office. She handed out some printed sheets of information for us to read, and by lunchtime we were on our bikes heading home.
“This is gonna be fun!” I said.
“Yeah. We’ll be together for once. And we might even get half an education.”
“I wonder what the teachers will be like?”
“Clever, probably. Not like our present ones.”
“It’s a month today, and we’ll be back here with our own room!”
“Yes. Let’s go in the day before, if we can.”
“Definitely!”
-
Chapter XXVI: A Bitch and a Boss
10 August. This morning brought an email from Mrs Westfeather. It read as follows.
“Dear Simon,
I have received your letter begging me for a reprieve. Not wishing to crush your hopes without consulting the object of your rudeness, I showed it to my daughter. I regret she remains adamant that you must wear your “pretty yellow outfit” as she calls it, as she likes it so much. So there is no room for compromise here. Such a pity that you will have to parade about in front of Geraldine and all her little friends looking like some weird rubber doll, being filmed and photographed and stared at all day long until you are totally humiliated – and that by the time term starts you will be famous throughout the first form, and attract the attention of all those horrid, spiteful little kids you so dislike! But what can I do?
I must admit, however, your offer of becoming my little slave boy, cleaning my house, waiting on me and my friends, naked except for your little latex panties, is quite appealing. I haven’t heard yet what punishment Sue is planning for you, but if you would prefer to substitute your suggested function for it, I would express myself quite satisfied and ask Sue if she would agree. Do let me know without delay if this idea meets with your approval, and if so, I am having some friends round on Friday who would love to be pampered by you.
Yours very sincerely,
Trudy Westfeather
PS. Remind Sue to pack your collar and cuffs with their padlocks for the 3td, would you? Thank you so much.”
“That bitch!” I cried, when I’d finished it. “She’s loving every minute of it! Well, wait and see, you old cow. You might find there’s no costume forthcoming. Whatever else Sue finds can’t be as bad as that.” I wrote back, “Thanks for nothing. Forgive me if I don’t avail myself of your kind offer.”
11 August. I had a call from Sue this morning.
“Simon. Good morning. How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you, Miss.”
“Simon. Congratulations on St. Catherine’s. It’s great news. I know you and Billy are going to be happy there.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“But back to more mundane matters. Mrs Westfeather sent me copies of your emails. I’m sorry you thought fit to reject her offer. It was your suggestion in the first place, after all.”
“Yes, but I offered it in return for not having to wear that costume. Not as an extra.”
“So you’re saying you’d prefer my punishment to serving her?”
“Frankly yes. Whatever it is. I don’t like her, and I couldn’t bring myself to grovel to her in that way.”
“Well your first email was quite grovelling.”
“Yes, but that was about the costume. Now she’s rejected my pleas she can go and get …”
“Simon! Simon, don’t say anything you’ll regret even more. Now calm down.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ve decided to punish you at Holly End this Sunday. All your bookings for that day are cancelled. Tell Billy he won’t be required.”
“What are you going to do? Will it be painful?”
“No, not painful. Probably quite relaxing. Even fun. Don’t worry. Come in just as usual.”
“Okay… Can’t you say?”
“Sorry. You’ll find out soon enough. Bye bye for now.”
“Bye, Miss.”
What is she planning, I wonder? Ah, well, at least it’ll be over on Sunday. Better than slaving away for that...that…for weeks. And Monday we’re off to camp. Hooray!
-
Chapter XXVII: My Little Pony (Part 1)
We all knew what was planned for Simon. We had a Committee meeting the previous weekend, and two subjects came up – Simon’s punishment was one, advertising for the late summer gymkhana on the 28th was the other. Someone suggested we should put Simon on the posters as one of the attractions, along with the food market, the raffle, and so on. Something about, “Get a boot-shine before you compete”, that sort of thing. That led to the question of what outfit he should appear in on the poster. Sue said, “I suppose a Holly End T-shirt and matching pants? Maybe thigh socks? Unless anyone can think of anything better?” She looked around the table. “I can think of something better,” said a sly voice. It was Rebecca Strickland. “And you can kill two birds with one stone. A great attraction and the perfect punishment all in one. And I and my friend Tamsin can arrange it for you.”
“Tell us.” Said Sue. And she did. It was evil, but brilliant. Read on.
Sunday 14 August. Perhaps the worst day of my life. So far. I always have to qualify that statement with “so far” because these days I never know what’s around the next corner. I hope things will be better when Billy and I get to St. Catherine’s.
Saturday passed off uneventfully. Actually, the customers were quite nice, and I got a lot of tips. So I came to work on Sunday a bit apprehensive about what was planned for me, but basically happy, thinking about the dosh I’d made and the prospect of Scout camp the next day. All I had to do was to get through today and things would look up. I went straight up to reception. Sue was waiting for me. I thought I caught a glimpse of Tamsin Stratford dodging into one of the back rooms, but I couldn’t imagine what she would be doing there, so I dismissed it as paranoia on my part. Events were to prove the opposite, however.
Sue asked me to come to the dressing room.
“We have a new costume for you today. Something a bit special. I hope you like it. I have a feeling you will.”
She opened a drawer and took out a silk bag, from which she produced a dark brown pile of rubber. She shook it out and held it up. A brown latex catsuit!
“It’s your size, Simon. I’m hoping it will fit okay. Want to try it on?”
Now, I had never been completely encased in rubber before. The thought made me shiver a little. I experienced a strange buzz of anxiety in my stomach as I touched the smooth fabric. Butterflies, in fact, though I had never had such a feeling before. I felt frightened, but excited.
“Okay, Sue. What’s the idea?”
“We thought we should experiment a little. I’m interested to see how you’ll react. Go on, try it on. Call me when you’re dressed.” She went out and closed the door.
Okay, I thought, why not. I examined the suit. It felt heavy – the latex was clearly quite heavy-duty stuff. It had feet, and a high neck. There was a front zip from the waist to the collar, and the collar had loops and a matching leather strap. There was a short zip at the crotch so I could have a pee if I needed to. There was also a very small hole in the butt – probably, I thought, to allow ventilation. Anyway, I gingerly stepped into it. Whether it was incredibly smooth, or had been lightly lubricated, I don’t know, but it slid on easily. I pulled it up to my waist. It fitted to perfection. I took the plunge. I slipped in my arms, pulled it onto my shoulders, and zipped it up to the collar. I found myself actually trembling with excitement! I took deep breaths until I felt a bit calmer. The suit was warm and comfortable. I looked in the mirror. It fitted well all right, but I wasn’t wild about the colour. Brown! I liked bright colours, like red or blue or green. Never mind. I called Sue.
“Ready. Miss!”
She came straight in. When she saw me she beamed with pleasure.
“It’s beautiful! You look smashing, Simon.”
She fussed around pulling at the latex here and there until she was satisfied it was properly fitted.
“Now, it has a hood to go with it as well.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You’ll be totally encased. All but your face.”
She got the hood from a drawer. It was made of a slightly lighter weight latex, thank goodness. With some difficulty, mainly due to my unruly hair, she finally got it in place. Again, I looked in the mirror. The only parts of me now visible were my hands and my face, encircled by the hood. The hood restricted my hearing, so that Sue had to repeat her next instructions in a louder voice
“Come here, Simon. COME HERE! I need to fix the hood properly.” She pulled the strap out of the collar loops, and I saw that the loops fitted through slots in the base of the hood. Sue pulled them all through, then fed the strap through and buckled it at the back of my neck.
“There. Now you can’t escape!”
“Who says I want to?” I laughed. I was beginning to feel euphoric, and even a little aroused. Being completely covered in latex felt like a sort of dream fantasy. I walked round the room, getting used to the feeling, and wallowing in the sensuality of my new outfit. As my body warmed, my nostrils filled with the intoxicating scent of rubber. I felt dizzy, and had to sit down. Sue stood watching me, rubbing her hands with satisfaction.
“How does that feel, Simon?”
“Pretty amazing, actually. Is this my punishment?”
“Part of it. We still have a couple of refinements to apply. Back in a mo.”
She was back in a few seconds, carrying what looked like leather tubes.
“Put your arm out. Come on!”
I did as she bid. She took one of the tubes. It was nearly as long as my arm, made of stiff brown leather, split along its length and fitted with a row of little buckles. She opened it slightly so that she could slide it on, and holding it firmly closed, she buckled it up, wrist buckle last. My arm was held straight. I couldn’t bend it at all.
“What’s the idea, Sue?”
“Support. You’ll see. Now the other one.”
She repeated the process on my other arm. I stood there all trussed up, wondering what this was all about. I was soon to find out.
“Okay girls, you can come in now!” Sue called. And who should walk through the door but Miss Strickland, Tamsin, Sadie and Clarissa! And all of them in riding gear! My heart sank. I stared at them, uncomprehending. Tamsin carried a sports bag. “Hello, Simon!” they chorused.
“Surprise!” cried Tamsin. “A nice surprise for our little boy. All your friends are here to help you have a nice day!”
Miss Strickland took charge. “Right. Down to work. Simon, we’re going to add a few aids to your costume. Please don’t resist. You know it would be useless, and would only result in further unnecessary punishment. Okay?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”.
“No,” said Tamsin, “you don’t. So just co-operate and we’ll go easy on you.”
First, they turned me round and made me get down on all fours. Then a leather harness was attached to my waist and thighs; a waistband, thigh-bands around the tops of my thighs, connected with side-straps. Wide cuffs were buckled around my ankles, and these were attached with steel links to the backs of the thigh straps, so that my legs were doubled back and my weight was all on my knees. Then I was laid on my side, and Tamsin produced from her bag a set of four polished wooden hooves. When I saw those, I knew what my punishment would be.
“You’re ponifying me! Like you did to Carmelita!”
“Clever boy!” said Miss Strickland.
“Yes,” said Sue, “You’re going to be the Holly End Gymkhana pin-up pony, you lucky thing!”
“No! It’s not fair!” I moaned, at which they all burst out laughing.
“Wait and see, Simon,” said Sadie, “you’re going to have such fun, believe me!”
I didn’t believe her, but I decided to shut up and deny them the pleasure of witnessing my distress.
The hooves were thickly padded. The back ones were fitted with padded cups that enclosed my knees, and secured with straps around the thigh and calf. For my front ‘feet’ my hands were first strapped into soft padded leather pouches, and these were then placed inside the hooves and again secured with straps. All the equipment was cleverly designed and, I have to say, beautifully crafted. When they were satisfied that everything was properly attached, they made me walk around the room a few times.
“He can move, can’t he?” remarked Clarissa.
“Yes. Maybe a little too freely at the moment,” said Tamsin. And she produced two short chains which she attached, one between my wrists and the other between my knees, so I could only take tiny steps.
“We need him to stay still for a bit. Now, head harness….”
Tamsin and Rebecca knelt down either side of me to fit the head harness. It was made of dark tan leather. One strap encircled my head just above my eyes. It was fitted with two horse-like leather ears, which stuck up straight on either side.
“His ears are pricked. He must be quite happy,” commented Sue.
“Hm, that’s not all that’s pricked, I’m thinking,” said Tamsin, running her hand along under my belly and laughing. From the back of this brow-strap, another one ran down and buckled onto the back of my neck collar. At the level of my mouth, straps were attached to this back strap, and they in turn were secured to the upper strap with broad leather bands at either side of my face. The ends of these lower straps dangled at the sides of my mouth. I didn’t doubt they were intended to attach to a bit. I was right. Tamsin showed it to me. It was a thick black rubber sausage-shaped thing, with a bulge at each end pierced by big steel rings.
“We won’t put this on yet, Simon. But you can see how it works. Those side-straps buckle around the rings, and we can make them as slack or as tight as we wish. So I advise you not to misbehave.”
“And we also have these,” added Miss Strickland, showing me a pair of leather blinkers. “These simply snap onto the side-pieces and prevent you getting distracted. We’ll keep these in reserve just in case you’re tempted to ogle any of the grooms.”
“The grooms? Please don’t let them see me like this!”
“Oh, it’s unavoidable, I’m afraid.” said Sue. “We have to take you outside for the photos. Horses and ponies need to be seen in their natural setting.”
“Yeah? Well my natural setting is indoors, Miss.”
“Not today, Simon. Simon the Pony is going to graze in the fields today.”
“So, girls, what do you think?” asked Tamsin, standing up.
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Clarissa.
“Perfect!” from Sue. “Okay then, shall we make our way to Reception?”
Rebecca Strickland gave be a tap on my flank with her whip. “Come on pony, this way.”
I was still tethered about the hooves with those chains, so I progressed slowly along the corridor, the women chattering away around me. I was disgusted to see more people waiting expectantly as we approached. Stella! Oh, no. Jane and Phoebe and Beth and the others. And who was that? Oh god, that woman from the local paper who tried to interview me at the show, ready with her camera.
“Your sister’s here, Simon. She’ll be making her usual excellent video. But we need some really professional shots for the gymkhana posters, so we invited along Marion Davies from the ‘Herald’. She’s also kindly agreed to write a short article about Holly End and about your boot salon.”
“Oh, great, Sue. How thoughtful of you!”
“Now, now. No sarcasm, please. You know better than that. And try to pretend you’re not getting a kick out of that rubber suit!”
-
Chapter XXVII: My Little Pony (Part 2)
I finally made it to Reception, and everyone clustered round, touching and patting and stroking me like I was a real horse. Beth knelt down by my head, patted me on the cheek, and offered me a Polo. I actually took it, which of course delighted everyone.
“Beth,” said Rebecca, “as you’re obviously so good with ponies, would you mind putting on his bit?” She handed her the rubber sausage.
“Of course!” said Beth, pushing it confidently into my mouth, forcing my jaws apart, and skilfully buckling the cheek straps to the rings. She adjusted them carefully. “There. Not too loose, not too tight. Just right, I think.”
They may have been just right, but I immediately started dribbling onto the carpet. I couldn’t help it.
“Better take him out now,” said Sue, and I was encouraged out of the door on to the pathway.
“Shall we finish off, Sue?” asked Tamsin. “Then if you wanted, Marion could get to work.”
“Yes, thanks, Tamsin. Go ahead.”
I really believe that they now regarded me as an animal. They had stopped using my name, and the little crowd that were witnessing my humiliation had stopped giggling and were just chatting amongst themselves about the gymkhana and other horsey things. Laura was there, and Denise, and a couple of others I didn’t recognise.
“Where’s his saddle?” Tamsin called. “Oh, thank you, Clarissa. I hope these girths aren’t too short. Keep still, boy, while I do this.”
I felt a little saddle thrown onto my back, and then straps being tightened under my tummy. I tried to look round.
“Rebecca? Could you put his blinkers on, please? He keeps craning round.”
Rebecca came over and snapped the blinkers into place. Now I could only see ahead. I dribbled profusely and shook my head with frustration.
“I’ve got his tail here, when you’re ready,” I heard Sue whisper. Tail? They hadn’t forgotten anything, had they. I guessed that would be attached to my waist harness.
“Okay. Just fixing the saddle. There, all firm and snug.”
I felt things dangling from it. Were they …?
“Just need to adjust the stirrups. There, that’s looks about right. Do you think so, Rebecca?”
“Yes, that should be perfect. Where’s that tail?”
Now they were behind me. Someone grabbed my feet and pulled them apart, as if to get access to my bottom. Then, to my great horror, I felt something probing my behind. Instinctively, I lurched forward. I tried to escape but I only got as far as the grass next to the path. I was grabbed by several pairs of hands.
“Hold him!” I heard Sue shout. “Hold him right there. I’ve got an idea.”
They held me until she returned. She appeared in my field of vision, carrying some tent pegs and a mallet.
“Now don’t be a naughty pony! Behave or it will be even worse for you.”
She placed the end of s steel peg through one of the links of my wrist chain and hammered it into the turf. The next minute she was doing the same behind me. I was now quite helpless. I couldn’t move an inch. The probing started again. Now I understood the function of the little hole in the butt of the suit. A nozzle was inserted into my anus, and something cold and slimy was pumped into me. Beth’s face appeared in front of me. “Lubricating gel!” she whispered. “Would you like to see your tail? Tamsin! Show him his tail!”
“Here, Beth, you show him.” Something heavy hit the ground next to my head. Beth picked it up and put it in front of my face. I moaned inarticulately and shook my head vigorously. But she just smiled. She was holding what looked like a real horse’s tail, but the hairs were embedded in a steel ring, and attached to the ring was a large black rubber butt plug. Beth smiled evilly.
“Tamsin? Can I put it in?” she asked.
“Why not? You’re the pony expert!”
“Ooh, thank you!”
She jumped up and disappeared from view. I tensed myself, pressing my cheeks together as hard as I could. But resistance was pointless. Hands held me open, and the large plug slipped into me as if it had been made for me, filling me up.
“That’s it, Beth. Push it right in so only the tail is showing on the outside.” I felt the rubber snap back against my bum. “Perfect!”
I groaned in despair.
“There. He’s all ready. Marion?”
“Could we put him in the field so I can get the other horses in the background?” Marion asked.
“Of course,” said Sue. “Let’s take off those chains now, shall we? Then he can walk down to the gate by himself.”
My chains were removed. I found that, wearing the big hooves, I was quite stable, and could walk easily. But I could feel my tail swishing from side to side as the plug oscillated in my bum, causing much mirth amongst those following. It was also giving me a slight erection, but fortunately the latex suit was heavy enough to disguise the fact. I would have hated them to think I was enjoying this ordeal!
At the gate, Beth slipped a rope through my bit ring and led me to a level piece of ground, facing the far side of the field. My audience was behind me, so I couldn’t see anything of what was going on.
“How’s this?”
“Fine, thanks,” said Marion’s voice, and I heard her camera clicking away. “Beth, maybe you could stand by his head? Great. Perfect! Thanks. Now by himself? Lovely. Such a pretty pony!”
Well, I thought, this wasn’t so bad. They’d have some pretty embarrassing photos, of course, but with these blinkers on no-one would be able to see my face anyway. Surely this session couldn’t last that long? Perhaps I’d be freed by lunchtime. I could go over to Billy’s this afternoon and help him pack for tomorrow. The bus was picking us up at 8.30 tomorrow. We should be in the New Forest well before lunch.
“Okay, I’m done,” I heard Marion say, “I’ve got all I need of those.” Great! I thought, sounds like we’re finished. But then, muffled by my hood, I heard lots of ecstatic “hellos” and “how are yous” and “so nice to see yous!”. More people were arriving. But who, for goodness sake?
I soon found out. I could hear distant ejaculations of surprise and delight, and an unpleasant laugh I thought I recognised. After a minute of two of murmured conversation, a pair of riding boots appeared in front of me. And then another pair. Little riding boots. With silver spurs. One pair of black rubber, the other of bright red rubber! I looked up, and my heart missed a beat. Geraldine Westfeather and Elizabeth More-Burley!
“Mrs Westfeather is here, Simon,” called Sue, “and Mrs More-Burley.” Did you know their daughters were friends? They can’t wait to have a ride on you!”
“He’s so pretty!” Elizabeth cried, “and just like a real pony!”
“Hello, Simon!” said Geraldine, “This is the best punishment, isn’t it? Mrs Dawson is so clever! Lizzie, can I have first go?”
“Sure, Gerry! It’s cos of you we’re going to get to ride him, anyway.”
“Thanks, Lizzie! I’ll just ride him round the field, then it’s your turn! Beth? I’m ready!”
“Okay, girls. Just let me fit the reins.” Beth clipped the reins directly to the bit rings, and dropped them on my back. “There. If they’re too long you can knot them. The strirrups should be about right for you.”
Geraldine put her foot in one stirrup and threw her leg over my back. Once mounted, she checked the tack to make sure everything was in order, just like she had been trained by the Holly End instructors. She wasn’t heavy, but it was annoying feeling her fidgeting about getting comfortable. I snorted with frustration and anger.
“Gerry, he snorted, just like a real pony!” screamed Elizabeth.
Shit, I thought, I did. I’m acting like a real pony now.
“Sue, can I take him round the field, just once, before we do the photos?” pleaded Geraldine. “I promise I won’t tire him out.”
“Of course, dear. Stella will video you. Remember your posture! Nice and upright. That’s it. Your legs and feet are perfect. Off you go, then.”
She shook the reins at me. I dug in my hooves. I wasn’t having this.
“He won’t go!” she whined.
“Well, you know what to do. Use your spurs, and a couple of taps with your whip down his flank.”
Those little spurs may look blunt and harmless, but try having them jabbed in your bum! I lurched forward. She used her reins to guide me down the field, to the cheers of the little crowd gathered at the top. She kept me going by kicking me in the ribs when I slowed, and talking to me just like I was her pony. “Go on, horsey, giddyup! You’re a nice little horsey! I’m going to ride you every day. I’ll keep you in a nice warm stable, and give you lots of oats to eat, and nice straw to sleep on!” I could move surprisingly easily, and we were soon back where we had started from. I could see them all ahead of me, smiling and laughing and snapping away, as we returned. I was beginning to understand what it was like to be a riding school pony. Your rider is horse-mad, but all you want to do is go through the motions and get back to your stable, your friends, and your supper. Geraldine rode me back to where Elizabeth was waiting, and jerked on the bit to bring me to a stop.
“That was such fun, mummy!” she called. Mrs Westfeather came over and patted my cheek, smiling a triumphant smile.
“It looked fun, darling. What a sweet little pony he is. Shall I ask Sue if you can ride him regularly?”
“Oh yes, please, mummy! And Lizzie, too!”
“Can I have a turn now, pleeeease?” asked Elizabeth.
“In a moment, dear,” said Sue, “but can we have some more snaps first, please? Marion needs to leave quite soon. Beth, can you take off his blinkers so we can see his face, and then maybe we could have one session with Geraldine and another with Lizzie.”
And so it was. I was photographed fully accoutred and mounted, from every conceivable angle, first under Geraldine, and then Elizabeth, proudly showing off her red boots. When she had finished, Marion left, promising to send Sue all the pictures as soon as they were uploaded. She would use one for her article and Sue could use whichever ones she pleased for the gymkhana posters and to give to the mothers. For the next two or three hours I was ridden around the fields by the girls, taking it in turns, whilst the ladies sat on the grass watching and enjoying a picnic. Twice I was allowed to join them, my bit temporarily removed to allow me to have a bun or a sandwich and some juice, which was fed to me by Beth or Geraldine. Once Beth decided to chase me with her whip to see how fast I could run, much to the hilarity of the onlookers, but I fell over and got my face muddy and had to be wiped clean. Everyone remarked how good I looked in my latex suit, how I seemed to be a natural pony. Rebecca and Tamsin were congratulated on their talent for ‘ponification’. Sue mused on the possibility of turning Billy into a grey.
“That would be nice!” remarked Sadie. “If we made him a grey mare, maybe the bay here could service her!”
“It would be fun to try, anyway!” added Tamsin, thoughtfully.
At half-past two, Mrs More-Burley said they would have to leave soon. Geraldine asked if she could have one more ride. I looked at Sue, pleadingly, but of course she said, “Oh, go ahead, Geraldine. Take him down to the showground if you like!” And she did! All the way there and all the way back. She spent most of the time talking about her party, and how she couldn’t wait to show me to all her friends. “And the photos from today, as well!”
By the time we got back I was knackered, but also dying for a pee. Geraldine was reluctant to get off my back. The champagne was flowing now at the picnic, and everyone seemed to have forgotten about me. As far as they were concerned, I was really just a pony who wouldn’t need any attention till the evening! I glared at Beth as hard as I could to get her to notice me. Eventually she strolled over.
“What is it, ponyboy?”
I gasped and gurgled.
“One moment.” She unbuckled one side of my bit.
“I need to pee! Urgently!”
“Oh! I see. Hold on a minute.” She went and whispered in Sue’s ear. Sue spoke to Rebecca. Rebecca laughed. She got up and came over.
“Miss Strickland. Come here. Please!” She bent down. “I really need to pee!” I whispered, as quietly as I could, not wanting Geraldine to hear.
“Okay. I know. Let’s fix your bit first.” And she buckled it back into my mouth.
“Do I have to get off now,” asked Geraldine, sadly, still clinging hopefully to the reins.
“No, darling. You’re fine where you are. Your pony needs a pee, that’s all.” And with that, she reached under my tummy and deftly unzipped me! “Go ahead, pony. Do your pee.”
Everyone stared in disbelief. Stella grabbed her video camera. I couldn’t have held it in any longer, anyway, so I just let go and allowed myself the luxurious relief of a long, satisfying leak.
“My pony’s doing a wee-wee!” screamed Geraldine delightedly, bouncing up and down in the saddle. “Can I see?”
“Definitely not, darling,” said her mother. “Just sit there quietly and wait for him to finish.”
“Ooh!” she complained, “Not fair!”
It was a long one, but when I was finally finished, Rebecca reached down, shook the last drips off my dangling member, gave it a little squeeze, pushed it carefully back into my suit, and zipped me up, all without turning a hair! I felt confused. How was it I could suffer such indignities without getting deeply angry or ashamed? Why did I feel bound to obey these women? True, they had enough stuff on me to destroy me. But even if they hadn’t, I believe I would have been powerless to resist their demands and abuses. Was this the essence of sissyhood?
Mrs Westfeather and Geraldine had to leave, then. Geraldine was actually very sweet, patting me and then calling back “Goodbye, horsey” all the way down the path. But I was exhausted.
“Sue? I’m so tired. Could I possibly...?”
“Of course. You’ve worked very hard today. Go into the restroom and have a nap.”
She didn’t offer to release me, and I was too tired to care. I clip-clopped off inside, climbed onto the bed, and fell fast asleep till she woke me at six that evening. She helped me out of my pony suit, I changed back into a person, and Stella drove me home. All my stuff for camp was packed, and she promised to drive me over to Billy’s in good time to catch the bus. Tomorrow, I thought, the New Forest! Trees, fields, and…oh, no…horses!
-
one nice form of humiliation i wonder what is instore at the bday party when he gets back. Loving your story it is very good, Thank you.
-
Chapter XXVIII: The Trouble with Horses (Part 1)
Monday 15 August. I slept like a log after my exertions on Sunday. As I lay in bed I was aching all over. But once I got up I felt okay. Sue had said yesterday, the more I assumed my pony persona the easier it would become, and that before the next session she intended to give me a few days’ training to prepare my pony muscles! Personally, I was hoping there wouldn’t be another session. I’m sure they’ll think up some new indignity to subject me to.
Stella drove me over to Billy’s, and we made our way to the Scout hut. There were sixteen of us in our Explorer troop, eleven boys and five girls. We have an adult leader, Sandy, who’s very cool. She’s only in her late twenties and she doesn’t really seem much different to us. She lets the older kids keep an eye on the younger ones, and in general she lets us do our own thing, and occasionally comes with us to the pub. I like her a lot.
