Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Menu => Active Sissy Stories => Topic started by: Sandra B on December 19, 2019, 07:03:23 PM
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Chapter One. Panty-Snatcher
His mother always called him Paulie. Of course, he hadn’t minded when he was younger, but now he was in secondary school, it was an embarrassment. His friends Mikey and Josh were super cool. He wanted them to call him PJ – his second name was James – but after hearing his mother say things like, “Paulie, could you fetch in the washing?” or “Paulie, could you help Sam find her doll?” – Sam was his younger sister, Samantha – Mikey and Josh not only dropped the ‘PJ’, but even started teasing him with the ‘Paulie’.
He did his best to get her to drop it.
“Mum, could you please stop calling me “Paulie”? I’m not a little kid any more!”
“But it is your name, dear. What else am I supposed to call you?”
“Actually, mum, it’s not. My name is ‘Paul’, remember?”
“But we’ve always called you Paulie, ever since you were a baby.”
“Exactly! But I’m not a baby any more, and my friends think it’s stupid. Haven’t you seen them smirking every time you use it?”
“No, dear, I certainly hadn’t noticed. Oh, well, all right. When they’re around I’ll try to remember. But to me, you’ll always be my little Paulie.”
His mum did try, but her attempt usually came out as “Paulie, oh, I mean Paul”, so it wasn’t much of a help. Due almost entirely to the connotations of the babyish name, his friendship with Mikey and Josh began to fade. However, he still had one close friend, Nathan. Nathan didn’t try to be cool or smart or grown up. Perhaps it was because he had an older sister, Emilia, whose influence had prevented him getting fancy ideas about himself. She was pretty and clever and sensible and two years his – and Paul’s – senior. Nathan looked up to her in every way. Despite being a girl, she was an example to him of everything that a teenager should be. She stood out from her peers, male and female. Sometimes one would to put her down, but her natural wit was always equal to the occasion, and often much superior to it, so that her detractors were disinclined to try a second time. And to Paul – well Paul, whether he knew it or not, Paul was half in love with her, and the half that wasn’t in love with her worshipped the ground she walked on, as the saying goes. When Paul was invited to their house, as he often was, he spent an unusual amount of time in the bathroom beforehand, and if it hadn’t been for these visits he would otherwise probably never have combed his hair or cleaned his teeth properly. So even if his regard was apparently unrequited, his feelings for Emilia at least served to keep his appearance passably in shape.
On these occasions, it was Paul’s greatest delight to find himself in Emilia’s bedroom, which sometimes happened when the three of them ended up playing one of her board games. On the day in question, a Sunday in May, they were sitting on the carpet having a game of Scrabble. The boys both knew that Emilia could wipe the floor with them if she put her mind to it, but since she was almost totally lacking in vanity, she satisfied herself by playing in a half-hearted way by laying down virtually the first word that came into her head. In this way she gave her opponents a chance of winning. Paul liked Emilia’s bedroom because it was full of Emilia’s stuff, her clothes, her books, her stuffed animals, her posters, and of course, her bed. On this particular day, the game was interrupted by the children’s mother calling from downstairs.
“Emmy? Nathan? Your aunt’s on the phone. Come and wish her a happy birthday!”
They jumped up and thundered down the stairs, leaving Paul alone in the room. He stood up and looked around, taking in the atmosphere and trying to imagine what its occupant might do in the evening or at bedtime. He noticed the top drawer of her chest was slightly open. Creeping over, he peered inside. Yes, her clothes. With a thrill he saw, right on top, a little pile of knickers, the uppermost pair yellow and satiny and covered with minute red bows. Hardly daring to breathe, he reached out and touched them. He could hear talking from downstairs, and he guessed his friends wouldn’t be back for a minute or two, so with a pounding heart, he carefully lifted the little garment out of the drawer and examined it. He marvelled at the softness and silkiness of the material. There was a little cloth sachet of potpourri in the drawer, which had scented everything. He lifted them to his face, and inhaled the perfume. His head span. For a moment he lost concentration, and suddenly became aware of footsteps climbing the stairs. In panic he threw the knickers back at the drawer and collapsed to the floor by the Scrabble board. But he had missed his aim, and they fluttered down next to him. Instinctively, he grabbed them, and stuffed them in his pocket, the instant before Emilia and Nathan returned.
For the remainder of the game he was in a panic. He had to get the panties back in the drawer, or Emilia would guess it must have been he who had had taken them. They were all going for a meal with Nathan’s parents that evening, after which he would be taken home. So the deed had to be done before they left. It would be impossible to return them immediately after the game – Emilia would hardly allow him to hang about in her room after she had left – so he devised another plan. After they had all gone downstairs, he would pretend to need the toilet, and go back up and enter her room and put them back. Yes, that would work. So just before they were about to leave, he made his excuse and returned upstairs. First, he went into the toilet, which was just along the landing, waited a suitable time, and flushed it for the sake of authenticity. Then, taking the panties out of his pocket, he crept back and slipped into Emilia’s bedroom. He was half way to the chest of drawers when he froze.
“Paul? Can I help you?” Emilia was standing in front of her wardrobe mirror putting on her earrings. Then she saw what he was holding.
“What…?” She stared at him, questioning. “What are you doing with those?” she exclaimed.
Paul stood there like a frightened deer, unable to speak or think for a minute, with an expression of terror on his face.
“Well? Answer me?” She put her hands on her hips. “Did you take them out of my drawer?” She held out a hand. “Thank you. I’ll have them back, please. Right now!” At last Paul found his voice.
“I…I …I found them on the floor…they must have fallen out of the drawer…I was just…you know…putting them back?” He phrased his stammering reply in the form of a question, as if saying, “Don’t you believe me?” Clearly Emilia did not.
“Really? They fell out of my drawer, did they? Into your pocket? How convenient. Then she registered that he had just been to the toilet. Her eyes narrowed. “What have you been doing with them?” she asked, in an accusatory tone.
“Nothing, Em. I swear!”
“You’d better tell me the truth. The whole truth. Right now. Or you can come downstairs and explain yourself to the others, too.”
“I, er, I…I”
“Ten seconds, young man.”
“I…I…your drawer was open. I was afraid they were going to fall out. I went to push them back in, but they fell on the floor. Then you both came running back upstairs…”
“You were afraid the panties were going to fall out of my drawer. Oh, I see. Now it’s all perfectly clear. You saved them from a terrible fall.” She held them up. “Thank you so much. I would have hated it if they’d got torn or soiled. Fortunately, my little knight in shining armour was there to save them!”
Paul looked at the door, the floor, then the window, as if he were contemplating escaping that way. Anywhere but at Emilia. He squirmed with discomfort, shifting from one foot to the other and back again. The poor little thing looked so sweet, she thought. But she couldn’t resist torturing him a little longer.
“Well, if that’s your story, I think Nathan and my parents would be interested to hear it. I’m sure they would want to thank you for protecting my interests. Shall we go?” She indicated the door.
“No, please, Emilia. I’ll do anything…”
“The truth then. Or I’ll take you downstairs right now.”
Paul hung his head. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I thought they were…pretty. I just wanted to look. Then you came back up, and I accidentally dropped them on the floor. I didn’t have time to put them back. I just stuffed them in my pocket. I just came to put them back now. I didn’t realise you were in here…”
“Thank you, Paul. There. That didn’t hurt, did it?”
He shook his head, slowly, still looking at the carpet.
“So, having had the privilege of being able to examine them close up, what do you think? What’s your considered opinion?”
“Sorry?”
“Do you like them?”
“No! I mean, yes! I mean I like the design…Please. I’m sorry!”
Emilia looked at him for a few moments, considering. The she said,
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep your little secret for the time being. But you have to do something for me.”
“Yes. Anything!”
“Go back into the loo. Take off your underpants and put on these panties instead. They should fit you nicely. Then get dressed, and bring me your underpants here.”
“What? No…”
“You said you like the design. Now you can see if you like the feel of them.”
“But, couldn’t I…?
“No. You don’t have a choice. You’d better hurry too, before I change my mind, or Paul the little pantie-snatcher will find himself a minor celebrity. Here. Take them.”
Paul reluctantly took the offered garment.
Nathan called from downstairs. “Come on you two! We’re waiting to go!”
“Just coming!” Emilia shouted back, “I just came up to get my purse. And Paul’s just in the loo.”
“Go! Quickly!”
As they came downstairs, Emilia’s mum noticed Paul’s red cheeks,
“Are you all right, Paul? You look a bit flushed.”
“I’ve just been showing him my wardrobe. He has very good taste in girls’ clothes, for a boy!” smiled Emilia.
“Y-yes, thank you, Mrs Dic-kinson. I’m fine,” he replied. The unaccustomed feel of the panties against his skin made him tremble slightly. They were surprisingly small, but the material was so silky and stretchy it contained him with a reassuring firmness. He walked uncertainly, with little steps, trying to adjust to the new sensations. His mind was in a whirl. He was actually wearing a pair of her panties! Panties that she had worn herself, probably only a few days before! He gulped.
He said nothing on the drive to the restaurant. Emilia sat beside him in the back, and put one hand affectionately on his knee. She put her lips close to his ear, and whispered.
“Look after them, Paul. You can come and see me on Friday evening. The others will be out till after ten. Make sure you’re wearing them, mind. Understood?”
He nodded. His face was still burning. All through dinner he hardly said a word. His new underwear was so light, it made his jeans feel loose, while being constricting enough to make him fidget awkwardly in his seat.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Mrs dic-kinson enquired again, looking concerned.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I think he is ill, mum,” said Nathan. “He normally eats like a hippopotamus, but tonight he’s only being a giant hog!”
Later that night, Nathan’s mum drove him home. Emilia was sitting next to the door, and got out so he could do the same. In the instant they were standing there together unobserved, she whispered,
“Wear them for me all week, Paul. They’re yours now.” And she gave him a little silent kiss on the cheek.
“Night, Paul!” called Nathan. “See you at school!”
“Night, Nathan.”
Paul made his way inside.
“Did you have a nice day, Paulie?” asked his mother.
“Yeah, great, thanks, mum. But I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now.”
“Oh, all right. Don’t forget to clean your teeth, will you?”
“Nah.”
As he undressed for bed, he thought over the events of the day. Why did Emilia want to see him again on Friday? Well, it didn’t matter. He was going to get to be alone with her for a few hours. That had to be good news. He undressed down to his new panties. He looked at himself in the mirror. They were so little compared to his own underpants. He contemplated what he should wear to bed. He decided that it might be risky to leave them lying about his room. It would be safer to leave them on. She had said he could, in any case. The consideration that they had recently been next to her skin played no part in his decision, he told himself. As to tomorrow, he could decide then what to do next.
He took ages to get to sleep. The silky caress of the panties kept him awake. And when he finally did fall asleep, his dreams kept him tossing and turning all night. He looked so worn out the next day, his mother kept him home from school. Nevertheless he made what he told himself was a rational decision to keep them on during the day.
“Mrs Dic-kinson rang last night to say she thought you were sickening for something. It’s looks like she was right.”
“Yes. Mum.”
“Oh, and Emilia has invited you over on Friday evening. You asked her for some help with your school project?”
“I did? Oh, yes, that’s right. I did.” Crafty excuse, he thought. She’s even more devious that I gave her credit for.
“She said it’ll be nice and quiet because her parents and Nathan are going out to a play. How nice of her to help you. She’s such a nice girl! She obviously likes you, anyway.”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, no, she does, believe me. She was saying how of all Nathan’s friends, you’re the most interesting.”
“Really?”
“Yes. She was asking whether she could take you swimming or ice-skating some time. Nathan’s not really into sports, you know. He’s much happier sitting at home reading.”
“Yes, I know that….”
“And she thinks it would be fun. I told her she can take you wherever she pleases! She’s so grown up for her age, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I suppose so…”
“And she’s offered to babysit you and Sam whenever I like! Isn’t that sweet of her? She knows I have my work cut out looking after you two and going to my meetings and those conferences. I’d pay her, of course, though she said she’d be happy to come around anytime I needed her. I’m definitely going to take her up on that.”
Paul digested this information with mixed feelings. Why the sudden interest in him? It felt like Emilia had an ulterior motive, but what it was he couldn’t imagine. Maybe she was just keen to help out. Maybe she really did like him, and she was taking this opportunity to show it. Nevertheless, he felt slightly uneasy. He wished he hadn’t left her knickers on. By doing so he felt he was colluding with her plans. But what was he to do? If he hadn’t kept them on, he would have had to hide them somewhere, and by sod’s law his mother would have found them. He would like to have dumped them in the bin, but of course he dared not do that. He resigned himself to wearing them the rest of the week. He would wash them tonight in the bathroom, and hang them on his radiator to dry. What about school? He’d have to wear them to school too. He dare not leave them at home. He swore, mildly, in his frustration. It was like being a prisoner on release, wearing a tag. He couldn’t take them off, and he would have the constant worry about somebody noticing them. If Emilia had intended to keep him on a tight lead the whole week, with a constant reminder of his misdemeanour, she couldn’t have come up with a better method.
“Roll on Friday,” he said to himself. “Just a few days, and I’ll be able to get back to normal…..I hope,” he added, as an afterthought.
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This is a very exciting beginning! It's clear that Paul(ie) is very much outclassed by Emilia, who will quite shortly have him wrapped around her finger. I can't wait to see where this goes.
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Interesting to see what Em has in store for Paulie now
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Chapter Two. A Disaster
He went back to school on Tuesday. No-one noticed anything different about him, except maybe that he seemed more animated than usual. His mother was grateful he seemed to have recovered from his mystery illness.
“You seem a lot more lively this week, Paulie,” she commented Wednesday morning at breakfast. “You’ve been getting up on time the last couple of days, and you seem very cheerful. Full of the joys of spring, in fact.”
“Yeah, mum. Just looking forward to the summer, that’s all. Do you know where we’re going on holiday this year?”
“No, we haven’t decided yet. It depends on your father’s work. As soon as we know what weeks he has free we’ll discuss plans.”
“Okay. Great. I’ll see you later, then.”
The school week slipped by. He wore the panties every day and every night. He didn’t forget, with a cunning he congratulated himself on, to dump pairs of his normal underpants in the washing. An absence would have been highly suspicious. He was doing a lot of thinking. The unaccustomed sensations imparted by those taut little panties made it impossible not to be continually reminded of Emilia’s instructions. He wondered if, in some way, she was experiencing a similar feelings to his from the knowledge that her panties were now on his bottom. That was an exciting thought. It was possible, wasn’t it? She was only a couple of years older. She was one of the older girls in year three. Yes, he remembered now that one more than one occasion he had caught her looking at him thoughtfully, as if …..
He soon discovered that it was better to refrain from such speculation during lessons. It was distracting to say the least. He would grit his teeth and try to concentrate on his work. In the evenings, however, he allowed his fantasies free rein, sometimes with unfortunate consequences. But at school, everything was going fine. At least, it was until Friday.
He was very excited all day, looking forward to the evening. He was even more wild than usual, running about the playground at lunchtime like a mad thing. Unfortunately, he had forgotten that morning to tighten his belt a notch. This had become necessary because of the difference in volume between the little satin panties and his old boys’ underpants. He was playing football with his mates, and the ball flew over the goal and landed next to a group of three girls from another class in his year. He ran after it, and in bending over to pick it up, the back of his jeans slid down just enough to reveal a glimpse of yellow satin decorated with red bows. They had been looking at him with some distaste as he came barrelling towards them, and the vision was observed by all three simultaneously. They looked at each other for a moment in speechless amazement. Then three heads were put close together, and plans were made.
The girls’ names were Rosalind, Marcia, and Tabitha. They had been close friends since they were at primary school, and now in a new environment they formed an identifiable group in their class. They were of compatible intelligence, and if you had to generalise their personal characteristics, I suppose you might say that Marcia was the most worldly, Tabitha the most sentimental, and Rosalind the most playful. So it was that during a lesson change in the afternoon, Marcia marched into Paul’s class, walked straight up to him, and thrust a piece of torn paper into his hand. He was completely taken aback, and everyone in the class stared at him, and at the perpetrator, who left as suddenly as she had arrived.
Paul, unscrewed the note, and read the following. “If you want to keep your secret, meet us by the toilets in the park after school. If you’re not there, we’ll tell everyone.”
Paul turned white, then bright red. How had they found out? He was assailed on all sides by children wanting to see the note, but he buried it deep in the pocket of his jeans. At the end of school he slipped away and headed for the park. There was no choice. He didn’t even consider the possibility of ignoring the note. He made straight for the appointed place. The toilet block was on the side farthest from the main gate. It backed onto a field and was separated from it by an old fence and an overgrown hedgerow. He waited just behind one corner of the building, under the overhanging branches. Within five minutes he saw the girls approaching. Three of them! He flushed again. They approached him, smirking. Marcia took the lead.
“What’s your name?”
“Paul.”
“Paul. Pretty name. Pretty boy. Pretty panties, Paul. Where did you get them?”
“Look, it’s just a one-off. It’s a dare, see? It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? Are you serious?” Marcia looked at the others, who both giggled.
“Seriously, Paul,” said Rosalind, we don’t believe you. Who dared you, for one thing?”
“It was my friend’s sister. It was just for a laugh. She’s in year three, and she won’t be very pleased when I tell her about this. This is, like, blackmail. I’ve got your note as evidence. You’d better be careful.”
“OK,” said Marcia. “We’ll have the note back, then. Come on, hand it over, or we’ll take it by force!”
“Yeah,” said Tabitha, “and we’ll take your jeans right off at the same time.”
Paul immediately capitulated, and handed over the note. “I was just joking, girls.”
“Well, we’re not,” said Marcia, threateningly. “We want to see your panties. Then we’ll let you go.”
Paul was beginning to feel tearful. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and looked about the park. There wasn’t another soul in sight.
“Come on,” said Tabitha, persuasively, “we just want a quick look. They looked very nice panties.”
“Yes, said Rosalind, “Tabby’s right. We might want some for ourselves. Where did you get them?”
Paul bit his lip. He wanted to go home and get ready to go round to Emilia’s.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll show you. But just for a second.”
He unzipped his fly and pulled it open.
“That’s no good,” said Marcia. “Here, stand behind the building and pull your jeans right down. Come on! We don’t have all night.”
With a sigh Paul moved behind the wall, under the overhanging branches. Reluctantly he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and slid them down just far enough to show the panties, holding onto them tightly.
“Phew!” said Rosalind, “Cute! So where did you get them?”
“My friend…”
“Which friend?”
“My friend Nathan. His sister…”
“Nathan’s sister?” exclaimed Tabitha. “Emilia? I know her. She’s cool. She gave you these?”
“Yeah,” said Paul, feeling a little encouraged, “they’re hers.”
“Are you serious?” laughed Marcia.
“Yes. It’s true.”
“You’re lying. These aren’t hers.”
“They are, I swear. They came from her drawer. She’ll be very angry you’re making fun of them.”
“Do you seriously think she’d wear anything like this,” said Tabitha with astonishment. “For a start, they’re nowhere near big enough. These are little girl’s panties! Look at them! Yellow satin with tiny little red bows? Emilia’s nearly fourteen. These belong to a nine or ten year old!”
Paul looked own at himself. She was right! That was why they’d been so tight on him. How could he have been so stupid? All this while he’d thought…..
“You’ve been had,” said Marcia, with a grin. He looked up at her. Simultaneously three phone cameras clicked.
“No! Don’t! Please…. Please don’t take my photo!”
“Too late Paul – or is it Pauline?” giggled Rosalind. “Oh, wait till we show these to our friends! You’re going to be famous!”
“No, please girls! I beg you,” stammered Paul, struggling to pull up his jeans. “What do you want?”
But the three girls were already in conference. After a few seconds, Marcia turned to him, standing helplessly before them like a prisoner awaiting sentence.
“What’s your phone number? Ring me now so I have it.” Paul complied. “OK, I’ll be in touch. Keep Sunday afternoon free. We’re going to decide what to do with you.”
“Please…”
“Maybe you can be our friend. We’ll see. Just make sure you’re wearing your panties, Pauline.” With which remark the three of them waved goodbye and headed back towards the gate, chattering and laughing with delight.
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Chapter Three. Friday.
Poor Paul ran home as fast as he could. He felt a complete idiot. Emilia had tricked him, hadn’t she? He wasn’t sure. No, they were probably a pair of her old panties she hadn’t worn for years. That was it. It was the only explanation. But aside from that, he was worried. He realised he had made a huge mistake by even mentioning her name. That Tabitha had said she knew Emilia. Suppose she went to her and asked if the story he had told were true? Apart from the fact he had effectively blamed her for his faux pas, the mere fact he had dragged her into the matter was not something she was likely to forgive. He knew he had to put things right as soon as possible, preferably at once. Then he remembered he now had Marcia’s number on his phone.
He ran up to his bedroom, and with trembling hands dialled her number.
“Hello? Pauline?” She had obviously already put him in her contacts.
“Marcia?”
“Yes. I hope you’re not ringing me to try to get out of Sunday. We’ve just made arrangements for you.”
“No. Not at all. In fact…I’m sorry…I told you a lie the other day. I’m ringing to apologise.”
“I knew it! You don’t think we believed that Emilia was involved, did you? Well? Come on, out with it. Let’s have the truth this time!”
Well, she wasn’t going to get the truth. It would have to be another lie, but one in which he himself took all the blame. There was no other way. He thought fast.
“They’re my cousin’s. Her family stayed with us for a couple of days last month, and after they’d left, I discovered a pair of her panties under the bed. She must have dropped them.”
“How old’s your cousin?”
“Er, nine.”
“What’s her name?”
“Stephanie.”
Well it was true he did have a nine-year-old cousin called Stephanie, but he hadn’t seen her for nearly a year. Never mind, it would do. Anything to exempt Emilia from investigation.
“I see. I believe you. But why were you wearing her panties?”
“Er, I didn’t have any clean underpants, so I thought…you know…it would be all right.”
Marcia paused. “Is that the best excuse you can come up with? Pathetic! OK, we’ll go into this properly on Sunday. Rosalind’s family are out Sunday afternoon, and her mum’s said she can have a few friends round. That will now include you. Two o’clock at forty-nine Grosvenor Avenue. Do you know where that is?”
“Yeah. By the church, right?”
“That’s it. Don’t be late, Pauline. And be all pantied up!” she finished, with a raucous chuckle. The phone went dead.
Poor Paul. He sighed in despair. It was so unfair. And he had to deal with Emilia, too.
He rushed his dinner. He didn’t feel very hungry anyway. He got to her house about seven. Emilia let him in.
“Paul. Nice to see you. They’ve just left. We have the whole evening to ourselves. Come upstairs.”
She led the way into her bedroom, and sat down on the bed.
“Come and sit with me. There. Are you wearing your new panties?”
“Yes. I’ve worn them all the week.”
“Good boy! You’ve decided you like them, then?”
“I don’t know. I thought I did. But I ‘m not sure. Are they really yours, or are they little girl’s panties?”