The coach arrived on time, and we were soon on our way. Billy and I grabbed the back seat and fended off the rest of them. It was going to be a longish journey, probably four or five hours we reckoned, so after we had talked about our plans for the week, we played games on our phones. By eleven we were both hungry. Stella had made me sandwiches, so I delved into my lunch box to see what I had. There was a strange little package with a ribbon around it in there with the food. I pulled it out. There was a label: “To Simon and Billy, from the Committee”. Crap! Couldn’t they leave us alone just for a few days?
“Look at this Billy. It was in with my lunch.”
“What is it?”
“Bad news, obviously! Let’s see.”
I ripped off the outer layer. There was a little envelope. I opened it. This is what it said.
“Dear Simon and Billy,
We hope you enjoy yourselves in the New Forest. We know that, as Explorer Scouts, you pride yourselves on your courage, initiative, imagination, and problem-solving skills. So we are setting you a little task which you must complete while you are away in order to demonstrate to the Committee your dedication to the Scouts, and to Holly End. In the package you will find a little present - two pairs of traditional Scout shorts, one marked ‘S’ and one ‘B’. You must have your photo taken wearing these with the rest of your uniforms in a busy public place, holding hands and each giving the peace sign – and smiling, of course. You must look smart and tidy, with your shirts neatly tucked in and your neckerchiefs straight. You must of course put on your Scout belts and belt-purses. This photograph must be sent to Sue Dawson’s phone by Tuesday evening latest. Failure to complete this task will result in unpleasant consequences. Success will be rewarded. Good Luck!
The Committee”
“Oh, shit!” I said, “I can tell by the feel of this what they’re going to be like. Let’s not open them now.”
That package rather put a downer on our excitement. We sat silent for much of the journey. But when we finally arrived at the Forest, and saw the open spaces and the animals, we forgot about it for a while. We turned up the track to the Scout Activity Centre just after one, and disembarked. This place had a big field for tents as well as log cabins for accommodation. Billy and I chose to pitch a tent. It was good weather, it was more fun, and we wouldn’t have to share with anyone else. But first we had a good lunch in the canteen. Then I had a word with Sandy.
“Sandy, are we scheduled to visit any towns in the next few days?”
“I thought we’d go to Barley village tomorrow. It’s only a little place, but there’s loads of gift shops there in case you’d like to buy presents.”
“Okay, thanks. I remember that place from last year. You can walk off the main street right into the trees, can’t you?”
“That’s right. Any particular reason you ask?”
“No, just curious.”
Later, in the privacy of our tent, we opened the package. Just as I thought – two little pairs of Scout shorts in beige latex, complete with turn-ups.
“They look very small,” said Billy, anxiously, “do you think they’ll fit us?”
“Don’t worry, they’ll fit – though they look more like swimming trunks. They know our sizes down to the last millimetre.”
“And the pockets are fake,” he added, in a tone of annoyance.
“Billy, that’s a technicality! We don’t want pockets. We just need to get this done as quickly as possible. It’s got to be tomorrow, at Barley. This is how I see it. We sneak off from the others at some point – maybe when they’re in the café – change into the shorts, get the picture taken, and quickly change back.”
“But where are we going to change? And who’s going to take the photo?” queried Billy.
“Okay. Do you remember that track that leads off the main street into the trees? We change in the trees, come down to the main street, and ask the first person we see to take the photo. It’s always busy there in the summer. Then we shoot back up and change back. No problem!”
“If you say so, Sim.”
“That’s our only chance. We’ve got to go for it. I don’t like the sound of “unpleasant consequences”.”
So it was decided. The next day we carefully packed our new shorts in our rucksacks. We wore our uniforms, with blue trousers as usual. The coach took us to Barley. On the way in we passed a riding stable.
“They’re everywhere here,” remarked Billy.
“Yes. It must be a great place to ride. You can go for miles without setting foot on a road.”
We spent an hour or so wandering around the shops before Sandy suggested we go and get tea. We pretended to still be looking for stuff, and said we’d meet them there in twenty minutes or so.
“Good thinking, Sim! That way they’ll stay there until we come.”
Once the rest had headed off for the teashop, we made our way quickly back up the street, crossed over, and went through a wooden gate up the track between the shops. We climbed up the bank to where there was a big oak tree and began to change. We took off our belts and purses, and pulled off our trousers and pants, stowing them away in our rucksacks. We pulled on the shorts, tucking our shirts in as neatly as we could. We had to pull in our tummies to fasten the waist press-studs and zip them up. At least the rubber wasn’t too thin and revealing. We quickly threaded through our belts, not forgetting the little leather Scout belt-purses. We decided to leave our rucksacks there next to the tree as we knew we’d be back in a couple of minutes. Before we left, we checked each other and made sure we both looked neat and tidy.
“You look very smart, Sim, but totally ridiculous as well!” laughed Billy.
“And you look like a prize idiot,” I returned.
We scurried down the path, back through the gate, and into the street. We looked about. Unsurprisingly, we immediately attracted the attention of the passers-by. People were stopping and pointing at us. We had to move quickly. A woman was coming towards us from the direction of the central road junction. I hurried up to her.
“Excuse me, I wonder if you’d mind taking our photo?”
She smiled, looking us up and down. “No, of course not. Give me your phone.”
“Thank you so much! Take a couple just in case, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, boys. I always like to support Scouts.”
We positioned ourselves between her and the junction and posed as we had been instructed. A small crowd was already collecting, and I could hear laughs and expressions of surprise.
“Could you move back a little bit, boys, so I can get you all in? That’s it!”
We turned on our idiot smiles.
“Whoops! I think I pressed the wrong thing. I can’t see you now.”
I had to go back and show her what to do. She may not have been great at using a phone camera, but from the many shutter clicks around us clearly a lot of other people were.
“Oh, that’s not a very good one. Hold still. Just a minute. Now there’s someone in the way!”
It must have taken her a good five minutes to get one decent picture, and then she wanted one on her own phone for herself. In the meantime, we were surrounded by knots of nosey adults and giggling kids, and became the butt of silly jokes, ironic catcalls, and wolf whistles. It was definitely time to leave. But just as we were about to disappear up the forest track, there was an unforeseen incident. A line of horses and their riders had been moving quietly across the junction and walking away from us towards another entrance into the Forest, when one of the horses suddenly took fright. I think he’d been alarmed by a motorbike starting up. It was only a pony, but without warning it bolted off to the left at full gallop, straight towards us, its rider clinging to its neck. The crowd scattered, screaming. We didn’t have time to think. We reacted instinctively. I was already running to intercept as it approached, and Billy was doing the same along the other side of the road. I managed to run alongside the frightened animal for a few yards, and grab the reins. Of course I fell, and it felt as if my arms were going to be pulled out, but I hung on. I was dragged along for about twenty yards, but eventually my weight brought the horse to a stop. The rider, a little girl of seven or eight, was thrown out of the saddle – straight into Billy’s arms! There had been a number of pursuers, who now arrived at the scene, out of breath but, having witnessed our prompt action, full of gratitude and admiration. In an instant we were transformed from objects of ridicule into heroes. Soon we were surrounded by people congratulating us, including what appeared to be everyone from the riding school. The attention was only marginally less unwelcome that that we had already experienced. All we wanted was to get back into our proper uniforms.
“Well done, boys! That was fantastic! So brave!” cried a woman who came running up and embraced us in turn, “I’m Wendy Pemberton. I own the riding school. You must come back and have a drink with us. And Tina’s mother will want to thank you, too!”
“Yes, but, er, we have to get our rucksacks first,” I stammered, trying to extract myself from the throng. At that moment Sandy arrived with the rest of the troop. She pushed her way through to us.
“Boys! There you are! Is this right what I hear, that you just stopped a bolting….”
Her voice trailed off as she noticed our shorts. “Goodness! Where did you ….”
“Never mind, Sandy. Could you please get our rucksacks? There just up that track next to the big oak tree? Could you bring them to us? As quickly as possible?”
We were already being ushered away towards the school, surrounded by a phalanx of booted grooms. There was no gainsaying them. I felt painfully self-conscious in their midst in my tiny rubber shorts. I could feel the stares and hear the whispers. As I walked, my shorts they made that characteristic rustling, crinkling sound, in case anyone was in doubt about the nature of the material. And by now they were slightly slippery inside with sweat, and as I walked, my boyhood was sliding up and down a little in a regular rhythm, and beginning to become aroused. Billy was walking next to me, and looked as though he was having similar problems. He had his thumb hooked through his belt, his hand over his tummy. But it was not hiding anything.
“If only these things had pockets,” he said in an undertone, “it wouldn’t be so bad. But as it is, they show everything we’ve got, and there’s no way of disguising it. I hope Sandy gets back with our bags soon!”
It was a relief when we finally arrived at the school. Wendy showed us into the office. She sat at her desk, and as there were no other chairs we stood, rather awkwardly, facing her,
“I’m just going to check where Tina’s mum is. We rang her just after the incident and she should be on her way. Just a second.” She dialled a number.
“Marcy, darling! Yes, she’s fine. Two Boy Scouts stopped her horse and caught her as she fell off! Yes! Bloody brilliant, I know. Yes, she’s here now. None the worse. So are the boys, if you’d like to thank them. Yes, I’m sure you would. Okay, see you in ten minutes then. Bye!” She stood up, and came round the desk. “Where did you learn to deal with horses like that? I mean, so fearlessly? I’m impressed.”
“Well, Miss, actually we work at a stable – Holly End riding school in Leicestershire, where we come from. So we’re used to horses.” (I was one the other day, I might have added.)
“Oh, that explains it! Holly End stables. Well, well.”
“And we’re just here at camp, near Lyndhurst.”
“And we were visiting Barley,” said Billy. “We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“Thank goodness you were!” She paused. “Do you mind me asking? About your uniforms… I’ve never seen Boy Scout shorts quite like that before. What are they made of?” She stared at them unashamedly, and looked as though she was about to reach out and feel them. I coloured up, and coyly clasped my hands in front of me.
“Oh, no, well, they were a present from the head of the riding school, and I know she was hoping we would like them, so we, sort of, just thought we would wear them today….”
“Yes,” added Billy, “but I think our Scout leader will be here any second - with our usual trousers, I hope. By the way, we’re not called ‘Boy’ Scouts anymore – just ‘Scouts’.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry! I stand corrected,” said Wendy. “But they really are very nice shorts…”
I took a step back. She looked out of the window. “Ah, yes, your friends are here now. I’ll go ask your leader to come in.”
She disappeared for a moment and came back with Sandy. “You should be proud of these two,” she was saying, “they averted what could have been a terrible accident.”
“Simon and Billy. I’ve heard all about it! Well done, boys! You behaved like true Scouts!”
“Did you bring our bags?”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find them.”
“What?”
“Nowhere to be seen, I’m afraid.” And then to Wendy, “they left their rucksacks just up the path, but now they’re gone.”
“Oh, really? How unfortunate. You know, nothing ever gets stolen here. Someone has found them and handed them in to the village lost property, I’m sure.”
“Where’s that?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s in the post office. But I’m afraid they close on a Tuesday afternoon, so you won’t be able to check until tomorrow.”
“Do we have to wear these shorts until then,” groaned Billy, in his distress unconsciously taking hold of his boyhood.
Sandy was about to say something, probably to ask why we were wearing tiny latex shorts instead of our trousers, but at that moment in burst a tall, blonde woman, rather out of breath, gripping the hand of the little girl Billy had caught.
“Oh, boys, this is Tina’s mum, Marcia. Marcy, meet Simon – and Billy. These are the wonderful boys who saved the day.”
“God bless you, boys,” she breathed, hugging each of us in turn. “You’re a pair of angels. Tina wants to say something, too”
“Thank you,” she whined. She still looked a little shocked.
“Their names are Simon and Billy, darling,” said Marcia, gently.
“Thank you, Simon. Thank you, Billy.”
“And this is their Scout leader,” added Wendy, “sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Sandy. Nice to meet you, Marcia. I’m glad the boys were on the spot at the right time.”
“Thank you, thank you. Look, I have to get Tina home, but I also want to thank you two properly. Do you think it would be possible for the boys to come with me so I can give them dinner tonight? I’d bring them back by eleven. They’d be quite safe.”
“Well, I’m not sure….”
“Please. It’s the least I can do.”
“Boys? Would you like to go?”
“Yes. Thank you!” we chorused. Anything to delay having to explain ourselves to the rest of the troop, who were already suspicious of us after our “Two Little Maids” performance.
“I can see no reason why not. It’s very kind of you to offer to bring them back. But what are we going to do about their bags at the post office?”
“Oh, are their bags there? What, in lost property?” We nodded. “In that case, why don’t they stay overnight, and I’ll run them back first thing tomorrow, and we can call in and pick up their bags on the way?”
“Well, that’s extremely kind of you, Marcia…”
“No probs. Come on boys. Come on Tina.”
-
Chapter XXVIII: The Trouble with Horses (Part 2)
So it was we found ourselves in the back of Marcia’s car, being driven to an unknown destination. Today had been quite an adventure, and it was still only mid-afternoon.
Marcia chatted away about her daughter, the school, the village, and the Forest. She was a very easy woman to be with, as well as being rather pretty. We listened, throwing in the odd comment. Her car was a little mini, and the vibration of the engine was transmitting itself into my bottom, and in my semi-tumescent state that was not exactly what I needed. I fidgeted and tried to think of serious things, but it was impossible. Sue knew exactly what she was doing when she set us that task. Those little shorts she had provided us with were clearly designed to cause maximum embarrassment. The legs gripped my thighs, and the crotch left no room for anything vital, so that everything I had was pushed conspicuously into the front. The centre seam and fly, being made of double thickness latex, bit into my soft parts, and my poor boyhood was forced to lie on one side or the other. It made me permanently self-conscious, and my continual attempts to rearrange it and make it less obvious by pushing it this way or that only served to excite it the more. I wasn’t looking forward to getting out of the car. I stole a glance at Billy, whose hands were folded demurely in his lap, I guessed he was having similar problems.
“Have you sent the photo?” he asked.
“No. In all the excitement I’d forgotten about that. I’ll do it now.”
I sent it, and Sue acknowledged it almost straight away. Thank goodness that was over, at least!
We had driven out of Barley and down the main road to quite a big town. Marcia’s house was in a suburban street. She drove up onto the driveway and we all piled out. She opened the front door and ushered us in. She sat us in the drawing-room while she went and made tea, and for the next hour we sat around chatting. At five another mother and her daughter came to collect Tina, who was going for a sleepover, and of course we had to be introduced and the whole story told over again. The other mother – I think her name was “Shirl” or something, regarded us approvingly throughout, but I noticed she gave Marcia a broad wink as she left.
After she had gone, Marcia came back and resumed the conversation.
“So, now that we’re alone, I can ask you a bit more about what was happening today. I hear there was quite a crowd in the high street.”
“Quite a crowd? Yeah, I suppose.” I replied, noncommittally.
“So what was the attraction?”
We looked at each other.
“Come on boys. I’ve heard something about you posing for photographs. What was it all about? It was a stunt for charity, wasn’t it?”
“No, it wasn’t that…. “
“You just wanted a selfie.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“To show off your uniforms.”
“Maybe? Why, is there something wrong with that?”
“Not at all! I wasn’t being sarcastic. You both look very smart!”
I wondered if I should tell her the whole story. I wished afterwards I had. But at the time I thought it would sound silly. So I just said, “We work at a riding stable in Leicestershire. Our employer’s a bit of a tyrant. She gave us these special shorts as a present, and demanded we take a selfie to prove we were wearing them. That’s all.”
“I see. Do you like wearing them? Did you want to wear them?”
“No, not particularly. But she gets upset if we don’t do what we’re told.”
“Really? That seems a bit odd. Are you telling me the whole story?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll give her a ring.”
“What, about our shorts?”
“No. just to tell her what heroes you were today. I think she should know. Perhaps she’d appreciate you a bit more. Do you object?”
I looked at Billy. He shrugged.
“I guess not. Go ahead. Her name’s Sue Dawson. Here, her number’s on my phone.”
I handed Marcia my phone.
“Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute. Then I’ll cook us a nice dinner. Simon, could you open the wine? There’s a bottle in the fridge. Pour yourself some drinks."
So we helped ourselves.
“This is all right, Billy.”
“Yeah, this wine’s really nice. And she’s nice, too.”
“She is. Nice-looking. Tall and sexy.” I laughed.
“Do you think she’s noticed how horny we are?”
“I bet she has. I bet we could make her…you know.”
“You are so bad, Sim!” Billy giggled.
By the time she returned, we’d drunk two thirds of the bottle
“You were on the phone a long time,” I remarked. “Were you talking to Sue all that time?”
“Some of it. She told me some very interesting things,” she said, looking at us with a rather strange expression on her face. “Anyway, I told her you may have saved my daughter from serious injury today. She seemed quite humbled, actually.”
“Really? Thanks, Marcia. I’m sorry, we’ve drunk quite a bit of your wine.”
“No, please, don’t apologise. Finish that one up and I’ll open another. Now what would you like to eat?”
By the time dinner was ready, Billy and I were quite tipsy. The food helped a bit, but we had more wine with dinner, so that by the time we resumed our armchairs we were both giggling like a couple of little girls. I no longer cared if Marcia noticed my erection. She could hardly have failed to, in any case. Thinking she was occupied with Billy, I touched it gingerly. It was hard and very hot.
“Is that giving you a problem, Simon?”
I quickly withdrew my hand.
“Sorry?”
“It must be so difficult for you two, stuck in those tight little rubber pants all day. I mean, you look fantastically cute, but I’m not surprised you’re both in the state you are.”
I blushed, unsure how to reply.
“Don’t you think it was rather cruel of Sue to ask you to wear them?”
“Yes!” said Billy at once. “She is cruel. I mean, not cruel, exactly, but she likes having fun at our expense. She knew everyone would be laughing at us, dressed like this. And the rubber’s so soft and stretchy, that after a while it makes you all hot and bothered, and you can’t cool down! And when we get back to the troop, I bet they’re all going to be taking the piss out of us again!”
“It wouldn’t have been so bad if our rucksacks hadn’t disappeared,” I said. “But now we’ve been wearing these most of the day, and they start to get slippery inside, which makes it even worse!”
We were saying things to Marcia we would never have dared to had we been stone cold sober. I wanted to see how far she’d go.
“Oh, I can see! You poor things! I could hardly blame you if you felt the need to….you know, relieve your frustrations.”
Our eyes widened. Was that an invitation?
“I think Sue is very bad to do this to you.”
“She is!”
“You could express your disapproval, and make yourselves feel better at the same time.”
“What do you mean, Marcia?”
“I don’t know,” said Marcia. “Show her what you think of her stupid little Scout shorts.”
“But how could we do that?” I asked, egging her on.
“Well, I can think of one way, but I don’t suppose you’d be up for it…. I mean, I know you wouldn’t want to upset your employer, even though she bosses you a bit too much.”
“Yeah, she does. Today was the last straw! She doesn’t even leave us alone when we’re on holiday!” exclaimed Billy.
“No, it’s too bad. You should make her sit up and take notice.”
“Yeah!”
“Well I know what I’d do, if I were in your shoes.”
“What would you do, Marcia?” I asked, innocently.
“Well, if I were a boy, of course. I’d show her what I thought of her present. I’d say, “this is all these are good for!” – and I’d jerk off in them!”
“Actually…do it…in our shorts?”
“Absolutely. And send her a picture of you doing it!”
“That’s so rude!” said Billy. “What a great idea! What do you reckon, Sim?”
I’d been sort of hoping Marcia might help us release our pent-up feelings herself, but this would be the next best thing.
“Sure, I’m game. Teach her a lesson! I have to do something soon, or I’m going to explode anyway!”
“But how…how would we do it?” asked Billy, getting up rather unsteadily.
“It was just an idea. Are you’re absolutely sure, boys….”
“Yes!” we chorused.
“It’s not our fault we’re so horny, after all,” I said.
“Well, if you insist…”
“Why shouldn’t we? Show her what we think of her stupid shorts!” said Billy.
“Yeah,” I added, “we’re fed up of being humiliated by her. It’s payback time!”
“It’s not against Scout rules?”
“Probably. But we’re not going to tell on ourselves,” I grinned.
“Then can I make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead.”
“You should do it just like she asked you to pose the photo! Hold hands, masturbate with your free hands, and when you come, make the peace sign!”
“Great idea, Marcia,” I laughed, throw her silly idea back in her face!”
“Yeah! Imagine how annoyed she’ll be! Let’s do it, Sim!”
“Marcia, would you take photos of us to send to her?” I asked.
“Sure. I mean, would you like me to film you?”
“Would you? Yeah, that would be the best!”
“I mean, I don’t want to get you into trouble….”
“We don’t care about that,” said Billy, “I’m not afraid of her. I just want to show her what I think of her fake Scout shorts. Do you know they don’t even have proper pockets?”
“It’s true, Marcia. There’s nowhere to put your stuff, or your hands.”
“Really?” said Marcia. “That’s not right, is it? Scouts need pockets.”
“Exactly! But she couldn’t be bothered. I’m going to point that out while I’m doing it.”
“So am I,” said Billy, “and I’m going to describe what I’m doing as well!”
“She definitely won’t like that very much!” laughed Marcia.
“So how do you think we should do it?” I asked.
“Well, let’s see. Perhaps if you stand here by the window, in the light. No-one can see through those nets.” She positioned us side by side, stood back and regarded us critically. “Hmm. Like two peas in a pod. Right down to your little red socks and walking boots. Let’s make sure you look smart, at least at the beginning.” She straightened our purple and red neckerchiefs, adjusted our woggles, and smoothed our hair. “There, that’s perfect. Stand up nice and straight, and try not to move about too much while you’re doing it. Shall I use your phone, Simon?”
“Help yourself.”
She retreated a few yards, turned a dining chair around so its back was towards us, and straddled it, resting the phone on the back. “That’s about perfect. Hold hands. That’s right.”
Billy’s free hand moved towards the bulge in his shorts.
“Billy! Hold on a moment. Put your hand by your side, please. Don’t do anything till I’ve started filming.”
“Sorry. Marcia.”
“Remember to pace yourselves. Take your time. Imagine Sue getting more and more indignant the longer she’s forced to witness your insulting behaviour! Let her know what you think of those stupid shorts, and of her. Let it all out!”
“Yeah!”
“Do you think you can both come at the same time?”
“We can try!”
“Okay. Stand quite close together. That’s it. Hold hands. Ready?”
“Yes, Marcia. Ready.”
“Okay. One, two, three…go!”
I had to use my left hand, but when it came to masturbating I was definitely ambidextrous. What a relief! I gently kneaded my engorged sausage, standing proud and upright in my pants, until it was vibrating with pleasure, and I could feel it oozing steadily. After a while I started pushing it around under the taut rubber to demonstrate how slippery it was. Waves of pleasure rippled through me. I was in a sort of euphoric daze, the regular movement of my fingers producing a satisfying plopping sound inside my pants.
“Oh! Sue - this is what I…ah...think of your…ooh…stupid shorts. In a minute I’m going to…oh, no…I’m going to come in them so much….
“And so am I!” (gasp), interjected Billy, “They don’t even have proper…ah...pockets!”
“That’s right! So we’re going to masturbate till we…oh, gosh…till we fill them with spunk!”
“We’re going to mess them up really badly!” added Billy between moans, “really badly!” I glanced sideways at him. He was pinching and rolling the tip of his boyhood between thumb and finger. A dribble of clear fluid was escaping from one leg of his shorts. His cheeks were very red, and he was squirming slightly in an effort to stay in place. I held his hand more tightly. I could feel my face burning, too. But the relief of being able to pleasure myself freely at last overcame all my inhibitions.
“Yes, we are! And when we’re finished, and they’re all really nice and messy…oh, goodness…we’re going to fold them up neatly and give them back to you, all sticky with sperm. And then…then we’re going to go into the dress shop and masturbate all over your new dresses!”
“No!” said Billy, “No, we won’t do that! No, we’ll…we’ll…”
I could sense he was trying to think of something really disgusting that didn’t involve damaging pretty dresses.
“We’ll….we’ll…come in your cappuccino!” he blurted, with sudden inspiration.
“So rude!” mouthed Marcia, grinning.
Between us we kept up some sort of running commentary.
“My sausage is all big and hard and slimy….”
“Mine too. At least these shorts are good for something!”
“I’m practising for my masturbation badge!”
“I want to come so much….so much!
“Me too! But Simon is going t come first!”
“No, I’m not! But I will make the most spunk!”
“You won’t! Cos when I come I’m gonna think of Marcia!”
Marcia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’m flattered, Billy!” she laughed.
“Which of us is best at masturbating, Marcia? I asked.
“Oh, you’re both experts, I can see!”
Whenever Marcia thought we were approaching a climax, she would signal us to calm down a little. This way, she kept us going for about ten minutes. The video was in fact eleven minutes long. It’s all a bit hazy now, but I remember Billy crying, “Simon! I’m coming! Ahh!” and squeezing my hand hard. That triggered my own orgasm, and I shouted “Peace sign!” to remind him, before my vision seemed to explode in a shower of stars.
We stood there, hand in hand, trying to smile and stay in position, our bodies jolted by spasm after spasm. I thought I might faint. Somehow a big spurt of sperm shot out of the top of my pants, landed on the front of my shirt, and trickled down. The rest filled my shorts and streamed down one leg. Not wanting to waste it, I scooped it up with my hand and smeared it over my belly. I heard Marcia murmuring encouragingly, “Good boys. Well done. Just a few more seconds…” But I couldn’t stand up any longer. With a sigh I sank to my knees. Billy followed suit. Little rivulets of sperm had run done both his legs, over his socks and boots, and were forming a little pool on the carpet. We hung onto each other for a moment, then collapsed in a sticky, exhausted heap. Marcia stopped filming, put down the phone and stood up.
“Incredible, guys! What an exhibition of pure boy power! You must be totally drained. Just lie there and recover. No, Simon, don’t worry about the carpet. Just rest. I’ll be back in a bit.”
-
Chapter XXVIII: The Trouble with Horses (part 3)
I don’t remember any more until Marcia was helping us upstairs to the shower. She stripped off our clothes, and when we were showered, she towelled us dry. Then she tucked us into a lovely big soft double bed, and we slept till morning. When we awoke, we found our clothes neatly folded by the bedside. Our shirts and neckerchiefs and socks had been washed an ironed, our shorts washed and powdered, ready to put on. There were toothbrushes and towels, just like a hotel. And when we went downstairs, toast and tea and coffee and fruit and eggs. Marcia kissed us good morning, and ruffled our hair.
“How are the boys this morning? You seem a little more relaxed than yesterday.”
“Thank you, Marcia. Yes. Thank you for washing our clothes.”
“It was the least I could do, after the effort you put into that performance.”
We both blushed at the recollection.
“It was a great idea of yours, Simon. And beautifully executed.”