Emilia hesitated. Then she said, “Oh dear. I’m so sorry. I’m afraid you’ve found me out. I have a little confession to make. I suppose I played a trick on you. But I never said they were my panties.”
“They’re not yours, then?” He stared at her in horror.
“I’m afraid not. You see, every now and then our little cousin Autumn comes to stay. She sleeps with me in here, and so we leave some of her clothes in the drawer. Those panties are hers.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s nearly ten. I was quite surprised you managed to get into them. And you say you’ve been wearing them all week? Well, all I can say is, you must like wearing them.”
Paul said nothing. So they did belong to a nine-year old! That’s what he had been wearing so happily all week. He blushed to the roots of his hair. Emilia put her arm around him comfortingly.
“You were so good about it, Paul. I’m sorry. It was just a little bit of mischief. I couldn’t resist it. You looked so sweet, standing there clutching them, so I let you think they were mine. Do you forgive me?”
Poor Paul! He remembered the other evening, when he’d allowed himself…. No! It was too embarrassing even to think about!
“Yes, of course,” he mumbled. “I was so stupid…”
“No, you weren’t. Not at all. It was my fault. But I’ve got you a present to make up.”
She went to her wardrobe and fished out a package in pink tissue. She handed it to him. He opened it gingerly. Six pairs of beautiful satin panties, two pink, two blue, two yellow. Each with a little bow on the front and a matching lacy trim around the legs.
“These will fit you properly. No pressure, but I thought you might…. What do you think?”
“They’re very nice, of course, but you know….”
“Yes?”
“I’m not into girls’ stuff, really.”
“Oh, don’t think of them as “girls’ stuff”. They’re just nice and comfortable to wear. And these ones are quite plain, really.”
“I don’t know….”
“These are just like the ones I wear, Paul. Why not try them on, at least? Just for me? I went to a lot of trouble thinking which ones you’d like best.”
Emilia had such a persuasive way with her. And all he wanted to do really was to please her. Yeah, it was all a bit embarrassing, but at last she seemed to be taking a real interest in him.
“I guess I could just try them. I won’t keep them on, though. But thanks anyway.”
He got up to go to the toilet.
“No, Paul. You can change here. Call me when you’re ready. Just the panties, mind. Take all your other clothes off. I want to be able to see how they look on you.”
Emilia left the room. Paul undressed slowly, not quite knowing why he had acceded so easily. He chose a pink pair, stepped into them, and slid them up his legs. They did fit, perfectly. They felt so comfortable after those little things he’d forced himself into all the week. He hardly knew he was wearing anything. So this was what girls’ knickers should feel like. His heart was pounding as he sat back down on the bed.
“Ready, Emilia,” he called.
She returned at once. When her gaze alighted on him, she gasped with pleasure.
“Oh, they’re perfect! Are they comfortable?”
He nodded. She went back to the wardrobe.
“Would you indulge me a little more? I have a few other things for you, as a matter of fact. Here, do you think you’d like these?”
She handed him a pair of fine white tights.
“Now these are mine. Or at least, they were. They’re too small for me now, but I reckon they’d fit you perfectly.”
“And this…” A little short, silky vest. “Try those first. Then I can show you the best thing.”
Paul looked doubtfully at the clothes.
“Please, Paul. It’ll be our little secret. You and me. I’ll let you see me in my underwear too, if you want, so we’ll be quits. What do you think?”
He gulped and stared at her for a moment. Then he returned his attention to the clothes. He felt the softness of the tights, the silkiness of the vest. He had already felt tempted, and Emilia’s offer decided him. At last it seemed they might make a real connection. And it would be their secret alone, she had said.
“OK. Shall I put on the tights first?”
“Yes. That would be best.”
He drew the tights up his left leg, then his right, then stood and pulled them up to his waist. He felt quite proud of the ease with which he had put them on. Emilia knelt in front of him and pulled and stretched the fabric till all the wrinkles were gone. Then she helped him on with the little vest.
“Right. Now for the pièce de resistance. I hope you like it.”
She went back to the wardrobe and took out a hangar, from which hung the prettiest white dress, glittering slightly in the light. Paul could see straight away that the dress was very good quality. It had a small waist, a bodice decorated with brocade and a few sequins, and long sleeves. It was the sort of dress that would commonly have a bell-shaped skirt, quite glamorous and traditional, but instead Paul at once saw the skirt was relatively narrow and short.
“This was mine when I was eleven,” said Emilia. “It’s quite special. My mum had it made for me to my own design. I thought it might fit you – you’re quite slight – and it would be so exciting to see it being worn again after all this time. What do you think?”
“It’s very pretty. Did you wear it often?”
“Only two or three times, on special occasions. Once when I was a bridesmaid at my aunt’s wedding. I think some of the guests were rather scandalised by the skirt. I suppose it was a bit inappropriate, but it got me lots of attention. It’s so dressy you couldn’t wear it for anything less. But I’d love it if you’d wear it for me now. I don’t know if it’ll fit you, but it looks as if it might.”
Paul looked at it, not quite knowing how to proceed.
“Here. Let me help you.”
Emilia sat on the bed, and held out the dress, and Paul stepped into it. It was lined with silk, and it slid easily up his body, making him shiver with excitement. He threaded his arms into the close-fitting sleeves, and Emilia zipped him up. She turned him round by his shoulders, and looked him up and down.
“You look stunning, Paul. Go look in the mirror. Go on.”
Hesitantly, he made his way to the open door of Emilia’s wardrobe. The feeling of moving about in that rustling silk dress, which gently hugged his thighs and buttocks and clasped his waist, seemed to make him into a different person, someone beautiful and glamorous, someone quite different to the rather ordinary schoolboy in his dull, loose clothes that had been sitting on this very floor playing Scrabble a few days ago. He stopped suddenly at the mirror. “Oh!” What struck him so forcibly was how absolutely natural he looked. There was no clash between his bodily appearance and the gracefulness of his clothes. Paul had a slightly olive complexion, green eyes, and hair that varied from light to medium brown. His features were delicate, his eyelashes long, his lips well-shaped. The subtlety of his features had, up to now, been a source of annoyance to him. But now…. At the same instant, Emilia experienced the same realisation, and sat up with surprise. Paul looked shyly back at her.
“It is nice, Em….”
“It’s beautiful, Paul.” She almost blurted out, “you’re beautiful”, but she was conscious that she needed to proceed with caution. The truth was that she had had a plan forming in her mind for the last few days, and suddenly she felt that things were falling into place a little too easily, and it made her nervous. Nervous because she didn’t want to be disappointed, she didn’t want the plan suddenly to collapse, but also because she hadn’t anticipated her own reaction, and it was essential to her success that she keep her distance emotionally from its object.
“It suits you very well.” She delivered this masterpiece of understatement with an innocuous smile, and added, “but maybe we should try something a little less showy. I’ve got a lot of things here you might like.”
“Sure, Em. Whatever you think,” returned Paul, feeling slightly dazed.
“We’ve got the whole evening, Paul. Let’s have some supper, and then you can have a good rummage through my wardrobe. Oh, and I’ll keep my promise, don’t worry!
-
Chapter 4. Femmes Fatales.
Well, Emilia did keep her promise. And in return Paul willingly modelled most of Emilia’s outgrown clothes – at least those that fitted him. What had started off as something of a humiliation soon became a rather daring and exciting game, and his relief was tinged with regret when the time came to resume his boy persona. But Emilia too had found the evening exhilarating, and felt confident it would not be the last such adventure. As she said goodbye to Paul, she slipped a little package into his hand, containing three of the pairs of panties she had bought for him, one of each colour.
“I’ll keep the others here for you,” she whispered into his ear. “Come back soon!”
Her mum gave Paul a lift home. He seemed very cheerful and talkative that evening.
“How did it go, Paul? Was Emilia helpful?” she asked.
“Helpful?”
“With your school project.”
“Oh, oh…yes. I think I’ve got it sorted now.”
“OK. Is that it?” She indicated the little package he was clutching under his jacket.
“This? No! I mean yes. Yes, this is it.”
“Would you like to tell me about it?”
“Oh, no, if you don’t mind. It’s not finished. I think Em wants me to come round again soon, so we can continue with it.”
“Really? That’s nice. You seem such good friends, too. I’m so pleased. These days boys seem to stick with boys, and girls with girls.”
“Em’s really cool. She’s helped me such a lot already.”
“Don’t forget Nathan, will you,” she laughed, “I know he’s not as pretty…”
“No. Me and Nathan will always be good friends.”
Back at the house, Emilia was lying on her bed, thinking. Working on her plan. It had been prompted by a conversation she had had with her best friend, Imelda. About two weeks ago they’d been reminiscing about The fun things they used to do when they were younger. Of course, they were having fun still – a different sort of fun, focussing more on their clothes, their social life, and their sports interests, but they also had a strong friendship which growing up had not weakened. They had been discussing how they missed one particular aspect of childhood – their dolls. Of course, they still had their old dolls, but what had been lost was the excitement of imagining them as real people, and the fun of dressing and undressing them in all sorts of outfits. In private they still occasionally groomed them, dressed the, and even spoke to them, but not without a little self-consciousness. She lay there for some while, then all at once sat up and picked up her phone. She dialled the familiar number.
“Imelda? Em. Yeah, fine. I wanted to talk to you. You know what we were talking about the other day? Yes, dolls. Yes. Well, I may have an idea. Just this. What would you say if I told you we may be able to share a new doll? A real live one this time? Yes. No, I’m not joking. No, not tonight. Tomorrow afternoon. I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait. I need to speak to you face to face. I can’t explain over the phone. Yes, me too. OK, see you tomorrow. Night night!”
Emilia and Imelda met up that Saturday afternoon. Imelda was full of questions. They had agreed to go ice-skating together, and as they walked towards the rink, she pumped her friend for enlightenment.
“What is this all about, Em? That stuff you were saying last night?”
“Do you remember Paul, Nathan’s friend?”
“Yes. I haven’t seen him for a while, but I remember him all right. Quite shy, but nice-looking.”
“That’s him. Well, the other day I caught him in the act – with a pair of Autumn’s knickers he’d taken from my drawer!”
“What? No! In the act of what?”
“In the act of stealing them. Well, borrowing them, anyway. I punished him by making him wear them for the whole of the following week.”
“You did? What, and he did?” said Imelda, laughing.
“I did. And he did. I was surprised, but I think he was terrified I would tell someone otherwise. So I thought I would see if I could push it a bit further. I got him trying on some of my old clothes. I had him in dresses all the evening! The family was out, needless to say. Can you believe that?”
Oh my god! What, did you sort of blackmail him into it?”
“I suppose I did at first. He was definitely frightened. But then, do you know, I’m sure he was getting a kick out of it. I sent him away with a pocketful of brand new panties in his size, and a promise we would do it again soon. I told him it was “our little secret”. Now look at me, spilling the beans to you, of all people! But you have to admit, it’s too good a secret to keep all to myself.”
“I would have been pretty annoyed if you hadn’t told me. So what comes next?”
“If we play our cards right, and take it a step at a time, I was thinking….”
“A new doll. For us to share.”
“Exactly. What do you think?”
“He’s pretty enough. I can just see him in a little short dress, with his knickers showing and his face as red as a beetroot! I think it’s a brilliant idea!”
“You’re in, then?”
“You bet, darling! I’ve been so bored, lately. School’s like, so relentless, and I’ve got that idiot from year four trying to chat me up every day at lunch.”
“What, John Bilson?”
“Yeah. Big boring twat. I’ve been thinking for weeks I need some fun in my life. This could be it.”
“Brilliant, Mel. I feel just the same. A little project. I don’t know if we can engineer it successfully, but if we can, there’s no saying where it might lead.”
“Mmm. But how am I going to get in on the act?”
“I was thinking we could engineer an accidental discovery. I’ve already got a couple of ideas.”
“OK. Let’s discuss our strategy after skating.”
After their skate, they went to the café and sat drinking coffee.
“You know what I was thinking, Em? If I were to somehow crash in on him in his girl stuff, we could do a sort of double act on him. I could question him about why he was dressed up like that - interrogate him. Break him down. You know, a sort of good cop, bad cop thing. Obviously, I’d be the bad cop – the very bad cop! You could pretend to be protective.” She laughed. “I reckon I could soon have him eating out of my hand. Just thinking about it gives me a hot flush!”
“Mel, slow down. We need to proceed carefully. He mustn’t suspect anything, and nor must his mother. Not at first, anyway. We need to proceed one step at a time. I’m glad you’re enthusiastic, but he’s just a kid, after all.”
“He’s a boy, so he’s fair game. And he so completely innocent, so he deserves to be exploited. And I’m the girl to do it!”
“Hey, remember me? I’m the one who found him. We work together on this, OK?”
“Course. Sorry, Em. My natural feminist urges got the better of me for a moment!”
“He should be over at my house again next Friday. I’m supposed to be helping him with his school project. If possible we need to arrange it so you come in unexpectedly and find him all dressed up.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. There are a couple of ways we could do that.”
“I hope he won’t have had second thoughts about it. I might buy him something new this week, something pretty. And the mere fact I want him to wear it will help too.”
“Is he into you, then?”
“I get that impression.”
“If so, he’s toast,” she grinned. “What sort of thing were you thinking of?”
“I dunno. Maybe something a little bit sexy. He seemed to like my special dress. You know, the white one. The one with the pencil skirt. Remember?”
“Of course. He’s worn that? Amazing. Well, the more embarrassing for him, the better. The more he’ll be scared that I’ll go and tell.”
“Let’s both think about it, and we’ll talk again in the week. Let me know if you think of anything. On one hand I feel awful doing this to him, but on the other, he would make such an irresistible little girl, it would be a shame not to.”
“You said it, Em!”
-
Extraordinary. Exactly what I have always wished would happen to me. The gentle coercion, bringing him to his truth. Thank you for this.
-
Chapter 5. A Study in Pink
Even if Paul had been a fly on the wall of the café that day, he would have been preoccupied with other things. To wit, what awaited him at Rosalind’s house on Sunday afternoon. He was in a terrible state of anxiety, what with that, and looking for a hiding place for his newly acquired collection of girls’ panties. He still hadn’t decided where to stash them by Sunday morning, but eventually he fixed on somewhere his mother would never look - his school rucksack. He sealed them up in a small white plastic bag and hid them at the bottom. His yellow ones with the bows he had washed the previous night, and they were still on his radiator drying. He would have preferred to wear a pair of the new ones, but of course if he had done that, Marcia and co. would have known immediately there was more to the matter than met the eye.
He slipped the panties, which were now quite dry, into his pocket, and went down for lunch.
“Where are you off to today, Paulie?” his mother asked.
“Just gonna see some friends.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Nah. Just some kids.”
“Well please let me know where you’re going. Just in case. I don’t like not knowing where you are.”
“Er, OK. I’ll leave you the address.”
“Who is it?”
He wasn’t going to be able to avoid telling her, he realised.
“Just a girl in my year. Rosalind. And maybe a few other kids, too.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Makes a change from Nathan. Nothing against Nathan, mind. But it’s nice there’s at least one girl involved. What’s she like?”
“Dunno, really, mum. I don’t know her very well. I’m going with a couple of my mates.”
“Oh, well. Be nice to her. Mikey and Josh, I expect. Make sure they don’t bully her. I never really warmed to those two.”
If anyone’s going to be bullied, it’s going to be me, thought Paul.
“OK. Gotta go. See you later.”
“Bye, Paulie. Don’t be too late back, will you? I need you to be here for Sam later – I have to pop round to Mrs Kenfield’s sometime just to check if she’s ok. She had a fall yesterday, and she only got back from hospital this morning.”
“Sure, mum. I should be home by six or six-thirty. Here’s Rosalind’s address.”
He arrived at Rosalind’s just before two. Marcia let him in.
“Come upstairs. Got your panties on?”
“Er, no, not yet. They’re in my pocket.”
“What? Go put them on, like you were told! At once!”
“OK. Keep your hair on.”
“Do what?”
“Nothing. I’ll just be a minute. Where’s the toilet?”
Paul emerged from the toilet a couple of minutes later. His underwear had changed places. Now his boy pants were in his jeans pocket and he was wearing the panties. Marcia stood just along the corridor waiting for him.
“In here, Pauline. Quickly!”
He found himself in Rosalind’s bedroom. Her bed was on one side, and on the other Rosalind and Tabitha seated on a little couch, smirking. He looked around. There was a lot of pink. The chest of drawers was pink, the coverlet on the bed, the paintwork. The rest was mainly pastels. Dolls and sparkly animals inhabited every corner. Being a boy, one might have expected some expression of disgust, but it felt cosy and not at all threatening. He felt himself relax a little.
“What a nice room.”
“Yes? Do you like it?” asked Rosalind, with surprise.
“Yes. It’s nice. It’s very neat and tidy, too.”
The girls looked at each other. There was a moment’s pause. Then Marcia got to work.
“Right, Pauline. We’re here to find out the truth about your little girl panties. So first, please take off all your clothes.”
“What?”
“Except the panties, of course. Come on. Get a move on. Don’t be shy. You know the consequences if you refuse.”
Paul began to move towards the door.
“No, silly. Here! It’s nothing. Tabby has a brother. We’ve all seen him naked. So please don’t waste any more time.”
Paul did as he was told, laying his jeans and T-shirt on Rosalind’s bed.
“Shoes and socks!”
He complied.
“Now stand there. Hand by your sides, please. That’s right.”
She took a seat next to her friends. “Now we’re going to ask you a few questions. You’d better tell the truth this time. We believe you when you say you filched your cousin’s panties. But why did you decide it was a good idea to wear them yourself?”
Paul decided to play for sympathy.
“I – I just wanted to see what it would feel like. To sort of understand what it might be like to be a girl. It’s hard being a boy. I’ve got these really tough friends, and I’m fed up trying to live up to their lifestyle. I guess I just wanted a break.”
“I can understand that,” said Tabitha to the others, sympathetically. “Some of those boys I’ve seen him hanging out with are so rude. I hate them!”
“So you want to be a girl,” said Rosalind. “How sweet! We can help you. And if you make the grade, we’ll let you be our friend.”
“Well, I’m not sure I actually want to be a girl…” began Paul.
“You don’t want to be our friend, then? Is that what you’re saying?” put in Marcia.
“No…”
“Well you’ve got to choose. Either you’re our friend, or you’re our enemy. There’s no half and half. So make up your mind.”
Paul knew it would be a mistake to prevaricate.
“OK,” he said, slowly, “I guess I’ll be your friend, then.”
“Which means you do exactly what we say. Understand?” He didn’t quite follow her logic, but he decided not to debate the matter at that moment.
“Yes, Marcia.”
“Good. So we can get started. Tabby?”
Tabitha was already on her feet. She was at the chest, pulling some things out of the drawer.
“Try these on,” said Marcia. Tabitha handed him a pair of white tights. He was reminded of Friday evening. He pulled them on and smoothed out the wrinkles as Emilia had done.
Tabitha looked at him suspiciously.
“Have you worn tights before, Paul?”
“Nope,” he lied.
“Now this.” She handed him something shiny and pink.
“It’s a ballet leotard. It’s Rosalind’s old one. Come on, don’t stand there staring. Put it on please.”
Paul stepped into it and pulled it on. It had a round neck and short sleeves. Perhaps it was a little small, but so stretchy it didn’t matter.
“And finally…”
He was presented with a pair of pale pink ballet shoes, with elasticated straps.
“These you can pull on,” said Rosalind. “If you decide to take up ballet properly, you should get some with ribbons.”
“Take it up properly?”
“Didn’t we tell you? You’re going to take ballet lessons with us. After school every Monday, with Madame Bresson. She’s desperate to get some boys to join. At the moment she has six girls and one boy, Ralphie from our class. But you’re going to come and see her with us tomorrow and get signed up.”
“Ballet? Me? I don’t think I’d be any good…”
“You’ll learn,” said Tabitha. “Of course, it’ll be difficult at first. But you’ve got the figure for it. Especially in that.”
“But I don’t have any ballet clothes…”
“Well, you have now,” said Marcia. “you can wear those for the time being. Madame Bresson won’t mind. Knowing her, she’ll probably encourage you to stick to the leotard. And you can ask your mum for a new outfit. I’m sure she’ll be delighted that you’re doing something graceful.”
Yes, thought Paul, I’m sure she will.
“Alternatively, we can post your picture online.”
“No, no. OK, I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”
“Good boy, Pauline!” said Rosalind. “If that makes sense. Now come back over here. We need to get some pictures of you in your new outfit.”
“Please…”
“No arguments. Or we’ll put you outside now and burn your boy clothes. Come on. Stand by the door and pose nicely.”
“Did anyone tell you were extremely pretty?” asked Tabitha, as the photo session proceeded.
“No.”
“Well you are. Can you lisp?”
“What?”
“Lisp. Can you lisp? You know, as in “I feel thuch a thilly in my thweet little cothtume.””
“No…” said Paul, confused and blushing.
“Oh, I’m sure you can,” said Marcia, “go on. Just for us.”
“I don’t want to…”
“But you have to. So do it!”
And soon that horrid threesome had some delightful videos of a terribly red-faced little boy, all dressed up in a pretty pink ballet leotard, (albeit a trifle on the small size), stammering and lisping his way through a series of statements notable for their idiocy – for example, “Under my leotard I’m wearing the thweetetht little girlth yellow thatin pantieth all covered with red bowth!” – which he was forced to rehearse again and again until they were satisfied with his enunciation.
As they showed him out at five o’clock, (still wearing Autum's panties), his cheeks and ears were still burning, but the girls were congratulating themselves on an afternoon well spent, and speculating on Paul’s proficiency at ballet.
“I think he’ll be good,” said Rosalind. “He’s quite fit, after all. In any case. Madame Bresson’s a good teacher. And she's going to be so happy.
“She will,” said Tabitha. “And in the next couple of weeks I want to invite him for a sleepover at mine. I’ve got some beautiful nighties, and he can borrow one.”
“Great idea,” cried Marcia, “and I’d like him to come to the beach with us one day. I can just see him in a pretty yellow swimsuit!”
Poor Paul would have almost died of embarrassment if he could have heard some of the other plans being made for him. But for the time being he had enough to think about.
-
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I been waiting for years for a good ballet sissy story that’s believable. This is going in a great direction and I’m very excited to see where this goes.
-
Thank you for the update in the story. I too would love to see where they ballet lessons go and his mother buying him his own pretty outfit
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Chapter 6. Madame Bresson
Monday dawned a chilly late April day. Paul shivered as he made his way to school, not entirely because of the cold. He had been given no instructions about Autumn’s panties, so he had secreted them at the bottom of his rucksack along with his new ones. He felt they were safest there where he could keep an eye on them. He was distracted all through lessons, thinking about the evening. The ballet class started half an hour after lessons ended, to allow the children to have a snack. Marcia sought him out at lunchtime and whispered in his ear to warn him he would be expected to turn up fifteen minutes early to register.
“What’s the deal with her?” asked Mikey, as she ran off. “You got somefink going there? You wanna be careful. She’s trouble. She punched my mate the uvver day just for makin’ an ‘armless joke. Gave ‘im a nose-bleed.”
“No, I ain’t got nuffin going on,” said Paul, trying to sound streetwise but failing dismally, “she sometimes delivers messages to me from Nathan.”
Mikey stared and him and said nothing. He clearly didn’t believe a word of it.
There was no way he was going to allow himself to be seen going towards the gym after school. So he left through the main gates with everyone else, and walked slowly down the street, checking his watch. Nathan caught up with him.
“Paul. What are you doing tonight? Want to come round for a bit?”
“Sorry, Nathan. I have to do some stuff for my mum first. In fact, I’ve just realised I’m going in the wrong direction. Maybe later?”
“Sure. I’ll be in all the evening.”
Paul did a sudden u-turn and headed back towards school. Nathan looked after him, puzzled. He put his head down and dashed back through the gates. He saw Mikey and Josh staring at him.
“Forgot something!” he shouted, by way of explanation, and kept on running. He made the gym just in time. The girls were waiting for him, each carrying a drawstring bag.
“Come on, Madame Bresson’s waiting,” said Rosalind. She held the door open for him.
He had been imagining Madame Bresson as a rather severe, impatient, middle-aged woman, with greying hair. But as they walked to the end of the gym, all he could see was a young, rather pretty, extremely lithe woman in a black leotard and white tights, with her black hair drawn back in a bun and pinned neatly on the top of her head.
“Good evening, Madame,” said Rosalind respectfully, “we’ve brought you a new recruit. This is Paul. Paul, Madame Bresson.”
“P-Pleased to meet you,” stammered Paul.
“And you, Paul. I’m so glad to see you. Ralphie will be pleased to have a boy friend” – she separated the words carefully – “at last.” She spoke immaculate English with only a hint of a French accent. “Could I ask you to complete one of these forms? Just your name and address and your next of kin and a contact phone number. Thank you.”
Paul filled up the form, with his mother’s name and phone number. He was going to have to tell her about this, too, he realised. Then she’d be telling all her friends, no doubt.
By the time he’d finished, the girls had gone to change, and others were filtering in, all wearing pink leotards and white tights. Then in came a little dark-eyed boy his own age. He wore the same costume, but his leotard was yellow. Paul stared at him, and he stared back.
“Ralphie, come and meet Paul. He’s joining us today. Paul, this is Ralphie. He’s only been with us since Christmas, but he’s made great progress.”
“Yes. My mum bought me a ballet costume for Christmas,” said Ralphie with a faint note of indignation in his voice. “Is that what’s happened to you?”
“Not really. Pleased to meet you anyway.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Ralphie. “I hope you stay.”
“Now, Paul,” continued Madame Bresson, “we need to find you something to wear. I normally put my boys in yellow, but I’m not sure I’ve got anything in your size at the moment.”
“Don’t worry, Madame,” cried Rosalind, bursting back into the gym, “we’ve brought Paul a costume just for today. It’s pink, but he doesn’t mind. He’s already tried it on, and it fits perfectly! Well, almost.” She handed it to Paul.
“Oh, that’s very helpful of you. If you’d like to go and change, Paul, I can introduce you to everyone and we can make a start.”
“I’d advise you to put your yellow panties on underneath, too,” whispered Rosalind, “for the sake of propriety!” She giggled.
Paul emerged from the changing room to the satisfied grins of his friends and the stares of the other three girls. Madame Bresson introduced him. The other three were called Nina, Gabrielle and Valeria. He thought they looked at him suspiciously, as if to say, “What do you want? Isn’t one boy enough?” But maybe he imagined it.
Madame Bresson explained to Paul how the lessons were arranged.
“We have only an hour or so each week, depending on who wants to use the gym after us. Sometimes we have a little longer. We spend the first forty-five minutes of every lesson doing exercises, and the first fifteen minutes of that time warming up. Ballet is a very strenuous and physically demanding discipline, and if you don’t warm up properly you can get injured. So please, never neglect those first fifteen minutes. The final period is devoted to dance practice. Our aim is to develop an exhibition piece over the course of each school term, and produce a performance for the whole school at the end.”
Paul felt the colour drain from his face at this piece of intelligence. Marcia, Rosalind and Tabitha noticed his apparent distress, and smiled at him sweetly in concert.
“Last term, Paul, we danced a couple of extracts from ‘Swan Lake’, which was very successful. We were fortunate enough to be allowed to borrow costumes from our supplier, and everyone looked very pretty. We only wear full costume, with skirts, for performances. All the practice is done in leotards.”
“Madame,” piped up Rosalind, “perhaps you should show him a picture so he can see what amazing things we get to wear.”
“Yes, Rosalind, that’s a good idea. Let me see… Ah, here’s one of Ralphie. That was a beautiful costume!”
She held out her phone for Paul to see. It was Ralphie all right, in a yellow bodice with white tutu and tights, and a flower pinned in his hair, and not looking particularly happy.
“Oh, yes,” he murmured, “that’s very… nice.”
“Isn’t it? Performances are so exciting. I hope you’ll be good enough to take part by the end of this term.”
Not if I can help it, thought Paul, imagining the reactions of his friends.
They began the warm-up, which consisted of gentle stretching of the limbs and flexing of the body. The gym was equipped with a bar along the far wall, and they stood in line, usually holding onto it with one hand. Madame Bresson stood facing them, showing them what to do, and performing all the exercises herself with a degree of grace and control that considerably impressed Paul. As for Paul himself, he found even the warm-up exhausting, and the exercises which followed left him sweating and breathless. He realised he was nowhere near as fit as he thought, nor did he have particularly good balance, having almost toppled over a couple of times during the programme. The others seemed to be able to execute the moves with ease. Madame Bresson reassured him.
“Paul. Don’t push yourself too hard at this stage. You’re not expected to be able to keep up with the others yet. But if you practise hard, you’ll soon be as anyone. No everyone take a rest for five minutes, and then we’ll demonstrate our dancing for Paul.”
Paul noticed that the three girls he had been introduced to were whispering amongst themselves, with their heads close together, and looking over at him with malicious smiles. When Madame Bresson’s back was turned, the girl called Gabrielle sneaked over to him, and whispered in a spiteful tone, “Your panties are showing, pansy Paul.” Then she gave him a hard pinch on the inside of his thigh, which made him gasp with pain, and quickly retreated to where her friends were seated. Looking down, Paul realised that in his hurry to get changed, he had put Autumn’s panties on over his tights by mistake. The exercises had made Rosalind’s skimpy leotard slide up his flanks, so that now two crescents of yellow satin, decorated with red bows, were exposed on either side. Desperately he tried to pull down the legs of his leotard, but they immediately slid up again. True to form, Paul’s face immediately coloured up with embarrassment. The three little rogues opposite him were now convulsed with laughter, covering their mouths in an attempt to suppress their giggles. But one of them was unable to contain a loud snort, which alerted Madame Bresson.
“What’s going on over there? Please behave yourselves, girls, and wait quietly while I attend to Ralphie.”
Paul looked over at Marcia and her friends for support, but it seemed they were as amused as the others. He looked at the floor in mute despair, ears burning. Why were girls such little bitches?
The lesson resumed with all the children except Paul giving an exhibition of dancing. He had to admit they were quite accomplished. Even Ralphie was pretty good, though of all of them he seemed to be enjoying it the least. Paul inferred that he must have been enrolled against his will, and was participating under protest. They twirled and jumped and dashed about the gym until it was time to stop. Now other people were coming in the main doors, apparently for some sort of martial arts class. To his horror he saw Josh and Mikey amongst them. Then he remembered they were always going on about their martial arts training. This must be where they had their lessons! He quickly turned his face away and made for the door of the changing room.
“Ooh, isn’t that your friends there?” asked Tabitha in a loud voice, with a laugh. But Paul was already gone, through the door and into a cubicle.
Madame Bresson came into the changing room after a few minutes, and waited for Paul to emerge.
“So, Paul, do you think you’ll like the class?”
He couldn’t very well say no.
“Yes, Madame, it looks like fun. I hope I can learn to dance like the others.”
“Oh, you will, if you practise. Not just here, but also at home. But you need a leotard that fits. Do you mind if I contact your mother to speak to her about it? Either I can order you one, or she could buy you one herself. That would probably be best – she will know your exact size.”
“OK, Madame. But could you let me speak to her first? You see, I haven’t told her yet that I’ve enrolled.”
“Of course, Paul. If you’d like to speak to her tonight, I’ll call her tomorrow. I’ve got her number on your registration form.”
Paul sneaked off out of the back door that evening, leaving Marcia and the others to congratulate themselves on the success of their plans. He couldn’t see a way of getting out of the class, so he decided to make a virtue of necessity. At least it would please his mum. So after supper that evening, he asked his mother if he could speak to her about something important.
“Of course, Paulie,” she replied, a little concerned. “What is it?”
“Mum, I decided to join the ballet class at school. They say it’s the best way to get fit, and lately I’ve been feeling weak and in need of exercise.”
“The ballet class?” she gasped. She stared at him for a moment, and then, “That’s wonderful! Of course, that’s just the sort of thing you need! Well done!”
Paul could see she was ecstatic. Predictable. He always suspected she’d have been happier if he’d been born a girl. But he didn’t resent her enthusiasm.
“It’s every Monday evening. I had my first lesson today. To be honest I’m aching all over from it. Madame Bresson runs the class. She’s really cool. She’s going to ring you tomorrow about my costume. I need a leotard. Cos I’m a boy it needs to be yellow. The girls wear pink. Do you think you may be able to get me one?”
“Of course, Paulie. No problem. That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not easy. It’s a pretty tough regime,” he added, hoping to make her realise it wasn’t some sissy pursuit. But he could have saved his breath. His mother was already imagining him in tutus and sparkly dresses.
“Do you mind if I pop round to Nathan’s for an hour?”
“Not at all. Go on. As long as you’re back by nine.”
“OK. See you later!” And he dashed out.
Paul’s mother had to sit down and digest the news.
“I never would have believed it! And he seems to have deserted those awful boys he used to go around with! Now it’s Emilia and – what’s her name? – Rosalind. What a change for the better! Mind you, I always thought he would have been happier as a girl. There’s something about him…. I should ring Lulu and tell her.” (Lulu was her best friend, to whom she confided all her hopes and fears.) “And tomorrow his teacher’s going to ring. That’s lovely!”
She got up and busied herself clearing up the supper things. She was about to wash up, when she remembered she hadn’t washed Paul’s lunch box for a couple of days. “Now, where’s his bag? Ah, here it is. Let me see…. What’s this? Not his sandwiches, I hope!” She carefully unwrapped the package. The next moment she was standing there open-mouthed, staring at three pairs of pastel-coloured panties, and one yellow satin pair with red bows. It took her a full minute to recover herself. Then she cried, “Oh, the little sweetie! Why didn’t he tell me?”
-
Good way for mum to find out. Now she is going to really think Paul wants to be a girl, looking forward to seeing what happens.
Keep up the wonderful story
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Chapter 7. Motherly Love
Anne-Marie Adams, Paul’s mother, was in fact delighted her son appeared to be veering off the path of masculinity. The truth was, though she was the kindest of souls, she was a rather naïve woman who had never been able to relate properly to men, and she had watched her only son grow up with a certain trepidation. Her husband had departed three years ago, leaving her with two young children five years apart in age, and had never been seen again. As with most separations, it is impossible to apportion blame, but it is at least true to say that marriage had been for her a burden rather than a pleasure. She felt much more comfortable in the company of her own sex, and, as Paul had correctly divined, sometimes wished her firstborn had been female.
Now she had a dilemma. Her first instinct was to smother her son with love, followed by a torrent of girly apparel. But even she realised this might be counter-productive. She needed to think, and, finding that exercise too much for her alone, she rang Lulu.
“Darling. How are you. I need some advice.” She related Paul’s recent history, culminating in her discovery. “I don’t know what I should do.”
Lulu had her faults – she was a bit of a gossip, and during those times there was not much going on in her own life, she liked nothing better than to arrange other people’s for them – but she was not lacking in common sense.
“Well, Anne-Marie, what you mustn’t do is to let him know you know. He has to find his own way. If you start interfering things will get complicated. As long as he knows you love him, and are prepared to support him in any decisions he makes. Ballet? I wish mine would take up ballet. Or anything, for that matter!”
So Mrs Adams carefully replaced Paul’s panties as she had found them, left his lunch box where it was, and resumed her housework.
The following day, she eagerly awaited the call from Madame Bresson. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Hello? Is that Mrs Adams. Oh, good morning. This is Madame Bresson. I’m Paul’s ballet teacher. Did he tell you I’d be ringing?”
“Yes, Madame Bresson. Thank you for calling. It’s about Paul’s costume?”
“Yes. I don’t know if he explained, but he will need a leotard for our weekly sessions. It needs to be yellow. I could order one from here, but I thought it might be better, if you agree…”
“Oh, absolutely. I’d be happy to buy him whatever he needs. Is there anything else?”
“For now, the leotard’s the most important thing. Maybe a few pairs of tights. And I think he’s borrowed pumps from his friend, so I don’t know…. “
“Just leave it with me, Madame Bresson. I’m so pleased he’s getting involved in something like this. He speaks very highly of you.”
“I think he’ll progress fast. He seems a hard worker. I hope he will be able to participate in the end of term exhibition. But if we need any dresses for that, the school will borrow them.”
“Any other accessories?”
“Well, there are so many little accoutrements” – here she reverted to her native tongue – “so many things you can buy these days. But they’re not really necessary at this stage. Now, can I tell you a couple of the web sites I’d recommend?”
Within the hour Anne-Marie was seated at the computer, exploring the sites Madame Bresson had suggested. They all seemed much of a muchness. Mind you, the leotards on this site seem the shiniest and the prettiest, she thought. And there are so many little bits and pieces, too. “Let me see…yellow. Here we are. Oh, that’s so pretty. Little short sleeves and a round neck. I think that’s the only one… No! What’s this? Oh, my god. That’s the same design! I have to get that one. Maybe a plain one too. He’ll be so happy!”
She added the leotards to her shopping basket, and by the time she had finished she’d bought him tights – white and yellow – new yellow ballet pumps, and a few other little things, to wit one tiara, two floral hair decorations, two ribbon chokers, a pair of ribbon armbands, and a pair of white gauze gloves. Delivery was scheduled for next Monday. Just in time. She sat back with a smile of satisfaction.
When Paul arrived home, she reassured him that his new leotard would arrive in time for his next lesson.
“It should be Monday, but don’t worry, I’ll drop it off at school with your form teacher and you can collect it before the lesson.
“Thanks, mum. You managed to get a yellow one, then.”
“Oh, yes. And some new tights and pumps. You’ll be all set.”
“Great! Thanks again for doing that. And mum?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Not a word to anyone about this, OK? It’s just something for me. No need for anyone else to know.”
“Of course not, dear. I won’t say anything. Just let me know if there’s anything else you need. Any other clothes, for instance…”
He felt a bit strange, thanking his mum for buying him a ballet costume. But mingled with the unease there was the tiniest frisson of excitement, which he couldn’t account for. He quickly suppressed it. As long as he kept the whole thing secret, he would be fine. It was quite a fun way to get fit, actually. As to the performance, he would deal with that nearer the time. Maybe a sudden illness…
-
Think Paul's life may take a turn further than he expected. Great story
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Chapter 8. Imelda
Paul was looking forward to his next appointment with Emilia. It was just as well her parents usually took Nathan out for a treat on Friday evenings. This week they were taking him to the cinema to see the latest Wonder Woman movie. Paul had been invited to join them. He would have liked to go very much. But he had made an excuse. He wasn’t sure in his own mind why he had done that. Perhaps he wanted to keep Emilia sweet, so she wouldn’t say anything about his little mistake. But then, she had made it clear she had no objection to him going with her brother if he wanted to. Something inside him had chosen an evening with her, above an evening at the cinema with his best friend. As he made his way to her house he frowned in puzzlement, fingering the smooth silkiness of his new panties through the pocket of his jeans.
Emilia opened the door cautiously, looking up and down the street before she let him in. It felt exciting, like a secret conspiracy. Which it was. Emilia was still in her school uniform.
“Sorry. Haven’t had time to change. I’ve been too busy going through my stuff to see what I had that might fit you. Come upstairs and I’ll show you.”
As they climbed the stairs, she added, “and I’ve bought you a couple of things. See what you think.”
She’d certainly been busy. There were little piles of clothes on every surface, and outfits laid out on her bed. Paul looked around with surprise. He hadn’t expected such enthusiasm. But it was contagious.
“Gosh, Em, I’ve never seen so much stuff! Is that all for me to try?” He began to have butterflies in his tummy.
“It is. Look, why don’t you try this to start. It only cost me a couple of pounds.” She indicated a little top and shorts set, the crop top glittery with some banal legend, the shorts made of yellow towelling. “I guess it’s a bit juvenile, but you might want to wear it in the summer.”
Did she think he was going eventually to adopt girls’ clothing altogether? He looked at her, a little startled. But it was exciting how she seemed to be really into this game, especially as he felt he could indulge his mild interest without risk of anyone knowing. He was becoming less self-conscious now, and without further hesitation he stripped down to his panties – pink ones today – and pulled on the shorts and top. The wardrobe door was already open, and he stared at himself in the mirror. It was disconcerting how natural the clothes looked on him. He looked almost like a short-haired little girl. Why did that give him a faint thrill?
“You even look good in something as simple as that,” said Emilia, with enthusiasm. “How does it feel?”
“Not bad. Quite nice, in fact. Sort of relaxing.”
“That’s an interesting word, Paul. It’s the opposite of “exciting”. Does the feeling depend on the clothes?”
Paul felt he had now lost all his self-consciouness with Em. “I guess it does. Casual clothes make me feel comfortable, sort of free. The girlier ones are more exciting, somehow. It’s funny.”
“OK. Would you like to try something “girlier”, as you call it, right now?” She looked at her watch, and then glanced out of the window. “I bet you’ll find this exciting!”
She went to her chest and produced a carrier bag.
“Take off those things and let’s try this.”
She tossed something red and shiny onto the bed. Paul took off the shorts and top and picked it up. A little dress, very smooth and stretchy. With Emilia’s help he wriggled into it. It had a halter top and was so short it barely hid his panties. Next out of the bag was a pair of red hold-ups. He sat on the edge of her bed while she rolled them up his legs.
“And I found these in the charity shop,” she said, producing a pair of red patent leather tap shoes. “They won’t look bad with this outfit. I don’t think you’re ready for heels yet.”
“No, I don’t even like the look of heels, much.”
“How do they feel?”
“They fit me fine. Thanks, Em.”
“Do you mind if I make you up a little bit?”
“Not at all.”
Emilia sat Paul in a chair. She sat on the edge of the bed and applied a little mascara, a little rouge, and some bright red lip gloss. Paul liked the feeling of having his face made up. It made him feel special. And it was nice to have Emilia really close to him, and to feel her touching his face. It felt intimate and perhaps a little titillating. She found him a pair of clip-ons with little red roses on them. He liked the feeling of them nipping his ears.
“We need to get your ears pierced. Do you think your mum would allow it?”
“She may do. I’d rather you asked her, though. She’s happy we’ve become friends.”
“OK” she said, combing his hair, “It can’t do any harm to ask.”
Emilia finished off with a couple of squirts of perfume.
“There! All done. Go see what you think.”
The makeup had done the trick. Paul experienced a thrill of excitement as he ogled himself in the mirror. He had transcended the boundary between looking like a boy dressed up as a girl and looking like a somewhat tomboyish girl. And if his hair had been longer, and styled….
“Wow, Em. I look great!” He couldn’t help the sudden access of vanity.
Em didn’t reply at once. She was taken aback at the transformation she had achieved, with so little effort. Paul really did look gorgeous. In the dress his figure seemed to have taken on the shape of a girl’s. And she saw quite clearly that the soft lines of his features were even more feminine than her own.
“Can I keep this on for a bit?”
“All the evening if you want. The other stuff can wait for another time.”
“I don’t look silly?”
“You look amazing. In fact, I’d like to take you out and show you off. I can tell you, Paul, you’d get lots of attention. From the boys and the girls.”
Paul blushed through his rouge, and stole another look at himself. He twisted himself round so he could see his butt, for all the world just like any girl. But Emilia was looking at her watch again. She had an agreement, though now she wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. But it was too late to back out.
“Paul, I’m thirsty. Would you mind going down to the kitchen and getting me a can from the fridge? Get one for yourself, too.”
“Sure, Em.”
As he left the room, she grabbed her phone and quickly sent a text. Perhaps just a single letter. Then she went to the door of her room to await developments.
Paul went into the kitchen, which was just to the right of the front door. It adjoined the living-room. They were connected by an arch. He was just in the act of taking out the cans when he heard a girl’s voice in the hall. “Em? You in?” He froze. Someone else was in the house. He tossed the cans back into the fridge and leapt into the living-room. He crouched behind an armchair, hardly daring to breathe. He heard footsteps coming into the kitchen. Then Emilia running down the stairs.
“Mel? I’m here. How did you get in?”
“The door was on the latch. I pushed it open.”
“Oh. Mum can’t have closed it properly.”
No, thought Paul. You were the last one to close it. Maybe you didn’t notice.
“Shall we go upstairs,” suggested Emilia.
“Just wait a minute. Do you have a cat? I saw something disappearing in here…..”
She marched into the living-room. Paul held his breath and shut his eyes tight. But it was no good.
“What do we have here?”
He opened his eyes and looked up. Imelda was standing over him with a smile on her face.
“Come out, little girl. Who are you?”
Paul clambered to his feet. He kept his head down.
“This is… a little friend of mine, Mel. Her name’s…”
The girls were playing their parts well. Paul had no idea he was being set up.
“I know her name. This is Paul. I remember him from last time I was here. But I don’t remember him being so beautiful!”
She took a step back to admire him. Paul pulled down the hem of his dress coyly.
“My goodness, Em, he’s stunning! What a little darling!” She stepped forward again and took him by the chin, raising his head so that he was looking into her eyes. Paul blinked in embarrassment, his mascaraed eyelashes fluttering nervously. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He clasped them in front of himself. His ears visibly turned red as Imelda stood gazing into his face. She could see the poor thing was uncomfortable, and she decided she rather liked him that way.
“Do I see a little pair of pink panties under that dress, Paul? I do, don’t I? And your stockings! You’re a very lucky girl to have such pretty clothes. And what’s that perfume you’re wearing?”
“It’s ‘Morning Rose’,” said Emilia.
“’Morning Rose’. Very appropriate. You’re like a little rose yourself, darling, with your pink cheeks and your ears like little soft petals.” She let go of his chin and held him by his left ear.
“Does he have other outfits as pretty as this?” she asked Emilia.
“None quite as pretty. Not yet, anyway. But maybe you’d like to have a look?”
“I’d love to, but first I must have a few snaps for my album. Can we go into the garden?”
“Sure. The flowers are just coming out. It’ll be perfect.”