“My idea? Was it? We were a little bit tipsy, I think,” I said. “I don’t remember too well…”
“Fortunately, it’s all on video,” she said. “It’s on your phone, Simon, and I’ve also sent it to Billy.”
“You didn’t send it to Sue?”
“Of course I did. Straight from your phone. That was the point, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, no! What were we thinking? It seemed like a good idea last night, but she’s going to go berserk when she sees that!”
“No, she won’t”
“She will, Marcia! You don’t know her! She’ll be furious. We’re not allowed to masturbate without permission.”
“On the contrary,” Marcia said, “She texted me back last night, and I can tell you she’s delighted with our little film. Yesterday afternoon I had a long conversation with her about you and Billy. She told me all about your bad behaviour at Holly End – how you bully the girls and play tricks on them, and are rude to the customers. She asked me if I’d help give you some of your own medicine, ply you with drink and then get you to make complete fools of yourselves, so she would have some sort of leverage to help keep you in check. I think it worked rather well, don’t you? Perhaps now you’ll be less willing to get up to mischief.”
“What? Are you serious? Is that what she said?”
“Yes. And more. Complaining about having to wear a uniform. Swearing at little girls. It’s not acceptable, Simon.”
Billy and I stared at each other open-mouthed, for a moment quite unable to reply.
“Why, that…that…bitch!” I exclaimed. Marcia looked quite taken aback.
“Marcia,” said Billy, “that’s all total lies. Neither of us have ever done anything like that. She’s totally fooled you, just to get another humiliating video of us – in fact, probably the worse one ever. Let me explain.”
And between us we told her everything that had gone on at Holly End. The regime, the contracts, the Committee, the humiliations we had been subject to. I showed her a copy of my contract on my phone, and some of the texts Sue had sent me. She was gobsmacked.
“Oh my god, boys. What have I done? I’m so sorry! I really believed her. She seemed so credible. She even sounded distressed.”
“Yeah? She’s a good actress, Marcia.”
“How could she? I should have realised that two boys who could risk themselves to stop a bolting horse couldn’t be like that! But somehow she convinced me!! Oh, I hate her! I’m going to ring her right now and demand she deletes that video!”
“No, no, don’t do that, Marcia. She won’t delete it, and it may make it worse for us. One day we’ll get our revenge. We’ll get something on her, I’m sure. But just forget it for now.”
“How could I be so stupid? How could I breach the trust I owed you? I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what to say…”
“Don’t worry, Marcia.” I put my arm round her and hugged her. “She’s tricked us enough times. You didn’t have a chance.”
Poor Marcia was so upset. She poured herself an early glass of wine and sat silent in the armchair for some time. I took Billy aside.
“Billy! What have we done?” I groaned. “It’s coming back to me now – the stuff we did, and all that rubbish I was talking! She’ll show it to everyone! Miss Strickland. Miss Benson, even! We’ll never live it down!”
“If Miss Strickland sees it, she’s bound to show it to Tamsin and Carmelita. What if she shows it to Miss Mortimer as well? She’d probably withdraw her offer of places at St. Catherine’s.”
“Do you think so? We need to stop her showing it to anyone. I’m going to ring her and plead with her.”
“Okay. Do it then. It’s our only chance.”
I went out into the garden and rang Sue. She answered immediately.
“Simon! How nice of you to call! Loved the photo.”
“Sue. I’m ringing about the video.”
“Video? Oh, that video. Yes? What can I do for you?”
“I’m begging you not to show it to the Committee. Or anyone. We were drunk when we made it.”
“Were you? It didn’t seem like it. You were very articulate. And very rude. You seemed to be enjoying every second.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Look, we’ll do anything, but please don’t circulate it. We might even lose our places at St. Catherine’s over it.”
“Simon, I do believe you’re grovelling again! Are you?”
“Yes, Miss. I’m grovelling. I’m begging you, please don’t show it around.”
There was a pause.
“All right, Simon. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll do nothing till you get back, and on Saturday or Sunday we can all sit down and discuss the matter. Agreed?”
“Yes, agreed. Thank you.”
“Good. Oh, and by the way, we’re expecting the gymkhana posters in today. As soon as we get them I’ll send you a picture.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“See you Saturday, then.”
“Yes. Goodbye.”
We had a reprieve – temporary, probably, but at least we could enjoy the rest of camp. Marcia, chastened by her encounter with the world’s biggest con artist, was uncharacteristically reserved as she got ready to take us back. Thank goodness our bags were at the post office, and we were able to change back into our trousers before going back to the centre.
Marcia dropped us off, still apologising, and we exchanged numbers and promised to come back and see her next time we were here. Of course, we had to fend off all the jibes and questions, but we escaped as soon as we could, taking packed lunches and going off exploring. Once clear of the centre, we found a nice quiet spot to sit down, and reviewed our position.
“What a pair of idiots, falling for that.” I remarked.
“Yeah, but when your drunk stupid things can seem quite rational.”
“And vice versa. I don’t want to look at the film, Billy. It must be the most embarrassing one yet, even for me.”
“Yeah, for both of us. But what can they do with it?”
“Pretty much anything. The problem is we’re clearly acting of our own volition.”
“Yes. That is a bit awkward.”
We sat silent for a minute.
“But I’m beginning to understand why you’re addicted to latex, Sim. There’s something about it…. I mean, I’ve hardly ever had such an amazing orgasm. I nearly blacked out.”
“Really? You understand now? It’s very difficult to resist, to resist anything, when you’re wearing rubber. It’s impossible to resist women giving you orders.” I laughed. “I become like putty in their hands!”
“Yeah. And all day long, while I was wearing those shorts, sure I was feeling humiliated, but I was also feeling sort of safe, and happy, and in a pleasant state of permanent arousal. Free, somehow. I was definitely enjoying the feeling.”
“I thought you were showing off a bit. You were enjoying the attention too, weren’t you?”
“I guess I was, a bit.”
Our conversation was interrupted by my phone. A text. From Sue. With a picture. Before reading the text, I looked at the picture. I enlarged it. The gymkhana poster. My mouth fell open. “No!” I cried.
“What is it?”
“Look at this.”
The poster was landscape format, with a green background. In the four corners were little vignettes showing scenes from a previous gymkhana – top left. show-jumping, top right, food stalls, bottom left, bouncy castle, bottom right, pony racing. In between the top two vignettes were the words, “Holly End Late Summer Gymkhana, Sunday 28 August”, in red letters. In between the bottom two, “Come and meet Simon the Pony with Geraldine, his Groom”, also in red. And in the middle a big vignette of me, in my pony suit, without my blinkers, in a field, and mounted by Geraldine!
“She can’t do this, Billy!”
“Looks like she has, Sim. What does the text say?”
I went back to the text. “Hope you like the poster, and your photo. The girls are putting them up in town today. Geraldine is very excited. You two will be the main attraction, and we have had lots of interesting suggestions of things you can do. I’m setting aside this Saturday for planning. Please come to the Committee meeting at 10.30 am. See me beforehand, at 10. Look forward to it. Sue. x”
“I can’t go through with it, Billy.”
“You’ll have to. Never mind, you’ll be okay. Your little girlfriend will look after you,” he grinned.
“What?”
“Geraldine. You’re going to her party too, remember?”
“Shut up, Billy!”
“I think you like being a pony. You didn’t complain much about it.”
“I don’t! Don’t you dare say that!”
Billy started rolling on the grass, helpless with laughter. I was fuming. But I knew how to wipe the smile off his face.
“You know, Billy, when I was in my pony suit, they were thinking of making one for you, too.”
“What?” That stopped him in his tracks.
“Yes. They were talking of turning you into a grey mare. Shall I put in a word for you?”
“You’d better not!” he cried, sitting up. Now it was my turn to laugh. He glared at me for a moment, and then we grabbed each other and fell to the ground in hysterics.
When we finally calmed down, we sat and talked about Holly End.
“I don’t see how we’ll ever escape from the clutches of the Committee,” said Billy.
“I don’t see, either,” I replied. “All we can do is humour them, carry on with our other lives, and wait for an opportunity. It will come, Billy.”
We sat together, our arms around each other, watching the sun sinking over the trees, and the little groups of horses and cattle moving lazily through the landscape. There were no human animals in sight. Billy rested his cheek against mine. “As long as we’re together, Sim, no-one has any real power over us. Remember that.”
-
Chapter XXIX: Committee Meeting
Billy and I were at Holly End by a quarter to ten. We hadn’t got back from camp till ten the previous night, and we were in a state of pleasant lassitude. Sue was at reception, talking to Mary, and when she saw us, she beckoned us over.
“Come into my office, boys. I’d like a quick word before the Committee meeting starts.”
We followed her in and slumped into chairs. She sat down behind her desk.
“Did you have a nice holiday?”
“Yeah, great, thanks. It’s nice down there. So many animals.” I said.
“We had fun.” Said Billy.
“Okay. Good. Now, first, this video.”
“Please, Sue…”
“Let me speak, Simon. The video. Apart from Marcia, only I and Stella have seen it. Stella did a bit of editing. She cut out the references to me, for one thing. It’s now about nine minutes long, but all the essential material is there. It shows two very naughty boys having fun masturbating in their Scout uniforms, holding hands and providing an entertaining commentary on their techniques. I think you’ll agree that it beats anything you’ve produced so far from the point of view of sheer inescapable humiliation.”
“I know! But please…”
“Simon! Be quiet a minute, or I shall have you spanked in front of the Committee! Now, as I was saying when you interrupted me, you cannot afford for this to be seen by anyone, can you?”
“No, Miss.”
“I mean,” she smiled, “it’s a delight, but it has a unique power which I don’t want to waste. So I am not going to show it to the Committee, you’ll be pleased to hear.”
“Thank you, Miss!” we chorused.
“I shall keep it locked away. But in return, I want total obedience, from both of you. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Yes, Mrs Dawson.”
“So Simon, you will play the pony at the gymkhana, and you will do it with a good grace. Yes?”
I nodded.
“And you will be nice to Geraldine? And go to her party, and be sociable?”
I nodded again.
“In connection with which, there has been a slight problem with your costume.”
We both froze.
“Yes, it seems that I have somehow, er, mislaid it. I thought I had locked it away safely in here, but now, I regret, I cannot find it. No-one but I has access to this room, and the door is always locked when I am not here, so it must be my mistake somehow. It really is most odd. Anyway, I've tried to get a replacement, but your aunt tells me that it takes at least three weeks to have a special order made in latex, so I’m afraid Geraldine will have to choose an alternative. Her mother will be bringing her in tomorrow to select something from your outfits, or from the fabric dresses in the new shop. Those can always be made up in any size within a week. Of course, I’ll let you know what your party costume is as soon as I can.”
As Sue had been speaking relief had flooded through both of us. Billy’s plan had worked! Just don’t let her find it before the third, I prayed. But once Geraldine had chosen a new one I guessed the original would be forgotten.
“Thank you, Sue!”
“So, boys, where are my Scout shorts that you promised to “mess up”? I thought you said you were going to return them to me…”
“Sorry, Miss,” said Billy, interrupting, “that was stupid of us. Actually, we’d like to keep them.”
“Keep them? Are you going to wear them again?”
“Yes. To be honest, we talked about it, and we both quite like them. But there is another reason.”
“Yes?”
“Our Scout leader has asked us if we’d be prepared to wear them to help raise money for the troop and for charity. She was amazed how much attention they attracted. We would hate to disappoint her. She’s such a nice person.”
“Yes,” I added, “it’s going to be really embarrassing, but we can never say ‘no’ to her, and it would be against all our Scout principles to refuse to help if we could. She works so hard for the troop. She wants us to stay after Scouts next week and change into them so she can have a closer look at them and get some photos for possible promotional material.”
“Really? She sounds interesting. You must let me have her name and number, in case she needs me to modify them in any way. Here, write it down now and I’ll get in touch.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think she’d need them modified, she seemed quite happy ,…”
“Just give me her name and number! Thank you!”
With some misgivings I did as she asked. It was bad enough that now Sandy wanted us to appear in those shorts, without Sue getting involved as well. Anyway, I’m sure Sandy would hate Sue. They were totally opposed characters. Sue was such a bitch, while Sandy was an angel.
“Now, when we join the committee, remember what I said about “total obedience”. Shall we go? I can see them arriving.”
We trooped into the committee room. Apart from us three, there was Miss Strickland, Tamsin, Sadie, Clarissa, Violet Willoughby, and Stella. We all sat around a big oval table, and Mary brought in coffee and donuts. Sue acted as chairman.
“Help yourselves, boys. Ladies, thank you for coming. I’ve invited our intrepid boot boys to this meeting, because, as you know, the gymkhana is in a couple of weeks, and we need to sort a few things out. Simon, of course, will be one of the main attractions. Rebecca, I believe you have that event under control?”
“Thank you, Sue. Yes. Simon, you will be based in the parade ring and the adjacent small field. Geraldine will be in charge of you. We haven’t finalised the schedule yet, but she will be either leading you or riding you for the duration of the gymkhana, that is, from about eleven until about five-thirty. I hope it’s not raining on the day, but if it is the mud shouldn’t concern you in your nice rubber outfit. In addition to your ears, you will have a nice plume of red feathers in your head harness. We have also found you a slightly more sophisticated tail. We were thinking of offering rides on you at a few pounds a go, but there is an issue with weight, and we were concerned about disputes over whether a particular child was over the weight limit. So that idea has had to be shelved for the time being. I’m sure that’s a relief to you,” she laughed. “However, we envisage customers being able to pay for you to perform little tricks, such as walking through a tunnel, rolling over, or jumping a low pole – assisted by your little instructress, of course. You will undergo at least two days training between now and the gymkhana so that we can perfect your technique. We were also thinking how much children like to feed animals. We should have a supply of Polos, small sugar lumps, and carrot sticks to hand. Do you like carrots, Simon? You’ll have a bowl of water too. You’re going to get thirsty being there all day.”
“And you’ll need to pee occasionally,” remarked Sadie, with an innocent smile.
Here Billy emitted a spluttering laugh. I glared at him
“Ah, yes, Billy,” continued Rebecca, “in the longer term we envisage you appearing as a grey pony. A grey suit in your size is in the process of manufacture already. Unfortunately it will not be ready for the gymkhana, but you will need training in any case.”
During this statement, Billy had suddenly stopped laughing, his jaw had dropped, and he sat there staring at Rebecca open-mouthed.
“What? Me?”
“Yes, you,” said Tamsin, with a grim smile. “Wouldn’t you like to trot around the fields with your friend? I can just see the two of you together, having fun.”
I had to smile at the sight of Billy’s face. Sue touched his arm.
“Remember, Billy. Total acceptance.”
“We have a few ideas for the future,” continued Rebecca. “We envisage Elizabeth More-Burley becoming your groom. Both she and Geraldine are light enough and small enough to ride you boys with minimum discomfort. We may arrange some races. I’m sure that would be very popular. But what we are mainly considering is hiring you out to selected families as entertainment for their children. Initially you would be based here, but if things work out as we plan you could be taken to the family home. Don’t worry, there would be very strict controls. You would be accompanied by your grooms to make sure you were not overburdened or ill-treated.”
“But -but – you can’t…” stammered Billy.
“As to remuneration, boys,” said Sue. “This would clearly be a premium service, and we would envisage premium charges. Your prospective customers can afford to pay. It would be a unique service, and in view of your importance to the scheme we would be paying you anything up to forty percent of the revenue. You could be earning up to three hundred pounds a week from ponification services alone.”
“How much?” asked Billy, taking a sudden interest.
“Up to three hundred, on top of your usual wages.”
“Really? Do you have any idea what that would mean to my family? My mum gets worried sick over a bill for a few measly pounds. If you want me to sell myself, my dignity, my body, everything, to these rich people, I’ll do it. Cos I’m fed up with watching my mum struggling to look after us. So yeah, bring it on!”
There was a pregnant silence after this outburst. Then Rebecca got up, walked round to Billy, and gave him a cuddle.
“Listen, Billy, maybe you think we abuse you. Maybe we’ve been hardened by whatever’s gone on in our lives, and we’re tough cookies, sure enough. But even the worst of us have a little streak of humanity left.” (Murmurs of agreement. Mrs Willoughby said, "absolutely, darling.")
“So if you ever need help, you just ring me, and I’ll help. All right?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Miss Strickland. And thanks for introducing us to Miss Mortimer, too.”
“You’re welcome, dear.” She resumed her seat.
I took Billy’s hand and squeezed it. I hadn’t realised how bad things were for him, but now I felt reassured that he had some powerful – well, if not friends, exactly, but allies, behind him. There was something about Miss Strickland that I liked. I think her interest in us was essentially sexual, while some of the others got more of a kick out of the power they wielded over us. Miss Strickland’s motives seemed a little less unhealthy. But then, I had also to question my own inclinations, my willing unwilling submission to their demands.
The pony business being finished, Billy and I had to leave the meeting. As we departed. Sue reminded me of something very important.
“Yes, I’m sorry about your party costume, Simon, but if Geraldine finds a suitable alternative tomorrow, I’ll let you know at once, to put your mind at rest.”
“Thanks, Sue.”
“Pity I lost the other one, though. We’ll never be able to match that.”
Thank goodness, I thought.
-
I wonder if Sue actually knows it was the boys that took the outfit. Be interesting to see what Geraldine picks for Simon to wear...giggles. Having a grey pony in time for the gym.. thing would have been awesome.
Love this story!
-
Chapter XXX: Reconciliation
Sunday 21 August. I was feeling a bit nervous this morning when I made my way to work. As I wrote before, I never know what may be round the next corner, and my life has so many corners at the moment that it’s surprising I’m not in a permanent state of agitation. I met Billy at reception. He had arrived early because he knew it was dress day, and was beaming all over his ugly face because Sue had given him a ridiculously frothy little pink number to wear. He looked like Little Bo Peep. “Where’s the sheep?” I asked, but he didn’t get it. Janice had also done a quick job on his hair and face, and now his ears had recovered from the piercings he wanted earrings all the time. His black hair, which had been allowed to grow, had been curled all over and collected into two little bunches at the sides, secured with tight pink ribbons. (He said he was working towards pigtails, but that was a long way off.) He had pink lip gloss, pink eye shadow, and little rings of pink rouge to make him look even more doll-like. His earrings today were tiny pink ceramic flowers. Working downwards, he had a simple pink satin ribbon choker, a pink satin dress with a round neck, short puff sleeves, and a bell-shaped skirt, the bodice braided with seams of white lace and all the edges trimmed to match. He wore pale pink tights and pink Mary Janes. I could see how that stuff might appeal to a little girl still into princesses and pumpkins and things, but it wasn’t my idea of attractive.
“You look like my grandma’s tea-cosy,” I said without smiling. He frowned.
“Just because you don’t understand this sort of fashion, Sim.”
Funny. I seemed to remember ages ago saying virtually the same thing to him, in another context. Okay, so maybe there was the slightest element of jealousy in my reaction. But I wasn’t jealous of his outfit, but of his obvious delight in it. I knew mine would not be so innocent and appealing.
I was right. I think Sue was still smarting from having ‘mislaid’ the yellow latex number. I was summoned into the costume room and presented with my outfit for the day.
“As Mrs Westfeather had to bring Geraldine here today, we offered her a session free of charge. Eleven till twelve. That should give Geraldine plenty of time to choose your party costume. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to put yourself back in her good books.”
She opened my costume bag.
“You’re going to provide the foil to Billy’s sweet innocence,” she smiled. “Here, put these on.”
It reminded me a bit of the costume I wore at Miss Strickland’s. But wearing it in front of Geraldine’s mother would be bizarre in the extreme. It comprised a little red latex dress, with a round neck and short sleeves, red latex panties, elbow length red latex gloves, and semi-transparent red latex hold-ups. There were also red patent leather high-heeled shoes, and a red patent leather choker.
“Get dressed, Simon. I want to see what you look like.”
“Can’t I change down there.”
“No. Get dressed, please.”
I went into the changing-room and did as I was told. I left the dress until last. I thought it might be a struggle to put on – it was certainly tight on me – but the inside was so smooth I slid into it without a problem. Well, there was one problem. I couldn’t keep the hem down over my panties, without actually holding onto it with both hands. It rode up with every step I took. The panties themselves were quite thin, but at least they had double thickness leg openings which gripped my thighs firmly, so nothing could slip out! I emerged and presented myself to Sue.
“Walk around a bit. Go on. Yes, perfect! She’ll like that, I’m sure!”
“It’s a bit wanton for her, isn’t it?”
“It’ll be even more so in a moment. Come here.” She took a bottle of bright red lip gloss from her back and painted my lips, making sure I kept them apart while it dried. She added a pair of dangly red heart earrings to my ensemble.
“There, that’ll do. I have a feeling that’s what she wants. I may be wrong, but I don’t think so. Show her what a shameless whore you can be.”
“Oh, thanks. I feel like I’m being sacrificed.”
“You are. And used as bait. And there’s one other thing.”
“Yes?”
“These.” She went to a cupboard and took out a biggish box. I had seen it at reception last week. “These were very difficult to find. I had to order them from Germany.”
She took out something I’d never seen before. A pair of little riding boots – made of yellow rubber!
“This is your present for Geraldine – as an apology. And there’s also a matching yellow riding gloves and yellow rubber riding cloak for rainy days. You know yellow’s her favourite colour. And I don’t suppose there’s another set like this in the country. It’ll be some compensation for the loss of your outfit.”
“I imagine she’ll be ecstatic,” I said, examining them, “they’re great quality, too.”
“I’ll keep her here till twelve. You can give them to her when she comes to collect her mum.”
“Why don’t you give them to her? Why me?”
“Because you’re the one who needs to apologise, of course. In any case, the cost is coming out of your wages, so they will be from you and not from me. Here, write the label. Write, “To Geraldine, my favourite groom, with love from Simon”. And two kisses.”
“No!”
“Do it!”
“And this label has hearts in the corners! Do I have to?”
“Yes. Now do it, before I think of something worse for you to say.”
I did it. Sue put all the stuff in a gift bag, and attached the label to the handle. She led me out into Reception.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Billy, “nice one!”
I ignored him, trying to hold onto the bag and the hem of my dress at the same time.
“Off you go, boys. See you later. Remember to look after the customers, Billy.”
“Course. But not in the way Simon looks like he going to!”
“Don’t….” I said, threateningly.
“Sorry, darling!” he quipped, and ran off down the path with me pursuit – unfortunately, just at the moment Beth and Laura were coming up. Damn it! They were always there when you didn’t want them. They stopped dead, and helped themselves to an eyeful of my costume.
“Simon – ‘ow much, darlin’?” I heard Laura shout, as I rushed by. Followed by a gale of laughter.
We got into the salon, and locked the door. We stared at each other.
“Look at us! What are we doing?” I demanded
“Making a lot of money, for one thing!” grinned Billy.
“True…”
“And doing stuff none of our friends is.”
“We don’t have any friends any more.”
“Acquaintances, then. Whatever. Compared to us I reckon they lead quite boring lives.”
“Compared to us, yeah! I suppose that counts for something…”
“And having sex.”
“And getting turned into ponies…”
“Speak for yourself!”
“Just you wait, little grey mare!”
“What’s that in the bag? Let me see… “To my favourite groom, with love…””
His face lit up. “It’s for your little girlfriend! I knew it!”
“It’s Sue’s idea, you idiot. She made me write that!”
“Yeah, right. What is it?”
“Nothing. Just some riding boots and gloves and stuff. She thinks I need to apologise.”
“It’s for the gymkhana, isn’t it? Oh, I can’t wait!” I glared at him.
“Sorry, Sim, but that is going to be something, you have to admit.”
“It’ll be your turn next, remember.”
“At some point, maybe. But this will be in public. In front of hundreds of people! And anyway, you can’t deny you enjoy it. You definitely have a soft spot for Geraldine – I can see it on your face.”
“Well, she’s okay. She’s a nice kid. It’s not her fault her mother’s a cow.”
Billy was about to reply when there was a knock at the door. Our first customer. A regular. She was slightly taken aback by our contrasting outfits.
“Good lord! A little angel and a little demon! Where are your horns, young man?”
“I’ve only got one, and I’m not telling you where it is!” I retorted.
“No, you don’t need to. I can almost see it!” She took her seat in the chair. Come on, then, shine my boots, you little show-off!”
“Coffee, Madam?” asked Billy, curtseying gracefully. I looked at him, enquiringly.
“Janice,” he replied, simply.
I did my job, and Billy did his. As the time approached eleven o’clock, I started to feel anxious. Our first customer left about five to, and we made sure everything in the salon was clean and ready. At eleven on the dot she strode in, resplendent in tight leather breeches, leather jacket, and riding boots. She carried a big leather bag. She looked at Billy first, but when her gaze fell on me she stopped dead.
“What’s this? I said you were the rudest boy I’d ever met. And now you’re wearing the rudest costume I’ve ever seen!”
Oh, no! I thought, now she’s going to go and complain about me again!
But instead she turned back to Billy. “I won’t be needing you, young man. Go up to and help my daughter choose a costume for your friend. Bring her back at twelve. I have business with this…this little slut!”
“Really? Thank you, madam!”
He gave me a wink as he slipped out of the door. Mrs Westfeather locked it behind him.
She sat herself down on the couch, her bag by her side.
“And what do you think you’re doing, may I ask, turning up dressed like that?”
“I-I’m sorry, madam, I was allocated this costume, and…”
“A likely story. It’s quite in character, though. I expect you like to hang about on street corners hoping to get picked up.”
“No! I…”
“Quiet!” What’s this package? For Geraldine? What is it?”
“It’s just some riding things. I wanted to apologise to her…”
She looked inside. “Hmph. I suppose you think you can bribe her to go easy on you. I’m afraid not, young man. You’re going into training next week, and Mrs Dawson has told me she’s going to teach Geraldine the need for discipline as well as kindness. I think you’ll find her a little more demanding from now on.”
“Madam, if you’d like to sit in the chair…” I suggested, weakly.
“Certainly not! Come here at once.”
I went and stood in front of her.
“And let go of your hem!”
“Now then. It’s perfectly clear to me that discipline is something you’ve been sorely lacking. I’m going to correct that deficiency. Get over my knee.”
“Sorry?”
“Do it!” I complied, trembling slightly. She pulled up my dress, which easily slid up around my waist. She held me tightly with her left arm. There was a short pause. Then her heavy hand connected with my buttocks. Those fine latex panties were no protection. She proceeded to spank me relentlessly, grunting with the effort. I managed to stay silent for the first dozen or so slaps, but then I involuntarily began to whimper a little. I thought she was never going to stop. I squirmed with pain under the onslaught, and it wasn’t long before, to my shame, she had me in tears. She alternated between my bottom and the tops of my thighs. When she eventually relented, my skin felt as though it was on fire!