The girls took one hand each, and led him outside. He wanted to protest, but he knew it would be pointless. Better just to go along with things at the moment. The sudden and unexpected exposure to a virtual stranger had completely unnerved him. Imelda stood him in from of a little mound covered with bluebells and snowdrops. She was going to ask him to pose, but she realised it was much more effective just to let him stand there, squirming with obvious discomfort, blushing and shifting from one leg to another, pulling at the hem of his dress in a fruitless attempt to hide his panties, and generally exhibiting every symptom of extreme embarrassment. Surreptitiously she switched her phone to video, to capture every cute little twitch and wriggle. “My god, he is so sweet,” she whispered to herself. “Em? Shall we take him out for ice-cream? I want to see how people react to him.”
“No! Please!” Paul blurted, his eyes widening with fear.
“Come on, Paul,” said Emilia,” it’s only just down the street. No-one’s going to recognise you. I’ll tell you what, you can wear a pair of my sunglasses, and I’ve got a red beret that’ll fit you. OK?”
Paul held tightly onto his hem all the way, nervously looking around for dangers. In his shiny, tiny red dress and stockings he certainly attracted the stares of the passers-by. ‘Bella Ices’, the place was called. They went to the counter to order. Emilia chose cinnamon and honey, Imelda raspberry ripple.
“And what would you like, young lady?” asked the waitress, with a simpering smile.
“Neapolitan, please,” replied Paul in the best girlie voice he could manage.
“What a pretty little girl,” said the woman, “and such a beautiful dress!”
They made their way to a corner booth. Paul felt that the whole restaurant was looking at him, and he probably wasn’t far wrong. Emilia and Imelda sat by the window, leaving Paul to occupy the aisle side of the leather-upholstered bench seat. Two little girls on the adjacent table stared at him as he sat down. He felt his dress ride up again as his bottom encountered the slippery surface. Their eyes widened, and they immediately started whispering to the woman they were with, probably their mother, and she glanced over at him. He heard the words “girl’s dress”, and “see her knickers”, and his cheeks began to burn once again. The girls continued to stare, their eyes dancing with glee. They covered their mouths with their hands, but even without looking straight at them he could see they were laughing, their pony-tails shaking with mirth. Poor Paul fidgeted uncomfortably and made an attempt to pull down his hem, but it just slid up again at once. One of the girls was playing with her phone. He wasn’t sure, but he suspected she was surreptitiously taking a photo to show her friends. He was embarrassed but annoyed. He looked straight across at her intending to rebuff her attention, but instead she just grinned at him and mouthed the words “nice panties”! He was relieved when at last they left, with much giggling and chattering. He saw them outside studying the phone with obvious delight, and knew his suspicions had been well-founded.
“Em, could I move to the window side,” he asked.
“Don’t be silly, Paul.” Imelda answered for her. “There’s nothing to be frightened of.”
“Those two girls… Didn’t you see them?”
“Oh, they were just jealous,” said Emilia. “Take no notice.”
They ate their ice-creams slowly. Emilia and Imelda chatted happily, taking care not to allude to their successful scheme, though they exchanged triumphant looks. Then a group of four boys came noisily through the door. Paul recognised them. Year twos from school! That one was David something.
“Em! I know those guys! Please let me sit the other side!”
“Don’t panic, Paul. Just ignore them and you’ll be fine.”
They looked around for a table. To Paul’s horror, they pointed over at the empty table next door, and began to make their way towards it. He pretended to be looking out of the window, to hide his face. They took their seats. One of the boys looked over – it was the Dave guy - and seeing Imelda and Emilia, gave a little wave.
“Hi!”
“Hi,” said the girls, in chorus.
It was quite daring for a second year to address a third year in this way out of school, but Dave clearly thought himself high enough on the scale of cool. Paul could feel him looking him up and down.
“Hi,” he continued, addressing Paul. “You’re not at Brook Lane, are you?”
Paul, hearing himself addressed directly, froze. But before he could think how to respond, Imelda took charge of the situation.
“I’m afraid not. This is my cousin. She lives in Spain. She’s staying with me for a few days. If you were thinking of chatting her up, I should tell you she’ll be ten next month.”
Dave was crushed, much to the amusement of his friends. “I-I’m sorry… No. The lipstick….” He quickly returned his attention to his ice-cream.
“Go on, Dave,” one of his friends said, “next month she’ll be ten. What you waiting for, mate?”
“Shut up!” said Dave, amidst laughter.
It was time to leave. They got back to the house without further incident. Imelda wanted Paul to try on a few more costumes, but Emilia decided he had had enough excitement for one evening.
“OK, I understand,” said Imelda. “I can wait. There’s some nice things here, but now I’ve seen him I’ve got some ideas myself, too. Listen, would you two like to come for a sleepover at my house next Saturday? My parents are going to a matinée and then out to dinner, and they won’t be back till about ten. So we could have all the afternoon and evening, plus you wouldn’t have to worry about getting home. There’s plenty of room.”
“Yeah, Paul, Mel’s got a big bedroom with a double and a single bed, so you’d be all right. I’m in, Mel. Paul, do you want me to have a word with your mum?”
“I suppose so.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“It’s not that. Can we stay indoors this time?”
“We’ll see,” said Imelda, as if pondering the question. “But you’ll have to come out sometime, you know.”
Paul looked at her, a little alarmed.
“Come out?”
“Don’t worry. We’re going to keep you to ourselves for the time being.”
“Yes,” added Emilia. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to having two mistresses now!”
-
Chapter 9. Shock and Awe
Over the weekend Paul pondered his predicament. Emilia had been wrong. He didn’t have two mistresses. He had five! And the other three would be waiting eagerly for his second ballet lesson on Monday. He had considered telling her about the others, but had decided against it. The possibility of collusion frightened him. He would try to keep the two factions apart for the time being, and see how things developed. Maybe the younger girls would lose interest, and he could quietly drop the ballet lessons. At present there was no apparent reason for either to find out about the other, was there?
But even as he wondered, Fate was making its first intervention of the week. On Sunday afternoon, when Paul was out playing football with his friends, Emilia had decided to ring Paul’s mother about the sleepover and the ear piercing.
“Hello? Mrs Adams? Hi. It’s Emilia, Nathan’s sister. I’m ringing to ask you a couple of things. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course, dear. What is it?”
“It’s about Paul. Next Saturday I’m going to go to my friend Imelda’s house in the afternoon, and staying for a sleepover. She’s asked if Paul could come too. We all played together on Friday and she liked him a lot.”
“Really? That’s such a kind thought. Of course. It would be lovely for him to spend more time with you, and with your friend, of course. I might take you up on your offer of babysitting Sam, too, at some point. How’s your mum, by the way. I haven’t seen her for a while. I’ve been rather busy, you know, what with Sam and what with my meetings.”
“Oh, she's fine, thank you. She’s been quite busy, too. I’ll give her your love.”
“Do, Emilia. Was that all you wanted to ask?”
“Well, no. There is one other thing. Paul was saying how he’d like to get his ears pierced at some point, in case he ever wanted to wear an earring. I know he’s very young, but…well, it’s quite fashionable now. What do you think?”
There was a silence. For a moment Emilia thought Mrs Adams was going to be outraged at the suggestion.
“Emilia, can I ask you something? This may seem rather strange, but do you think Paul has it in mind to wear…ladies’ earrings?”
“Oh! I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“If I tell you something, can I count on you to keep it absolutely secret? You musn’t breathe a word to anyone. Paul would be furious if he even knew I were telling you.”
“Of course. I swear I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“The other day I was looking for his lunchbox, and I had occasion to look into his school bag.” She paused. “Hidden away at the bottom I found four pairs of girls’ panties, three in pastel colours, and one pair of yellow satin ones with little red bows! Of course, I put them back at once, and didn’t say a word about it.”
“Goodness!” was all Emilia could think to say. And she felt herself flush with embarrassment. Suppose Paul’s mother discovered all four pairs came from her!
“Yes. And not only that. He started ballet lessons last Monday. And he’s been seeing a girl called Rosalind. Do you think…do you think he’s exploring, I don’t know, the idea of being feminine?”
“Ballet lessons? I didn’t know about that. I mean, I didn’t know about any of this,” she added quickly.
“Oh yes. He asked me to buy him a leotard and the whole kit and caboodle. It’s all being delivered tomorrow. What do you think, Emilia? Have you noticed anything?”
“Well, perhaps I have, Mrs Adams. But how do you feel about it?”
“Oh, I’m quite happy for him to do whatever he feels he needs to. I must say, it’s nice he’s mixing with girls much more, instead of those boys he was hanging around with. And as to wearing girls’ clothes, I’m very liberal about it, and even the schools now allow the children to wear clothes of either gender. To be honest, I’d be quite happy if he decided to identify as a girl. It’s silly, I know, but I’d really enjoy taking him shopping and buying him nice things to wear!”
Emilia felt a surge of relief.
“Well, now you’ve mentioned it, I did notice he was taking an interest in my dresses and things, last time he was over. I’ll tell you what, I’ll keep an eye on him and report back, shall I?”
“Oh, that would be so helpful. I don’t want him to know that I know about the panties, but on the other hand I don’t want him to feel constrained by the thought I may disapprove, if you see what I mean.”
“Quite. Leave it with me. I’ll see if I can get him to open up about it.”
“Thank you, Emilia. That’s such a relief. And not a word to anyone, remember. Yes, by all means take him to get his ears pierced. Let me know what it costs and I’ll reimburse you.
“OK, Mrs Adams. Don’t worry. I’ll look after him!”
I’ll look after him all right, she thought as she put down the phone. Ballet? Why didn’t he say anything to me? Devious little scamp. Rosalind. Wait a minute, I think that’s one of the girls who’s friendly with Tabitha. Tabitha’s a mischievous imp. I wonder if this is anything to do with them? There’s a third one, too, isn’t there? Can’t remember her name. But I’ll find out tomorrow. And I’m going to get a look at that ballet lesson!
Emilia got to Brook Lane early the next day. She went straight to the school office to check when the ballet class was. Mrs Harris, the school secretary, checked her list.
“Oh, yes. As I thought. Every Monday. Four o’clock in the gym. Madame Bresson. Are you thinking of joining, Emilia?”
“No, just checking for someone else. Is there a list of participants, by any chance?”
“Yes…one moment. Yes, here we are. Nina, Marcia, Rosalind, Gabrielle, Valeria, Tabitha, and two boys, Ralphie and Paul. Does that help?”
“Thank you. Yes. Thanks, Mrs Harris.”
“Marcia. That was the other one. Six girls and two boys. Well, well, Paul. I’m going to come along tonight and spy on you!” she said to herself. “I want to see what’s going on there.”
Paul arrived at school on time. Hiss class was 1A. Morning lessons passed without incident. The three girls were all in 1C, as a concession to the fact they had been close friends for a couple of years now. At lunchtime they sought out Paul in the playground.
“Don’t forget ballet tonight, will you, Paul?” smirked Marcia. “I hope you’ve got your own leotard. Rosalind’s spare one’s at home, so if you haven’t you’ll have to exercise naked!”
“Very funny, Marcia. Don’t worry. My mum’s bought me one and I’ll get it before the end of lessons.”
“She made sure to get a boy’s yellow one?” asked Rosalind.
“Course. She’s not stupid.”
“Oh, she doesn’t take after you, then,” sneered Tabitha.
“Shut up, Tabitha!”
“Careful, Paul,” said Marcia, threateningly, “remember that nice little video we took of you? It would be unfortunate if I had to put it on my Facebook page, wouldn’t it?”
“Sorry,” said Paul, through gritted teeth.
“That’s better! Good little girl, Pauline!”
During afternoon lessons, Mrs Harris brought in a brown paper parcel, and handed it to Paul’s form teacher, Miss Alexander. She glanced at Paul, and put it in her desk drawer. At the end of lessons she called Paul up.
“Your mum left this. She said you’d know what it was.”
“Thanks Miss. Yeah, my ballet costume. I only started last week.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I hear Madame Bresson is a very good teacher.”
“She is. She says I’ll be really good if I practise. And fit, as well.”
“Good for you, Paul. It’s a shame more boys don’t do ballet.”
Miss Alexander let Paul stay in the classroom while she sat at her desk marking books. At a quarter to four he left and made for the gym. Valeria and Gabrielle were the only ones in the changing room, giggling about something, or nothing, as usual. Paul mumbled a greeting and quickly slipped into a cubicle. He pulled off his clothes and put on a pair of panties from his rucksack. He thought pale yellow would be best this time. He opened the parcel. All his things had been neatly wrapped and packed into a box. The first packet he opened contained a pair of yellow tights. Hmm, quite dressy, he thought. But why not? All those stupid girls have got white. I bet they’ll be jealous! In the same package there was also a little yellow ribbon choker. What’s she put that in for? Won’t be needing that, for a start! Typical of mum. She probably thinks we all get dressed up to the nines, just for practice. Then a slightly chunkier package. Wow, new ballet shoes. Silver ones! They look like satin. He slipped them on. They are definitely going to be jealous! He could hear the rest of the class arriving and getting changed. The girls often changed in the main part of the room. He and Ralphie preferred the privacy of a cubicle. Right, now for the leotard. This must be it. Yeah, he could see the yellow material through the tissue. He ripped open the wrapping. His jaw dropped. “What?” he cried out loud. For the new leotard was yellow all right, but it had a design of little red bows all over it! Exactly like Autumn’s panties!
“You all right in there?” a voice called. Rosalind. He was so shocked he couldn’t reply for a moment.
“Yes, fine. I’m fine. Be out in a minute.”
What was he going to do? Why would his mother have bought him such a thing, and why send it along today? Had she found his collection of panties? He vaguely remembered her saying there were only two yellow leotards on the site, so she’d ordered one of each. It must be coincidence! Surely!
“Come on, then. Madame Bresson’s waiting!”
He didn’t reply, still undecided about what to do. His mind was made up for him, however, when Marcia pulled the curtain aside.
“What’s the problem?” Her eyes alighted on the leotard.
“Oh my god! Look at this, girls.”
All six of them gathered round. There was gasps of surprise.
“Oh, that’s so pretty!” said Valeria.
“So cute!” added Tabitha.
“Awesome!” said Nina. “Get it on, and come and show Madame Bresson. She’ll love that!”
“But, I…I think my mum sent it by mistake…”
“Here, let’s help you,” said Rosalind. “Come on, step in. Good boy! That’s it! See? You look fabulous!”
“What’s this?” added Gabrielle. “A little satin choker to match! Turn around. You can’t show up without this!”
In his new ballet outfit, Paul was shepherded into the gym. Madame Bresson had been looking a little miffed, for she liked her girls – and boys – to be punctual. But her irritation melted into delight when she saw Paul’s costume.
“Paul…oh, très jolie! It’s so nice to see you taking your lessons so seriously. Today you are the première danseuse. Come, my little dancers. Let’s get started!”
Paul took his place in line at the bar. The choker taunted him with its constant reminder of his girlishness. His body shimmered in its glamorous new sheath of yellow satin, peppered with tiny bows. He sighed inwardly with despair. Rosalind whispered from behind him.
“Your favourite design, Paul. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others – yet!”
-
Chapter 10. Confession
Unbeknown to Paul, the members of the class were not the only ones admiring his new costume. Emilia had allowed the lesson to get under way, and then sneaked into the main gym shower and changing room, which adjoined the gym itself. She quietly opened the double door the tiniest crack, and peeped through. She nearly laughed out loud when she saw her little protégé exercising at the bar. She covered her mouth and stared in disbelief. His mother, having seen Autumn’s panties in his bag, must have decided he liked the pattern, and bought him the appropriate leotard. How delightful! And he was wearing a ribbon choker too! What a little sweetie! She could see from the smiles and grins of his classmates that they thought so too. She watched for a few minutes, then tip-toed out again, bursting with this new intelligence. But as she made her way home, she decided it was too important to share with Imelda for the time being. No, she wanted some fun of her own first of all. And she knew how to get it.
She telephoned Paul later that evening.
“Hi Paul. Your mum’s given us the go-ahead to get your ears pierced. And for the sleepover. Are you around after school tomorrow? We could nip along to the jeweller’s and get them done.”
“Yes, Em, I’m not doing anything, apart from homework, that is. Shall I meet you at the gates?”
“Sure. See you during the day, in any case.”
Emilia had decided she would tax him with his new hobby Tuesday afternoon, and see what he had to say for himself. She was also thinking it would be lovely to have a good look at him in his costume, and determined that she would have him in it on Friday evening.
“Yes. And I’ll get a few snaps of him. What’s today? The thirtieth of April. It’s Imelda’s birthday on the seventh. That’s Monday. Oh, and it’s a bank holiday that day, too. Maybe I could get one framed and give it to her for a present. She’d like that. Mind you, she’d like the real thing even better! But it’ll do her good to wait for once.
Tuesday came, and Paul waited for Emilia at the school gates. They walked together to the jewellers. Emilia broached the subject of ballet. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
“So, Paul, your mum tells me you’re going to ballet lessons. I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, er, yes, Em. I was going to tell you. I thought I ought to do something, you know. Our teacher said everyone should join a club or something.”
“And why ballet? I didn’t know you were interested.”
“Oh, well, I’m not particularly, you know. But apparently it’s very good for your fitness and flexibility.”
“Who else goes? Is it a large class?”
“Not really. There’s a boy called Ralphie, and a few girls.”
“Oh, does that friend of your go? What’s her name? Rosamond?”
“Oh, er, yes. Rosalind. She’s not really a friend. Just an acquaintance.”
“Rosalind. That’s right. But your mum said you see her regularly.”
“Not regularly. I’ve seen her a couple of times.”
“Did she persuade you to join up?”
“Er, maybe, a bit. But it was my decision.”
“And what about her friends? You know, Marcia and Tabitha.”
“Oh, are they her friends? Yeah, they’re in the class too.”
“Come on, Paul. Those three are solid. What’s going on?”
“Nothin’…”
“Tell me! Or I’ll go speak to Tabby myself.”
“No. Please don’t do that. All right.” He hung his head. “They saw my panties – Autumn’s panties – one day at school. They made me show them. They took photos. I’m sorry!”
“Don’t be. I can’t believe you got caught by those three. Goodness knows what they’ll get up to with you. So you have to do what they say, right?”
“Yeah. So far it’s only been a video, and the ballet class. I’m hoping they’ll forget about it eventually.”
“A video?”
“Yeah. In Rosalind’s old ballet costume. Totally embarrassing. That’s the worst thing. I wish I’d never done it, but I was frightened.”
“Idiot! They’ll never let go of you now, you know that? Not unless I warn them off.”
“Would you?” Paul looked up, hopefully.
“Well, I could… But not for the time being. I’m interested in what they get up to. Keep me informed, Paul.”
“But….”
“Let’s get these ears done. Come on!”
Paul’s ears were pierced, and tiny silver keepers put in. He was given instructions how to proceed until they healed up. He and Emilia walked back together towards his house.
“You were brave in there. You didn’t make a sound, or even flinch. You were brave to wear that pretty costume to ballet, too.”
“How did you know?”
“I watched you through the door. It really is very cute.”
“Maybe. But next week I’m wearing a plain one.”
“That’s fine. But this Friday night I want you in your pretty one. With the choker. And with your matching panties. Understood?”
“Yes, Emilia.”
“You can come over straight after school. They’re going out at three. Here, take this. This is my front door key. You can get changed and wait for me. I should be back by four thirty. I have to stay a bit late to help my teacher put out the chairs for the conference on Monday, when school's closed. Prepare us some drinks and biscuits. You know where everything is. I want to take a good look at you. Got it?”
“Yes, Emilia.”
“Good. Don’t tell Mel. When I’m ready it’ll be a nice surprise for her!”
-
Very nice story. Can’t wait to see how Paul enjoys being a little girl. Emilia and Mel could even make Paul into a baby doll sometime too.
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Chapter 11. Autumn in Spring
On Thursday evening, Paul packed his ballet costume, and Autumn’s panties, into his rucksack. He wrapped the whole lot tightly in a plastic bag, and buried it right at the bottom. He wasn’t going to risk anyone finding them. As he made his way to school on Friday, he thought “Well, perhaps tonight we’ll have the evening to ourselves. I certainly hope there won’t be any unexpected visitors, like last week!” Lessons were uneventful to the point of being boring. No-one, including the teachers, could think of anything but getting away for the long weekend. No-one that is, except perhaps Rhianna and Denise, the two school swots in year two, who would have been quite happy to stay at school over the whole weekend. But more of them later.
As soon as the final lesson finished, Paul was out of the door, out of the school gates, and walking quickly towards Emilia’s house. He was aware of being a little exhilarated at the prospect of discarding his heavy, ugly school clothes, and slipping into his light, stretchy ballet gear, but his conscious self preferred not to explore the source of those feelings. Also, he found the secret, illicit conspiracy between Emilia and himself rather exciting. As he turned the key in the lock of her front door, he imagined himself a spy on a secret mission. He looked suspiciously up and down the road, to make sure he wasn’t being watched, before finally pushing open the door and sliding in. The house was still and silent. He took off his shoes and pushed them under the stairs, then made his way up to Emilia’s bedroom. All the piles of clothes had been cleared away, and it was delightfully clean and neat. Without more ado he stripped off his uniform and underclothes and recovered the plastic bag from the depths of his rucksack. First on were Autumn’s panties. He reflected momentarily on the slew of trouble his interest in them had landed him in. Then his yellow tights, his ballet shoes, and finally his leotard. Oh yes, and he musn’t forget the little yellow ribbon choker. Having wriggled and squirmed until he felt everything was fitting properly, he contemplated himself in the mirror. He liked what he saw. He felt good, and, he flattered himself, he looked good too. He found a brush on the dressing-table and brushed his hair. It was definitely getting longer. He wanted to grow it out, and he was surprised but pleased that his mother hadn’t suggested a haircut for a while now. He looked at his watch. Four-fifteen. Emilia would be here soon. He’d better get a snack ready for her, and they could sit together in the living room. He skipped downstairs and made for the food cupboard and the fridge.
Unfortunately for Paul, Fate had decided to take a hand for the second time that week. It had decreed that a number of things should occur. First, Emilia’s task should take longer than she had anticipated. Second, Mrs Dikinson should forget to put her phone on charge the previous night, and only discover her omission as she and the family were about to depart. Third, Mrs Dikinson’s sister, Catherine Lowell, who lived in an adjoining town, should choose this day to make an impromptu visit to the shopping centre near her sister, accompanied by her daughter, Autumn, and Autumn’s best friend, Penelope. Had any one of these occurrences not taken place, Paul’s evening would have been as idyllic as he had hoped. But the combination of all three wreaked disaster.
Mrs Lowell and the girls cut short their shopping expedition. The shopping centre was crowded, as it always was on a Friday night, the girls were tired, and so was she. Nevertheless she had manged to buy a few clothes for herself and the girls, and also for the girls rather cute red belt purses on red leather belts.