I lay there, sobbing quietly.
“Well? What have you got to say for yourself?”
“I-I’m sorry, Mrs Westfeather. I didn’t m-mean to be rude. I’ll be p-polite to you always in future. I p-promise.”
“We’ll see. You will if you don’t want a repeat of this.”
I went to get up.
“No. Stay where you are.” She rummaged in her bag. I heard the sound of something being unscrewed. Then cold cream was being smoothed onto my burning thighs. She pulled down the back of my panties and did the same for my poor throbbing bottom.
“All right, now you can stand.” I climbed off her lap and stood awkwardly in front of her. She rose, walked over to the chair, and took a seat.”
Sh-shall I clean your boots now?”
“No. Come and sit on my lap.”
I lowered myself gingerly onto her lap. She wrapped her arm round me and laid her hand on my thigh. My dress had ridden up again. Her hand moved up to my panties. I stiffened. She touched me softly, making me gasp with surprise.
“Now, you silly boy, why don’t you show me just how much of a little slut you really are.”
She began to fondle me, gently pressing the very tip of my swelling member with the end of one finger. I discovered I was already slippery. While it was hurting me, the spanking must also have had an arousing effect. In seconds I was fully erect, my boyhood pushing at the waistband of my panties.
“You’re a horny little whore, aren’t you?” she whispered in my ear, as she fingered me.
“Yes, madam,” I moaned, “You’ve made me horny. I’ll do anything you want, anything…”
“Today all I want is to see you come, missy. Do you think you can manage that?”
I nodded, biting my lip with ecstasy. She massaged me for a minute or two longer, then pulled down the waistband just enough for my stiff member to peep out. She rested her hand on my belly, placed her fore- and index fingers each side of its head, and expertly slid the foreskin back and forth in an accelerating tempo, whipping my juices into a froth. I held on for a few seconds, but suddenly my body tensed involuntarily, and, with a little cry, I climaxed, spurting wad after wad of sperm all over both of us. She continued to work her fingers until I was quite spent. At last I lay helpless in her arms, my eyes half-closed, watching the little blobs of cloudy fluid sliding down the black leather of her jacket..
“There, Simon, I hope you've learned your lesson. You’ve only yourself to blame. That’s what happens to rude little sluts, I’m afraid. Now, we'd better get cleaned up. Geraldine will be here in ten minutes.”
We took it in turns to go to the bathroom and get sorted out. I removed my lip gloss. While we were waiting for the others to arrive, Mrs Westfeather said, “I’m going to buy that costume from Sue. I’m going to arrange a little party for some friends, and I’d like you to attend wearing it. I know they’re going to appreciate it as much as I do.”
“Okay. But I’ve got to get through Geraldine’s party first.”
“Yes. That may be more challenging. But if you remember your place, I’ll look after you. Cross me, and you’ll suffer for it. Oh, here they are now, I think.”
She unlocked the door. I pulled my hem down as much as I could. Billy and Geraldine burst in hand in hand, Geraldine breathless with excitement.
“Mummy! Mummy! We found the perfect thing. It’s …”
“Shh, darling! Don’t tell Simon yet. Let it be a surprise, shall we?”
“Ooh, must we? Simon, you’ll really like it! It’s yellow, my favourite colour!”
“Oh, good,” I smiled. “I like yellow too! I can’t wait to see it!”
“And Simon’s got something for you, as well, Gerry. Look!”
Geraldine fell to her knees and began to pull open the bag. She looked round at me, mouth open, eyes sparkling with delight.
“Oh, Simon! How did you find these? In my favourite colour! I’ve never seen anything like this!” She jumped up and hugged me. Thankfully, she was on such a high that my costume didn’t even seem to register.
“Now you’re as fashionable as Elizabeth.”
“Yes! I can’t wait to show her. Can I try them on Mummy?”
“Of course, darling.”
Everything fitted perfectly. Of course. Sue was clever like that. Geraldine strutted up and down proudly, admiring herself in the mirror from every conceivable angle.
“I hope it rains on the gymkhana. Mummy. Then I can wear my cloak, too.”
“Simon doesn’t!” Billy laughed. “He’ll be covered in mud!”
“Ha, ha, how amusing!” I retorted sarcastically.
Mrs Westfeather and Geraldine had to go. We said goodbye, and I had to endure more hugs from Geraldine, much to the delight of Billy. When they had gone, we made our way back up to reception for lunch.
“Wait till you see what she picked,” said Billy, gleefully.
“What is it?”
“Wait and see. It’s a surprise. By the way, what went on in there while I was away? You seemed on much better terms when I came back than you were when I left.”
“Oh, we had a long discussion and resolved our differences. She’s not so bad, after all.”
Billy looked at me suspiciously, but said no more.
-
Chapter XXXI: Party Plans
Mary was on reception.
“Hi, Simon. Sue’s gone out to lunch, but she asked to see you in her office at one. Your next appointment is at one thirty.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
It was one of those days when we hadn’t brought packed lunches, so we had to eat in the riding school canteen. It was a smallish room, about as big as a little teashop in a village, and almost as cramped. Today it would be busy, wouldn’t it? I struggled to keep my dress pulled down as I queued for my food, and tried to ignore the giggles and rude comments from the grooms. All the side tables were occupied, so when we had collected our food, we were forced to take a middle table, giving all of them a grandstand view. I tried to stretch the back of my dress under my bum as I sat down, but it soon rode up again. I fidgeted self-consciously, making the rubber squeak on the leather chair seat. I kept my legs pressed firmly together, but I felt that half my bum was showing.
“Looking forward to the gymkhana, Simon? We are!” shouted Denise, from the corner. That started them all off.
“I hear a rumour you’re getting a bigger tail. Would you like me to plait it for you?”
“Actually, Jean, that’s a really great idea!” said another voice. “Let’s ask Sue if you can!”
“Okay. I bet she’ll say yes. She knows what a good job I can do.”
“Yeah, and I want to see the other bit – you know, the bit that goes inside!” Cue general mirth.
“It’s such a shame he won’t appear au naturel,” said Denise, “you know what I mean!”
“Unless someone forgets to zip him up after he’s done a wee!”
“I bet your little Geraldine is looking forward to it!” someone said.
Unforgivably, Billy piped up, “She is! And Simon’s bought her new boots and everything!”
“Shut up, Billy!” I hissed.
There was a moment’s stunned silence.
“Is that true, Simon?”
“No, course not!”
“Oh yes, it is!” said a voice from the doorway. Sue! She was leaning against the door frame, grinning. “Come on, Simon. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. They’ll hear about it soon enough, anyway. He’s bought her the sweetest little yellow boots and gloves, and even a matching rain cloak in case the weather’s bad. After all, he wants her to look her best when she’s riding him around the ring, don’t you Simon?”
There were gasps of disbelief at this intelligence. I was so embarrassed I did the worst thing I could have done. I stood up and headed out of the room without another word. As I pushed past Sue she said,
“Go wait outside my office, please, Simon.”
Cheeks burning, I headed back to her office. I heard a sudden burst of laughing and squealing, and the hubbub of heated conversation, as I walked away. I hesitated, wondering whether I should go back and explain. Yes, I would. I returned to the canteen. The noise stopped abruptly, and all eyes were turned towards me.
“I – I just want to explain, that it was Sue’s idea….”
“Sorry, Simon. My idea? You paid for them, you presented her with them, you wrote the gift label. Remember? The one where you said “to my darling Geraldine” or something, the one with hearts all over it!”
“I didn’t write that! You told me too. She’s not my darling!”
“But I heard you telling Billy earlier how much you liked her, how “sweet” she is? Or am I mistaken in that too?” She smiled innocently at me.
“No, I did say that, but you’ve taken it out of context…”
It was too late. The damage was done. The entire canteen was wide-eyed and open-mouthed. There was an outburst of delighted laughter. I turned and hurried away….
After a few minutes Sue returned, unlocked her door and ushered me in to her office. She closed and locked the door.
“How could you say those things? It was a totally horrible thing to do to me! Now they all think I’m in love with that little brat…”
“Oh, come on, Simon. You don’t really think she’s a brat. Maybe you are in love with her, amd just don't know it. I’m pretty sure she’s in love with you, especially after today.”
“You did that deliberately, didn’t you? Made me give her that present? It’s all part of your plan to humiliate me!”
“Oh, I love you, Simon. Look at yourself. Dressed like a fetishistic whore, all full of indignance and denial, and longing to be ponified again. Don’t deny it. I saw how happy you were trotting around the field the other day. If you like the lifestyle, you have to suffer the ridicule with it, I’m afraid.”
I grimaced. It wasn’t true. But what was the point?
“Let’s talk about nicer things. Geraldine has chosen your outfit. Let me show you.”
She picked up a very small yellow cotton ensemble from the counter. A little pair of flared shorts with an elasticated waist, and a little short matching top, yellow with bunches of flowers all over them.
“But they’re tiny!”
“Obviously, silly. I’m having them made up in your size. Don’t worry, they’ll be ready in plenty of time!”
I picked them up and looked at the label. “Tippy Toddlers. Girl, 1 – 2 years.” Crap!
“Did she really choose these?”
“Unaided. You nearly had the yellow version of Billy’s dress. But then she saw these.”
“Oh, shit.”
“You’ll have a matching pair of mittens – special ones. I’ll show you those when they arrive. And yellow Peppa Pig wellies – like those by the door. Oh, and pull ups, and elasticated pants, in case you need to do a pee. And a harness and reins, of course. Just like a real toddler.”
“No, Sue, tell me you’re not serious! Please, I’ve never had to wear anything like that!”
“No, you haven’t. So it’ll be quite a novelty, won’t it? Such a pity your other outfit disappeared so mysteriously, or this would never have been necessary. But then, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? If you’re thinking of getting out of it, just remember your latest little cinematic triumph, and I’m sure you’ll know your duty.”
I put my hand to my head.
“Come on, cheer up! You’ve got an exciting couple of weeks ahead of you! And you’re firmly back in Mrs Westfeather’s good graces. You did so well this morning. She’s already been asking when you’re free for an evening booking. But first things first, eh?”
-
Oh if i were Simon i be horrified with the outfit but because of the colour. Other than that i think he will look cute in it.
-
Chapter XXXII: An Assignment and an Argument
Sunday 21 August, continued.
I stood there for a minute, mute, turning things over in my mind. As usual, I knew there was no escape. Sue’s wiles had very effectively rendered me impotent. I could feel her looking at me, and as if she were reading my mind, she added,
“That’s right, my dear. There’s nothing to be done, but smile, and carry on.”
“I’ve got to get back to work, unless there’s anything else,” I responded, heading for the door.
“Oh, yes, before you go…” I stopped, but didn’t turn round.
“Yes?”
“Pony training Wednesday and Thursday. Be here no later than nine. Sadie and Clarissa were hoping to have their postponed party this week, but they’ve put if off again for the pleasure of coming to watch you.”
“Great! Just what I need.”
“And Billy asked if he could come too. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Did he?”
“Yes. I’ve texted him your timetable.”
“Anything else?”
“All the posters are in place now. The girls have done a great job. Just thought I’d let you know in case you wonder why you’re already a bit of a celebrity in town. We even got permission to put up a couple in Queen Alexandra. As you know, term doesn’t start there till Friday, so the kids will only have one day to make their plans, but I thought that would be better than nothing.” I screwed up my eyes in despair.
“One more thing. I had an enquiry about you two from a friend of yours. She’s booked herself in for the three o’clock session.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see. It can be a little surprise. I think she only wants a chat, but in any case I’ve explained your position here, so make sure you comply willingly with any requests she makes. Okay?”
I grunted and left. I made my way back to the salon. I had to pass through Reception, where one of the gymkhana posters had been hung, reminding me of the coming weekend’s ignominy. Three of the younger grooms were studying it with interest. One of them noticed me.
“Look! He’s here!”
The other two turned, and all three dissolved in poorly-suppressed laughter.
“Gosh, Simon,” said one of them, giggling, “it says here at the bottom that you’ve “willingly volunteered your services” to help the donkey sanctuary. Is that true?”
I almost blurted out the truth, that I had no choice in the matter. Fortunately, I realised just in time that would be the worst thing I could say. Instead I decided that a pretence of virtue might serve me better.
“Well, Mrs Willoughby does a great job with those poor animals. You should go visit her some time. I thought it would be a nice gesture to help, if I could. I like to honour the Scout code in deed as well as word.”
It didn’t work. Why would it? They knew the score. All three snorted with mirth.
“You must really like wearing your pony suit to want to show off to the whole town like that!” said another.
“Oh, come on,” grinned the eldest, “everyone knows you have to do what you’re told around here. You didn’t wear your little rubber panties to the show out of charity, did you?”
“But you do like being dressed in rubber, don’t you,” said the first one, curiously. “Are you going to get all coltish in the parade, I wonder?”
“I have to go,” I said, irritated. “I’m very busy today!”
“See you on Sunday, pony boy!” I heard as I made for the door. “Oh – and your kickers are showing, by the way!” In my chagrin I had almost forgotten what I was wearing. Instinctively I reach behind and pulled down my hem, to all appearances just like a self-conscious girl! Gales of laughter followed me as I hastened out of Reception.
It wasn’t only the general staff that were enjoying my discomfort. When I got back to the salon, I found Billy waiting for me. The first thing he said was,
“You saw your costume, then. I wouldn’t like to be you, Sim, in the middle of all those little girls! They’ll just love having a toddler to boss around!”
“I don’t care, Billy. At least I’m not wearing that rubber number you so cleverly disposed of. She suspects something, though. I could tell.”
“She’ll find it eventually. But don’t worry. She’ll think it just fell down the back of its own accord. We’re in the clear.” He paused. “But as I was saying, about the party, do you know how many of them there will be? I heard something like twenty! All clamouring to play with the baby!”
“Billy, leave it! I’ll deal with it, all right?”
“And from what Sue said to Geraldine, you’ll have nappies and plastic pants underneath! Or rubber! She couldn’t decide which would be best. And of course, your little rubber bootees! I’d really like to see what you look like! Do you know if there are going to be any photos?”
“Billy, shut the f*** up, all right?”
“Ooh, no need to be so grumpy. I didn’t mean to ride you. Not like your little…”
I grabbed him by his puffy sleeves and shoved him down onto the couch.
“Ow! Careful of my dress!” I thrust my face into his.
“Look, Billy, can you just shut up about all this stuff for a minute? It’s all right for you, waltzing about in your pretty dresses getting admiring glances from all the girls. Think what it must be like for me. I’m just an object of ridicule at the moment, a butt for all their silly jokes. And you’re not helping! What was the idea of telling everyone about Geraldine’s presents? And why did you ask to come to my pony training?”
“Hey, get off me! Let go of my dress!” I released him with a push.
“Well?”
“Well, you did buy her that stuff, didn’t you? It is a bit strange, you must admit.”
“Sue bought it all, and then charged me for it, and made me give it to her like the whole idea had been mine. Don’t you see, it was a calculated act to embarrass me. Typical of her – simple, clever and subtle. And it succeeded, ‘cos now everyone thinks I have a soft spot for Geraldine.”
“Don’t you?”
“She’s okay. She a normal, nice kid. I don’t even want to disappoint her by messing up her plans, even if I could, which I can’t, for all reasons you already know. But that’s it. I have to go along with this stuff now. There’s no way out. And you don’t seem to realise it yet, but you’re in the same boat. You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But you can’t blame me for looking after number one. I’m keeping my head down. It’s you who are appearing at the gymkhana, and you who have to be the party toddler.”
“Don’t you think you’d be at the gymkhana too, if they’d managed to get your pony suit in time?”
“I don’t know. Maybe all that was just a story to make you feel better. As to watching your training, I just wanted to see what they were going to make you do, that’s all. I had to hear about it second hand last time.”
“Oh, Billy, don’t be so naïve! Didn’t you hear what they said at the meeting? You’ll be allocated Elizabeth More-Burley as a groom. That’s how they work. Her mum’s rolling in it. They get to the mothers through the daughters. They give you to Elizabeth as a pony and then her mum will be paying through the nose for you. If it’ll increase their profits they’ll let her ride you into the ground! That’s quite apart from the pleasure they get from humiliating us.”
“I don’t even know this Elizabeth More-Whatsit. Who is she?”
“She’s a friend of Geraldine’s. She’s not as kind and affectionate as Geraldine. She’s quite spoilt, I think, and I can imagine she’s capable of being a bit spiteful, so you’d better hope you’re right and I’m wrong about their plans.”
Our conversation was brought to a stop by the arrival of our next customer. Miss Greenfield had been a few times before. In her early visits I thought her very proper and demure, but with every subsequent visit her outfits became more and more provocative, so much so that when we knew she was booked in, we were always in a state of keen anticipation. We had often speculated about her intentions, but I was pretty sure she got off on teasing us mercilessly! She was a teacher of some sort, we weren’t sure where, and since we weren’t allowed to ask questions of the clients, we couldn’t find out much about her. She certainly looked like a teacher, right down to her tightly-pinned brown hair and her black-rimmed glasses. She was wearing her most daring outfit to date - riding boots as usual, though she clearly wasn’t planning to ride, because when she took off her long coat, she revealed a pleated dark blue leather mini-skirt, short enough to show off the tops of her fishnet stockings and her suspenders, and a tight blouse in black silk which she wore without a bra, so that her nipples were clearly visible. She could have done anything she wanted with us, but her sole object seemed to be to drive us crazy. She was delighted with my outfit, that was obvious.
“Simon, you look so nice today! I love the dress! And the gloves! And you too, Billy. Yes, I will have a coffee, how kind!”
As I worked on her boots she made sure both of us could see up her skirt, which wasn’t difficult, especially when she slid forward in the chair and threw one leg over the side! Then I realised why my outfit had pleased her so much – her own panties were also red latex, whether by coincidence or design I had no idea. She saw us staring at them, and actually squirmed with pleasure! She allowed one hand to slide down to her crotch, a movement that could have been interpreted either as modesty or lewdness. Her other hand played with her nipples with studied unconsciousness. She kept up this sort of performance for the entire session, so that by the time she left we were both feeling distinctly agitated.
“Phew!” said Billy, “she certainly knows how to wind us up, doesn’t she?”
“Did you see her panties?”
“I couldn’t very well avoid seeing them. And her breasts! I mean, her nipples were so stiff!”
“I wanted to ….”
But at that moment there was a knock at the door. Our mystery client! I couldn’t think who it might be. I turned the handle and opened the door slowly. To my horror, standing in the doorway was…Sandy, our Scout leader! Instinctively, I grabbed them hem of my dress.
“May I come in?”
“S-Sandy! How nice to…. Yes, come in!”
“Hello Billy. What a pretty dress! Oh, yours too, Simon, of course.”
“W-we weren’t expecting you,” stammered Billy, “it’s…it’s…great to see you, though.”
“Well, after camp I did a bit of asking around, and I discovered you guys work here weekends. What a great idea! Boot boys in cosplay! I should have guessed you liked dressing up when I saw you wearing those little shorts so confidently
We stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
“No, of course, I’m sorry.” I blurted, “Please, Sandy.”
“I’ll just sit on the couch for now.”
She sat down. We stood awkwardly in front of her, like two naughty schoolboys. Well, that’s what we were, I suppose. She smiled sweetly, looking from one of us to the other.
“I’ll tell you why I’m here, boys. We’re coming up to the find-raising season, autumn and Christmas. I was wondering whether you would be willing to front some of our projects. I think you could make a huge difference to our campaign. Yes, I’m thinking of those cute little traditional shorts, but Mrs Dawson tells me you have many, many other costumes available, and she says she’d be only too happy to lend them to you, and even assist with publicity and organisation. I really couldn’t express my gratitude to her in strong enough terms. She’s such a kind, caring woman, and she clearly has a soft spot for you two.”
I smiled inwardly at that description, but my outward expression didn’t change.
“Of course, Sandy, anything you want….” I murmured.
“And I discovered yesterday that you’re appearing as ‘Simon the Pony’ at the gymkhana next weekend! You’re so versatile!”
“Yeah, well, that’s just a one-off, I think…”
“No, not according to Mrs Dawson. You and your little groom…what’s her name?”
“Geraldine!” said Billy, eagerly.
“Ah, yes, Geraldine. That’s right. Well, Mrs Dawson told me that you – Simon the Pony, that is – and Geraldine will be a permanent act, and she would be quite happy if we borrowed you two for our promotional slash charity events. Isn’t that great? Apparently, Geraldine is also a Scout.”
“Is she?” I gasped.
“Yes, Mrs Dawson is positive. She saw her in her uniform in town with her mum. I’m going to get in touch and see if she’d be willing to help, and find out which troop she’s in. I’ll let you know how that goes.”
“No…please...”
“Simon?”
“No…nothing…I was just thinking it may be a bit much for Geraldine this autumn. She just starting at Queen Alexandra, you know, and the first term can be quite demanding….”
“Oh, I see. Of course, I’ll be consulting her and her mother before we even think making any plans, but I can’t imagine that would be a major problem. Mrs Dawson tells me she’s very enthusiastic.”
“That’s true, Sandy,” interjected Billy. “She just loves being Simon’s groom. I’ll bet she’ll jump at the chance!”
I looked daggers at him.
“We’ll see anyway. As long as you’re up for it, Simon.”
“Yeah. And you know Billy’s hoping to get his own pony suit soon. And his own groom, too.”
“Really? Is that true, Billy?”
“Nah, not really.” He glared at me. “It’s only an idea. Simon’s the one. Go to the gymkhana and you’ll see what I mean.”
“I intend to. I’m looking forward to it. I never realised you two were so multi-talented. It would be a shame for us to waste all that.”
I sighed. Every time I thought I could see the end of all this on the horizon, the mirage evaporated before my eyes.
“But I have to go, I’m afraid. I’m sorry I can’t spend a bit longer with you, and maybe even get a boot-shine! But there’s a lot of admin to do for the Scouts besides family stuff. Did you know I’ve been appointed to the District Executive Committee, so I’ve got even more responsibility now?”
“That sounds important.”
“Not really. But I do have more input into fundraising and charity work. So I’m even more grateful for your commitment. Well, bye bye. I’ll be in touch soon.”
And she hurried out. I turned to Billy.
“Look, Billy, whose side are you on? It’s enough that they’re making all these plans for me, without you encouraging them.”
“Sorry, Simon. Maybe I should learn to shut up a bit more. But you have to admit, it’s quite exciting,” he smirked, “you and Geraldine, I mean…”
“Oh, go and get stuffed, Billy!”
Not knowing what I was doing, and forgetting I was dressed as a whore, I stormed out of the salon in a huff, slamming the door behind me. I was immediately confronted by a group of girls arriving for their afternoon ride. I froze, and did a quick about-turn.
“Billy! Open the door!” I hissed.
“No! Stay out there until you’ve cooled off!”
“Please! I’m sorry. There’s loads of people out here!”
“Good! Serves you right!”
I looked round. The girls had stopped, staring. I tried to smile, and look normal, but I was blushing scarlet.
“That’s the boot boy,” I heard one of them say. “He cleans my mum’s boots for her. He’s an idiot!”
“He’s the pony on those posters! Isn’t he?” remarked another.
“Yes! That’s him!” said a third, recognition dawning.
They stood there, the lot of them, unashamedly taking me in, grinning with delight. Then a woman with a little dog on a lead, who I vaguely recognised as a regular, came up from the car park and joined them.
“Come on girls, what’s the delay?” Then she saw me. “Oh, good lord! It’s Simon, isn’t it?” I nodded, sheepishly. “What are you wearing? I think you’d better go back inside. You’re causing a traffic jam!”
“I’m sorry. I’ve locked myself out.”
“Oh, I see. Well come up to Reception with us, then. Don’t stand about here.”
I couldn’t think of a better strategy, so I followed them up the path. I say “followed”, but as soon as I joined them most of the girls fell back behind so that could get a better view. At last we arrived at Reception, amidst a lot of chattering and giggling.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Cathwick, girls,” said Mary. “Simon! What are you doing here?”
“I got locked out. By Billy.”
“Oh, dear. Wait here, then. I’ll call Sue in a moment. Let me deal with the girls first.”
So I had to stand there like a prize exhibit while Mary painstakingly checked all their bookings, holding down the hem of my dress with both hands. Eventually Sue came out of her own accord.
“Simon! What are you doing here?”
I related the story.
“You know you’re not allowed to leave the salon during the day for any reason?”
“Yes, of course I know. I didn’t mean to leave! Don’t you understand what I said?”
I may have shouted a bit. I was upset.
“I will not tolerate that tone of voice. You know that. Wait here. Your last booking has cancelled in any case, so I’m going to find something else for you to do.”
She returned a few moments later, holding some white cable-ties and a pair of pliers.
“Follow me!”
She led me down to the gate at the foot of the path.
“Face me.” She put two of the ties around my wrists, over my gloves. She clipped off the ends. “Now put your hands on the top bar of the gate.”
“Why? What are you doing?”
“Just do it!”
She threaded the second pair of ties through the first ones, and secured them to the bar, again clipping off the ends.
“There. Now, since you like being out in public in your finery so much, you will stay there for the rest of the day and open and close the gate for everyone. And please welcome everyone that comes in, and say goodbye to everyone who leaves. If you put your fingers over the ties, people won’t realise you’re being punished. You can appear to be a paragon of altruism!” She laughed loudly. “Billy can go home. I’ll let him know.”
“Miss, that’s not fair!”
“No, Simon. It’s not. But it’s such fun!”
She didn’t release me until six. It was a horrible experience. Not only was I humiliated, but a few of the grooms, and I’m sorry to say a couple of the paying customers, also took advantage of my situation to pinch or grope me when no-one was looking. I complained to Sue, but she only said,
“Well, now you know what it’s like, being a little slut! But cheer up. For the next few days you can concentrate on being a pretty little pony instead. Don’t be late for training. See you on Wednesday!”
I would have loved to see Simon in his red latex dress. Next time, maybe. Billy kindly gave me a description, though. I guess it looked something like the one in the photo I’ve attached. Stella.
-
Sue really has it in for Simon with all the things she is putting him through. The only way i think to shut Billy would be for his pony suit to show up early and he unexpectedly finds himself dressed as a pony boy as well...
Keep up the good story you always leaving me wondering if the story may take a turn...Hugs
-
Chapter XXXIII: Training Days (Part 1, Wednesday)
Wednesday 31 August. I would have overslept had my aunt not woken me. On my way back from work on Sunday evening I discovered the extent of my newly-acquired notoriety. I was stared at, pointed at, and laughed at, several times. So I had stayed indoors for the first two days of the week. Friends whom I hadn’t seen for weeks had called round, probably to interrogate me about the gymkhana or just to gloat or take the piss. Alice and Debbie turned up twice. I got Bea to tell them I was out. I’m sure they didn’t believe her – I saw them staring up at my window from the street hoping to catch sight of me - but I didn’t care. And last night my dreams kept waking me up. In the morning, I cycled to Holly End, and just made it by nine. It was a mild, sunny morning with little wind, but I could see clouds piling up on the western horizon, and I hoped they weren’t a harbinger of rain. I saw Sadie parking her car, with Clarissa in the passenger seat, and as I pushed my bike up the path I could see a little knot of people outside reception. Rebecca and Tamsin were there, Mrs Willoughby, Mrs Westfeather, Jane and Beth. Jane noticed me first. She said something to the others, and all eyes turned in my direction. A moment later Geraldine appeared in the doorway, and came running down to meet me.