“I wonder if Eleanor’s in?” said Mrs Lowell, aloud. “I’ll give her a ring. Maybe you girls would like to say hello to Emilia and Nathan?”
“Yes please, mummy!” cried Autumn. She loved going to her aunt’s house. There was always fun playing with Emilia’s old dolls, and tasty things to eat.
“Oh. Her phone’s going straight into voicemail. It’s not far, anyway. Shall we go and see if they’re in?”
As they drove towards Emilia’s house, Emilia herself was still unstacking chairs in the school hall.
“I should give Paul a ring,” she thought. “But I guess he’ll be fine for another half hour or so. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen and he can watch television if he wants.”
Paul had almost finished preparing their tray when there was a knock at the door.
“That’ll be Em!” he said excitedly, and dashed into the hallway. He threw open the door, and found himself confronted, not by Emilia, but by a youngish, rather handsome, woman, flanked by two little girls. All three stared at him in amazement. He stared back in horror. Wide-eyed, they looked him up and down several times. For several seconds no-one spoke. Eventually, Mrs Lowell found her voice.
“Good afternoon. I’m sorry, I was wondering if Mrs Dikinson is in.”
“Mrs Dikinson?” repeated Paul, in a daze. He was still in shock.
“Or Emilia?”
“Emilia? Emilia. Yes. She should be…. I mean, she’s expected home any minute.”
“I’m sorry. Who are you? I don’t think I recognise you.”
“Me? Who am I? Oh, oh yes, I’m Paul. I’m a friend of Emilia’s.” His mind began to function again. “I was just waiting for her to come home. I was just practising my ballet. I do ballet at school, and, you know, I have to practise, or….” His voice trailed off.
“Nice to meet you, Paul. I’m Catherine Lowell, Eleanor’s sister. This is my daughter, Autumn, and her friend, Penelope.”
At the mention of Autumn’s name, Paul froze again, and immediately blushed to his ears. He stood there, unable to move.
“Would you mind if we came in, and waited for Emilia?”
“Oh. No. Of course. Not at all. Please come in.”
He stood aside and they trooped into the kitchen.
Mrs Lowell turned to him.
“I must say that’s a very pretty ballet costume, Paul. The design looks familiar, somehow.”
“Mummy! Mummy!” whispered Autumn.
“Yes, dear?”
“Come here!”
Mrs Lowell bent down, and her daughter whispered something in her ear.
“Oh, really, darling? How funny! My daughter says she has a pair of panties with exactly the same design!”
“Yes, I do!” cried Autumn, “Shall I show you? They’re in my drawer upstairs.”
And before Paul could respond she had run off up the stairs, with Penelope in pursuit.
Mrs Lowell could see Paul was feeling rather awkward, not to say nervous, so she tried to put him more at ease by making conversation.
“Paul. I suppose you’re at Brook Lane too?” He nodded. “Do you like it there? Emilia always speaks very highly of the place.”
“Oh, yes. It’s a good school… I wonder where Emilia is? I was expecting her a while ago. Perhaps I’ll give her a ring.”
But even as he picked up his phone, there was another knock at the door. Paul jumped like a scalded cat, and hurried to answer it. This time it was Emilia.
“Sorry, Paul, I got held up.”
“Your aunt’s here,” he whispered. “I told her I’m doing ballet practice.”
Emilia looked startled. “What’s she doing here?”
“And Autumn. And another one.”
Emilia walked into the kitchen.
“Catherine! How are you? I hope Paul’s been keeping you entertained?”
“Oh, yes. But we’ve only just arrived. I tried to ring your mum, but I couldn’t get through, so we thought we’d just come over on the off chance. We’ve been to Eastfield shopping centre, but it was so packed in there we just had to leave.”
“What a shame. The family is out for the rest of the evening. Mum’s always forgetting to charge her phone, so that’s probably it. Where’s …”
“Autumn and Penelope are upstairs. You’ll laugh – Autumn had a pair of panties with the same design as Paul’s leotard! She’s gone to get them.”
“Really?” said Emilia nervously. “Her stuff is all over the place. I don’t know if….”
But at that moment steps were heard on the stairs, and the two girls reappeared.
“Mummy! My panties have disappeared!” complained Autumn. “I left them right on top. Someone’s taken them!”
“Darling, I’m sure no-one’s taken them,” laughed Mrs Lowell. “Emilia, you haven’t heard of any pantie thieves operating in the area, have you?”
Emilia laughed nervously. Paul shifted from one foot to the other, and turned bright red again. Their behaviour wasn’t lost on Mrs Lowell.
“Emilia? Do you know where Autumn’s panties might be?”
“N-no, Catherine, I don’t think so…” murmured Emilia, weakly.
“But you do know something, don’t you?”
Paul was determined Emilia should not get blamed for anything, so with the utmost gallantry he said,
“Actually it was me, Mrs Lowell. I borrowed them because I thought the design was so nice, and I wanted my mum to get me a leotard just the same. That’s all. Emilia didn’t know about it until afterwards.”
“I see. So you borrowed them, did you. And did you return them?”
“Not yet. But I will.”
“That boy took my panties?” whined Autumn, in dismay. “Why did he take my panties?”
“Well, darling, it seems he liked them so much he couldn’t help himself,” said her mother, sarcastically. “So Paul, where are they now?”
“They’re…they’re… at home. I’ll bring them back tomorrow, first thing.”
That’s what he said, but Mrs Lowell was a perceptive woman, and she noticed him tugging down the legs of his leotard as he spoke.
“At home. I see. You’re sure about that?”
Poor Paul squirmed under the interrogation, and turned an even brighter shade of scarlet. He didn’t reply.
“You’re not wearing them, by any chance?”
Still no reply, but he showed signs of wanting to flee the room. So Mrs Lowell came over to him, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled up one leg of that pretty leotard.
“I knew it!” She could clearly see the pattern of red bows underneath his tights.
Autumn stared in disbelief. “He’s wearing my panties!” she wailed.
Penelope covered her mouth with her hand.
“Would you like to explain to my daughter exactly why you’re wearing her panties?”
“I…I…”
“Or would you like to explain to Emilia’s mother, and your mother? That’s the alternative.”
“OK, I…”
“The truth, please,” said Mrs Lowell, sternly.
“I couldn’t help it,” said Paul, his eyes filling with tears, “I thought they were so pretty. I only borrowed them. My mum bought me this leotard, and because they matched, I thought…. I thought it would be OK.”
“I see.”
“Please don’t tell Mrs Dikinson or my mum. I won’t be able to see Emilia or Nathan again if you do.”
Mrs Lowell sat down at the kitchen table and looked at him. Her face was very serious, but if you could have seen inside her mind you would have found only mischief and delight.
“OK, Paul. Here’s the deal. You let me punish you, you make restitution to Autumn, and we’ll say no more about it. You can keep her panties, as you obviously like them so much.”
“But mummy…”
“And I’ll buy you new ones, whichever ones you want.”
“Yippee”
“Agreed, Paul?”
“Yes. Anything you say. Of course, Mrs Lowell.”
“Emilia, is that fair?”
“Oh, yes, aunt. Very fair. I’m sure we’re both very grateful for that.”
“I’m sure you are,” said Mrs Lowell, looking at her quizzically.
-
This phrase seems so appropriate for this story: "O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!" (Verse by Walter Alva Scott) 8)
Can't wait for the next entanglement.
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Loving this story.
Paul should be made to wear even more girly panties. Maybe with little ballerina's and pretty pink bows.
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Chapter 11. Two Swots
Mrs Lowell got up and walked into the living room, indicating to Paul he should accompany her. The others followed. She sat down in the middle of the sofa. Paul stood in front of her, blinking with anxiety.
“Are you going to spank me?”
“Spank you? Mrs Lowell laughed. “Course not, silly!”
“Ooh…” whined Autumn, disappointed.
“Though it would be rather fun. Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to spank naughty little boys any more. No, Paul, I have something much more gentle in mind. Come and sit next to me, and Emilia? Would you bring me my bag, please?”
Emilia brought Mrs Lowell’s handbag, and Mrs Lowell rummaged inside and produced a little red bottle.
“We’re going to paint your nails. A pretty shade of red, to match the little bows on your leotard. Sit down next to me. Closer. That’s right. Give me your hand. Left one first, please.”
And she proceeded to paint each of Paul’s little nails with extreme care, until his hands were as pretty as any girl’s. Paul found the process surprisingly pleasant. It was exciting having Mrs Lowell attending to his fingers with such care and delicacy, and he loved the skilful way she applied the shiny liquid with the tiny brush so not a speck got on his skin. It made him feel special. He also loved the smell of the nail polish as it was applied.
“There. Now wave them about a bit and make sure they’re quite dry. It suits you, I must say.”
Paul marvelled at the transformation that Mrs Lowell had effected by this simple process. Was this a punishment? It felt more like a revelation.
“When you need to take it off, you use a nail polish remover, as I’m sure you know. But Paul, your punishment is, that you must wear this for a whole week from today. And if you need to renew it, I’ll leave you – no, I’ll leave Emilia – the bottle. Do you understand?”
Paul stared at her, alarmed. But my mum… and school!”
“Yeah,” said Emilia, “I don’t think they’ll let him wear it at school.”
“OK, listen. First, you must tell your mother you asked me to do this, because you really want to start being more like a girl. Yes?”
Paul nodded, uncertainly.
“I’m not sure….”
“She knows you do ballet?”
“Yes, course. She bought me the gear. This leotard…”
“Well, trust me, Paul, she’ll support you in this. And you must also ask her if you can wear nail polish to school, at least for the week. Suggest she call the head and explain the situation. Emilia’s mother has told me a little about the headmistress of Brook Lane, and she may be more sympathetic, and more willing to bend the rules, that you would expect.”
“OK. But the kids….”
“Some will make fun of you, some will try to bully you, some will defend you. If you want to wear girl’s clothes you have to be prepared for that.”
“But I don’t….”
“You don’t? Well, a part of you seems to. Go look at yourself in the mirror, and think about it. Don’t deny your own feelings.”
Paul blushed, but said nothing. Mrs Lowell continued.
“Now, you need to buy Autumn some new panties to replace the pair you…recycled.”
“Yes, of course, Mrs Lowell. I have ten pounds in my jeans pocket. Will that be enough?” replied Paul, eagerly.
“Oh. No, Paul, you misunderstand me. That’s very generous of you, but I didn’t say I wanted you to pay for them. I said you need to buy them for her. I’ll pay, of course.”
“So what…..?”
“I’m going to give you some money, and you are going to take the girls to the shops and buy Autumn new panties.” And seeing a hint of envy on Penelope’s face, she added. “Yes, all right, Penelope, he’ll get some for you as well.”
Paul’s eyes widened.
“When?”
“Right now, darling.”
“Shall I go change?”
“Certainly not. The only thing is, those ballet shoes are really not suitable for Eastfield.”
“Oh, Catherine!” interjected Emilia, “I have the perfect thing! Paul has a pair of red tap shoes here. They’ll match his nail polish perfectly! I'll go get them.”
Paul made some ineffectual attempts to protest, the colour rising in his cheeks. But Mrs Lowell swept them aside.
“Please don’t fuss, Paul. Autumn, darling, would you allow Paul to borrow your new belt purse for the expedition? He’ll need to carry the money, and he has no pockets, as you can see.”
“Of course, mummy! I’ll get it from the car!”
“It’ll match your other accessories perfectly, dear. You’ll look such a sweetie!”
So it was that ten minutes later Paul, fully attired, found himself in the back seat of Mrs Lowell’s car, between Autumn and Penelope, with Mrs Lowell and Emilia chatting away in the front. In his little red belt purse, attached to his little red belt, there was a new twenty pound note. Mrs Lowell had insisted that the girls, once they had chosen their own panties, should also choose a pack for Paul. “You decide for him, girls,” she had said. “You understand these things better than he does, as yet. Maybe ask the assistants what they think would best suit him, if you’re in any doubt.”
Paul was already blushing scarlet at the mere thought of the expedition, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, whilst the two girls chattered and giggled across him, reassuring him every now and then with friendly pats on his thighs, or simultaneous cuddles. But he wasn’t reassured. It was all right for them, in their jeans and T-shirts. It would make him all the more conspicuous in his bright little ballet costume! He hoped the kids from Brook Lane who liked to hang out there after school had all gone home for supper by this time. But he doubted it.
When they arrived at Eastfield, it was obvious the shopping centre was very busy that evening. Mrs Lowell had to park on the edge of the car park, furthest from the shops. The girls were first out of the car. Paul was a little more reluctant, but in the face of Emilia’s coaxings, he eventually climbed out, keeping close to the car for some protection from the gazes of the people around. But this was a brief respite.
“Now, Paul, you and the girls go ahead, Emilia and I will follow. I suggest you try Hawkes first, and see what they’ve got. The girls will show you the way. We’ll keep an eye on you, don’t worry, though we may be a little behind. Girls, hold hands nicely with Paul, won’t you? Don’t lose him. It’s very busy in there. If Hawkes doesn’t have what you want, there are plenty of other shops there.”
Off they went, Paul between Autumn and Penelope, holding hands with each of them. The girls skipping along excitedly, Paul as red as a beetroot, trying to make himself invisible and failing spectacularly.
“Em, you should video this,” whispered Mrs Lowell. “Look at them, they look so sweet together! Just like three girls having fun. Except when you look a bit closer!”
“I know, Catherine. See how people are doing double takes?”
“Yes. I don’t think he’s going to have an easy ride with the girls, either. You know how fussy they are about their clothes. It’ll probably take them ages to make up their minds about their own knickers, let alone his!”
They entered through the main doors and plunged into the crowds, the girls pulling Paul along in their eagerness to get to the shops. They attracted attention wherever they went. As they approached the central fountain, Paul saw to his horror Josh and Mikey, accompanied by a group of their friends, sitting on the low wall by the water. Desperately he turned his head aside, hoping they wouldn’t recognise him. He needn’t have worried. Josh gave the group a casual glance, and drew Mikey’s attention to the triumvirate.
“’Ere. Mike. Get a load of them.”
“Weird! Think she’d change out of ‘er ballet stuff to come in ‘ere, wouldn’t yer?”
“Yeah. Girls are strange, ain’t they?”
Paul was relieved once they arrived at Hawkes clothing store. The girls led him straight to the children’s underwear department, and left him standing in the aisle while they flipped through the packs of panties. Paul stood there, the picture of awkwardness and embarrassment, not knowing where to put his hands or his feet. He could see two of the assistants giggling and looking over at him. Eventually one of them, a girl of about seventeen, came over to him.
“Good evening, er, miss? Can I help you at all?”
“No…no, thank you. My friends are just looking for something. I’m just waiting for them.”
At that inopportune moment Autumn came over.
“Do you like Disney ones, Paul? This is Alice, see? Though I think you wanted something with more yellow on them, didn’t you?”
The assistant beamed with delight.
Paul became incoherent. “No, I…I…thought you were, you were… looking for yourselves, weren’t you?”
“We are. Just thought I’d ask you. We’re sort of looking for your ones at the same time.”
“Oh, perhaps I can help,” said the assistant. “Wait a minute.” She turned to her colleague. “Sue? Could you come and help us, please?” Her friend came quickly over. “The girls here are looking for some panties for their friend here. Paul, is it? He would really like some with yellow in them? Do we have anything suitable?”
“Oh, we may have,” replied the other, stifling a laugh, “let me see…”
She opened a cupboard underneath the display and began to riffle through the stock. She brought out three packs, in pastel shades of yellow. One had teddy bears on, one hearts, one ballerinas! She began showing them to the highly embarrassed Paul, but Autumn came over and interrupted.
“Excuse me. My mummy said that I should choose Paul’s new panties.”
“Oh, so sorry, madam. Well, this is what we have in yellow, apart from the ones on display. Would any of these be suitable?”
“I’m afraid not, but thank you. The designs are a little boring, and I want something brighter and shinier. Sort of satin. That’s what he likes.”
“Really?” cried the first assistant, bursting out laughing.
“Yes, really,” replied Autumn severely, “and I’m afraid we don’t think your selection of panties interesting enough. But thank you anyway.” She turned to Penelope. “Come on, Pen. Let’s try another shop.” And they marched out, followed by Paul, leaving the two assistants looking amused but also rather shocked.
It wasn’t until the third store that Autumn and Penelope found what they were looking for. It’s not appropriate to describe what they chose for themselves, but for Paul they had found the perfect thing: yellow satin decorated with unicorns and rainbows.
“Do you like them, Paul?” asked Autumn.
“Yes. I do. Very much. Thank you.” He was desperate to escape from this public torture, where it seemed to him everyone was staring at him, and all the shop assistants were in a conspiracy to embarrass him as much as was possible. Catherine and Emilia stood apart, looking through the women’s fashions, but keeping an eye on them.
“I think this may be it, Catherine,” murmured Emilia.
“I certainly hope so, darling. I’m a little tired of trapesing around after them.”
“You must admit they have very discriminating taste, though.”
“Oh, yes. Real little fashionistas!”
Paul was at the counter, paying a lady who had managed to convert her amusement into a big friendly smile. He extracted the note from his belt purse and handed it over.
“Thank you, young man. You have excellent taste. And I love your outfit. Please come again,” she said, as she handed him the change.
Paul kept his head down, finding it difficult to look her in the face. In fact, he had kept his head down for most of the expedition. If he had paid a little more attention to his surroundings, he might have noticed that there were two other individuals on their track aside from Catherine and Emilia. Rhianna and Denise, the two school swots from year two, had latched onto them in the second store they visited.
“Look at that!” remarked Rhianna, “isn’t that a boy?”
Denise stared through her black-rimmed glasses.
“Isn’t that that boy from year one? You know, the pretty-looking one who hangs out with those tough kids, or used to?”
“Don’t be silly, Denise.”
She pretended to be looking at some jeans while peering sideways at Paul.
“OMG, No! I think you’re right! It is him!”
“Let’s get some pictures,” said Denise, getting closer to Paul and surreptitiously using her phone.
“Look!” whispered Rhianna, “those little kids are holding up panties for him to look at! What is this? Get a video, Den!”
When they were happy they’d captured Paul’s most embarrassing moments, the girls stopped filming and tried to get a bit nearer without being seen.
“He probably wouldn’t recognise us anyway,” hissed Rhianna. “But hold on!” She gripped Denise’s arm and held her back. “Look over there. That’s Emilia. I think she’s with them.”
“I think you’re right, Rhianna. Let’s hang back and see what happens.”
They soon discovered that Paul and his little friends were being shadowed by Emilia and her companion. They stalked the whole party till they eventually left the shopping centre, and watched them all get into Catherine’s car.
“Wow,” said Denise, “we’ve got some really hot shit on that kid now. We’ll find out his name next week and decide what to do. And see if we can discover how Emilia fits in, too.”
“Yeah,” agreed Rhianna. “I think we might have some fun here.”
Paul was so relieved to get back into the car. He was holding his little packet of panties and the girls on either side were holding theirs. The girls were very happy.
“We’re good at shopping,” laughed Penelope. “We waited till we found exactly the right things!”
“You did a great job, girls,” said Mrs Lowell, warmly. “Don’t you think so, Paul?”
Paul was so happy it was over, he actually said,
“Yes. Thank you girls!”
“Do you like your new panties?” asked Autumn.
“Very much.”
“But you still like mine, too?”
“Yes, Autumn,” admitted Paul, “I do.” And he blushed again.
-
Chapter 12. The Plot Thickens
At home, Emilia busied herself preparing drinks and food for everyone. There was a stash of pizzas in the freezer, and she put four of them in the oven, while Catherine prepared drinks. The girls disappeared up to Emilia’s bedroom to play with her dolls. Paul hung about in the kitchen, not quite sure what to do with himself, trying to decide whether he was happy or anxious about his newly acquired nail polish.
“Go and play with the girls,” suggested Catherine. “We’ll call you as soon as supper’s ready.”
Paul made his way slowly upstairs and presented himself in the doorway of the bedroom.
“Paul!” cried Autumn, “Come and help! Laura Pinkpants has had a terrible fall from off the bed and is being taken to hospital. We’re the nurses and you can be the doctor.”
Within a few minutes Paul was playing happily, quite engrossed in their games. He was even loath to leave the bedroom when Emilia called up that supper was ready. After supper the three of them resumed their play until it was time for Catherine to take the girls home to bed. The girls demanded goodbye kisses which Paul willingly gave. Catherine smiled at Emilia and gave her a big wink. And even Emilia was surprised at the ease with which Paul had adapted to – no, been a part of – the younger ones’ play.
But after they had left his thoughts returned to more pressing matters. He had to go home and have a conversation with his mother about his nails. He was not looking forward to that. He examined the red polish closely, and wondered how long it would take to wear off. It didn’t look likely to be gone by the time school resumed on Tuesday. Emilia read his thoughts.
“Are you worried about that, Paul?” she asked, sympathetically.
He nodded slowly. “What will my mum say, Emilia?”
“Would you like me to have a word with her and explain what happened? You know, without mentioning the real cause? I will if you like.”
“Would you? Yes, please.”
“And would you feel happier staying here tonight? I can ask her. I know we’re staying over at Mel’s tomorrow, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“Thanks, Em. Yes, I would! Would you ask her?”
“I’ll ring her now.” Emilia knew what Paul didn’t. That not only was his mother quite open to him becoming more feminine, but she was hoping for it! She retired to her bedroom and dialled the number.
“Mrs Adams? Hi. It’s Emilia.”
“Emilia dear. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m ringing about Paul. I can’t speak very loud – he’s just downstairs.”
“Oh. What is it?”
“Well, I just wanted to update you on things. You know, I think he’s really on his way to becoming a sweet little girl, but he’s so shy about it. He’s reluctant to tell you just yet, and I don’t want him to start feeling anxious about it in any way, so I’m playing it cool, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, that’s so exciting! I mean, interesting. Yes, I’m sure you’re quite right. Let him discover things for himself.”
“Yes, exactly. Today he took my little cousin Autumn and her friend Penelope to the shops to buy some clothes, and insisted on wearing his ballet leotard. You know, the pretty one with red bows that you got for him?”
“Really?” gasped Mrs Adams. “Well I never! I would never have believed it!”
“And he asked my aunt to paint his nails for him!”
“I’m astounded! I wish I could have seen him.”
“I’ll send you a few pictures later. But here’s the thing. Now he’s got his nail polish on, he doesn’t want to take it off. In fact, he wants to keep it on for school next week. I guess he wants to see how the other kids will react. If it’s not too negative, I think it’ll give him confidence to go further.”
“I see…”
“Do you think it would be possible for you to speak to the head about it? I know it’s a long shot, but if she would allow it on this occasion, I think it would do wonders for his confidence.”
“Oh. Yes, I can, Emilia. As a matter of fact, I had a brief conversation with Miss Williams at the start of the year about this exact issue. I happen to know she’s very keen on gender equality, and on allowing children to develop their own identities, whether they correspond with their biological gender or not. So I will. You may be surprised!”
“Thank you, Mrs Adams!”
“Anne-Marie, please, Emilia. After all, we are sharing such exciting intelligence now! And your interest in Paul is such a help. I’m so grateful. I’m sure it will make his transition – I mean, if that is what he decides – so much smoother in the long run.”
“Can I ask one more thing, Anne-Marie? I know Paul and I are staying at Imelda’s tomorrow night, but would it be possible for him to stay here tonight as well? I feel we have made such good progress today, and I think it might be helpful to maintain the continuity through the weekend. What do you think?”
“By all means, Emilia! I think a totally girlie weekend is just what he needs. I can’t wait to see him on Sunday of course, but if you can help cement the changes you’ve already made, all the better. It’s so kind of you!”
“Not at all. I’ll text you reports, anyway. Thank you so much.”
“No, my dear, thank you, for being such a guiding angel!”
Emilia’s next call was to Imelda. She needed to bring her up to speed. She related the whole of the evening’s events, taking care to describe all Paul’s embarrassments in meticulous detail.
“You took some video? I can’t wait to see it!”
“You shall, tomorrow. And there’s something else I haven’t told you yet. Do you know how the little rascal got into ballet? He was blackmailed by three first years who noticed his panties in the playground!”
“What?”
“Yeah, I should have told you, but I thought I’d keep it as a surprise. I know one of them, vaguely. She’s younger sister of a girl I used to be friends with. But I really don’t know anything about her or her friends. The other two are called Rosalind and Marcia. From what Paul said, I think Marcia’s the ringleader. What do you think me should do? In one way it’s so funny, but on the other hand I suppose they’re the competition.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before? I know Marcia from primary school.”
“Yes, and I know something of Tabby.”
“He’s being blackmailed?”
“Apparently they have photos. And a video. I’m not quite sure what that’s about, but he seems terrified of them.”
“This alters everything, Em. We can’t ignore them. We need to deal with this quickly. Suppose they outed him, we’d have no more influence. Let me think about it. What time are you coming over tomorrow?”
“We can come earlier now, cos Paul’s staying here tonight. When’s best for you?”
“Come over about midday. My folks will be out by then, and we’ll have all the afternoon and most of the evening to do anything we want. Anything we want…” she repeated thoughtfully.
“Great, Mel! See you then.”
When Emilia’s parents and Nathan got home, they were surprised to find Paul there. He was back in his old jeans and T-shirt. Emilia had playfully suggested he stay in his leotard, just to see the panic on his face! But he still looked nervous, and kept his fists tight shut, with his thumbs under his fingers. Nathan wanted him to come and play before bedtime, but he said he was too tired.
“Is he all right?” asked her mother, in a whisper.
“Yes, mum, but he’s got a few personal problems which I’m helping him with.” That was true, anyway! “Obviously I can’t say what they are – he’s sworn me to secrecy – but don’t worry, it’s nothing serious, only girl problems” – that was true, as well! – “and I’m going to sort him out. But I need him to stay in my room tonight. He needs my company at the moment.”
“Of course, dear. Nathan will be disappointed, but I’ll explain it to him. You’ve got a sleeping bag, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Mum, I’ve got everything I need in my room.”
Emilia did indeed have everything she needed. She changed into her pyjamas and gave Paul an outgrown pair to wear, fuzzy flannel ones with little bunnies all over them.
“Where am I sleeping, Em?” he asked, looking around.
“Well, you can have a sleeping bag on the floor….or you could sleep in my bed with me, but I don’t suppose you’d want that.”
“Sleep with you?” Paul’s eyes grew big with surprise.
“If you want.”
He did want. And soon he was nestling in Emilia’s embrace, inhaling her warm fragrance and feeling totally safe and loved, like a tiny child with its mother. She stroked his hair softly, and whispered reassurances in his ear, until he fell asleep. She did indeed feel motherly affection for Paul, and she was anxious about what Imelda might have planned for the next day. She wanted to give him a least one night of complete security and happiness, before the rude awakening that she feared was in store for him. And for Paul, being so close to the person he loved above all others, was the greatest bliss he could imagine.
-
Chapter 13. Another Surprise
Emilia and Paul arrived at Imelda’s punctually at twelve. All Paul’s girly stuff was neatly packed in his rucksack. He had no idea what to expect, but after the trip to the ice cream parlour he was nervous to say the least. He took Emilia’s hand and held it tight as they waited for Imelda to answer the door.
“Em, do you think she’ll want to take me out again?”
“I don’t think so, darling. Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”
Imelda opened the door.
“Come in, guys! How are you, Paul? I hear you’ve already had one sleepover this weekend. I hope another won’t be too boring for you.”
“No, Imelda.”
“I’ll try to make sure it’s not. Like the nail polish! Maybe you’d like another trip out to the shops? I hear from Em you made quite an impression at Eastfield!”
“No, please, Imelda! I don’t want to go out again. It was so embarrassing. I thought some of the kids from school had seen me near the fountain.”
“But they hadn’t?”
“No,” interjected Emilia, “he looked so cute they just assumed he was a girl showing off in her ballet costume! And really, that’s just what he looked like.”
“Yeah, Em, but the shop assistants knew I wasn’t a girl! And I had to stand there for ages while they all gawped at me and then the girls bought me those panties. It was horrible!”
“Ooh, they bought you panties? Show me!” said Imelda, eagerly.
Paul reluctantly took off his rucksack and rummaged for the packet. He passed it to Imelda.
“Oh, darling, they’re so cute! Unicorns and rainbows! You chose well!”
“I didn’t pick them, Imelda! It was Autumn and Penelope!” cried Paul, horrified.
“Oh, don’t get so defensive about it, Paul. They’re so pretty. Don’t pretend you don’t like them. Come on, I want to see what they look like on. Come upstairs now and give us a preview.”
“Please, Imelda…..”
“No arguments, young lady! Follow me please!”
Emilia took his hand and drew the reluctant Paul with her up to Imelda’s bedroom.
“Just do what she says,” she whispered in his ear, “trust me, it’s the best way.”
Paul understood that absolute compliance was the best policy, or he might find himself outside again. So he pretended to fall in with the game.
Imelda’s bedroom was huge. There was a big double bed, a single, and loads of space.
“Wow. What a massive room. Is it just for you?”
“Yes, Paul. But sometimes we have parties in here, don’t we Em?”
“We do. And big sleepovers.”
“But today it’s just us,” smiled Imelda, throwing herself down on the bed. “Now, get those boring old boy clothes off and get into your new panties. We won’t watch, promise.”
Paul went behind a wardrobe to change. A couple of minutes later he emerged. The girls were both lying on the double bed whispering to each other. He advanced shyly into the room.
“Ready.”
They sat up expectantly. Both their faces registered delight.
“Oh, Paul, they’re so sweet on you,” said Emilia, gently.
“Oh, my god! What a cute little sissy!” squealed Imelda, much to Paul’s discomfort. “Come and stand here where I can see you.”
Paul obediently went and stood in front of Imelda, blushing as she ran her eyes over him.
“They’re so pretty on you, sweetie. I love the material – so shiny and satiny. Don’t you want to show them off? I would.”
“No,” said Paul, sulkily.
“Shall we cover them up, then? I’ve got something here I want you to try on.” She went to a drawer and began to take out a little pile of clothes. “This is my old year one school uniform. I want to see if it fits you. Come on, or I’ll leave you in nothing but your knickers the whole day!”
Reluctantly Paul submitted to being dressed in the uniform. White blouse with striped tie, grey skirt, white socks. Finally, she produced her old school blazer from the wardrobe. Paul stood there, slouching.
“Stand up straight, please! Well, it fits almost perfectly. You’d need some new shoes, of course, and that skirt needs shortening a bit, so you can flash your panties occasionally, but otherwise you’re ready to go!”
Paul looked at her, alarmed. Emilia tried to reassure him.
“Don’t worry, Paul. All Imelda means is that you’d fit in just fine as a girl, if you ever wanted to. Who knows, one day…”
“One day soon, I hope,” said Imelda. She was already busy with a tape measure, working out how much the skirt needed altering. “I can fix this. I’m pretty good at sewing.”
At that moment, there was a ring at the bell. No-one moved.
“Well, Paul? Aren’t you going to answer the door?”
“M-me?”
“Yes, you. It’s probably the postman. I sent for a few things for you, and they’re supposed to arrive today. Go on, silly boy. You’re quite respectable. He won’t even notice you’re not a girl!”
Paul was about to protest, but he was frightened of Imelda, and Emilia nodded to him to reassure him. The two girls exchanged knowing looks, but he didn’t notice. He made his way downstairs and gingerly opened the front door. Poor Paul didn’t have much luck opening doors to unknown callers!
It wasn’t the postman. It was the worst thing he could have imagined. His mouth fell open and he was unable to speak. For there, in front on him, eyes wide with delight, stood Marcia, Rosalind and Tabitha!
-
This is turning interesting. The girls who are working with his mum and the tormentors now. Wonder what is going to happen now....lol :)
-
Chapter 14. An Equality of Power
“Hello, Paul!” grinned Marcia. “Aren’t you going to let us in?”
“W-what are you doing here?”
“Imelda invited us. Didn’t she tell you? Oh, I expect she wanted to surprise you.”
Without waiting for Paul to move, the three girls pushed past him into the hallway. Imelda and Emilia were coming downstairs.
“Hello, girls,” said Imelda, “thank you so much for coming. Paul, I’m sorry we didn’t warn you. I only decided to invite the girls last night, and they were kind enough to accommodate me. You know them, of course. I know you, Marcia, but will you introduce your friends?”
“Of course, Imelda. This is Rosalind, and this is Tabitha – Tabby, we usually call her.”
“And this is my best friend, Emilia,” replied Imelda. “Tabby, I think you’ve met her before.”
“Yes, once or twice. Hi Emilia.”
“Hi, all of you,” smiled Emilia. “Imelda thought we should get together, as we have a common interest, and I agreed it would be for the best. As you can see, Paul’s been experimenting with a Brook Lane girl’s uniform. We think he looks quite fetching. What do you think?”
Paul was still standing on the welcome mat, completely gobsmacked. He stared at his three peers, still not quite comprehending.
“He looks sweet,” said Rosalind. “It really suits him.”
“Much nicer than those horrid boys’ trousers,” added Tabitha.
“Is he going to transition?” asked Marcia.
“Oh, he’s not even near that yet. But maybe one day,” replied Imelda. “For now I think it’s rather nice that we are the only ones in on the secret, don’t you think?”
The girls nodded in agreement.
“And we need to talk about that before we proceed any further. Would everyone like to come up to my bedroom? Paul, you stay here. You can bring us up some drinks and biscuits in, say, twenty minutes. And if the bell rings again, it will be the postman. So make sure you answer the door without delay. Understood?”
“Y-yes, Imelda.”
“Good. Come on girls.” And they all trooped upstairs, leaving Paul to speculate on the nature and content of their conversation.
In Imelda’s room the five girls spread themselves about on the floor.
“This is an amazing room, Mel,” said Marcia. “I love it.”
“Thanks, Marcia. Yes, I’m really lucky. Spoiled, in fact. That’s what comes of being an only child.”
“Did you see Paul’s face when he opened the door?” said Rosalind to the others. “I thought he was going to faint!”
“Poor thing. It must have been a terrible shock,” smiled Emilia. “Imelda is so naughty!”
“Not really. We have to sort this thing out. You know why I invited you, girls. We both have an interest in a certain little boy. Emilia and I thought he was our exclusive plaything till we heard about you three. What are these photos you have? And a video?”
“I’ll show you,” blurted Marcia, eagerly. She shuffled over to Imelda and found the pictures on her phone. Here. Have a look. The video’s after the pictures.”
Emilia sat down beside her friend as she scrolled through the images.
“Oh, dear. I love that little leotard,” grinned Imelda, “only it’s a little too small for him, I think. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”
“Wait till you see the video,” laughed Tabitha.
“OK, let’s see…” said Imelda. She and Emilia watched in disbelief as the red-faced Paul lisped through his idiotic monologue, squirming with embarrassment.
“What a performance!” cried Imelda. “How did you get him to do that?”
“He was so terrified he would have done anything for us,” grinned Marcia. “Do you like it?”
“It’s great,” said Emilia, but you can’t leave that on your phones. Someone could easily find it, then the game would be over. “Let’s do a deal. We’ve got some great stuff too, but ours is all on a passworded memory stick. Let’s pool our material and we’ll each have a copy. What do you think?”
Marcia looked at her friends. They both nodded vigorously. “Agreed. And let’s share any new stuff, shall we?”
“Definitely,” said Imelda. “We’re planning to get some more today, in fact!”
It was the work of a few minutes to combine their resources and copy the lot to a new flash drive. Imelda handed it over to Marcia.
“The password is “SissyPaul”. Now we can all work together. We have an equality of power. First of all, I think….”
But at that moment the doorbell rang again. They stopped talking and listened. They heard Paul open the door and say thank you. Then he called up, “the postman’s been. There’s a parcel for you, Imelda.”
“Bring it up, there’s a love,” she called back. They heard his steps on the stairs, and then he appeared at the door carrying a big parcel. The expression of disbelief on seeing his three young tormentors had now been replaced with one of trepidation. He looked around the room as if trying to understand what it was that was – or would be – happening to him. In return he only received smug smiles. He brought it in and placed it on the floor beside Imelda.
“Thank you, darling. Good boy. You can serve our refreshments in ten minutes and come and join us. We’ve nearly finished our meeting.”
“Yes, Imelda.” Emilia watched him retreat from the bedroom. “It’s interesting,” she thought, “how willingly he responds to Imelda’s commands. She treats him live a little servant, and he falls straight into the role. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t want to. But he doesn’t resent it at all.”
“So,” said Imelda, when Paul had gone back downstairs, “let’s see what we’ve got here. She ripped open the parcel. Inside there were two smaller packages. She unwrapped the first, and, standing up, produced a yellow dress. She shook out the folds and held it up for all to see. It was a girls’ smock dress in yellow needle corduroy, with the smocking in pink just under the short puff sleeves. The collar, sleeves and hem were trimmed in pink lace. The skirt was quite voluminous. It was a larger version of something that you might dress a three-year-old in. Imelda passed it to Emilia.
“What do you think?”
“It’s gorgeous. It’s such lovely quality, too. It can’t have been cheap!”
“It wasn’t. It was a special, of course. But my mum gives me a liberal dress allowance, so it was no problem. Only the best for our little darling!”
Emilia passed it on to the others, who cooed and giggled over it, while Imelda produced the accessories. Most important, a pair of matching elasticated satin knickers, also with pink lace around the legs.
“Nice!” cried Emilia, “Look, girls. Look what goes with it!” In her appreciation of Paul’s next outfit, Emilia’s empathy for the little boy had been overwhelmed by the anticipation of seeing him so prettily sissified.
“Wow!” they chorused.
“I’ve made sure these are big enough to accommodate a nappy or a pull-up,” said Imelda. After all, such a little girl can’t be expected to know when she needs to go to the toilet, can she?”
The three younger girls stared at Imelda with undisguised delight.
“And with luck they’ll just be visible below the hem. It would be such a shame if people couldn’t appreciate his entire ensemble.
“Oh, my god, this is the best!” squealed Tabitha.
“Will we get to take him outside, Imelda?” asked Marcia, excitedly.
“Of course, dear. That’s the whole point. It would be selfish to keep such a bunch of cuteness all to ourselves, now wouldn’t it?”
“Yes!” gasped Rosalind.
“There’s just a couple of other things. Some pretty matching socks, a pair of yellow satin button-up gloves, and a little soft leather choker. See that?”
She showed it around. The back was secured by a tiny padlock, and from the front dangled a silver letter ‘P’. The girls passed it to each other, appreciatively feeling the softness of the leather.
“And I’ve bought him some earrings, Imelda,” added Emilia. “See? Tiny red roses. His ears are quite ready now.”
“What about shoes?” asked Rosalind.
“I didn’t get him shoes, but I’m hoping Emilia…?”
“Yes, I brought the tap shoes, as you asked, Mel. Or at least, Paul did. They’re in his rucksack. They’ll do for the time being.”
“What else is in that parcel, Mel?” asked Tabitha, eyeing the second package.
“One thing at a time, darling. That’s another little surprise for later. So we’re ready. All we need now is the person who’s going to model all these lovely clothes. Where is he, anyway?”
As if in answer, there was a knock at the door, and Paul pushed it open and gingerly made his way in bearing a big tray of canned drinks, nuts, crisps and biscuits. He looked around. There was absolute silence, but everyone was staring at him, and they all had the same expression on their faces, a sort of eager rapaciousness. He took it for hunger.
“I-I’m sorry I was so long…”
“No problem, darling,” said Emilia. “Put that down on the floor and come sit with us.”
He put down the tray and looked around again. Emilia beckoned him, and he went and sat next to her, holding his skirt as he sat down in an attempt to conceal his panties from the girls opposite. But Marcia got a quick flash of the rainbows and unicorns despite his efforts. She covered her mouth to hide her laughter and then whispered something to her friends behind her hand, something about “new panties”, which Paul heard. He frowned in annoyance, but looked at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. Emilia put her arm around him. He was trembling slightly.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, darling,” she murmured. She turned to Imelda.
“Should I explain?”
“Go ahead.”
“Paul. You couldn’t go on being dragged two ways, us on the one side and your three friends here on the other. So we’ve called a truce and from now on we’ll work together.”
“Work on what, Em?”
“On making you happy, darling. On helping you find your true identity. But also, on protecting you from bullies and from the jealousy of others. You can relax with all of us now, in the certain knowledge that everything that happens will never be reported outside this little circle.”
“But what…?”
“I know – we know – that quite an important part of you is interested in exploring the feminine side of your nature. That’s great. A complete person needs to know both sides of the spirit. But many boys are afraid of that other side. They suppress it, and end up miserable. We’re dedicated to helping you in your quest. That’s all.”
Paul looked at her uncertainly. He was still confused in his own mind about what he wanted. That was a lot of words, he thought, but he couldn’t relate them to his situation. It was actually a relief when Imelda, who had been looking at Emilia with a slightly impatient expression on her face, put the matter more directly.
“What Em says is right, of course, Paul. But in practical terms, you need to understand that we’re going to feminise you whether you like it or not. I think you do like it. But time will tell. The only way you can find out what you want is by trying things out, by experimenting. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Imelda.”
“You know you’re not in a position to object?”
“Yes, Imelda.”
“Good. Now tell me what you think of this little smock dress.”
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oh nice sissy paul has his very first little girl sissy dress to bad it was not in pink
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There are -2- Chapters 13 ?
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Not any more. Thanks!
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Chapter 15. Baby Stuff
Paul looked stupidly at the dress Imelda was holding up. What was he supposed to say? He knew what she’d like him to say, but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to articulate the words, so he said nothing. Imelda persisted.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s a dress.”
“Brilliant, Sherlock Holmes. It’s a dress. Do you like it?”
“No,” Paul said, sulkily.
“Well that’s a shame, Paul, because you’re going to wear it, so you’d better learn to like it.”
The three younger girls were agog with expectation.
“It’s a baby’s dress, though,” whined Paul.
“Not at all. It looks as though it’ll fit you perfectly. Let’s see, shall we?”
She stood up, gathered up the clothes, and lifted Paul up by his hand.
“Back in a minute, girls.”
She led him to an adjacent bedroom, and threw the armful of clothes on the bed.
"Right, darling. Now, first of all, get that uniform off. Yes, all of it. And the panties. If you’re shy, I’ll wait outside. When you’ve stripped, put that pull-up on, and then call me.”
“But…”
“No arguments.” She raised a warning finger. “or things could get a lot worse.”
She left the room, half closing the door. Paul slowly removed his uniform. He was sorry to take it off. He was getting used to being a Brook Lane girl. Reluctantly he stepped into the pull-up. Once on, it felt horrible. Like putting part of his body into quarantine. “Ready, Imelda,” he called. She pushed open the door and regarded him with satisfaction.
“Good boy. Now these.” Paul’s face fell. “No objections, please! All little girls need plastic pants over their nappies. Step in.”
The translucent pink elasticated pants fitted neatly over his pull-up. Next the lacy satin knickers over the top. Helped by Imelda, he put his hands through the arm-holes of the dress, and she buttoned up the back. On went the socks and the gloves, then the little choker. Imelda closed the padlock with a snap, and, turning him round, adjusted the little ‘P’ so that it hung neatly on his neck.
“P for Paul. Or Pauline. In case you get lost.”
Emilia appeared in the doorway holding his red shoes. While Imelda laced them up, Emilia put on his new earrings. It was his first real pair, and it hurt a little, but at least that distracted him from his outfit. Looking at him standing there, red-faced, vulnerable, and with his bulging yellow lace-trimmed knickers peeping out below the hem of his smock dress, Emilia felt an almost irresistible urge to put her arms around him and cuddle him. But his vulnerability also triggered another reaction; a rising excitement at the power she and Imelda had over him, the possibilities of his total submissiveness. For the first time she wanted to see him totally humiliated, utterly sissified, and to watch his reactions, and the reactions of his tormentors. It was not a worthy feeling, she knew, but she couldn’t deny it. She even found herself looking forward to the reception he was going to get from the three young girls in Imelda’s bedroom.
“Mel. He’s f***ing adorable!” she whispered.
“He is, isn’t he? Good choice of dress?”
“Perfect. You’re a genius.”
“Shall we…?”
“Maybe a squirt of perfume?”
“Isn’t he a little young?” laughed Imelda. “Well, a tiny bit won’t hurt.” And she sprayed a few puffs from a scent bottle onto his bare neck. Paul flinched and made a face.
“Oh dear, such a cross face!” said Imelda. “Come on, smile and say ‘thank you’ for your nice new clothes. Let’s go show them to your little friends, shall we?”
The girls led poor Paul back into Imelda’s bedroom. He looked as if he was about to cry. As he appeared in view there was a communal gasp, followed by exclamations of delight. All three jumped up and clustered round, smoothing his dress and then lifting the hem to check out his knickers. Rosalind patted his cheek gently.
“Ooh, who’s a cutie-beauty darling, then,” she giggled.
“She’s the sweetest baby girl I’ve ever seen!” added Tabitha.
“Oh, Paul!” cried Marcia. “Did you know your little knickers are showing? They look so sweet. The pink lace sets off the yellow satin so prettily. You’re such a show-off!”
“Let’s make him parade for us, shall we?” suggested Tabitha.
“That’s a lovely idea, Tabby,” said Imelda, “and I’ll shoot a little video to remind us of Paul’s first baby outfit, shall I?”
Paul hung his head. His cheeks burned with shame. He wanted to run away and hide. He looked at Emilia, hoping for support. But a change had come over her face. She was no longer looking at him sympathetically, but with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Yes,” she said, “and let’s make him lift up his dress and show us his knickers. Maybe teach him to curtsey. He’s going to have to learn how to do that sooner or later.”
Paul stared at her, horrified. She saw the reproach in his eyes, and suffered a brief moment of guilt. But she justified herself with the thought that she was unable to protect him now, so she might as well go along with the game. In truth, though, there was something about his discomfort that excited her. It was a side of her character that before now she hadn’t known existed.