“Simon! Simon! Look at my new outfit!”
“You look very smart, Geraldine.”
“My mummy said my new boots would look best with black breeches.”
“She was right.”
She did look smart, actually. Along with her new breeches she wore a dark blue short-sleeved riding top. She grabbed my hand and led me back up to Reception. I was just feeling thankful that Billy hadn’t arrived yet, when he too appeared out of the main door in conversation with Sue. As soon as he noticed me hand-in-hand with Geraldine he started smirking.
“Good morning, Simon.” said Sue, “I hope you’re feeling fit. The sooner we get started the better. There’s rain forecast for later.”
“Good morning, Simon,” smiled Mrs Westfeather, “I hope you like Geraldine’s new outfit. She can’t wait to get astride you!”
I smiled back by way of reply. I headed inside, accompanied by Sue, Rebecca and Tamsin. I went straight to the costume room. My suit was on the counter. I grabbed it and went into the changing cubicle.
“Don’t forget these,” said Tamsin,” a little addition to save your blushes.”
She handed me a pair of pink latex pants. When I got inside, I discovered they incorporated a sheath about six inches long, terminating in a sphincter, like the mouth of a balloon.
“What are these for?” I asked.
“If you have to do a wee in public, at least no-one will be able to see your thing. Unless you want them to.”
“Of course not. Sue, talking about that, I hope you’ve made appropriate arrangements for Sunday?”
“Yes, don’t worry. You’ll have your own private tent or screen well away from the activity areas.”
“Okay, thanks for that, anyway. I won’t be a moment.”
It took me only minutes to zip myself into my suit, and then I came out of the cubicle and let the women take over, hitching up my ankles and fitting my hood, my arm bindings, my hooves, my head harness, my saddle, and my tail. I was relieved to find it was the same tail as before, which was not uncomfortable once it was in. I knew there was no way out, so I had resigned myself to the whole thing, and determined to make the best of it. After all the publicity I couldn’t very well let down Holly End, which I relied upon for my income, and also, yes, I would have hated to have disappointed Geraldine.
“Could you leave the bit loose till the last minute, please, Miss Strickland?” I asked.
“Of course. We don’t need to buckle it in place till we fit the reins. Come on then, pony.”
I clip-clopped out to Reception. I was quite adept at walking now.
“You’re really getting the hang of it, Simon,” said Sue.
“Today you’re going to learn to trot,” said Tamsin. She looked very businesslike in black jods and boots and a white riding top. “You won’t find that so easy. People can’t move in the same way as horses. Horses can move with a single hoof on the ground. People can’t. You’ll find anything beyond a trot is pretty much impossible, especially trussed up as you are. I’d love to have you cantering, but I’ve never ponified anyone yet capable of that.”
“How many people have you ‘ponified’ then,” I queried.
“Oh, enough, Simon. Enough to know that you’re an exceptional mover, and you must also be quite fit.”
I felt quite proud of myself. Praise from Tamsin was rare indeed.
“Can I get on him now, Tamsin?” pleaded Geraldine.
“I’m sorry, darling, you’ll have to wait a bit today. We’re going to have three two-hour sessions, with an hour’s break in between each. The first session will be dedicated to what is called ‘lungeing’. The purpose of this is to teach an inexperienced pony to relax, to be obedient to the aids, and in Simon’s case to accustom him to different paces and see how well he can walk and maybe trot. But you can help me, of course!”
“What do I do, Tamsin?”
“Okay, dear, now first you can buckle up Simon’s bit. That’s it, not too tight… Perfect! Now we need to attach another strap to the side-pieces of his bridle, like so… I’ll put it under his nose so it won’t slip about.”
“What’s that for?”
“I’ll show you. We use it to attach the lunge line. We couldn’t use the bit ring because it would hurt poor Simon’s mouth. This is the lunge line.”
She picked up a coil of flat braided cord and clipped it to the new strap.
“There. This is very long, see? So I can make him go round and round in circles and see how he moves.”
“But he won’t go unless I ride him…”
“Oh, yes he will, Geraldine. This will make him.” And Rebecca handed her the longest whip I have ever seen! It was very thin, with a rigid handle as tall as Tamsin herself, and a whip on the end almost as long! She cracked it in the air to demonstrate its power. Geraldine’s mouth fell open.
“Won’t it hurt him, though?”
“I won’t hit him properly unless he stops. It’s just to encourage him along. Watch me for a while, then you can have a go.”
Tamsin picked up the end of the lunge line and walked backward into the field adjacent to Reception. There were no horses there today. I followed at the end of the line. When she was almost in the middle of the field, she called to me.
“Right, Simon. Stop there. Now when I tell you, I want you to start walking anti-clockwise around me. Keep at the end of the lunge rein, don’t start spiralling in or drifting out. Keep in a nice round circle. And start off slowly. All right? When I want you to speed up, I’ll tell you, or use the whip to get you to move on. Ready? Okay, go!”
I started to walk. Because I was going in a circle, centrifugal force tended to pull me outwards, away from Tamsin, so the line remained fairly taut. I had done about five circuits, and was feeling quite comfortable, when she shouted, “Right – move on!” and cracked the whip behind me. I actually felt the tip hit my left foot. I went a bit faster. But again she called, “move on, pony! Pick up the pace, please!” I wanted to complain, but I couldn’t speak with the bit in my mouth and she wouldn’t have heard me if could. My muscles were beginning to ache now, and I was sweating inside the heavy rubber. I wouldn’t have minded a couple of minutes’ rest. But Tamsin had other ideas. “Come on! Pick up those hooves! Faster!” The whip connected behind the saddle, and then on my shins. Now I really wanted to get away from it. My walk turned into something between a walk and a run. My limbs were moving in an unaccustomed rhythm, dictated by the desire to escape from the whip on the one hand, and the constraints of my costume on the other. But she was merciless, pushing me to move ever faster, till eventually I caught one of my front – I’m sorry, fore - hooves on one of my back hooves, and tumbled face first into the ground!
I lay there, stunned, for a moment. I couldn’t feel my nose, and vaguely registered blood welling somewhere at the edges of my vision. With my front legs strapped into bindings I had been unable to take any evasive action. I lay on my side, my hooves waving ineffectually. I heard running footsteps, and then I was accosted by a number of hands - in my dazed state I couldn’t tell how many. My two rescuers turned out to be Billy and Geraldine. No-one else came to my aid, and all I heard of Tamsin were the words, “Okay, let’s take a break!”
Geraldine cradled my head, repeating over and over, “poor pony, poor pony!” while Billy squeezed and poked various irrelevant parts of my body, enquiring, “Are you all right, Sim? Have you broken anything?” When he finally realised the necessity of removing my bit, I was able to reply.
“If I have, it’s my dobe!” I don’t know why they both thought that was funny.
“Can you help me back onto my feet? Thanks.”
Together they hauled me up, allowing the blood from my nose to drip steadily onto the grass, and accompanied me as I trudged wearily back towards reception. Sue appeared from the doorway with the first-aid box, and met me half way. She removed the lunge strap, and made me lie down again while she cleaned my nose and wiped specks of blood from my front legs and hooves.
“It’s not broken anyway,” she announced, flexing it gently, “but it’s a bit red. The bleeding should stop soon. Just lie there quietly. I’ll get you some water.”
“Thanks, Sue.”
“I think that’s the morning session over. We’ll have an hour’s break and resume about one.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Yes, she’s a hard taskmistress. But she got you trotting there.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yes. She’s very pleased with you.”
“She has a funny way of showing it.”
“That’s Tamsin. She knows how to give it out.”
Sue brought us a towel to catch the blood. Geraldine insisted on sitting on the grass with my head in her lap, cushioned on the towel. The bleeding soon stopped. She stroked my hooded and bridled head with awkward gentleness. Billy sat beside us.
“That looked awful, Sim,” he said in a low voice, “I hope they don’t do it to me. I don’t think I could run like that. I’d just fall over straight away, and then she’d probably come and beat me.”
“Watch out, here she comes!”
“Good effort, Simon. You’re a natural. You were trotting there at the end. That’s what I was hoping for. Well done!”
“What’s next?”
“Next we do it all over again, this time with your rider.”
“Yippee!” cried Geraldine.
“I’ll keep you on the lunge line for a bit, but it’ll be up to Geraldine to keep you moving. See if you can duplicate your performance of the morning.”
“Okay, I’ll try…”
“Relax for now. Take on some refreshment. We’ll start again in forty minutes.”
I ate lunch, drank a can of juice, and trotted round the back of the offices for a pee, aided by Billy. He was a bit less inclined to make fun of me now.
“Hey, Sim, do you think they were serious about doing this to me too?”
“Doing what?”
“You know… Ponification.”
“Absolutely. Wait and see.”
“I hope not,” he said, anxiously. “It looks really hard. And that’s not even the worst part.”
Tamsin was calling me. I went back round. Geraldine had put on her black riding coat, her new gloves, and her riding hat. She held her little whip in one hand and what I took to be her cloak in the other, rolled up tight and fastened with a strap.
“Come here, Simon,” said Tamsin, “Geraldine wants to strap this behind your saddle, in case it rains. Actually, it looks as though it might.”
The cloak was secured, and Geraldine climbed astride me, encouraged by her admiring mother. Tamsin clipped on the reins, knotting them short so Geraldine could keep a close hold of my head. She refitted the lunge strap, and attached the line.
“You look so smart in your new outfit, darling. You’re going to be the only rider at the gymkhana with yellow boots and gloves,” simpered Mrs Westfeather.
“I know, mummy. And a proper riding cloak. I do hope it rains on Saturday, so I can wear it!”
“Just a couple of piccies before you start.” She held up her phone. “There, dear. Now off you go. Have a nice ride!”
Tamsin led me into the field again on the lunge line. On her word, Geraldine gave me a gentle kick. Obediently I started off, and when she kicked me again, and gave me a little slap down my flank, I broke into my version of a trot. They worked me together for the first half hour or so, then Tamsin came and took off the lunge strap and line.
“Okay, Geraldine. You’re on your own now. Show me what you can do. Remember what I told you. Control and discipline. Keep him on a tight rein, show me how you can make him go, and make him stop. Show me how you can turn him. And don’t be afraid to push him to the limit occasionally. Go!”
For the next hour, Geraldine rode me around the field, sometimes at a walk, sometimes as fast as I could go. She was a good trainer herself. We seemed to develop a close sympathy. I could usually sense what she wanted of me. She transmitted her demands through the pressure of her calves on my sides, and with quiet instructions. When she wanted me to change direction, she used the reins, not to pull my head round, but merely as a signal, to which I would immediately respond. It was hard work, but the sense of working as a team, and putting on a good display, was also enjoyable. It sounds ridiculous, and I wouldn’t admit it openly, but I liked having her on my back, and took pride in responding well to the aids. I wanted to impress the onlookers as much as she did.
However, our display was interrupted by a sudden squall. Our audience ran for cover, but Geraldine reached back and grabbed her cloak from behind the saddle. In no time she had unrolled it and thrown it over her shoulders, fastening it at the throat.
“There. It can rain as much as it wants, now! I’ll be nice and dry in here.”
The scent of new latex filled the air, giving me an unexpected thrill of pleasure. Geraldine walked me back up to Reception, where the others were sheltering.
“I don’t think it’s going to stop,” said Sue. “Let’s all go into the indoor school.”
The indoor school was in a big hangar-like construction half way between the offices and the showground. It had an arena and several tiers of viewing seats. The arena was a loose artificial surface. We made a dash for it, and were soon inside, where it was dry, and rather warm under the metal roof. It was decided the rest of the day’s training would take place there.
“You know, you two are doing great,” said Tamsin. “It’s such a shame we don’t have more time. I really need a fortnight to prepare you for the gymkhana, and to get you completely fit, Simon, but here we are just a few days away. Never mind. You’ll be completely prepared for the next event, whatever it is.”
Geraldine patted my flank encouragingly.
“They’re amazing,” cried Clarissa, with genuine admiration, “they work so well together. Simon, I wouldn’t have believed you’d be such an awesome pony! I’m so glad we cancelled that stupid party and came here instead, aren’t you, Sadie?”
“Oh, darling, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, trust me!”
“We’ll carry on doing the basic stuff for the remainder of today,” said Tamsin, “and then dedicate tomorrow to jumping and tricks. Okay?”
We both nodded. Our training was resumed. It had been a dry summer, and outside in the field the ground had been quite hard, making my muscles ache. The surface of the arena, however, was yielding, even slightly springy. Over the course of the next couple of hours I perfected my trot, and Geraldine her posture, much to Tamsin’s satisfaction.
“Good work, you two! Sue, I need a few more weeks with them, and I swear we’ll be able to show them by Christmas!” she laughed.
“Oh, don’t give me ideas,” she returned. “How about you offer a full ponification service here at Holly End? I bet there are plenty of mothers – and wives – who’d like their boys put into training!”
“Hmm, I might just consider that. Wouldn’t it be fun? What do you think, Geraldine? Would you like a whole stable of ponies to ride?”
“No thank you. I just want Simon. I don’t need any others.”
“Billy looked at Sue and grinned broadly. Unable to speak, I blew a gentle nicker of gratitude, which Geraldine understood just as well, for she stroked and patted my cheek.
“Doesn’t Geraldine look special in her cloak?” said Sue. “You know, darling, you might get your wish on Sunday. The forecast for more rain over the next few days.”
“And more mud,” murmured Billy, looking innocently out at the field.
-
apter XXXIII: Training Days (Part 2, Thursday)
Thursday 1 September. My muscles were aching when I got out of bed, but after I’d been up for half an hour, I felt fine. I certainly felt fit! It was overcast and drizzling, so I guessed my last day of training would also be inside.
When I arrived at Holly End, I found a different audience from yesterday. Sadie and Mrs Willoughby were not able to be there, and Mrs Westfeather had dropped off Geraldine and would be back later on to collect her. Stella had turned up with her usual photographic equipment. Worst of all, Beth had been joined by three of her mates, Phoebe, Laura and Denise. Before I’d even got to the top of the path I could see them in animated conversation with Billy. They greeted me with pretended innocence poorly disguised by smug grins.
After I was kitted up, we all made our way down to the covered school. The drizzle had transmuted into a heavy mist, and by the time we got inside my rubber suit was slippery with moisture. Geraldine found a roll of tissue and helped to dry me off. Tamsin ushered everyone to their seats, then turned to me. Billy was sitting between Phoebe and Beth, and looked as though he was cracking jokes. I could see from the self-satisfied expression on his face that now he thought he was safe, he could play the cool dude. He actually put him arm round Phoebe at one point! If I hadn’t been in pony mode, I swear I would have gone over and kicked him up the butt!
“Simon. Today we need to work on a few basic tricks. Geraldine will act as ring-mistress, and encourage you to run through a hoop, and a plastic tunnel – you can see that by the door. We are also going to see if we can get you to rear. It won’t be easy, I realise that. It requires great fitness and muscle control, and perfect balance. And finally, we’ll see if you can jump a pole on the ground. You may think that’s easy, but it’s not, and you’re in danger of falling flat on you face.”
“Like yesterday!” remarked Billy, with a snort of laughter.
“Please be quiet, Billy!” returned Tamsin, with a glare that would have stopped a charging grizzly in its tracks. “Or you’ll feel the weight of my riding crop across your backside!”
He blushed, suitably chastened.
The trials began. Negotiating the hoop and tunnel was a piece of piss. But rearing was an impossibility. The design of my back hooves and the attachment of my ankles to my upper thighs prevented any movement which might be used to counterbalance the elevation of my front legs. And because I couldn’t bend my front legs, I couldn’t use them to give myself any upward impetus. However, when Tamsin lifted up my front half, I found I could balance on my back hooves for a while.
“That’ll have to do, I think,” she reflected. “Can you paw the air a bit?”
I made a rather melodramatic attempt, which, since I couldn’t bend my arms, couldn’t help but look pretty pathetic. But the general opinion was that it was the best that could be expected, so it was decided that two of the girls would help me rear, and my resulting stance might be useful as a photo-opportunity. Finally, we came to the pole. Now, you might think it would be easy to jump a pole a few inches across lying on the ground. But I couldn’t jump as such. The trick was to run at the pole and meet it just on the right stride, so each hoof was in the air at the moment it crossed it. I quickly mastered the art of getting my fore hooves over, but co-ordinating the back ones was a nightmare. I tripped and fell many times. Geraldine was becoming distressed. “Poor pony!” she whimpered, as I went down for the tenth time. Even Billy occasionally looked sympathetic. Perhaps he still had some regard for my welfare.
“Simon! Concentrate! It’s all in the approach speed. Get that right and you’ll flow over it,”
said Tamsin. “Again. Slightly quicker this time.”
She was right. Eventually I got the speed right, and suddenly it became easy.
“Now with Geraldine. Mount up, darling!”
Geraldine jumped eagerly into the saddle, and gave me an encouraging pat. “Go on, pony. You can do it!” And I did! I had learnt my lesson well, and now I had got the correct pace off I discovered I could clear the pole without touching it. Tamsin instructed me to maintain the pace after the pole, and having watched me carefully and made some marks on the ground, she placed a second pole about twelve feet after the first. After a few minor adjustments I was able to run through and clear both without difficulty. Tamsin measured the distance between the two poles.
“On Sunday we’ll set them up just like this, and you can clear both. That should impress the cognoscenti. Well done, Simon. And you, Geraldine. All that remains is for you to practise what you’ve learned until it’s perfect. But we’ll have break now and continue in an hour.”
Tamsin unbuckled my bit, and Beth came over and fed and watered me. The others lounged around the arena, eating their lunches and chatting. Jane appeared at the doorway and called Sue to come to Reception. After she left, Billy came over to say hello. I wasn’t feeling that conversational.
“Why are you hanging out with those girls?" I asked. “You know they’d be making fun of you if you were in my shoes.”
“In your hooves, you mean!” he laughed.
“Look, Billy,” I went on, “I don’t know what’s happened to you lately. I don’t even know if you’re my friend any more.”
“Same here. You seem to have another friend now!”
“What?”
“You know who I’m talking about.”
“You’re not serious? I didn’t choose her, anyway. This has all been imposed on me.”
“Yeah? Well you seem pretty happy about it.”
I was stunned.
“You’re jealous of a little kid? Is that what this is about? You’re crazy, Billy.”
“Maybe I am. But it’s not just that. I would never have got into all this if it hadn’t been for you. I’m realising how dangerous it all is. Look what they’ve done to you! You have no free will any more. They can make you do anything. Now they’ve turned you into an obedient little pony, and they’re going to parade you in front of half the town! Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Of course it does. But since there’s nothing I can do about it, I might as well go along with it. It would be even more humiliating if I’m seen to be acting under duress. Don’t you see?”
“I see perfectly. You’re going along with it all right. But is it because you have to, or because you want to? Yes, I’m trying to make friends with the mistresses, it’s true. But only because I don’t want to end up in the same position. I don’t want to be a slave to all their kinky whims and fancies!”
I fell silent. I couldn’t help but feel there was an element of truth in what he said, however small. Why did my treatment sometimes – often – make me feel at peace? Why did it feel so natural to be governed by these women, or so eager to please Geraldine?
“I understand, Billy,” I said, quietly. “I admit there’s something in me that has adapted to my situation too willingly. I’m sorry. But don’t desert me, please. I need you so much.”
“I’ll never do that, Sim. But I have to look after myself. To tell the truth, I understand how you feel. I could see how I could easily slip into the same submissive life. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Billy! Billy! Come here!” Sue was back. “I’ve got a surprise for you!”
“A surprise? What is it?”
“Your costume’s arrived! Your pony suit! They finished it early! Come and try it on!”
“No!” he gasped, “It’s not true!”
But Rebecca was already at his elbow. She took him firmly by the arm, and marched him over to where Sue was waiting. Tamsin followed close behind.
“Sim! Help!” he called back. But there was nothing I could do, and in a moment he had disappeared from view.
-
Chapter XXXIII: Training Days (Part 3, The Grey)
There was nothing to be done until Tamsin and the others got back. Geraldine sat on the ground by my head feeding me squares of milk chocolate, softened by the warmth of the school. I ate the squares and obediently licked the melted chocolate off the tips of her gloved fingers, like a pet puppy. The girls kept up a constant chattering and giggling. With all my strapping, it required no effort to stand there in my pony gear. I know now how horses can so easily fall asleep standing up. I think I was almost falling asleep myself, when a sudden squeal from one of the girls restored me to full consciousness. I stared at them for an instant, then followed their gaze to the far end of the school. A little door had opened in a gap in the tiers of seating, and being led through it by Tamsin herself was a little shiny grey pony, his long ears nodding slightly as he walked. His front legs were encased in white leather sheaths, tightly buckled. His head was fitted with a red leather bridle. Rebecca followed behind, carrying a little red saddle and the girths. Billy walked awkwardly, his back hooves catching against each other now and then. Tamsin led him over to where Geraldine and I stood. Poor Billy! His eyes were wide and frightened, and he looked as though he had been crying. Instead of a bit, a red rubber ball was strapped into his mouth. I looked at Tamsin enquiringly. She dumped her rucksack on the ground.
“He wasn’t very cooperative, your little friend. Surprising, after his enthusiasm in front of the Committee. He complained so much we decided to give him a ball-gag instead of a standard bit. But the suit fits him perfectly, don’t you think?”
“Er, yes, perfectly.”
“Is Billy pony unhappy?” asked Geraldine, concerned, patting Billy’s head. “Don’t cry, pony! Now you’ll be able to play with Simon pony all day.
All Billy could say was, “mmm”. Saliva oozed from the sides of his mouth. I’m ashamed to say I felt little sympathy for him.
Tamsin gave him a sharp flick with her dressage whip. “Keep quiet, please. I’ve had enough of your moaning for one day.”
The girl grooms now arrived on the scene, barely able to contain their delight.
“All right, you can watch, but please don’t crowd him,” said Rebecca. “He’s been through a rather traumatic preparation, and he’s still a bit anxious.”
“Oh, he’s so cute!” simpered Denise.
“He looks so pretty,” marvelled Phoebe. “What a beautiful pony suit. He looks like a real pony! The markings – those greyish streaks and the spots down his flank! Who does he remind you of?”
“’E looks like Polo, don’t ‘e?” cried Laura.
“He does,” agreed Beth, “except that Polo’s a girl.”
“Well ‘e could be a girl, providin’ no-one unzips ‘im!” countered Laura.
“What are you going to do with him?” I asked.
“Well it’s too late to start training him now. He’d be useless for doing tricks at the gymkhana. But I think he should at least make an appearance. Sue’s rung Mrs More-Burley, and she’s going to bring Elizabeth here today to see him and maybe lunge him a bit. Then on Sunday she can lead him around the parade ring while Geraldine rides you. We can say he’s a yearling, too young to be ridden yet. But we should put a saddle on him, just to get him used to it.”
“His back’s not quite level, Tamsin,” remarked Rebecca. “His thighs are quite short. Maybe an insert?”
“Yes, you’re right,” agreed Tamsin, checking him from the side. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out two wooden discs a few centimetres wide. “Here, lie down a minute.”
She pushed Billy onto his side, and detached both his rear hooves. Then she fitted one disc to the top of each hoof. They clicked firmly into place, and then she re-attached the hooves to the cups.
“Now stand up.” She hauled him back onto his feet. “There, that’s fixed it, I think.”
Rebecca squatted down and ran her hand along Billy’s back, regarding him with an experienced eye. “Yes, that’s better. Okay, let’s saddle him. This is almost a toy saddle, it’s so small, but it’ll do for the time being. Breathe in, young man, while I get this on you.”
She fitted the saddle and stirrups. The saddle was of red leather, as were the stirrup leathers, and the stirrups themselves were the quick-release type, black and red. She tightened the girths. Clarissa wandered over and joined the girls.
“The red leather looks nice against the grey rubber, don’t you think, guys?”
“Yes, Miss Mitchell,” said Beth, “I think Simon is going to be upstaged on Sunday, even if Billy does only stand around looking cute.”
“The tack matches Lizzie’s boots, too,” remarked Geraldine. “She’ll be so happy.”
“One last thing,” said Rebecca. “Geraldine, be a good girl and go up to Reception for me, would you? I left a red plume on the desk. Could you bring it? Thank you.”
As Geraldine trotted out of the school, Rebecca winked at the girls. “The next bit isn’t suitable for children,” she quipped. “Tamsin? Could you pass his tail, please?”
Tamsin fished the requisite article out of her rucksack and tossed it over. The grooms stared open-mouthed. “Does that go inside him?” asked Denise, in disbelief.
“Yes,” said Beth. “I put Simon’s in the other day? Didn’t I, Sim?”
I nodded.
“That’s right. All that’s needed is a little lube. This tail came with the suit. I’ll show you how it works. Tamsin, dear, could you hold his head, please?”
The tail looked like mine, except it was grey instead of brown, and perhaps a little longer. The butt plug was similar to mine, except that the point was tipped with steel. The plug and the tail were joined together by a thickish metal disc. But Rebecca showed us that the disc was in fact two discs, which could be unscrewed from each other. There was a threaded shank, about a centimetre long, protruding from the one attached to the butt plug, and a receiving hole in the tail section.
“Now, for toilet purposes this suit has a long zipper running from front to back, and two sliders, one at each end. The pull-tabs are both pierced, as you can see. First, we inject a little lube….so.” “Mmm!” protested Billy. “Then, we push the plug in, slowly but firmly…so.” “Mmm! Mmmm!” The girls watched, fascinated. The butt plug had disappeared inside, and all that could be seen was the metal button with the shank sticking out of it. “Then we close the zippers, and fit both the little holes in the pull tabs over the shank, so! Now all we have to do is screw on the tail…screw it up tight…and hey presto! Our pony has a nice swanky tail which he can’t eject no matter how hard he tries!”
“That is so neat!” exclaimed Denise.
“Yes. And the plug will help correct his action, so he’ll be less prone to clipping his back hooves as he walks.”
“Could I have a go at doing that?” asked Denise, sheepishly. But at that very moment, Geraldine returned, clutching a red plume of feathers, closely followed by Sue, Mrs More-Burley, and Elizabeth. Elizabeth, all kitted out in her riding gear looked around expectantly. Her gaze alighted on Billy, and she made a beeline for him.