“Yes!” cried Rosalind, “and make him describe his outfit in that silly baby voice we taught him! That would be so cool!”
For the best part of an hour Paul was put through his paces. He was made to parade up and down the room. The girls positioned themselves on or around the bed to give him maximum space, while Imelda made the video. He was forced to sashay back and forth, to smile and blush, to coyly lift his hem and show his knickers, and later on to display his plastic pants and pull-up, whilst lisping a commentary on every action. They made him stand in ridiculous poses: toes turned in, gloved hands on cheeks with wide surprised eyes, or holding up a looking-glass with obvious satisfaction. Or with one finger to his mouth, for all the world just like a naughty little girl. The girls let their imaginations run riot, until their stock of ideas was quite exhausted. Almost exhausted.
“Shame he doesn’t have a pacifier,” remarked Marcia.
“Of course,” said Emilia, “that’s what we’re missing! You don’t have one I suppose, Mel?”
“’Fraid not, Em. But we could get him one. There’s a chemist’s just along the road.”
“We’ll go!” shouted Tabitha, jumping up.
“Yes, we’ll go!” agreed her friends.
“Okay,” said Imelda, “let me give you some money. Maybe you could get a packet of extra large pull-ups at the same time.”
“And maybe some baby cream and powder for when she needs changing,” added Emilia.
“Good thinking, Em.”
“But hold on, girls,” said Emilia, thoughtfully. “I think maybe little Pauline is old enough to go with you, don’t you?”
“Really? Can we take her?” asked Marcia, wide-eyed.
Imelda and Emilia looked at each other.
“I don’t see why not,” said Imelda.
“And actually,” said Emilia, “now she can talk, she could go to the counter herself, couldn’t she?”
“No…please…” begged Paul. But nobody took any notice.
There was great excitement as the three girls dragged Paul, protesting, out of the front door. He clung to the knocker.
“There’s no point in behaving like that,” said Imelda, severely. “It will simply get you punished, and if you refuse to go, I’ll shut you out for the rest of the day, and you can make an exhibition of yourself in the front garden.”
Paul saw there was no escape. He gave in and Imelda and Emilia went to the front gate and watched as he was led towards the shops, flanked by Tabitha and Marcia, holding his hands tightly in theirs.
It was only a short walk. But it was Saturday afternoon, and the street was busy. People stopped and laughed as they passed by. He had to run the gauntlet of a whole crowd of girls at a bus stop, chattering and laughing and shouting after him. Even the chemist’s was quite busy. The girls took their time, going through all the shelves of make-up, earrings, and accessories. They helped Paul find the pull-ups, the cream and the baby powder, and made him pick out the two largest pacifiers they could find, one pink and one yellow. They insisted he ask the smiling assistant if she had any larger ones. She was about to say no, when she realised she could drag the visit out by pretending to look “out the back”. She disappeared and almost immediately two other ladies appeared from the back room looking eagerly around, clearly intent on confirming the report they had just received. Their eyes lighted upon Paul, and they broke into delighted smiles. They were very kind, though, and led Paul back to the baby section, making all sorts of suggestions and chatting with the girls.
“Are you her babysitters?” one asked them.
“Yes. We’re looking after her all day today,” said Rosalind, seriously.
“She's so sweet,” said the assistant, “and I love her little outfit. Especially those matching knickers.”
“Oh,” said the other, examining Paul’s choker, “what’s her name?”
“Guess!” said Marcia, cheekily.
“Er, Penelope? Petronella? Pixie? No?”
“Pauline!” cried Tabitha.
“Pauline! Such a pretty, soft name.” The lady took Paul by the chin. “You’re so cute, Pauline. Did you know that? And you’re so lucky to have such nice babysitters.” And she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Does she have a bottle, by the way?”
“No! We hadn’t thought of that!” exclaimed Marcia.
The assistant picked one off the display.
“Here. This one has the biggest teat. Perfect for greedy babies!”
“Yes. Thank you! We’ll take that too.”
After a lot more banter, Marcia decided they’d better return, in case Imelda and Emilia were getting anxious. The assistants insisted they only pay for the pull-ups. Everything else was free, and they threw in some lovely ribbons, one red, one yellow, and one pink. Rosalind tied the pink one in Paul’s hair straight away, and the assistants cooed over him again.
“Come again,” they called, as Paul was led out of the shop, “and please bring Pauline with you.”
The girls promised they would.
The walk back to the house was no easier than the walk there. The girls at the bus stop had gone, thank goodness (thought Paul), but just as they arrived at the front gate, Imelda’s neighbour and her young daughter were going out. They stopped dead and stared at Paul impudently.
“Mummy, that’s a boy!” blurted the daughter.
Marcia turned to them.
“No, it’s baby Pauline. Don’t be rude!”
They quickly turned and hurried away, the daughter continually looking over her shoulder, her mother pulling her by the hand.
“Well said, Marcia,” grinned Tabitha. “Now let’s get this baby inside and show them all the great stuff we got!”
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I love it.
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What a wonderful installment. Not familiar with the ages in U.K. schools, how old are Paul and Emilia?
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where a proper sissy should be in diapers with all sorts of baby items paci and bottle included. I loved this chapter.
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In reply to your query, Plateguy, the system in the UK has changed since this story was set. Under the old system, as here, year 1 was the first year of secondary school. This old system was replaced by one in which years were counted from the beginning of primary education. This means that Paul's year 1 roughly corresponds to the present year 7. The present year 7 is for 11-12 year olds. Year 1 under the old system was for 10-11 year olds, mainly 11 year olds, which is Paul's age. You can work out the rest. Emilia and Imelda are in year 3, and both are 13. Hope this clarifies.
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Chapter 16. Nap and Nappy
Imelda opened the door.
“Girls! You’ve been a long time! Goodness! What a lot of stuff you’ve got. Come upstairs and show us.” She took Paul by the hand and the girls followed.
“The ladies in the shop were really nice,” exclaimed Marcia, as they climbed the stairs, “apart from the pull-ups we didn’t have to pay for anything!”
“Really?”
“Yes,” said Rosalind, “they thought Pauline was so cute. They asked us to bring her back again next time!”
“Well I’m sure that can be arranged,” said Imelda, “I’d really like to thank them for being so generous.”
Emilia was lounging on Imelda’s bed. She looked at the bags the girls were carrying.
“Wow, no wonder you were so long! We thought you may have lost little Pauline somewhere.”
“No, Em,” said Tabitha, “we kept a tight hold of her all the time. Though sometimes she looked as though she wanted to come running back to the house!”
“Naughty girl! All these lovely things are for your benefit, you know,” scolded Emilia.
“No, really, she was very good,” added Tabitha. “And the ladies in the chemist’s loved her outfit.”
The girls all looked at him in silence, smiling or smirking with satisfaction.
Paul stood there silent, looking at the floor. Dressed as he was, with the thick pull-up around his bottom as a constant reminder of his enforced babyhood, he found it impossible to assert himself in any way. What could he do, or say, to make anyone take him seriously? He found himself longing to get back into grown-up clothes, even girls’ ones. He saw the school uniform had been folded and placed on top of the chest of drawers, his panties laid on top. He turned away from the girls, and went over to the chest. Oh, how he hated the rustling of those plastic pants every time he moved!
“Where are you off to, miss?” asked Imelda.
“Want my panties,” murmured Paul.
“Sorry? What?”
“I want my panties!” he burst out. “I’m fed up with this nappy!”
The whole room exploded into laughter.
“Oh, she wants her panties,” repeated Imelda, with mock sympathy. “I’m sorry darling, but babies have to grow up before they can have panties. Ask us again in a few years!”
“I think baby’s getting tired and grumpy,” said Emilia. “It’ll be time for her nap soon.”
Marcia had opened one of the packets from the chemist and offered Paul a pacifier.
“Oh, good idea,” said Imelda, “that’ll calm her down and also keep her mouth shut. Pop it in, Pauline. There’s a good girl.”
“No! I’m hungry!” protested Paul. “I didn’t hardly get any of those snacks I made.”
“She’s so cross,” said Imelda. “Let’s give her her bottle, then her pacifier and a nap.”
“Yes, darling,” added Emilia, “and you can have one of my dolls to cuddle when we put you down. Would you like that?”
Paul was realising it was futile to fight them. It was five against one, and with everyone treating as a baby girl, he was beginning to feel like one. He was hungry, and thirsty, so if milk was all he was going to get he might as well have it.
“Can I have a biscuit, too?” he hazarded.
“Oh, I think so, don’t you, Em? A little food first, then your milk. But please put that pacifier in while you’re waiting. Yes? Good girl! Marcia, would you like to come downstairs with me and get baby’s snack ready? Bring the bottle.”
Downstairs Imelda and Marcia giggled together in the kitchen.
“Oh my god, Mel, he’s really starting to behave just like a baby girl!”
“He is. If you dress him as one, and treat him as one, it seems that he starts to become one.”
“It’s more fun that I’ve ever had.”
“You three are so bad. We love you all!”
“What shall we give him to eat, Mel? I’m so sorry we forgot to buy baby food at the chemist’s!”
“Oh, he must be hungry, the poor love. There’s some soft bread in the cupboard. I would say two sandwiches, maybe cream cheese in one and banana in the other? I’m going to warm his milk, and add a spoonful of honey to make it sweet.”
Marcia made the sandwiches, added a biscuit, and took them up to Paul. He was hungry, and tucked into his snack with enthusiasm, sitting on Imelda’s bed. The girls watched him eating, knowing it would soon be time for his bottle.
“We’ll eat later, girls, after we put her down," said Emilia. "OK?".
They nodded. Then Imelda’s footsteps were heard on the stairs. She came in, holding the full bottle.
“Finished eating, Pauline? Milky time, then!”
She climbed onto the bed and propped herself up on the pillows.
“Come on, baby. Come and lie on me.”
Paul climbed obediently on beside her.
“Here, lie on my lap.” She made him lie across her, his head supported on her left arm, his face against her left breast.
“There. Are you comfortable?”
He nodded.
“Here we go, then.” She placed the teat gently against his lips. He seemed to resist for a moment, so she squeezed the bottle until a few drop of milk oozed out, and moved the teat back and forth across his mouth until he got the taste of the sweet milk. Then, as everyone watched, he opened his lips and allowed it to slide in. Soon he was drawing the warm fluid into his mouth, and swallowing greedily, his cheeks working as he pulled on the teat. Both the older girls, amongst their other emotions, felt the stirrings of motherly affection as they watched him feed, his eyes closing and opening slowly with drowsiness. He had finished two-thirds of the bottle when he tried to push the teat out of his mouth, but Imelda was having none of it.
“No, Pauline. You finish it all up, understand. You need to grow big and strong. Em, would you like to take over?”
Emilia took her place for a minute, then offered the bottle to Marcia. It took Paul as long to drink that last third as it had taken him for the first two-thirds, but it gave all the girls a chance to have a go. The whole process was conducted in almost total silence, broken only by murmurs of encouragement from whoever was being mother at the time. Eventually, the big bottle was empty, and Paul, no doubt exhausted by his ordeal at the chemist’s, was falling asleep. Emilia offered him one of her old rag dolls, a girl with a mop of yellow hair, big round eyes, and a smiley mouth. Paul took it and cuddled it to him. Marcia placed his pacifier against his lips, and he accepted it at once.
“Oh, that’s so sweet!” whispered Rosalind.
“Let’s put her in the other bedroom,” said Imelda. She picked him up gently in her arms and carried him in, followed by the others, laying him on the bed and drawing the duvet over him.
“There. Nicely sleeping.”
Paul was indeed sleeping, breathing deeply.
“Such a pity we don’t have a cot to put her to sleep in,” said Emilia.
“Yes, I know. We’d need a big one. I’ll have a think about that.”
“We’d need one she couldn’t climb out of. Babies need to stay put. As soon as she wakes up she’s going to be off that bed and back with the grown-ups.”
“I’ve thought of that, girls. See?” Imelda quietly opened the drawer in the bedside cabinet and produced a short length of fine silver chain.
“What you going to do with that?” asked Rosalind.
“You’ll see.”
Paul was lying with his head on one side. Imelda produced a tiny key, and opened the padlock on his choker. She slipped the first link of the chain onto the hasp, and snapped it shut again. Then she picked another padlock out of the drawer, and used it to secure the other end of the chain to one of the rails in the head of the bed.
“There. Now she has to stay there till we release her. She’ll be quite safe.”
“Clever!” said Tabitha. “Now she can’t wander off somewhere and hurt herself.”
The girls returned to Imelda’s bedroom.
“So what else have you got in that parcel, Mel?” asked Emilia with undisguised curiosity.
“Aha. A little something for when baby grows up and starts looking for work.”
“Work? What sort of work?”
“Marcia? Maybe you’d like to open it us for us.”
“Yes, please!” cried Marcia, grabbing the second package and starting to rip off the paper. Underneath the brown paper was a layer of tissue, and when Marcia removed that she found something pink shiny and satiny. She held it up. It was a little short dress with puff sleeves and a button-up collar, all trimmed in white lace.
“Oh. A pretty dress,” she said, in a rather disappointed voice.
“Look at the rest.”
Marcia delved deeper, pulling out one thing after another. Suddenly she cried,
“I know! It’s a maid’s dress!”
“Correct! I thought you might like the idea of Pauline being our little maid. She could wait on us at suppertime, if she wakes up.”
The girls didn’t respond immediately. They were too busy going through the rest of the costume. “White gloves. White stockings. Ooh, a frilly choker and a maid’s headdress!” smiled Tabitha.
“A little short petticoat to make his skirt bounce! And a white garter!” laughed Marcia.
“And a cute little apron,” added Rosalind.
“But what’s this?” Marcia held up something shiny and white and ridiculously frilly.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Imelda. “As she will only really be a trainee maid, I thought she might still need to wear her pull-up. So instead of plastic pants and fabric knickers over the top, I thought it might be simpler for her to wear one pair of latex ones. They’re very lightweight, and all those rows of latex frilling will be visible every time her little skirt bounces up. They’ll look cute, and I’m sure they’ll be a talking point when we have visitors.”
“Great idea, Mel!” laughed Emilia. “Only you could have thought of that.”
“Will we have visitors?” asked Marcia, intrigued.
“I don’t see why not. Do you, Em?”
“No. My aunt Catherine would love to come. I bet Autumn and Penelope would, too.”
“Wow, that would be so cool,” said Tabitha. “I’d just love to see their reactions.”
They had been sitting there talking and looking at the maid’s costume for half an hour or more, when they were interrupted by a plaintive cry from the other room.
“Uh oh. She’s awake,” said Rosalind. “Funny how babies always cry when they wake up.”
“It’s cos they find themselves alone, Rosy,” said Tabitha. “They want attention, that’s all.”
“OK. Let’s go give her some,” said Imelda.
They trooped into the other bedroom. Paul was awake, all right. His doll was on the floor, he had spat out his pacifier, and he was struggling to sit up.
“I’m chained to the bed,” he complained. “I can’t even sit up. Undo me!”
“I’m sorry, Pauline,” said Imelda, “it's still grown-up time. You’ll have to stay where you are for now.”
“But I need to go to the toilet!”
“Well why do you think you’re wearing a pull-up, silly girl. We don’t expect you to know how to use the toilet yet. Now please settle down. Here, you dropped your dolly.”
“Don’t want my dolly!” Paul shouted, throwing it across the room. “Let me go. Right now!”
“Dear, dear. Such tantrums! Baby must learn to be patient. It’s still your nap time. You can get up at five.” She looked at her watch. “That’s half an hour. We are going to prepare some supper.”
Paul’s face expressed extreme panic. He decided to change tack.
“No…no, that’ll be too late! Please… I’ll come and help.”
“Sorry Pauline. Rules are rules. Come, girls, let’s go downstairs.
They could still hear him protesting from the downstairs hallway, but once they shut the kitchen door the only sound was the squeaking of the bed as he struggled desperately to get free. It was about ten to five when that noise suddenly stopped. They looked at each other and burst into suppressed laughter.
“I think she’s capitulated,” grinned Emilia. “Better get the changing mat out!”
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Hi Sandra, thanks so much for the clarification on the ages. This is a delightful story and can’t wait to see what other adventures Paul has in his baby attire.
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Good story love it. I hope they can find a cot for the sissy baby. Why not also invite the lady from the chemist over as well? Add more humiliation
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Chapter17. Good Neighbours
Preparations for supper were temporarily abandoned. Changing baby seemed a much more urgent, not to say interesting, occupation. Everyone rushed upstairs to confirm their suspicions. They stood at the end of the bed while Imelda went to investigate. Paul had one arm across his face, and lay silently on his side. Imelda gently lifted up his smock dress.
“Leave me alone!” he complained. But it was no use.
“Don’t fuss, baby. I think you may have a wet nappy. I’m just checking.”
She looked at the others and gave a satisfied nod.
“Soaked!”
“The younger girls jumped up and down with excitement.
“Where shall we change her?” asked Tabitha. “Do you have a changing mat?”
“Unfortunately not,” replied Imelda.
“It’s a lovely evening, Mel. Let’s take her into the garden and do it on the grass,” suggested Emilia.
“Yes!” cried Marcia.
“Good idea, Em,” said Imelda, unlocking the chain from the bed rail, and taking off Paul’s shoes, which he was still wearing, “come on, little one. We’re going to get you all cleaned up. Marcia, could you bring all the changing stuff from my room, please? Tabby? Maybe you’d like to take charge of him?”
Tabby willingly took hold of Paul’s chain, and led him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He seemed completely subdued, and at first offered no resistance. But as they emerged into the back garden, he tried to pull back
“Don’t want to go outside!” he whined.
Imelda settled the matter by giving him a little smack on the back of his leg, and he shot forward. He still pulled against his chain, however.
“I have an idea,” said Imelda, “bring her over here.”
In the middle of the lawn there was a clothes dryer on a big steel pole. Imelda took the chain from Tabitha, pulled him down onto the grass, and fastened it around the base of the pole.
“There. Now she won’t be able to get away. Now, how shall be do this? Who has experience with changing babies?”
“I used to watch my aunt when she was changing Autumn,” said Emilia, though I was very young. Let me see…”
She went to slide down Paul’s pull-up, but he responded by gripping the dryer pole and delivering a whirlwind of kicks.
“Ouch!” cried Emilia, holding her arm, “her little feet are hard! That hurt!”
They were considering their next move, when they heard a voice from the other side of the fence.
“Mummy! Come here! They’re trying to change the baby!”
Imelda stood up.
“Rosie? Is that you?”
She went over to the fence and looked over the row of shrubs on the other side.
“Hello, darling? How are you? I haven’t seen you for a while.”
“Hi Mel. I’m fine. We saw that…that baby earlier on. He…she’s very big.”
“She’s big physically, Rosie. But she’s really very little in other ways. She had a lot of milk earlier, and now it’s all come out.”
Rosie’s mother emerged from the house.
“Hi Mel. I see you and your friends are doing a bit of baby-sitting. Pauline, I think one of them said. What’s going on, then?”
“Yes, Mrs Spicer. Pauline, that’s right. She’s really just a little girl, though sometimes she doesn’t realise it, if you know what I mean. So we thought we’d start her off at the baby stage, so she can grow up naturally. Only now she’s soaked her nappy and won’t allow us to touch her. She’s a bit naughty, to be honest.”
“Oh, babies aren't really naughty, Mel. They just don’t always know what’s good for them. Do you need some help? I’m quite used to it. My sister has a little girl and I often change her.”
“Would you? That's so nice of you!”
“Do you have everything you need? Cream, powder, and so on?”
“Yes. It’s all here.”
“Do you have a mat?”
“Well, no, we don’t.”
“Wipes?”
“Er, no, I don’t think so.”
“Never mind. I have wipes, and an old changing mat. I’ll bring them round. Give me a minute.”
“Can I come too?” pleaded Rosie.
“Of course, darling. You should watch. One day I’m sure you’ll have to do the same.”
Imelda returned to her friends.
“Mrs Spicer is coming to help. Isn’t that nice of her?”
“No-o!” wailed Paul, “don’t want her to change me! I’ll be good, now!”
“Too late, I’m afraid, darling,” said Imelda. “Mrs Spicer will sort you out, wait and see.”
Two minutes later Imelda was ushering Mrs Spicer and her daughter through the house. The other girls looked at her expectantly as she came into the garden and approached the struggling Paul. She held Rosie by the hand, and had a blue and yellow plastic mat under the other arm.
“Now then, let’s see. Mel, you can take that chain off, for a start.”
Imelda did as she was bid. Paul tried to get up, but Mrs Spicer pushed him firmly back down.
“Now, Pauline, you’re going to behave yourself while I change you, or you’ll get a smack bottom right here in front of your friends. Paul subsided, staring at her with alarm. Mrs Spicer put down the changing mat.
“Lie here, please Pauline.”
Obediently, for he saw no other way, Paul lay face-down on the mat.
“Well, I didn’t mean like that, but it doesn’t make any difference,” said Mrs Spicer.
She produced a pair of thin rubber gloves, and pulled them on. “In the interests of hygiene, you should always wear gloves,” she explained. Then, without further ceremony, she lifted up his dress, took hold of his pull-up in both hands, and slid it off! Poor Paul pressed himself down on the mat, and tried to hide his bare bottom with his hands. A gentle smack on his left buttock swiftly changed his mind.
“Keep your hands out of the way, darling. I need to clean you up.”
Mrs Spicer deftly wiped Paul’s bottom. Then, without the slightest hesitation, she turned him over and did the same to his front. Paul was so shocked he reacted only by shutting both eyes tight. There was a murmur of approval from the onlookers. She pushed his legs apart and completed the process with thoroughness. Next came the cream, which she applied with equal efficiency to his front and then, rolling him over again, to his bottom. A little baby powder completed the process, and soon Paul was nice and clean and sporting a fresh pull-up. Mrs Spicer smoothed down his smock dress, and looked around at her audience.
“There! Not rocket science. Do you think you’ll be able to deal with it next time?” Everyone nodded vigorously. Marcia’s eyes were sparkling.
“I bags I do it next time!” she cried.
“Then me!” “Then me!” from her friends.
“Mrs Spicer, thank you so much for doing that! Would you and Rosie like to stay for supper? We were just getting it ready. I think we have enough food for everyone.”
“Do you have food for baby?”
“Not really. We forgot to get that.”
“Then I’ve a better idea. Why don’t you all come round to ours? Bring what food you've got, I'll make a salad and cook a couple of pizzas, and we can have a picnic on the lawn."
“We’d love to, thank you!” said Imelda.
Within half an hour all the girls were seated around a tablecloth spread on Mrs Spicer’s lawn, tucking into their supper, laughing and chattering. Mrs Spicer had brought out the highchair used for her sister’s baby. It had a removable tray, so there was no problem putting Paul in it. They placed him at one end of the cloth, so he could see everyone, and everyone could see him. He had quite a variety of thigs to eat, from jars, pouches and little trays, from pureed vegetables to banana crumble and custard. He had refused to feed himself, and Rosie was so desperate to play mother, that she had been allowed to supervise his meal, and she now stood by the high chair enthusiastically spooning different varieties of mush into his mouth.