“My little pony!” she screamed, throwing her arms around his neck. “He’s so beautiful!”
Billy would have frowned, or glared, or spat or sworn – had he not been firmly gagged, of course. But as he was firmly gagged, he couldn’t say, or do, anything. The two little girls had soon got the red plume attached to the front of his head-harness. It waved and nodded prettily with every slight movement of Billy’s head.
“Can I ride him?” pleaded Elizabeth, almost jumping up and down with excitement.
“I’m sorry, darling, he’s not really ready yet,” said Tamsin. But Elizabeth looked so sad, that she added, “Well, I suppose a couple of times round the school wouldn’t hurt. But don’t bounce on him, and let him go at his own pace, okay?”
“Yippee! I will Tamsin. I’ll be very careful!” she cried, jumping into the saddle and giving Billy a slap down the flank with her whip. “Gee up, pony!” Tamsin smiled grimly.
As they moved away down the arena, followed by the grooms and Stella, with her video camera, Sue turned to Mrs More-Burley. “Well, Edith, I think we’ve just made her day!”
“You did. She’s been moping about all week because her pony wasn’t going to be ready in time for Sunday. Do you think he’ll be ready to do anything?”
Sue passed the question on to Tamsin. “What do you think?”
“Well, he completely untrained and unpractised. I think we’re going to be limited to showing him. Elizabeth can lead him around for people to pet, and maybe give a demonstration of lungeing. I can teach her the basics today”
“I had a couple of ideas,” said Rebecca. “We could allow each of the girls to ride Simon around the main field, leading Billy behind them. That’s a facility they’ll need to master at some point anyway.”
“That would work, Becca. They’re both competent enough.”
“And we could organise a race, just the two unmounted ponies.”
“Simon would win hands down.”
“Give Billy a start, then. Or put Geraldine up on him.
“Oh my god, I’ve just thought of something!” interrupted Sue. “Somewhere in the back room I’ve got a half life-size doll, dressed in riding gear. We used to have it at Reception just as a joke. If I can find it, we could strap it onto Billy’s saddle. That way he wouldn’t be without a rider!”
“That would be funny all right,” said Rebecca.
Oh yes, I thought, hilarious. He’ll really see the joke. So much for his strategy of consorting with the enemy. It didn’t do him much good after all.
By now Elizabeth had completed her first circuit, and the grey pony had arrived back at its starting point, still accompanied by its little posse of pony groupies. A string of dribble was hanging from Billy’s chin.
“Tamsin, don’t you think you could take that gag out now and give Billy an ordinary bit,” I suggested. “He looks so unhappy.”
She glanced down at him, unmoved.
“No, he can stay like that for a bit. I like him better with his mouth full. Look at his sad little face! Well, pony boy, you shouldn’t have objected when I told you to put on your suit, should you? Eh? You’re going to have to learn to do as you’re told young man.” She smiled. “Perhaps he should stay like that till Sunday, so he’s not tempted to run away and hide.”
Billy’s eyes widened in fear.
“Tamsin, you’re not serious, are you?” gasped Denise.
“Unfortunately, no, I’m not. I don’t think that would work.”
“Why not?” asked Rebecca. “Simon, does he have any commitments he can’t get out of?”
I could have made something up. But for some reason I told the truth. “Not that I know of.” Billy looked at me with big eyes. But I turned my head away.
“Then it could be done. Suppose we put him in one of the stables. They’re nice and warm and dry. Give him plenty of straw to sleep on. Undo his ankles and take off his hooves at night, but tether him on a long chain so he can’t escape. Undo his zips and take out his tail so he can use the toilet. Leave him food and water. Someone would have to be responsible for him, but it is possible.”
“Me! Me!” shouted all the grooms at once.
“Yeah, miss, let us do it,” pleaded Phoebe, who was the most senior, “we often sleep here at night if one of the horses is unwell. We’ll look after him and make sure he’s nicely groomed and ready on Sunday morning. We’ll polish his hooves and clean all his tack. Jean can even plait his tail if you want!”
Billy was shaking his head vigorously.
“Sue? What do you think?” asked Rebecca.
“I don’t know. I can’t really see any objection. He’ll be well looked after. I’ll go and give Mrs Turner a ring. If she’s happy for him to stay, then yes, we’ll keep him here.”
“Yesss!” chorused the girls.
“Mmm! Mmm!” whined Billy, frantically. But to no avail.
“I’ll go ring your mum now, Billy. Let’s hope she agrees, shall we?”
She walked to the door of the indoor school. It was pouring with rain now. Cruelly I said to Billy, “More rain Billy – more mud on Sunday!” He tried to scowl at me, I could tell, but with his lips stretched over a slimy rubber ball he just looked ridiculous. Elizabeth gave him another crack with the whip, and set him going on his second circuit of the arena. Sue was back within ten minutes, by which time he had only got about half-way round. He must have been tiring, because I could hear Elizabeth’s impatient voice, punctuated with smacks of her whip, like little pistol shots, and Billy’s muffled protestations. Mrs Turner had agreed, of course. She probably imagined Billy would be tucked up in a nice warm bed by that sweet motherly Mrs Dawson, not chained up in a stable, strapped and gagged, at the mercy of a bunch of malicious girl grooms. Well, he only had to survive for three nights. I justified my complicity in his fate by recalling his behaviour towards me over the last few days.
But the other thing was this. Sue had found the old doll. She was about two and a half feet tall, and deliciously crazy-looking. When Billy and Elizabeth finally arrived back at their starting-point, Billy looked at it with puzzlement and some alarm. Elizabeth dismounted, and Sue sat the doll in the saddle.
“How does she look?”
“Ha, ha! Perfect!” laughed Rebecca. “You can strap her ankles to the saddle bars. He’ll never be able to buck her off!”
“Don’t look so worried, Billy!” added Tamsin. “At least she isn’t carrying a whip!”
-
Chapter XXXIV: Come Uppance
Such was Billy’s swift downfall. Phoebe and the girls led Billy away, still emitting muffled bleats of remonstration, to find a suitable stable for the night. Clarissa accompanied them, I imagined from sheer malicious curiosity. Geraldine led me back to the office block, where her mum was waiting. She kissed me goodbye on my nose. “I can’t wait for Sunday, Simon pony!” she whispered. Mrs Westfeather pinched my cheek familiarly. “Neither can I!” she winked. Sue led me off to the changing-room and helped me out of my suit. It was such a relief to stretch my legs and my fingers. I had a shower, dressed, and collected my bike. I was just wheeling it out of Reception when Sue called after me, “Simon! Do you want to come for a quick drink with Tamsin and me? We just going to pop down to the pub for half an hour.”
“Yeah, thanks. That would be nice.”
I replaced my bike and we walked up to the pub, which was only five minutes away. The rain had stopped, and it was a sunny evening, but there were puddles by the side of the road. “If it rains again tomorrow, it’s definitely going to be muddy down around the showground on Sunday,” remarked Sue. “Not that that should worry you, Simon. You’ll be nice and snug in your pony suit.” Sue bought me a beer. She and Tamsin ordered wine. It was quiet in the bar. We took our drinks to an outside table, overlooking one of the school’s fields. The sun was sinking, and the landscape was level and quiet, except for the occasional distant neighing of a horse, and the lowing of cattle on the adjacent farm. We sat there chatting about the gymkhana, which led the ladies to start reminiscing about some piece of mischief they’d got up to in the past. I decided to enquire about Tamsin’s history.
“Do you mind me asking, Tamsin, how you learnt the technique of ponification?”
“Now you’re asking, Simon,” grinned Sue.
“I don’t mind.” said Tamsin. “I guess you’ve earned the right to know. I started off training yearlings to the saddle – I don’t much like the term ‘breaking’ in relation to horses…”
“No. Only in relation to people!” interrupted Sue.
“Quite, Sue. Yes, I don’t mind breaking in people at all. But anyway, I started training horses when I was still a teenager. My mother was good friends with Rebecca, and she was one of the best. She pretty much taught me all I know, and I think I had a talent for it as well. I was only nineteen when I had a revelation. I called to see Rebecca one day to ask advice about a particularly difficult yearling I had been entrusted with. I hadn’t called ahead to see if she was in. I was distracted by my problem, and so I just drove over there. I knocked at the door, but there was no reply. I tried the door. It was open. I walked in. I called Rebecca but still no reply. I looked around the whole house, but I couldn’t find her. Then I thought of the cellar. I’d never been down there, and I had no idea what it was used for. I tried the cellar door. It opened easily and silently. The cellar was dimly lit. There was classical music playing, which I suppose was why she didn’t hear me. I went down a few steps, and then I saw….”
“Yes? What did you see?”
“In those days she kept a maid. A girl called Effie. She kept her in full maid’s costume, which I thought a little eccentric, but charming. I saw Effie….” She shook her head slowly. “I can still remember the shock. Effie was down on all fours. She had a ball gag in her mouth, and was wearing a collar and lead. Her dress was thrown up over her back, and her knickers were around her knees. Rebecca was holding the lead in one hand, and chastising her with a dressage whip. She still hadn’t noticed me, but when she did….”
“What did she do?”
“She invited me down to help. Effie had been disobedient, she said, and needed punishing. She let me use the whip on her. I was reluctant, but when I saw how she responded to the strokes, how she whimpered and flinched, I suddenly knew this was the most exciting, most arousing, thing I had ever done. With Rebecca’s help I moved on from there, adapting my equestrian skills to the human animal. I’ve never looked back.”
“Gosh. Is Rebecca’s cellar still…. “
“Not for me to say. You’ll find out one day, I’m sure.”
“This is our little secret, Simon. Okay?” said Sue.
“Of course. I’m grateful to Tamsin for letting me in on it.”
“Tamsin’s a very naughty girl. You’ve only scratched the surface so far. So take care.”
“Yes, Sue, I will,” and then added, “it’s an honour to have been ponified by such an expert.”
“You sweet boy,” smiled Tamsin. “I’m not finished with you, not by a long chalk. You’ll see.”
I had one more drink, and left the ladies to their conversation. As I cycled home, I was feeling distinctly curious about Tamsin’s – and indeed the whole Committee’s – plans. I had almost forgotten about the plight of my best friend. But later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, I had a call from him. At least, his name came up on my phone.
“Hi? Billy?”
“Hello, Simon. This is Beth. Just thought I’d give you a call to let you know how your friend’s getting on. Would you like to have a word with him?”
“Yes, please.”
“Here. Say hello.”
“Hi? Billy? Billy?”
“Mmmph! Mmm! Mmm!”
“Oh, dear. He’s not very articulate tonight, is he? I’m not sure what he’s trying to say. Probably trying to tell you how much he’s enjoying himself.”
“Haven’t you taken his gag off yet?”
“We haven’t taken anything off yet. All we done is unzipped him a little.”
“I thought you were supposed to be taking off most of his pony stuff so he could go to sleep.”
“Oh, we will. But he’s so full of energy, he so sort of, fizzy, that Miss Mitchell suggested we should tire him out a bit first.”
“Tire him out?”
“Yes. We took him for a little run round the lower field. It’s terribly muddy there now, you know. Anyway, that didn’t really do it, so Denise rode him back to his stable…”
“She rode him?”
“Well, not so much rode…I mean, her feet were on the ground.”
“Just as well.”
“Yes. But he’s much stronger than he looks, you know.”
“And what then?”
“Oh, then we strapped up his feet so he couldn’t run about making trouble. Now we’re…
Well, I don’t know what to say, exactly. It was Clarissa’s – I mean Miss Mitchell’s - idea. Did you know Laura’s parents had a dairy farm when she was younger? Her experience is coming in very useful now!”
“Experience? What do you mean?" In the background I could hear a faint regular sound, like a series of muffled sobs.
“Miss Mitchell said he probably needs it. To relieve the pressure. He can’t do it for himself, I mean, can he?”
“But…”
“Oh, hold on a moment, Simon.” The sobbing sound ended abruptly in a slightly louder moan of what sounded like indignation.
“Laura? Was that…? That’s number five, then! Show me. Gosh, it’s still coming! Miss Mitchell will be pleased! Sorry Simon, gotta go. Don’t worry about him. He’s in good hands. I’ll send you a video, if you like.”
“Why not?”
“Have a good night then. Bye bye, sweetie!”
The video came through a few minutes later. I watched it several times, not without amusement, and perhaps a little fascination too, I have to confess. I remembered him hitting on Phoebe this afternoon. Well he was certainly getting a response now! From all four of them! Stella would have been proud of the standard of direction. Beth must have been doing the filming, because Laura was certainly doing the physical work, and as film neared its climax, Phoebe and Denise appeared at Billy's head, pointing and making peace signs! What was Clarissa up to, I wondered? It was only as I was falling asleep that I remembered the shiny boots competition on Sunday.
-
Chapter XXXV: Dress Rehearsal
Friday 26 August. Today was the dress rehearsal for the Queen Alexandra show. My dress rehearsal, I mean, since my costumes were being kept secret from the other performers. I had an hour’s session with Miss Morel at six, and I needed to talk to Miss Benson about my change of costume for the opening number. After what I’d been through recently, and in the context of the gymkhana, it now seemed a minor matter.
I felt lethargic all the morning. It rained steadily, and the clouds were moving sluggishly, like big grey binbags full of water. I wondered how Billy was getting on. At lunchtime I decided to text him to let him know I was thinking of him, if nothing else. I kept the tone as downbeat as possible. “Hi, Billy. How are you? I’m busy with rehearsals today, but I’m coming to visit you tomorrow morning. Hope you got eventually some sleep last night. x”
When I got to Queen Alexandra, I found Miss Benson and Miss Morel waiting for me in the hall. Miss Morel smiled warmly. I had been working hard at her classes, and she had been more than happy with my progress over the last few weeks. Miss Benson was her usual sarcastic self.
“Simon! It’s been a while. Are you all set for the show?”
“Yes, Miss. I was wondering…. Did you get that picture I sent you? You know, the dress I liked. The pink one.”
“I did. And it’s fine if you want to substitute that for the waitress one. Actually, I think it’s prettier. It’s certainly more girly. Almost as girly as the boy who’ll be wearing it!”
I ignored that. “Oh, thanks. I’m not sure whether Sandra still has it or whether it’s with my aunt. But I’ll get it out for next Thursday.”
“I’ll just need to modify the words of your song a little bit,” she said, referring to her papers. “Let me see…. How about, “I hope you like my frothy skirt, You know I’m quite the little flirt, To capture boys my plans I hatch, A shame it is, my socks don’t match!” What do you think?”
“That’s very clever, Miss.” It was! Miss Benson’s good at stuff like that.
“Now, you’ll wear appropriate socks for each costume. You’ll need short ones for the pink dress – I’m thinking maybe bright yellow and bright blue, so they clash with the dress as much as possible. I’ll get those. For the closer, you’ve got long hooped ones. You’ll find them with the rest of your costume. It’s in the side room next to the stage. Why don’t you go and try it on now?”
I went over and let myself in. There was the leotard and the purple and pink pants. I sighed. It seemed an age since I’d been able to dress up in something so comfortable and innocent. The socks were yellow and black and green and black respectively. I pulled them on first. They came right up nearly to the tops of my thighs. I stepped into the spandex leotard. So slippery and stretchy! I pulled it up, got my arms in, and wriggled around until it moulded to my body. Then my pants, which slipped on easily over the smooth spandex, and my matching taps. It certainly felt nice. I looked at myself in the mirror. Incredibly cute and incredibly embarrassing. Just what she wanted. But I didn’t care now. I knew this show might well be the last time I attended Queen Alexandra. Of course, I was going to miss some of my friends. But me and Billy were embarking on a whole new adventure!
I returned to the body of the hall. Miss Benson and Miss Morel cooed with delight.
“Oh, he looks so sweet!” exclaimed Miss Morel.
“Yes, sweet is right, but now it’s obvious he’s a boy,” she added, with a glance at my pants. “Pity we couldn’t make it a bit more obvious, really. Never mind. I think we’ll have two ribbons in his hair as well, one purple, one pink, just to complete the effect. Now, shall we see what he can do?”
Miss Morel had been a good teacher, and I had been diligent pupil. Miss Benson was delighted with my performance.
“You’re going to be a sensation, Simon. I can’t think when we’ve ever had a more exciting closing act to our show.” She smiled archly. “Almost as big a sensation as you’re going to be on Sunday!”
“Oh. Yes. Are you coming, then?”
“We both are, Simon,” said Miss Morel. “I think most of the school’s coming, too. Everyone’s seen the posters. You are the main attraction, after all.”
“Hmph. Well, I won’t be the only one. My friend Billy will be there too, as a grey pony. We’re only doing it cos it’s for charity, you know.”
“Oh, how altruistic!” cried Miss Benson, spluttering with laughter. “Especially as it looks like being quite muddy there on Sunday. You must be very dedicated to the donkey sanctuary, you two!”
“We are,” was all I could think of to say, frowning. I remembered now why I hated her so much.
It was still raining as I walked home. In the evening I checked the forecast. The rain was set to stop early the next morning, and then the weekend would be sunny. The worst scenario. Muddy, sticky ground, and nice weather to attract big crowds. At about nine I had a text from Billy’s phone. “Hi, Simon. Billy’s asleep. He was happy to hear from you, and can’t wait to see you tomorrow. He had a good day. His training went well. See you tomorrow. Love, Phoebe.” “Training,” I thought? I didn’t think he was having training. I thought he was just being kept prisoner. Unless what she calls “training” is what they were doing to him the previous night. Yeah, I bet that’s it. Poor kid. I’ll make sure they let him rest tomorrow. But I’m glad he’s okay.
-
Chapter XXXVI: Subjection
The day dawned bright and fresh. I was woken by sunlight streaming into my bedroom. I made my way downstairs. Bea was cleaning the kitchen.
“Good morning, Simon! How are you today? I hear you’re going to see Billy this morning.”
“Yes, aunt. I see the grapevine’s still working normally.”
“Well, dear, these days it’s more like a whole mass of convolvulus. The network’s constantly growing. I think it’s mainly due to you and Billy.”
“But you and Stella were the ones who started it all.”
“Yes. Me and Stella. All we wanted originally was to find a way of calming you down. But look at all the things it’s led to, all the schemes and adventures. And all the new friends we’ve made. Life seems much more fun these days. And really, I have you to thank.”
“And I’ve grown up. I would probably have turned out okay anyway, you realise that, don’t you? It’s was just my age. But I’m not complaining. Life is getting complicated, it’s true, but it’s interesting at least. And I hooked up with Billy, which is the best thing.”
“I’m glad too, Simon. And when you see him, give him my love, won’t you?”
“Sure. I’m a little worried about what they’re doing to him, though. I feel guilty I sort of left him to his fate. But I was feeling angry with him, to tell the truth.”
“Oh, don’t be worried! Take it from me, he’s fine. I know. You’ll see.”
I cycled to Holly End. There were big pools of water everywhere. It didn’t bode well for the state of the showground. My wheels were so muddy I parked my bike at the back of the offices for a change, and then headed down the slope to the stables. I met one of the young grooms coming up.
“Excuse me, do you know which stable Billy’s in?”
“Yes. Third one along on this side of the first courtyard. There’s a new bale of hay right outside.”
“Thanks.”
I turned right into the first row of stables. Beth and Laura were outside, chatting. Immediately they ran towards me, grabbed my arms and pushed me back onto the path.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Listen. We just want a quick word before you go in,” said Beth.
“What have you done to him?”
“Nuffink. ‘E’s fine, Simon. Listen. We’ve bin wiv ‘im all the time, see? We used our own special magic on ‘im. Bef an’ me an’ Denise gave ‘im what for, like we bin told to, an’ Phoebe, she was nice to ‘im, see? An’ between the lot of us, we brough’ ‘im round.”
“Like you were told? By Clarissa, was it?”
“No, Simon,” said Beth. “Clarissa was just Tamsin’s agent. Tamsin’s the one in charge. She takes care of all the training. We were instructed to break him - and we did.”
“Break him? I don’t understand.”
“Break him. You know. Like breaking a horse. I mean, he is a horse, or at least a pony, so far as Tamsin’s concerned. We kept him trussed up and gagged, and we…well, never mind that. We kept him disciplined and exercised, until eventually he broke down. And then we agreed to take off his gag – just his gag, mind – if he promised to speak very politely and not to misbehave. It took several goes, but in the end he gave in. When we were sure he was genuine, we undid his hooves and took out his tail. Then Phoebe cuddled him all night. He’s a changed pony, you’ll see! But don’t do anything to upset him, okay? Agreed?”
“Sure. Just let me see him.”
I entered the stable quietly. Billy was lying on the straw. His tail was out, his gag and all his other tack was lying in the corner, his ankles were unhitched, but he was in his pony suit still.
“Billy? How are you?”
“Simon!” His eyes lit up. He started to struggle to his feet. I knelt down and put my arms around him. He held me tight.
“It’s so good to see you,” he smiled, kissing my face. “It seems and age…”
“You’re still in your pony suit. And your hooves and legs are muddy. I’m sure you could take it off now.”
“No, Simon. I don’t want to. Really. The girls showed me what a privilege it is to be a pony, to have my own stable, and be looked after by a groom. Later today they’re going to clean me up, polish all my tack, and Jean has promised to plait my tail to keep it out of the mud. Phoebe – Phoebe has been so nice to me – Phoebe has promised to find me a proper bit to wear, which will be red rubber, to match all my other tack. I can’t wait for the gymkhana. I know I’m not properly trained yet, but I’m going to do my best not to let down Elizabeth.”
I was gobsmacked, but I tried not to show it.
“Oh, Billy, that’s….that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you’ve reconciled yourself to your rôle, your very important rôle, in the gymkhana. I need you, you know. I couldn’t do it by myself.”
“I know Sim. I realise now. I’m sorry for my terrible behaviour before. So, so sorry. The girls explained how horrible I’d been to you. They punished me. They whipped me, and then they.….. but anyway, I’ve learned my lesson. I really have. I’m going to try so hard to be a good pony, to make everyone proud of me. Tamsin called in first thing. I was so frightened at first. I heard her asking, “Where’s that naughty pony, then?” And she was carrying her dressage whip. But when the girls explained how good I’d been, and how sorry I was, she relented. “Good boy! She said. Yes, she called me “Good boy”. Apparently, she’d been intending to give me a good hard whipping out in the courtyard, in front of everyone. But when Phoebe explained how I’d turned over a new leaf, apologised to everyone, and promised always to wear my pony suit when I was told, she decided to postpone it. “All right, Billy,” she said, “just make sure you put on a good show on Sunday, and make Elizabeth proud of you.” I told her I would. I told her I was looking forward to it now. She was very pleased. She said as a reward I won’t have to wear that horrible gag any more unless I’m rude to someone.”
This new docility was a revelation. He was not pretending. The girls’ strategy seemed to have transformed him. We spent another hour chatting and cuddling. When I had to leave, he seemed perfectly content to lie down in the straw again, just like a real pony. I returned to Reception to check on the arrangements for the next day. Phoebe was talking to Mary at the desk.
“Well? What do you think of our reformed character?”
“It’s amazing! What did you do?”
“A bucket of punishment and a teaspoonful of love. And keeping him in that suit all the time.”
“That helped?”
“Oh, yes. You know he’s not unlike you, Simon. The rubber relaxes him, and makes him submissive. It makes him feel safe and protected. Tamsin realised that right at the beginning, and determined to exploit it. She’s so clever. In that suit, his behaviour changed from the macho guy to the little boy. We all wore latex gloves when we were handling him, and he became incredibly pliant, and eventually totally compliant. Even when I cuddled him, I kept stroking his face, making him feel the rubber and inhale its scent. It was like hypnotising him.”
“That’s how he seems – hypnotised.”
“Yes. After he takes off his suit, I suppose the spell may wear off too. But by then it’ll be too late!”
“Well, I guess we’ll see. I think the fear of Tamsin will help keep him in line as well. I’m not saying I approve of what you did, mind, but he’d certainly become a bit arrogant lately, and that’s completely disappeared, thank goodness.”
“Thank Tamsin,” she smiled.
“Well, I have a customer shortly, so I’d better get back to the salon. I’ll see you later.”
“Ooh, Simon. Before you go. There’s something you need in the fridge.”
I followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge door and produced a plastic pot from the back.
“Here. Clarissa will be calling in this evening, and you’ll need this.”
“Is it what I think it is?”
“Erm, probably, yes.”
“I’ll put it in our fridge till I see her. There’s quite a lot, by the feel of it.”
“It took quite a lot to subdue him.”
“Fair enough. Thanks. Treat him gently till tomorrow, won’t you?”
-
First, thank you for the many chapters yesterday. I am glad that Billy's pony suit came early and nice to see that he was brought down a peg or two. Please continue the story as i like it a lot.
-
Chapter XXXVII: Gymkhana (Part 1, A Falling Out)
Sunday 28 August. I’ll pass over the events of Saturday afternoon. Suffice it to say, both Clarissa and Sadie turned up at the salon just after five requiring my services, and left forty minutes later with their best boots safely wrapped in plastic bags. The shiny boots competition was of necessity to be held in one of the marquees, or it would have turned into a “least muddy boots” competition.
After they left, I had a visit from Tamsin. She went over the programme with me. There were various classes in the morning, mainly devoted to showing – best turned out pony, best turned out rider, most correct riding style, best walker, trotter, and so on. There would be a dressage competition for the kids, another one for older riders. The morning events would be rounded off with pony racing around the perimeter of the big field. The afternoon would be dominated by the games – the usual things, relay bending races,
“There’ll be kids from other schools competing as well,” said Tamsin, “but ours will be the best. Sue is totally dedicated to training the rider. She won’t let anyone compete, even in these fun events, until she’s completely happy they’ve properly mastered the basics.”
“I’d noticed she was fanatical about rider training and safety. I don’t blame her. Stella used to take me to loads of these things when I was younger, and there were some terrible examples of bad riding.”
“It’s true. Rebecca and I were with her once, a couple of years ago, when she saw some stupid girl kicking her horse and yanking on the reins at the same time. Sue went over and ordered her to dismount. The organiser was furious, but Sue faced her down, and Rebecca arrived on the scene and asserted her authority. That school went out of business soon after.”
“She’s very strict with me, but she really cares about her horses.”
“All horses, Simon. Like me. I love them more than people, with a few notable exceptions. Now, as to you and Billy, you’ll make your appearance sometime before midday. I reckon at least half an hour in the parade ring, being led around by your grooms. That’ll give the girls time to set up the equipment for the afternoon’s events. When they’ve finished, you two can show off a bit. I’ll go through your programme now. We’ll strap the doll to Billy’s back, and you can both race over the bendy course – you know, the slalom.”
“Yeah, I know. What are you using for gates?”
“Oh, we’ve got some of those little cones like sticks. They’re best.”
“Okay. But if Billy doesn’t have a rider – well not a real one, anyway – what’s going to impel him?”
“Elizabeth will run alongside, though of course there won’t be room to lead him. But the main thing is, he’ll be equipped with an earpiece under his hood, so that I’ll be able to give him instructions via a hand-held transmitter. We use these systems a lot now for training and guiding riders – I think Sue ordered ten or twelve of them recently. So there’ll be no excuse.”
“No. Especially as he’s become so obedient now.”
“Well I hope so. I do have a back-up system if he starts misbehaving, but I hope I won’t have to use it.”
“Not the ball-gag, I hope?”
“No, no. I certainly hope that won’t be necessary. No, you’ll both have your normal bits with the snap-rings, so we can release them quickly if we need to. I’m sure some people are going to want to offer you sweets and things!”
“I don’t fancy much being fed like a pony. All those sticky fingers pushing stuff into my mouth.”
“No. We won’t allow that, don’t worry. But for the sake of authenticity, Geraldine should be seen give you a little treat after you do one of your tricks.”
“Fair enough.”
I arrived at Holly End at nine this morning. It was a lovely sunny day, with a cloudless blue sky. I went straight down to visit Billy. He had been transformed from the muddy, exhausted animal I had seen only the day before. His suit was glossy, his hooves oiled, all his tack had been cleaned, soaped, and polished, and Jean was just finishing plaiting his tail, which depended from his posterior like a hairy sausage.
“I’m going to do yours too, when you’re ready,” she said, “otherwise it’ll get caked with mud.”
“How are you feeling, Billy,” I asked.
“Great, Sim! Look, Tamsin found me a nice red bit” – he shook his head, making the unattached bit swing from side to side – “and I’ll have my red plume, too. I just hope it’s not too muddy down there.”
“It’ll be fine round the edges of the parade ring,” said Jean, “but the middle and the fields may be a bit of a problem. Try to walk carefully, and avoid slipping over, and you should be all right.”
At that moment Beth walked through the stable door.
“Hi Sim! What do you think of him?”
“He looks very pretty, Beth. You’ve done a great job! I’m even a little jealous!”
“Yeah, I must admit we’re the best. We even polished him all over with rubber polish. You liked, that, didn’t you, pony?”
Billy nodded enthusiastically.
“He seems very happy all suited up,” I remarked. “Personally, I’m not getting ready till eleven. That’ll be plenty of time.”
“I need half an hour to do your tail,” said Jean. “Make it ten-thirty.”
“Okay. Can’t you do it separately?”
“No, Simon. I need to make sure it hangs properly.”
“Oh. Okay. I suppose.”
There was a knock at the door. It was Tamsin.
“Can I come in? I’ve got Billy’s you-know-what.” She produced a black bin bag.
“Aha! The doll!” smiled Beth.
“The what?” queried Billy, trying to crane round, “I can’t hear very well with this hood on.”
“Keep still, Billy!” ordered Jean. “I’m nearly finished here.”
“Put his blinkers on, Beth,” said Tamsin in a low voice. “Probably better he can’t see what’s going to be on his back. Oh, and I have the bells, too. Here.”
“Bells?” I said.
“Bells! Bells for his bridle and for the stirrups. Don’t worry, you’ve got a set too. We want you to jungle as you trot along.”
“What, in case we don’t attract enough attention as we are?”
“Now, now, Simon. Don’t be ungrateful or I’ll put a bell on your tail as well. Or somewhere else you won’t like. What time are you coming up to get dressed?”
“Jean says I need to start at ten-thirty.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
I left Billy in the capable hands of Beth and Jean, and went to the canteen for a coffee. The path was already getting busy with people coming from the car park, and others drifting up from the showground to call at Reception. I was suffering with a bad case of butterflies in the tummy. I must have looked nervous, too, because Sue came over and asked if I was feeling all right. At twenty past ten I decided it would be better to get started rather than sit there in a stew, so I made my way to the changing room. I caught a glimpse of Geraldine in Reception, resplendent in her black and yellow outfit, looking very excited. When I got to the changing room, Tamsin and Rebecca were already there, sitting waiting and looking very relaxed.
“Good morning, Simon,” said Tamsin, without getting up. “You’re nice and early. We’ll let you get the basics on, shall we? You’ll find them in the cubicle.”
While I was changing, Jean arrived. I heard Rebecca say, “I see you’ve got your kit ready. He’ll be out in a minute. You can attend to the rear end while we look after the fore end!” They all laughed. Huh. Yeah, that’s right, it’s all a big joke for you, I thought. But I’m the only one whose performance counts today. Me and Billy, that is.
Once they had my hooves and fore legs sorted out, I had to stand there while I was saddled and bridled and had my tail plaited. When Jean had finished it felt quite different from before. The weight of the tail was concentrated, so that when I walked it swung from side to side, knocking against my calves. That was nothing, however, to the weird sensation of the plug moving from side to side inside me. It felt a little uncomfortable but stimulating at the same time. When I was ready, the yellow plume was fixed in my browband and my bit was attached. Then came the little silver bells. One was attached to each bit ring and one to each stirrup. I jingled prettily as Tamsin led me around the room.
“There. I think you’re ready. You look lovely.”
She clipped one end of the reins to my nearside bit ring, and led me out towards Reception, Rebecca and Jean following. When Geraldine saw me she almost jumped for joy. Tamsin gave her a few last words of advice.
“Now, darling, remember the programme. You’ll lead him down to the parade ring, and just lead him around at first, until I tell you you can mount. At one the games will start, and as long as you keep him away from the events and out of the way of the competitors, I don’t really mind what you do with him. You’ll do your show later in the afternoon. But don’t worry, I or Rebecca or Sue will be around all day long if you need any help.”
“Can we go now? Please?” begged Geraldine.
“Just a moment. I’ll check what’s happening with Billy.” She pulled out her phone and made a call. “Beth? Hi. Where are you with the grey? Oh, fine. Just text me when you’re bringing him out, and we’ll follow you. We should keep about fifty yards behind you, I think. The path looks quite busy already.” She turned back to Geraldine. “Won’t be long now, dear. Here, why don’t you hold onto him now.” And she passed the reins over.
We had to wait about another ten minutes in Reception. People were coming in and out the whole time, and of course I suffered various indignities from their attention. How many times did I have to listen to stuff like,
“Oh, look, darling – it’s Simon the pony! Yes, I’m sure you can pat him.”
“Mummy, why is he dribbling?”
“Oh, he’s so cute!”
“Look at his little hooves!”
“Oh, I wish I had a pony like that!”
“Could I have a ride on him later?”
“Does he like Polos?”
“Why is he biting his bit like that?”
“That girl’s his groom. She’s so lucky!”
And indeed, Geraldine stood proudly next to me, keeping on a tight rein, and occasionally telling me to “stand still” or “be patient”, just to show she was indeed in charge of me. The worst thing was when people wanted to look at my tail. They always asked permission, and Geraldine always graciously gave it,
“Look at his tail! So beautifully plaited! May we touch it?”
“Yes, if you’re careful,” she would respond. And then it would be gently tugged, and lifted up for examination, by people who had no idea how it was attached to me, making me squirm and fidget, while Geraldine would give me a corrective tap or two with her whip.
It was a relief when Tamsin received the information that Billy was being brought of his stable, and we were able to emerge from Reception and start down the hill. We hadn’t gone far when I saw the little grey turning into the path, led by Elizabeth, resplendent in a white shirt, Pony Club tie, cream breeches, and of course, her famous red boots, and followed by Mrs More-Burley, even more puffed-up with pride than usual. He created quite a sensation, and he hadn’t progressed more than fifty yards before he had attracted a little crowd of followers. The same happened to us, but he was clearly the favourite. People always like greys. And in his red tack and with his red plume nodding, he looked something quite special. As we approached the boxes and the parade ring at the foot of the hill, it became obvious that it was going to be a busy day. The area was already overflowing with people, and the fields beyond were busy with riders and horses and ponies. A sort of cheer went up when Billy was seen nearing the ring, and as he entered it I could already hear multiple cameras clicking. Our entrance was something of an anti-climax, as all attention seemed to be focused on him, as he was paraded on the far side of the ring. Fortunately, I don’t think Geraldine noticed, and she led me in as proudly as if I were the only pony there. We were led round for several circuits, keeping at opposite sides of the paddock, and then brought onto the grass in the middle. Billy and I looked at each other, neither of us able to express much emotion given the restricted openings in our hoods and the presence of our bits, and in Billy’s case the further obstruction of blinkers. But to me he looked quite placid and content. Then we both heard at the same time a voice calling to us from the front of the crowd. We looked up. Alicia from St. Catherine’s! Oh, no! I think we both had the same thought – that she would be so disgusted with us that she would report to Miss Mortimer, and that would be the end of our aspirations to attend St. Catherine’s. She ducked under the rail and walked over. Squatting down, she patted our cheeks.
“Boys. I saw the posters, so I only expected Simon. But you too, Billy!”
We would have liked to make excuses for our embarrassing predicament, but we couldn’t articulate a single useful word.
“Miss Mortimer’s here too!” I groaned inwardly. We were finished.
“She’s so proud of you, doing all this for charity. She’s good friends with Violet Willoughby, and she speaks so highly of you. She hopes you may be able to raise money for the school, too, when you join us. And of course, I’m going to insist you join the equestrian club!” She giggled. “The first years are going to love you!” We looked at each other with relief, and tried to smile at Alicia. But she was already disappearing back into the crowd.
It was time to be mounted. While Geraldine climbed astride me, Tamsin approached Billy from behind carrying the big doll. She was placed in the saddle, and Tamsin and Beth strapped her ankles to the saddle bars, making sure she was secure. His saddle was fitted with stirrups, and these Tamsin fastened together under his belly with a leather strap.
“We’re just securing your stirrups, Billy,” explained Tamsin, raising her voice so he could hear her through his hood, “so they don’t swing about as you’re walking.”
Nevertheless, I’m sure the poor guy could tell there was something on his back, but he was hardly in a position to ask what it was. The ripple of laughter that had run round the crowd when the doll was produced now rose to a crescendo. Billy looked puzzled. Tamsin tested her transmitter.
“Billy? Can you hear me okay?”
Billy nodded.
“Excellent. Now Geraldine will ride Simon, and you follow, okay?”
He nodded again.
The plan was to spend the next half hour or so going around the ring, mainly to demonstrate Geraldine’s skill at riding and the way she could control me just like a real pony. Billy was supposed to follow us, but it had been decided that it would be more entertaining if, after a while, he would start being a bit naughty, turning around and walking the other way, nudging at the crowd as if trying to escape, refusing to stay on the tarmac, and so on. Elizabeth would be at his side, and she was supposed to get angry with him, telling him off and occasionally holding him back by his tail. The joke would be all the more effective because of the big doll swaying about on his back! When we began the crowd was already five or six deep. The main games were not due to start until one, and the only other point of interest was the little market in front of the row of loose boxes, so everyone wanted to see what was going on in the ring. There was a constant hubbub of chattering and laughing, and it looked like everyone was either taking pictures or filming. When Billy started to play up, he looked so ludicrous that even Geraldine and Elizabeth couldn’t conceal their amusement, although they were supposed to be acting irate and indignant. He did his job superbly, butting his groom, walking onto the grass and refusing to move, running at the crowd and making the kids squeal with fright and laughter, all the time with his little bells tinkling crazily. Everything was going to plan, and it was almost time for the games to start, when disaster struck. Billy had been playing to one section of the crowd, pushing at their legs. A little girl had knelt down to get a close up of the “silly pony” on her phone. Unfortunately, she then decided to show her picture to the pony itself. When Billy saw what was on his back, he froze. He explained to me that evening how outraged he felt, and I understood perfectly. He had thought his antics were responsible for all the hilarity. When he saw what he was carrying, he felt betrayed, made a fool of. He refused to move. The show was halted. The crowd quietened. People were asking what was happening. Tamsin was standing near me, and I could hear her speaking to Billy over the transmitter,
“Billy! Come here at once! What are you doing, boy? Come here, I say. It’s time for you to leave the ring now.”
He ignored her instruction, shaking his head. Geraldine dismounted and we stood side by side, waiting to see what would happen.
“Elizabeth?” she called. “Use your whip! Get him over here!”
The spectators were puzzled. They couldn’t work out if this was a part of the act, or whether this sweet little pony really was being recalcitrant. In any case, Elizabeth eagerly complied, giving Billy a smack down the flank, and saying, “Bad pony! Move! Back to the gate at once!”
But instead of obeying, Billy turned to face her, and charged. She was knocked over backwards onto the grass. By an unhappy chance, the sat down hard in the deepest patch of mud in the ring, which we had been assiduously avoiding up to then. She screamed and went to get up, but her boots slipped on the slimy surface and she went down again, this time on her side. Her outfit was totally wrecked. She clambered to her feet, sobbing loudly, and limped back towards the gate, where her mother was waiting to embrace her, and hurl imprecations at Billy. I could see by the expression on Billy’s face that he knew he had made a huge mistake. He told me afterwards it was not only the fear of the punishment that he knew must follow, but that immediately Elizabeth went down, he regretted what he had done. He knew perfectly well that the presence of the doll was none of her doing. It was just that she had been the nearest available member of the team on which to vent his anger. As he stood there, staring fearfully across the ring at Tamsin, she thrust the transmitter back into her pocket and took out her phone. Who was she going to call, I wondered.
-
Chapter XXXVII Gymkhana (Part 2, An Unexpected Friend )
It turned out Tamsin had a trick up her sleeve, one that no-one would have expected. She fiddled with her phone for a moment. I tried to see what she was doing, but it was difficult from my low standpoint. Suddenly there was a strangled shriek from across the ring. I looked over, and saw Billy almost spinning round and round on the spot, his eyes wide with fear. Tamsin, still holding her phone, took out the transmitter once more.
“Are you going to come here, or do I have to give you another one?”
Immediately, Billy came barrelling over as fast as his little legs could carry him, his doll bouncing up and down comically in the saddle. His eyes were full of tears. Tamsin looked down at him contemptuously.
“Get over there into box number one, you little wimp, and don’t come out! I’ll deal with you later.”
“He must be severely punished!” exclaimed Mrs More-Burley, still hugging the muddy Elizabeth to her bosom. “I’d give him a good thrashing!”
“Don’t worry, Mrs More-Birley, he’ll be punished all right.” She turned to the group of grooms nearby who had been watching the whole thing with open mouths. “Denise. And Laura. Could you please take Elizabeth up to the office and get her cleaned up? Wash her boots and gloves, find her some clean breeches and a riding top. Give her something to eat and drink, and when she’s quite recovered bring her back to me.”
“Yes Miss! Come on Elizabeth, come with us,” said Denise, taking her hand and gently detaching her from her mother’s embrace. The mother went to follow the, but Tamsin stopped her.
“It’s better you stay here, madam. Sometimes a mother’s concern only makes a child more distressed.”
Mrs More-Burley was about to protest, seeing Tamsin’s expression she realised it would be advisable to keep her peace. I admired Tamsin for her understanding of the basic psychology of families, and her facility to command difficult or overbearing individuals like Mrs More-Burley with a single glance. I also marvelled at her technical ingenuity. I now realised the function of the metal tip to Billy’s butt-plug. I shuddered slightly to think of the effect of even a weak electric current. Tamsin had thought of everything. I thanked my stars mine was solid rubber.
But the events had now begun, and I had other things to think about. Geraldine and I were now free to roam about the showground. She remounted and kicked me into a walk.
“Poor Billy,” she said, “what do you think scared him like that?” Of course, all her questions were necessarily rhetorical when I was bitted up. “I think he’s just frightened of Tamsin, don’t you?”
She rode me over to the ice-cream stall and bought a lolly. I walked around the event ground, being patted and petted all the way, and with Geraldine letting me have slightly impeded suc-ks of her lolly. We had stopped and were watching some of the races, when we were aware of a slight commotion near the parade ring. Elizabeth had returned. She was wearing clean white breeches and a red riding top which matched her red accessories. I noticed her boots were now equipped with little blunt spurs. She had a determined expression on her face. She didn’t want to talk to her mother, but immediately followed Tamsin into the first box, where Billy was being kept. A few minutes later they emerged. The doll had now been removed, and Elizabeth herself was mounted on Billy. She walked him clear of the crowds around the show field, then with a sudden movement dug both spurs into his flanks, and brought her little whip down hard on his nether regions. Poor Billy! He took off like a frightened deer. I swear he would have outrun me at the trot. She took him right over to the far end of the field, and brought him all the way back. Then she rode him over to the judges, of whom Rebecca was one, and asked if she could be a late entry for the bending race. It was slightly unorthodox for a human pony to take part, but it was decided she could race after the others had finished. The combination was cheered louder than all the real competitors. Elizabeth steered Billy around the cones, down the course and then back again. After a few moments rest, she was off again trotting around proudly, in full control of her mount. At last she allowed herself a smile. She had had her revenge. She drove him into the market and was given an ice-cream by the ladies on the ice-cream stall, which she sat there licking with satisfaction, quite unconcerned about the drips which landed on the head of her mount and trickled down his forehead. It was at that moment Sue approached and asked if Elizabeth could ride Billy over to the large tent at the top of the field. She would be told why when she got there. Billy described the scene to me the next day. Walking into the marquee the first thing they saw was Clarissa, seated on a throne (made of a Holly End chair painted gold and fixed to the top of pallet), with a sash around her shoulder bearing the legend, “Queen Shiny Boots”. Yes, she had won again, and Sadie had been runner-up. She had received a special commendation too – a certificate to the effect that not only were her boots shinier than anyone else’s, but they were “clean enough to eat one’s food off”! The judges had decided, at Sue’s suggestion, that this assertion should be tested, so Billy was sent for. Apart from anything else, it seemed appropriate that the Queen should have homage paid to her by one of her lowliest subjects. His bit was unclipped, and Elizabeth generously donated what was left of her ice-cream. Using the cone as a sort of paintbrush, Sue smeared the melting ice-cream all over Clarissa’s gleaming rubber boots, and requested Billy to lick off every last drip. Billy being very hot and dry by this time, was only too happy to comply, encouraged by his rider, and within fifteen minutes or so Clarissa’s boots were once again in their pristine state. He told me afterwards Clarissa’s boots had a rather unusual, though not unpleasant, taste, and that the experience was the most pleasurable he had had, that rather unlucky day.
After the diversion to the Queen of Shiny Boots, Elizabeth was becoming tired of riding Billy, so she handed the reins to Denise, who led him to the muddiest side of the field and used him to give the little kids rides at fifty pence a go. Geraldine and I left him pursuing that useful occupation while we performed our tricks on a piece of relatively firm ground. I jumped the pole with aplomb, much to the delight of the crowd, received my reward treat, and we retired from the field happy and mutually congratulatory.
When the gymkhana was over, and the crowds dispersed, we all made our way wearily back up the path towards the offices.
“Well, that was the best one ever,” said Sue, “mainly thanks to you guys. I’ve never had a crowd as big as that before. Violet’s going to be pleased. I don’t know yet how much we’ve taken, but it’s going to be a lot more than last time.”
“You girls were great,” said Rebecca. “You’re both such accomplished riders for your age.”
“We had the best ponies,” said Geraldine.
“You did,” complained Mrs More-Burley. “My poor Elizabeth had to made to with a rude, aggressive pig! Miss Stratford told me a I could flog him this evening if I wished, and I’m going to take her up on that!” She glared at Billy, who looked miserable. But then there was an unexpected reaction.
“No, you’re not, mummy!” cried Elizabeth. “Apart from the fact he’s my pony, my responsibility, I’m fed up with you getting involved in everything I do. You never let me enjoy anything by myself. I’ve had enough!”
Her mother was speechless for a moment.
“But…but… I’m only trying to do the best for you, darling…”
“Well beating my pony is not best for me, is it? I want my pony to love me. I want to invite him to my party, like Simon pony is going to Geraldine’s. I want to look after him properly, and care for him, not be cruel to him! I don’t blame him for pushing me over. He had a horrible trick played on him. So there!”
That was it. Elizabeth demonstrated a humanity and a will none of us had credited her with. Her mother just shut up and didn’t say another word. Billy stared at his little groom with something like affection in his expression, but quickly snuffed it out when he saw me looking at him. As we approached Reception, Sue said,
“You boys must be exhausted. Why don’t you stay the night here? Billy, your mum has already said you can stay as long as you like. Why don’t I make up camp beds for you and Simon in one of the back rooms?”
“Yes, please, Sue,” I said.
“I’d like to stay,” said Billy, “but if you don’t mind, I’ll go back down and sleep in my stable.”
“Ooh, yes, please, Billy,” said Denise, “me and Laura will look after you again!”
“Okay,” grinned Billy, “it’s a deal. And tomorrow I’ll change back into being a human again. But for this last night, I’m still Billy the Pony!”
-
I know Sim has had enough being a pony but i wonder about Billy, he seems to enjoy it.
-
Chapter XXXVIII: School Show
Thursday September 1. It took me a couple of days to recover from the exertions of the gymkhana. But there was no time to rest. Today was the Queen Alexandra show, and I was opening and closing. Miss Benson had told me to be at school by three-thirty latest. I went straight to the hall ante-room, where she, Miss Morel, and, to my surprise, Janice from Harriet’s party, were waiting for me.
“Hi Simon. If you’re wondering why I’m here, I had a summons through the grapevine. I understand you need a little bit of makeup for your roles tonight?”
“Do I?”
“Of course, Silly!” said Miss Benson. “You’re supposed to be a girl. You need to look like one.”
“Oh, yeah, I suppose…”
“Have you seen the programme? All the performers are named, except you. You’re referred to as “Anonymata”. We thought that’d pique people’s curiosity.”
“How are you, anyway?” asked Janice. “It’s great to see you again. Sadie tells me you’re going to St. Catherine’s this year. I’m so pleased. You’re going to fit in there perfectly. My friend’s daughter went there, and she was so happy.”
“Yeah, Janice. Me and Billy. We’re a bit nervous about it, but it looks great. We’re gonna share a room.”
“Brilliant! Now let me see your costumes, so I can work out what I need to do.”
Miss Benson produced my pink dress, which was now accompanied by one blue and one yellow sock. Then the leotard and pants, with one green and one yellow hooped sock.
“I see,” said Janice. “I suggest we pick up the colours of the socks, then. For the opening act you should have blue eye shadow and blue lipstick. I have some big yellow earrings which will match the yellow sock. For the closer you can keep the earrings, but we’ll change the makeup to green. How’s that sound?”
“Great,” said Miss Benson. “Everything else will be pink or purple and pink, right down to his shoes. And for the closer he’ll have a pink cap too.”
“I’m going to look like a clown, miss,” I remarked surlily.
“Yes, Simon, that’s sort of the idea? You’re there to provide laughs, as usual, nothing else.”
“But I did all the practice so well. Miss Morel said I was very talented. And I’ve got all the gestures off pat, just like you said.”
“And you’re going to be a big hit. Don’t start complaining now, please.”
“I’ll do your make-up about an hour before you’re due to go on,” said Janice, “so it won’t get messed up. Cheer up, Simon! I’ll make you look so pretty!”
“I’m sure you will, Janice. But it’s the closer I’m more worried about, when the audience will twig I’m a boy. I’m going to get off the stage as soon as possible after that!”
Janice made me up at six. The school hall was already filling up. I peeped through the curtain to see if I could recognise anyone. I could see some of my classmates. Alice and Debbie were there, along with Maia, Ophelia, and several other girls from the barbecue. They might well recognise me, having already seen me dressed as a girl. Then half the Committee seemed to have infiltrated the event. I saw Tamsin chatting to Sadie, and who was that at the end of the third row? Oh my god, Carmelita! I blushed as I remembered our last encounter. Bea and Stella, of course. But even more disconcerting was the presence of Jacquetta Wright in the very first row! Why was she here? Someone must have told her I was performing, and she’d come to see me live, as it were. I didn’t want to appear amateur, so I knew I’d have to put on a good performance now. I felt like this evening was a sort of audition. One which, for some reason, I really wanted to be successful.
My thoughts were interrupted by Miss Benson.
“Fifteen minutes, Simon. You all ready? You look fantastic!”
I nodded. Yeah, I was colourful all right. And I was confident, having been so well schooled by Miss Morel. And, to be honest, I felt good just being in a pretty dress, after days of being trussed up as a pony. I felt I had reverted to my natural personality, and my natural, if not intrinsic, gender.
The plan was, for the curtain to go up, and the spotlights to find me there in the middle of the stage. I would look around with mock surprise for a moment or two, then the music would start, and I would sing my four verses, complete with dance routine and gestures. And things actually went to plan. When the curtain went up and the spotlights came on, a ripple of quiet surprise and laughter ran around the hall. With the accompaniment, my little act lasted quite five minutes, and ended in an explosion of applause, as I curtsied sweetly and exited stage left. I dashed off into the arms of Miss Morel, who whispered congratulations in my ear as the next act took the stage.
“That was amazing, Simon. You were a hit! Well done. Flushed with my success, and out of breath, I made my way back to my ‘dressing room’ - a corner of the ante-room – where Janice was waiting to take off my blue makeup and replace it with green.
“That was so perfect, darling! Everyone loved it. And it was such a surprise. They were all expecting some mediocre recitation or a kid playing a violin.”
“Thanks, Janice. Yeah, I think it went really well.”
“I’ll change your makeup now, and then you can change costume. But there’s no hurry. I think the programme’s scheduled to take about two hours.”
Janice took off the blue and replaced it with green. The earrings remained. I hung around in the ante-room for a while, then made my way into the space behind the stage. A boy band was playing, much to the delight of the girls in the audience. There were two more acts before me. Time to get changed. I went back and found my costume. The room was empty. I took off my dress and my shoes and socks, and picked up the leotard. I climbed into it and pulled it up. It slid on readily, but something was wrong. To my surprise, I realised that a neat round hole had been cut in the crotch. As I looked down at myself with dismay, everything I had fell out through this hole, which had been neatly hemmed and elasticated. I picked up my pants and quickly drew them on. I sensed they were not quite the same as those I’d worn for the dress rehearsal. The rubber seemed thinner and lighter, though. the waistband was thicker, and had a raised section at the front, with a little silver button in the middle, and the front centre seam was also raised, like a cord. At that moment I heard a voice behind me.
“Hello, Simon. How are you? Lovely to see you.”
“Carmelita! What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been sent as your dresser, that’s all. Here, you’ll need some help with those.”
I noticed she was wearing blue rubber gloves. She approached me, but I had no idea what she was planning to do. Before I could take evasive action, she had reached down the front of my pants and taken hold of me.
“What are you doing?”
“You need arranging, that’s all. I was elected, as the only person with practical experience. These pants are designed to keep you in place, and avoid embarrassment. Look. See these?”
She showed me a little rubber loop in the crotch of my pants, and another a couple of inches higher.
“These will make sure everything stays in place. Keep still a moment.”
She stretched open the lower loop, and carefully drew everything through. Then with the same care she pulled my boyhood through the upper loop, and allowed that to close on it, gripping it firmly.
“There. That should keep you in check. We don’t want any unfortunate exhibitions tonight.”
“There weren’t going to be any, Carmy. I was completely fine. This is all quite unnecessary.”
“Well, better to be safe than sorry.”
“Huh. It was Tamsin, wasn’t it? Why does she take such pleasure controlling everything I do? Right down to the position of my genitals, apparently!”
“Simon, dear, please don’t be upset. Come on. You’re on in a few minutes. Here, give me a cuddle.”
She drew me to her and put her arms around me. I smelt her perfume, the same that she had worn at Rebecca’s house. I felt myself beginning to remember our previous encounter, and I pulled back, wary of becoming aroused. Carmelita helped me on with my socks, shoes, and cap, and accompanied me to the side of the stage. The penultimate act finished, and the curtain came down. She led me to centre stage, and gave me a kiss.
“Good luck, Simon. You’ll need it!” she smiled. As the curtain began to ascend, she reached down and pressed the little silver button, and immediately hurried off the stage. In an instant, the spotlights had caught me, and I curtsied once more before beginning my act. As the music started to play, I felt the faintest tickling sensation at the base of my boyhood. It took me a moment to realise what was going on, but then inn a flash I understood the significance of the raised waistband, the cord-like seam, and the loops. I stood there, frozen into immobility, and completely missed my cue. Frantically in jabbed at the silver button, but to no effect. It seemed there was only an ‘on’ control. In the glare of the spotlights I was quite unable to see the audience, but I could sense the puzzlement. The vibration was low frequency, but soon attained a steady level of intensity impossible to ignore. However, I told myself, the show must go on! The music started again, and this time I came in on cue. But as my act progressed, the relentless process of stimulation produced the inevitable result. The last lines of the final verse,
“Now you have seen that I’m a boy,
My girly act was just a ploy!”
was simply a statement of the patently obvious, especially for those in the first few rows. Gripped firmly by the rubber loops, my quivering sausage had swelled to its full proportions, and stood proudly nudging at the waistband of my pants. As the music finished, I bowed awkwardly to the audience and headed for the wings. But I wasn’t going to escape so easily. Miss Benson came striding on, caught me half way, and, putting her arm round my waist, almost dragged me back to the centre. She turned me to face the audience, and, putting one hand on my shoulder, raised the other for silence.
“Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen and children. Thank you so much for coming this evening and helping to make our show such a success! I’m sure we are all grateful to” – and here she recited the full list of acts – “for entertaining us, but I want to say an especially big thank you to Simon here, who many of you will already be acquainted with, for his memorable contribution in both opening and closing our show.” (Applause.) “Unfortunately, Simon will be leaving us for St. Catherine’s Girls this year, but I’m sure he will fit in perfectly there.” She manoeuvred herself next to me, wrapping one arm around my waist. “If any of you would like to come up and say goodbye – or indeed, hello – please feel free to do so. Thank you once again and good night to you all!”
By the time she had finished this speech I was dizzy with arousal. The vibrator buzzed on relentlessly.
“Please, miss, let me go and get changed,” I begged, “I’m…I’m…not going to be able to hold out much…”
“Shh, Simon,” she whispered. “Look, your fans are already coming up to congratulate you!”
And she stayed by my side, making sure I couldn’t escape, as people came to shake my hand. I could already feel my climax approaching as Jacquetta Wright neared the front of the queue. She was dressed in one of her slightly fetishistic outfits – black leather jacket and skirt over a gold latex top – and the final straw came, (and so did I), when she took my hand in hers, for she wore little black rubber gloves. If Miss Benson hadn’t supported me, I would have sunk to the floor. Jacquetta waited politely for my spasms to subside.
“Simon. So nice to see you again. Do you feel better now? I have to say, that’s the most flattering reaction to a handshake I’ve ever had! I won’t keep you from your admirers, but I just wanted to say how impressed I was with your performance this evening, especially under such difficult conditions.”
“Are you sure? I thought after that…”
“Oh, don’t worry. Didn’t you know? I’m an associate member now, so I’m in on all the plans. In fact, the vibrator ring was my idea. I wanted to see how you handled yourself under maximum stress. Considering the state you were in, I was amazed you carried on so valiantly. You passed my test with flying colours. The ladies in the front row at least were very appreciative!”
“An associate member?”
“Of the Committee. I was very honoured to be invited. And from the others’ point of view, they’re happy to have someone who organises events, and particularly stage performances. It’s opened up a range of possibilities, and given me access to you and Billy. We have plans for you two, but obviously tonight is not the time to discuss that. Congratulations again, Simon. I hope you make a smooth transition to St. Catherine’s, and I look forward to seeing you again very soon.”
-
Chapter XXXIX: Geraldine’s Party (Part 1)
Saturday 3 September. What a week! And today I had to be up really early, because Geraldine’s party was virtually an all-day affair, and she wanted me there by eleven, which meant Sue wanted me at Holly End by nine to get ready. When I arrived, she and Jane were waiting for me in Reception.
“Good morning, Simon! How are you feeling?”
“Well, if not disgruntled, certainly not gruntled,” I replied, though this seemed to go over their heads.
“I see. Well Jane has volunteered to be your ‘minder’ for the day. You know her sister has a two-year-old, so she knows a little about babycare.”
Jane bestowed a triumphant smirk on me. “Yes, Simon. We were just debating what we should call you today. Sue favoured just “babykins”, but I thought “Baby Simone” preferable, so that no-one should forget who you really are. But I guess Geraldine and her friends will decide. All ready to change?”
“Or be changed!” laughed Sue, and they both collapsed in hysterics.
I let them recover, then said, “So, are we going to do this, or what?”
“Ooh, your eager to get ready, aren’t you?” smiled Jane.
“I’m eager to get it over,” I replied.
“Come on then,” said Sue, “let’s do it. It doesn’t really matter if you get there early. All the more playtime for the girls, eh?”
I followed them into the changing room. Sue instructed me to go into the cubicle and take off all my clothes. Then she passed me the first item. Yes, just as I’d feared. An extra-large pull-up. I’d made sure to go to the toilet at the last minute, and I’d eschewed fluids since last night, just in case. Not that they’d prevent me using the toilet, but just to be on the safe side. With a sigh, I pulled it on, and emerged to their cries of delight.
“Oh, we should send you just like that,” grinned Sue. “What more is needed? The perfect babykins. All pink and naked except for his nappy. Put him face down on a fur rug and tickle him till he wets himself!”
“Sue, stop it. That’s too much. And, for the record, there’s not going to be any wetting today. So give me the outfit and let me get dressed.”
“Ooh, grumpy, aren’t we? Baby not had his proper sleepykins last night? Was he too excited about the party, then?”
She could be nauseating when she wanted to be.
Eventually, when they’d both had their fill of ridiculing me, my little yellow two-piece was produced. But first, the obligatory plastic pants. Big translucent pink ones with elasticated waist and legs. Sue held them open for me and I stepped into them. She pulled them up, all the while looking me straight in the eyes, a quiet smile on her lips. She made sure they fitted snugly, and the legs came over the pull-up.
“They’re perfect,” said Jane. It was really worth getting everything made for him.”
“Her, you mean.”
“Yeah, her. She’s such a lucky baby. Aren’t you, darling?” She pinched my cheek familiarly.
The yellow shorts had also been made large enough to accommodate my pull-up, and the top fitted perfectly, allowing by bare tummy to peep out coquettishly. The outfit was made of a thickish, stretchy material. I was given little yellow socks to put on, and then out came my Peppa Pig boots, or “baby-bootees” as Sue called them, sustaining the irritating device of babifying everything to do with me. Next she produced my “mitten-wittens”. These were a bit of a surprise. They looked perfectly normal, soft and, I assumed, floppy. But when the girls slid them on, I realised they were reinforced inside with rigid paddles, so it was impossible to use my hands. I was on the verge of objecting – not that it would have done any good – but Sue on one side and Jane on the other had already buckled up the little yellow wrist-straps and secured them with tiny padlocks.
“There. They should keep you out of trouble,” said Jane. “Babies are always playing with things they shouldn’t.”
“Yes, he’s always playing with something he shouldn’t!” interrupted Sue, and they fell about again.
“As I was saying,” continued Jane, still grinning, “my little Pippa is always getting up to mischief, but with these on there’s not much you can get your hands into.”
“This is it, then, is it?” I asked, wearily.
“Not quite,” said Sue. We thought it would be a good idea to give you some reins, so you couldn’t run away.”
“Run away? Like this? Are you joking?”
“Well we asked Geraldine, and she said she definitely wanted reins.”
“You asked Geraldine? Well what did you think she was going to say? Of course she wanted reins. She wants everything, that girl.”
“Now, now. She loves you, Simon – sorry, Simone – and she’d hate anything to happen to you. That was the reason.”
“Huh!”
The “reins” were produced. Yellow leather to match my outfit. First, there was a harness. It jingled annoyingly, being decorated with little silver bells and D-rings. It looked quite heavy-duty. Jane and Sue started to strap it on. It was a bit different from a normal baby-harness. There was an upper strap, quite broad, which they fed under my arms and buckled at the back. From the middle of this, two narrower straps were passed over my shoulders and also buckled at the back. But there was also a second, lower, body strap, connected to the other by a rectangular leather plate at the front, on which was printed a picture of a doll. This was buckled around my waist. I was calculating the possibility of reaching back and somehow undoing the buckles with my stiff mittens, when Sue produced two short chains, which she used to clip my wrist cuffs to D-rings on the sides of the belt, greatly restricting the movement of my hands.
“Hey, Sue, you don’t have to do that! I can’t use my hands anyway!”
“Maybe, Simon, but I’m not taking any chances. I know your devious mind.”
“My devious mind? Compared to you I’m a child!”
“Yes. A baby in fact. Oh, god, look at you! Geraldine is going to be ecstatic! I wish I could be there!”
“Don’t worry, miss, I’ll give you a full account!” chimed in Jane. She picked up the reins themselves, which also had a buckle in the middle, and clipped them onto D-rings at each side of the upper strap. She shook them playfully. “Oh, it’s almost like when he was a pony! Giddy-up, Simone! Time to go to the party!”
In ten minutes I was in the back of Jane’s car, and we were heading to Trudy Westfeather’s house. I was somewhat disconcerted to see next to be on the back seat a big padded yellow bag.
“What’s in this bag, Jane?” I asked, but all she would say was, “Just baby stuff. You’ll see.”
When we arrived, I waited for Mrs Westfeather to open the front door, which was decorated with a bunch of yellow balloons, and then dashed in. I didn’t want to be spotted by any nosey neighbours. I needn’t have bothered as it turned out, since half the day was spent in the garden in full view of anyone who cared to look out of their back upstairs window.
Geraldine came running out of the back room when she heard our arrival. When she saw me she clapped her hands in delight.
“Simon! You look perfect! Did you like my choice of costume?”
“Yes, Geraldine, very much. It was very clever of you to pick something so…interesting.”
She frowned. “Why are your hands chained up?”
“Oh, we had to do that Geraldine. Little Simone turned out to be quite a naughty baby, trying to take off her nice clothes and play with dangerous things. We did it for her own safety.”
Geraldine took the hint.
“Naughty Simone! I hope you’re not going to be a bad baby today. It would be awful if my mummy had to spank you!”
“Oh, yes, Simone,” echoed Mrs Westfeather, satirically, “wouldn’t that be terrible – if I had to take down your pants and your nappy and give you spankies on your bare botty in front of all Geraldine’s friends!”
“Yes, come and meet some of my friends, Simone! Three of my best friends are here already!”
She grabbed me by one leg of my little pants and led me into the room. Three little girls were sitting at the table, writing out place cards and trying to blow up balloons. They stared at me with astonishment.
“This is Baby Simone. Baby Simone, say hello to my friends, Nancy, Tatiana and Bethany.”
“Hello,” I said, shortly. I looked at the floor, suddenly overcome with embarrassment.
“Is that the boy….” one of them began.
“Yes, Tatty, Simon was my pony at the gymkhana. But today he’s Baby Simone. Do you like his outfit? I chose it myself.”
“Is she wearing a nappy, too?” asked another, in a tone of expectant curiosity.
“A pull-up, yes. An extra large one. He’s too big for ordinary nappies.”
“Can we see?”
“Of course. Look, I’ll show you.”
I was still keeping my eyes on the ground. I heard the chairs being pushed back, and a moment later the girls were around me. Geraldine pulled up one leg of my pants to show them the pull-up.
“See? Plastic pants as well, in case she wets herself.”
“Why are her hands chained up like that?”
“Sometimes babies are naughty, and pull things down, or get into some sort of mischief. Sometimes they hurt themselves. Of course, they don’t mean to. So sometimes you have to do things like that. Later on, we’ll can put him in the playpen so he can’t run around and bump into things.”
One of them was still interested in my pull-up.
“Do you think she is going to wet herself?”
“I don’t know, Bethany. She may do. You can never tell with babies.”
“If she did, how would you know?”
“Well, her pull-up would be all heavy, and you could see the wee through her pants, and in any case these pull-ups turn blue when they’re wet so you know.”
“It’s not blue yet. I’m going to check her very now and then, though,” said Bethany, officiously.
One of the others was examining my harness. Jane passed her the reins.
“Here, Nancy, you can be in charge for a bit.”
“Thank you….”
“Jane,” said Jane.
“Thank you, Jane. Are you her mummy?”
She laughed. “No, but I’m her babysitter for the day. I have to look after her as though I am her mummy.”
“Walk, baby.” I walked round the room as instructed.
“Ooh, I like this,” Nancy laughed, “look, I can make her stop, and if I pull on this rein, she turns the same way!”
“Just like a pony,” said Geraldine.
The third girl, Tatiana, suddenly blurted, “Can we take her out for a walk? It would be such fun!”
“Can we, Jane,” asked Geraldine, excitedly.
“Well I hadn’t really thought of that. I’m not sure.”
“If you’re going to take her out, best do it now, before the others arrive,” said Mrs Westfeather. There’s a good hour before they’re due.”
I looked pleadingly at Jane. She looked back triumphantly. “Let’s go then, girls. Take it in turns to hold the reins.”
“Yes!” they cried in chorus.
“Jane!” I whispered, “you can’t do this! People will see!”
“Exactly!” she said, with an evil smile.
-
Chapter XXXIX: Geraldine’s Party (Part 2)
Five minutes later we were out on the street. They put a little yellow cap on my head, but otherwise I was just as I had been indoors. Nancy was first on the reins. I walked ahead, the other three clustered around me, Geraldine holding my hand, rather awkwardly, as it was suspended from its chain and rather high up. Jane brought up the rear.
“Let’s go to the park,” suggested Bethany. “Simone can go on the baby swings.”
I kept my eyes on my little wellies, and allowed Geraldine to lead me. I could see the feet on the people we encountered, how sometimes they stopped dead, or slowed and turned as we passed by. I heard the remarks, too. “Ooh, that’s a big baby!” “I wouldn’t like to change his nappy!” or more often stuff like, “Hey, Dave, (or Tracey, or Nikki, or whatever), get a load of this!”
It was actually a relief to get to the park, which, apart from the playground, was relatively quiet. It was a nice park, bounded by lines of trees, with the playground in the far corner, adjacent to a little café with seats outside. As I was conducted over to the swings, and helped into one of those baby swings with a bar on the front, the other kids and their mothers stopped playing and simply stared. I hoped desperately that there was no-one here I knew. And at first it seemed as if I might get away with it. We had been there no more than twenty minutes, when the girls got bored with pushing me, and wanted to go off and play on the logs. Jane helped me out of my swing with some difficulty, and looked around for somewhere to stash me while she went and supervised the girls. She had an idea. She led me over to a tree, made me stand with my back to it, undid the buckle in the middle of the reins, and then buckled it up tight behind the tree. Very effective. I couldn’t move an inch. I watched the girls playing, wondering how I had managed to get myself into such a predicament. I looked about the park. It was so quiet for a Saturday morning. Just a few wanderers, and a couple of people at the café. They looked familiar. Then my heart missed a beat. It was Bella and Robin from year four! Well, they’d be in year five now. Two of the biggest gossips in the school! I prayed they wouldn’t see me. I kept my head well down, thinking illogically that if I couldn’t see them, maybe they wouldn’t see me. No chance. They were so naturally nosey, they took in everything that was going on around them. I saw them looking at the kids in the playground, and then one of them pointed straight at me. Down went my head again. Please. Please. I prayed under my breath, not daring to look up. But a minute later I saw two pairs of feet approaching.
“Hello.”
“Is that….”
“Oh my god, Robin! It’s is him! I don’t believe it!”
“Hello, Simon,” smiled Robin, with obvious delight. “Have you lost your mummy?”
“Just go away.”
“Ooh, you’re not very sociable today. Are you with those kids in the playground? What’s going on? Please tell us.”
“He’s wearing a nappy, too, underneath. I can tell!” gasped Bella. “Look!”
She pulled up one leg of my shorts, and they both burst out laughing.
“Plastic pants! Real plastic baby pants! Oh, this is too good!”
“Just f*** off, you two!” I burst out, reddening. I couldn’t help myself.
“Oh, dear. What a bad-tempered little girl,” said Robin. “She’s probably tired.”
“I know. Let’s cheer her up,” said Bella. “I’ll tickle her tummy. Could you video her, Rob?”
“My pleasure!”
She took out her phone and started filming. Bella wriggled her fingers in my bare midriff until I was squirming and squealing and begging for mercy. When they were quite satisfied with my performance, Bella relented. She went over to her friend and they stood there playing it. I could hear my own stupid sounds being played back to me.
“Please, girls, don’t show anyone,” I begged, suddenly contrite.
But at this juncture, Jane arrived.
“What are you doing to Baby Simone, you two?” She looked quite severe. “I hope you haven’t been upsetting her.”
“No,” replied Robin, rather nervously, “we were just trying to cheer her up. She was in a very bad mood.”
“Really? Did you video her? Yes? Let me see.” She took Robin’s phone and watched the whole thing.
“Hmm. It’s lucky she didn’t wet herself. Then I’d be the one who had to change her. Is this how you normally treat baby girls?”
“N-no, I swear,” said Bella, “We were just having a bit of fun, you know.” They both hung their heads. Jane could be pretty scary when she wanted.
“So what are you planning to do with this video?”
“Er, nothing. We were just about to delete it.”
“Delete it? What a waste! I thought you were going to say you were planning to upload it to Facebook.”
“No…”
“Why not? It’s hilarious.”
“Jane! No!”
“Really? Can we?”
“Be my guest.” She turned to me. “Oh, Simon, I’m sorry, but this is simply too good to waste.” She turned back. “Go on, girls. Do it now, before I change my mind. I’ll be curious to see how many hits it gets.”
“Done!” cried Robin, exultantly. “Thank you …”
“Jane.”
“Thank you, Jane. You’ve made our day. Come on, Bella, let’s go and see Phillipa and the others. Bye, Jane. Bye, Simon!”
I groaned in despair. This day was turning out to be worse than I could have imagined.
-
Chapter XXXIX: Geraldine’s Party (part 3)
We returned to the house without any further major incidents. The other kids were arriving now. Naturally my presence generated a lot of interest not only from the children but from their mothers. Whilst rationally they knew I was a sixteen-year-old boy, my babyish appearance appealed straight to their maternal instincts. They were petting me, talking to me in baby-talk, and generally treating me as a one-year-old girl. It was a strange experience. I didn’t quite know how to respond. But then Jane took me aside.
“Now look Simon. You’re supposed to be a little baby girl – or just a toddler at most. You need to behave like one, understand? Or it’ll be bare botty spankies, okay? So learn to speak in baby language, and try to look constantly surprised. And giggle if you don’t know what to say. Got it?”
“Yes, Jane.”
“Good. Now, baby want dwinkies?”
“Baby no dwinkies, tank oo.”
“But baby need dwinkies. Janie get baby’s milkies.”
Mrs Westfeather warmed some milk in a pan, and filled a bottle. Jane sat in an armchair and made me lie across her lap. I was as big as her, but she didn’t complain. Geraldine brought her the bottle, and she and her friends, at least the girls, gathered round with fascinated attention. Jane pushed the rubber teat between my lips. I drew the warm milk into my mouth. I was intending to humour her for a short while, but I had no intention of drinking half the bottle. I hadn’t raised the question of what was going to happen when I wanted to pee – whether or not I was going to be allowed to use the toilet – and I reckoned I could hold out all day if necessary, having been so careful over the last few hours. But I was thirsty, so even then I drank more than I should have. I stopped myself in time, however, and clamped my jaws shut.
“Come on baby, have some more.”
I shook my head determinedly.
Jane tried to force it into my mouth, but all she succeeded in doing was spraying my face with milk.
“Does Janie have to make you dwinky milkies?”
No reply.
“Geraldine, darling, could you bring me my bag, please? Thank you, dear. Trudy? Could you help me? What we discussed.”
Jane pushed me off her lap and stood up. Trudy Westfeather was a substantial woman. She put her arms around me from behind and locked her hands over my tummy. Then she sat down. I was quite helpless. Jane rummaged in her bag, and pulled out something on a yellow strap.
“Sometimes we have to do this when baby won’t drink her milk,” she explained to the girls. The next moment she had wrapped the strap around my head, buckling it tightly at the back, forcing a yellow rubber ball into my mouth. Except it wasn’t a round ball, but oval, like a miniature rugby ball. I could almost, but not quite, close my lips over it. And if I bit down very hard I could compress it for a few seconds. It wasn’t at all uncomfortable, but as a gag it was totally effective. I glared at Jane indignantly, and all the kids burst out laughing. I suppose I looked quite funny with anger in my eyes and a yellow gag in my mouth. I couldn’t see what good it was going to do, anyway. As far as I could see, it would effectively obviate any possibility of feeding.
But, oh, how wrong I was. Jane explained its function to the children.
“Now, children, this little device helps us feed naughty babies who wont drink their milk. There’s a little hole in the front, here” – she pushed my lips apart to show it – and another in the other side. Both holes are valves. Does anyone know what a valve is? No? Well it’s a hole through which liquid can only go in one direction. Both the holes are little valves, so milk can go in, but it can’t come out. Let me show you.”
She resumed her seat, and I was once again placed across her lap. I tried to twist my head sideways, but Trudy held it still while Jane pushed the teat into the ball, and pumped milk in. Instinctively I tried to close my mouth, but when I bit down on the ball the milk simply squirted into my mouth! As Jane filled the ball, the ball leaked into my mouth. There was nothing I could do to stop it. If I closed my jaws on the ball, it simply emptied faster. Soon the bottle was empty. Jane got up and pushed me back into the armchair.
“There!” said Jane, “See? All gone. That’s baby’s lunchtime feed. Now I think your mum is preparing your lunchtime feeds, Geraldine!”
“Yippee!” The kids gathered round the table as Trudy handed out plates full of party food.
“Take in into the garden, please, everyone. It’s a lovely day.”
The garden was long, with big trees and bushes at the end. They gathered in little groups on the lawn, for once in relative silence.
Jane squatted down next to me and said quietly, “You see, it’s no good trying to resist. Sue has thought of everything. You might as well go with the flow.”
I emitted an indignant grunt of protest. Geraldine was calling from outside.
“Simone! Come out here with us! Jane, could you bring her, please?”
“Coming, darling!” And to me: “Sorry. That’s staying in for the time being. Come on, come outside and join the others.”
I sat by Geraldine during lunch, and spent the next hour or so running about playing tag or hide-and-seek. Then at about three I saw Jane approaching with another bottle. I was already needing the toilet, but the proximity of Trudy persuaded me there was no point in resistance. This time I lay on the grass, my head on Jane’s lap, while Geraldine and her friends took it in turns to feed me. The bottle was emptied again, but now more of the girls wanted a turn, so it was sent back to be refilled. The kids were not always the most skilful mothers, so by the time that bottle was empty, half of it was soaked into my top. I was bursting to go to the toilet. Then I had an idea. I reckoned if I stretched the chain on one hand I could use the stiff paddle in my mitten to prise open my plastic pants and my pull-up. It was worth a try, anyway. I waited for the right moment and wandered casually towards the bushes. Looking round, I saw no-one was watching, so I slipped into the undergrowth and started to put my plan into operation. I had just managed to lift one leg of my plastic pants when I heard a voice behind me.
“Nice try, Simon. You really never give up, do you?”
Jane had been watching me. She didn’t miss much. She conducted me out of the bushes, and soon I found myself securely strapped to one of the big trees, as I had been in the park. To make absolutely sure, she shortened the chains, by the simple expedient of unclipping them at the wrist, feeding them through the wrist rings, and clipping the ends back onto the D-rings on my belt.
Then she called the children.
“Kids! Come here, quickly! I think baby is going to wet herself soon. Come and watch!”
The whole lot of them came charging up the garden, whooping and screaming. Then began the most embarrassing episode of my life. I held out for no more than five minutes, before I inevitably was forced to give in. The warm pee flooded my pull-up – too much for it to contain, because it also filled my plastic pants, and began to seep out of one leg. Geraldine was delighted that baby had finally consented to do what babies were expected to do.
I don’t want to describe the remainder of that day. Jane changed me on a big changing mat she had brought in the boot of her car. Thank goodness I was allowed to remain face down for the whole process. I was wiped, creamed and dusted till I smelt as sweet as a rose, and then dressed again so that I could resume the charade. Everyone else was very happy with my performance. I survived it by focussing on the consoling thought that in a couple of days, Billy and I would be off to St. Catherine’s. It felt like at least the possibility of a new life. And for five days of the week no-one would be able to touch us – would they. Would they?
-
Chapter XL: Postscript
Sunday 4 December. I reckoned I had undergone the most humiliating experience a guy could yesterday. But at least that was only in front of a few kids. Robin had invited me as a friend on Facebook. Apparently, views of her video were already in the thousands. What the hell. At least I wasn’t wet at that stage. Anyway, I don’t care. Tomorrow we’re off to St. Catherine’s. I can’t wait. With luck I’ll never have to see most of those idiots at Queen Alexandra ever again. A new chapter opens!
Editor’s postscript:
On that note, I think we should end this phase of the story. Bea and I realised that, when Simon went off to St. Catherine’s, his diary was going to go with him, and we would have no further access to it. I mentioned this to Rebecca, and she put me in touch with Antonia Mortimer. I went to visit her at the school, and she in turn introduced me to Alicia, who was only too pleased to report on the boys’ progress, and also to take copies of Simon’s diary entries and send them to me. So we were back in business! In view of the boys’ change of lifestyle, I think a new title is called for for phase two. It will be, simply, “St. Catherine’s”.
Stella