“I’m full,” he spluttered, “don’t want any more!”
“Silly baby. You need to finish up all your supper so’s you’ll grow big and strong!” said Rosie, firmly, trying to force another spoonful of pureed fruit into his mouth, but only succeeding in putting half of it up his nose. In a tantrum, Paul grabbed the spoon from her hand and hurled it across the room.
“Mummy! Baby’s being naughty!” she wailed.
“Oh dear, no. I’m afraid we don’t allow that sort of behaviour,” said Mrs Spicer. “Just a minute, Rosie. We need to restrain him a little.”
She left the room and returned with a roll of white fabric tape. She cut off two short lengths and used them to tie Paul’s wrists firmly to the arms of his high chair. Now he couldn’t interfere with the feeding process any more, and Rosie was able to continue unimpeded, ignoring Paul's protests.
After supper, Imelda looked at her watch.
“It’s getting late. We should get home before my parents come back. We’re going to need to change our little girl into something more conventional.”
“Don’t they know they have a baby girl over to visit?” asked Mrs Spicer.
“No! All I said was that I wanted to have a few friends round for a sleepover.”
“Well, can I make a suggestion? Why don’t you leave her with us overnight? Personally, I love looking after babies, and it’s obvious Rosie does too.”
“Really? That’s so kind of you.”
“No!” shouted Paul, but he was ignored.
“Yes!” cried Rosie, jumping with delight, “and this time I’ll get to change him!”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“It’ll be a pleasure, Mel. You can collect her in the morning.”
So it was agreed, and, after kissing a tearful baby Pauline good bye, the girls trooped back to Imelda’s house to make plans for the next day. About nine Imelda’s parents returned.
“Hello girls,” said her mother, “there’s quite a crowd of you, I see. Did you find enough things to eat in the kitchen?”
“Well actually, mum, we had supper at Mrs Spicer’s. She invited us all round.”
“Oh, how kind of her! Was her sister there? We heard the baby crying as we came past.”
The girls looked at each other, suppressing smiles.
“Oh, no, mum. I think she’s got the baby all to herself tonight!”
-
looks like sissy going to have a wonderful baby night lol
-
Chapter18. New Friends.
The girls never did find out exactly what happened to Paul at Mrs Spicer’s. When they went round to collect him about nine, they found him in his high chair in the kitchen eating breakfast – with Rosie’s help – and still wearing his night attire of a short, stretchy pink nightie with a bunny on the front, with his nappy and pants, of course.
“It’s one of Rosie’s,” explained Mrs Spicer. “It’s a little small for Pauline, but it’s all we had.”
“Did she give you much trouble?” asked Imelda.
“No, not at all,” smiled Mrs Spicer, warmly. “We changed her before bed, read her a bedtime story, then all she wanted was a cuddle.”
“Only mum said she heard a baby crying when she came in, that’s all.”
“Oh, yes. That was before I found her a pacifier. But once she had that in her mouth, she was quite happy. After her cuddle she fell asleep almost at once.”
“Well, we’re sorry, Mrs Spicer, but we’ve got to deprive you of her now.”
“Of course. Perhaps she could come and visit again? Rosie would be happy if she could.”
“Yes,” piped up Rosie, thrusting another spoonful of gloop into Paul’s mouth, “I like looking after baby Pauline. She’s so cute and now she does everything I tell her to!”
“How sweet! Of course she’ll be back. But today we still have some time before she has to go home, so we’re going to take her to the park.”
“No-o,” wailed Paul, “don’t want to go to the park!”
“Don’t fret, Pauline,” said Emilia, soothingly. “We had a little discussion, and we’ve decided that you’ve been such a good little baby girl that, as a reward, you’re going to be allowed to do what you were begging for, and go back into your panties.”
“Really, Em?” asked Paul, immediately brightening up.
“Yes. Mel’s found you a nice simple outfit she was given once – just a skirt and top – and you’ll be able to play with the others like a grown-up little girl. What do you think?”
“Th-thank you, Em,” said Paul with relief, “I’d really like that!”
The girls had indeed had a discussion, and had decided that the babification, though fun in itself, and by no means off the menu of delights, was also a very good way of persuading Paul that being allowed his big girl clothes was what he longed for more than anything else. They had also agreed to reserve his maid’s outfit for a short while. Emilia had remembered that it would be her aunt Catherine’s birthday in a couple of weeks. She knew she would be invited, and any friends were always welcome, and she was sure Catherine was the one person that would really appreciate being waited on by Paul dressed as a maid. For today, Imelda had brought over a little ensemble an aunt had given her when she was younger, and which she had refused ever to wear, on the grounds it would make her a laughing-stock. But for Paul it seemed the ideal thing. It consisted of two parts, both is pink cotton jersey: a little crop top, with a fatuous legend scrawled across it, and a matching skirt. She also brought Paul’s trainers, which, being white and red, wouldn’t look out of place with his new outfit, and a pair of short pink socks. He was released from his highchair and Emilia led him into the living-room to change. The happiness on his face when he was presented with his unicorn panties once more was a joy to behold. He slipped into the top, and stepped into the skirt, which had an elasticated waist, and, if worn on his hips came about half way up his thighs. Then on went the socks and trainers, and his earrings. Standing there in his new outfit, with his nail polish and his pink choker on, his tummy peeping out under his top, and a big smile on his face, it was difficult for Emilia to contain her maternal feelings, and she could not resist putting her arms around him and giving him a big hug.
“There, Pauline. You look so pretty. Are you ready to go to the park?”
“Yes, Em. Thank you so much,” he said warmly.
“Do you like your pretty new outfit, then? It’s quite simple.”
“Yes. It’s comfortable and it feels nice to be back in ordinary girls’ clothes again.”
Even Emilia was a little taken aback by his compliance. Perhaps she had underestimated the extent of his intrinsic leaning towards girlhood. But she was by no means displeased. He seemed well on the path to transition, while for her and the girls there were still so many ways to have fun with their little toy. Looking at him, Emilia had a sudden thought.
“Come here, Paul. Let me fix your hair.” Obediently, he came and stood in front of her. He loved it when Emilia messed with him. He loved the feeling of her fingers on him, and the thought that she wanted to make him as beautiful as possible. His hair was quite long now, and Emilia had recognised the possibilities. She fetched her bag and rummaged in it for a comb. She made a central parting, and combed his hair out straight on either side. Then she collected each side and fastened it with a bunch. Using the ribbons given to him at the chemist’s, she tied one around each bunch, as tightly as she could, in a bow. She stood back to admire her work.
“You look so cute, Pauline.” And, she thought, you really could pass for a girl now.
Paul could only blush in return, and look at his feet.
“Come on, then. Mel’s packed a picnic, and it’s supposed to be sunny all day.”
“Which park are we going to Em?” he asked, anxiously. He hoped they weren’t planning on going to Brookhurst, which wasn’t far from their school.
“Don’t worry. We’re taking the bus to Longbourne.”
Paul was relieved. That was on the opposite side of town. It was also a nicer park, surrounded by woods, and along with the usual swings and spinners and a seesaw, there was a giant timber and log climbing and activity frame, like a castle. He willingly followed her back to the kitchen where the others were waiting. He looked so natural and happy in his new persona that everyone stared for a moment in silence. Then Tabitha went over and took his hand.
“Come on, Pauline, let’s go. Say goodbye to Rosie and Mrs Spicer.”
Paul willingly kissed both of them goodbye, and, holding hands with Tabitha and Rosalind, headed for the front door. Soon they were all out on the street.
They climbed into the bus, and Paul and the three younger girls made a beeline for the back seat. Paul ended up between Tabitha and Rosalind, who seemed delighted at the addition to their gang – the “Gang of Four”, as Imelda called them. For them there was a powerful fascination about their new friend, a tension between their sense of the power they had over him, and the unconscious apprehension of the power he had over them. It was true. Paul as a girl was as pretty as any of them, and his three new friends all had a crushes on him, to a greater or lesser extent – a greater extent in Tabitha’s case. Under the guise of fooling around, they fought with each other to cuddle him and get up close. They all wore several woven friendship bracelets, and to seal his new status they each removed one and gave them to Paul to wear.
“You’re one of us now, Pauline,” smiled Marcia, archly.
“And you’re my best friend, now, aren’t you?” asked Tabitha, sliding her arm around him.
“Hey, Tabby!” frowned Marcia. “Pauline is all of us’s best friends, right? She doesn’t just belong to you, you know!”
Sitting just in front of the four, Imelda looked sideways at Emilia and winked.
“He’s getting a lot of attention in his new outfit, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. And he doesn’t seem too upset about it, either! What a brilliant girl he makes!”
“He’s wasted as a boring boy.”
“Yeah.”
“What you doing tomorrow, Em?”
“Nothing really. Got some homework but it’ll wait till evening.”
“Fancy coming to the beach? I could ask my mum to drive us. We’d be there in an hour.”
“Well, the weather’s fine. It’ll be busy, though – bank holiday.”
“All the better. I want to see him in a swimsuit.”
“What?”
“I do. I’ve got one’ll fit him perfectly. You up for it?”
What, with the girls?”
“If they’re free. Why not?”
“Will we all get into your mum’s car?”
“It’s a people carrier. No problem.”
“It’s tempting. I’d have to ask his mum. She hasn’t seen much of him this weekend.”
“Ring her, then.”
“OK. I’ll do it now.” She pulled out her phone and dialled Mrs Adams’ number.
“Anne-Marie? Hi, it’s Emilia. I’m well. How are you? Good, great. He’s fine. That’s why I’m ringing. We’re just on our way to the park. Paul’s wearing a pink girl’s top and a pink skirt. A pink skirt! That’s right! He’s with three of his little girlfriends. He’s as happy as anything! Yes! I know, it’s great! I’ll bring him back at supper time, but I was wondering… Well, Imelda suggested we go to the beach tomorrow. She said she could ask her mum to drive us. I wondered if …. you know, if Paul could …. Really? Thank you so much! We’ve made such progress! You’ll be amazed when you see him. I’m hoping he’ll consent to keeping his girl clothes on for you to see. Yes, I know. Exactly. No, quite. Yes, you’re right. No fuss. Play it cool. He’ll appreciate that, I know. OK, thanks so much. My pleasure. See you later! Bye!”
“Well?”
“She’s fine with it. Now try your mum.”
Imelda’s mum hadn’t planned to drive a wagonload of kids to the beach the next day, because she had some shopping to do, but she agreed because she usually agreed to anything Imelda asked her. She said she still needed to do the shopping, however, so that Imelda and Emilia would have to look after the others while she went off to the shops, and she made Imelda promise they would all stay on the beach or in the shallows during that time. Imelda turned around and addressed the giggling rabble in the back seat.
“Hey, you guys. Fancy a trip to the beach tomorrow? Pauline? Your mum’s already said she’s OK with it.”
“Yeah!” they chorused. And the girls immediately started phoning their parents to get permission. Naturally there were provisos, and the matter was only settled after multiple phone calls to Imelda’s mother. But in the end it transpired the whole band of them was allowed, and the excitement level was ratcheted up another notch.
The bus stop was next to the park gate, and the kids cascaded out of the bus, fought with each other to be first through the gate, and ran for the playground. Paul could see some other boys of roughly his own age on the logs, and was a bit apprehensive until he got close enough to satisfy himself he didn’t recognise any of them. He could relax and have fun. Soon all four of them were clambering about on the castle, while Emilia and Imelda, having dumped the picnic bags, sat on the kids’ swings, pushing themselves gently back and forth, and watching their acolytes playing.
“Look at them, Mel. It’s lovely to see them just having fun, isn’t it?”
“I agree. I think school’s too much at that age. It’s already so demanding. When they get out here, they can be children again, instead of little trainee citizens!”
“That's right. And it’s hard in year one. Do you remember what it was like for us? I think it must feel something like the first few months in prison for a first offender! It’s only when you get used to it you can get things in proportion.”
“Look, Em. They’re playing with those other kids now. They’re so uninhibited. Like a bunch of little monkeys!”
And indeed, the three boys who had already been on the castle had now joined in their game, which seemed to be a sort of chasing game with more than one quarry. During this game, Paul was chased down by two of the boys, one dark and one fair. It was then his turn to chase the others, and he eventually caught the fair one who had just caught him. He seemed to Paul less bent on escape than the others, and when he was the hunter, to give Paul the greater share of his attention. After they had been playing for some time, and they were all out of breath, they climbed down and collapsed on the grass. Emilia and Imelda brought over some drinks, which they shared.
“We were going to have a picnic in a while,” said Imelda to the three boys. “You’d be welcome to join us if you like.”
The offer being gratefully accepted, and the drinks consumed, the children returned to their games. Emilia and Imelda sat on the grass and watched them.
“That blond boy,” remarked Imelda, “he seems very keen on Paul. At least, he’s always trying to get close to him. Look, see? He’s grabbing him again!”
“I think it’s love,” returned Emilia. “How sweet!” And they both fell about laughing.
It was time to eat, and the boy, whose name was Christopher, somehow managed to oust Tabitha from her intended place at Paul’s side. She glared at him but he seemed not to notice. And for the rest of the day it was as if he was attached to Paul with a long piece of elastic. When it was time for the girls to leave, they said their goodbyes to their three new friends, with promises to come again some time, and headed off across the park towards the gate. They had gone perhaps a hundred yards, when Paul heard Christopher calling after him, and a moment later he came up to the group, breathless and flushed.
“Pauline!” he gasped, “can I ask you something?”
Everyone stopped for a moment, but then Emilia called,
“Come on everyone, let’s go. Pauline will catch us up.”
So they left Pauline with her new friend, Tabitha casting frequent angry glances behind, and carried on towards the gate.
“Yes, Christopher?”
“Would you like to swap phone numbers? I mean, it would be nice to, er, keep in touch. You know, if you came this way again…” His voice trailed off. He was no longer out of breath, but his cheeks were still red. Paul hesitated a moment, but then thought it would be churlish to refuse. And he didn’t dislike his new friend.
“Sure,” said Paul. “Why not?”
“It was really nice…to meet you,” persisted Christopher, “er, would it be all right if I called you sometime?”
“Look, Christopher…”
“No, I understand you probably don’t want to….”
“No, it’s not that…” He hesitated again. “Sure - call me if you want. It was nice to meet you.”
“Thanks! Thanks so much!” blurted Christopher, his face lighting up, “See you, Pauline!” And without another word he turned and ran back to where his friends were waiting. Paul caught up with the others. Smirks all round, except from Tabitha, who frowned at him darkly, but said nothing.
“Ooh, Pauline’s got a boyfriend,” grinned Marcia. “What did he want, cutie babe?”
“Nothing. He’s OK.”
“He looked like he wouldn’t have minded a kiss!” said Rosalind.
“Yeah. And he looked like an idiot!” muttered Tabitha, under her breath.
“OK, girls,” interrupted Emilia, “no more bitchiness, please. I’m sure Pauline is quite capable of looking after herself.”
“You sure of that?” whispered Imelda in her ear.
-
Chapter 19. On the Beach.
They were nearly back at the car when Imelda discovered she’d left her scarf behind.
“I took it off when we were on the swings and I think I left it on the ground. I’ll just run back. Won’t be a moment. The next bus isn’t due for ten minutes, anyway.”
She dashed off and was back five minutes later.
“Got it?” asked Emilia.
“Yes. Just where I thought,” she grinned, giving Emilia a wink. “OK, I think that’s our bus.”
Emilia walked Paul home that evening. She had persuaded him to stay in his girl clothes, and pack his boy clothes into his rucksack. He was torn between fear of how his mother was going to react, and a reluctance to relinquish the outfit, which, though he was aware was a little juvenile, he felt so comfortable in. Emilia had insisted, however, gently pointing out that he couldn’t deny his impulses for ever – that sometime he would have to acknowledge his feminine side, and that, out of respect for his mother, he should not delay the revelation any longer.
“But she’s either going to have a complete fit, or start drooling over me again,” he complained.
“Maybe not, Paul. She may be more prudent than you expect. However she reacts, the fact is that she has to know, and you can’t delay much longer. How would you feel if she found out from the mother of one of your schoolfriends?”
“Yeah. You’re right, I suppose.”
They had arrived at Paul’s door. He steeled himself, pushed his key into the lock, and turned it. In a moment they were in the hallway. He could hear his mother in the kitchen, chopping something up.
“Come on, darling,” whispered Emilia, ushering him towards the kitchen door.
“Hi Anne-Marie,” smiled Emilia, “I’ve brought your son back. He’s had a very busy weekend.”
“Emilia! Lovely to see you! Paul! Have you had a good time? Em told me you’ve made lots of new friends recently.”
Paul, who had been studying the kitchen floor, looked up at her suspiciously. His mother simply stood there, smiling, waiting for him to speak. He felt his courage returning.
“Y-yes, mum, I have. It’s been really fun. I-I’m sorry about the clothes…. We were playing dressing-up. I’ve got all my other stuff in my bag.”
“Of course. That’s fine. You can wear what you like, when you like, as far as I’m concerned. I love the choker and the earrings, by the way. I’m making a pie for supper. It’ll be ready in about an hour. Would you like to eat with us, Em?”
“Thanks. That’d be great. Actually, I’m starving, and Paul must be ravenous after all the exercise he’s had today.”
“Wonderful. Why don’t you two relax in the living-room and watch TV or something. I’ll join you once I’ve got the vegetables on.”
Paul and Emilia sat together on the sofa.
“Wow,” said Paul, “that’s not what I was expecting.”
“See? I told you. She took it all in her stride. And she meant what she said – you can dress as you please as far as she’s concerned.”
“I’m amazed. She didn’t even call me Paulie!”
“She’s not stupid. She knows things can be difficult at your age. I’ll tell you something else. I told her about the nail polish problem.”
“You did?” said Paul, wide-eyed.
“Yes. And she’s going to speak to the head teacher tomorrow to see what can be done. So don’t worry!” She tousled his hair reassuringly, making one of his bunches fall off.
“I’ll take off your choker for the night,” she added, “you shouldn’t wear it in bed. But don’t worry, I’ll bring it back in the morning.”
“Hey…” he began, then laughed at his own vanity. “I really am enjoying being a girl, Em. Isn’t that silly?”
“No, course not. But it’s not going to be easy. You’ll have a lot of idiots to contend with, if you pursue this course. You’ll have friends, too, that you’ll need to rely on. But don’t be under any illusions. However, you’ll be fine in your pink outfit tomorrow. It’s perfect casual wear for the beach.”
“OK. But I’ll pack my swimming trunks too.”
“Yes. And a towel. That’s pretty much all you’ll need.”
After supper, Emilia got ready to leave.
“Thanks for the lovely food, Anne-Marie. We’ll pick Paul up about nine, if that’s OK?”
“That’s fine, Emilia. And your very welcome. I’ll wash and dry his clothes overnight.”
“So I’ll see you in the morning,” she smiled at Paul.
“Sure. Thanks, Em.”
“Sleep well!” She gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Bye, Em,” said Mrs Adams, “thanks for looking after Paul. And everything.”
As Emilia walked home, a text came in from Imelda. “Call me after you’ve dropped Paul”, followed by a winking imoji. She called her at once.
“Mel? You wanted me?”
“Yes, darling. I just wanted to let you in on a little secret. I don’t know if you got it, but I hadn’t left my scarf. I went back just in time to catch those boys, and I’ve invited Christopher to join us tomorrow. I said Pauline would be really happy if he came. I thought it would be a nice surprise for Paul – for Pauline.”
“You little matchmaker! I wondered if you were up to mischief. Tabby won’t be happy, you know that, don’t you?”
“Well, she’ll have to learn to share.”
“What did Christopher say when you asked him?”
“He was looking quite miserable when I went back. But when I suggested he join us, he was all smiles. I’ve never seen such a sudden change from total misery to total joy!”
“He’s got it bad, Mel. What’s he going to say when he finds out?”
“That’s what’s so fascinating. Tomorrow may be the day. Anyway, I’ve got his address, and I’ve spoken to his mum. She’ll have him ready nice and early, and she’ll have a word with my mum when we arrive. He’ll be last, anyway. His house is on the way.”
The car arrived at the Adams’ residence at eight-thirty; but Paul was dressed, his rucksack was packed, and he was ready to go. He’d left his bunches behind, and his hair had reverted to its usual untidy state. Imelda’s mother had of course been informed that she was collecting a girl called Pauline. She stayed in the car while Emilia went to collect him, but Mrs Adams came out to greet her.
“Hi. I’m Anne-Marie, Paulie’s mother. Thank you so much for doing this. He’s been so excited.”
“Oh, no trouble. I’m Louise Vincent. Nice to meet you.” She looked slightly puzzled as what appeared to her to be the anticipated rather pretty little girl climbed into the back. “Er, it’s lovely to have…Pauline along.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Pauline,” replied Mrs Adams, flustered. “I hope she behaves behaves him…herself today,” she added trying to recover her error but making a hash of it again.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure… she’ll be fine…” said Mrs Vincent, giving Anne-Marie a strange look. “Well, we’ll see you later, then. You’ve got my number if you need it.”
On the way to collect the girls, Mrs Vincent kept checking Paul out in her rear-view mirror.
“Watch where you’re going, mum,” said Imelda, anxiously.
“Sorry, dear. Pauline, it’s lovely to have you along. That’s a cute outfit.”
“Thanks, Mrs Vincent. And thanks for taking us. I haven’t been to the beach for ages.”
“Well, it’s been a long winter.”
The next stop was Marcia’s. Emilia had fastened Paul’s choker back on again, and he looked every inch the tomboy. The other two had made their way there earlier. Emilia got out to go to the door, and Paul jumped out after her. Louise Vincent and her daughter had a moment alone together.
“That Pauline. Is she…?”
“Yes, mum, Pauline’s a boy. But I don’t think he wants to be a boy. We’re trying to help him…adjust.”
“I see. He’s very pretty. He makes a lovely girl.”
“Yes. Just remember not to call him ‘he’, if you see what I mean.”
“Of course. Sorry, darling.”
“No probs, mum. Shh. Here they come.”
Everyone piled into the car, Tabitha managing to grab a place next to Paul. Mrs Vincent made sure everyone was strapped in, and headed off towards the next stop, guided by Imelda.
“I think we missed the road, Mel,” said Paul, “this takes us to the other side of town.”
“Yes, I know. A short detour. You’ll see.”
After ten minutes or so, they stopped in a road none of them recognised. Imelda and her mother got out and went up the front path of one of the houses. The door opened, and a moment later Christopher emerged, a rucksack over one shoulder. Mrs Vincent could be seen chatting to his mother, after which he followed them back to the car.
“Christopher!” exclaimed Paul.
“What?” cried Tabitha.
“It’s that boy from the park,” laughed Marcia. “You know, Pauline’s boyfriend!”
“He’s not my boyfriend!” responded Paul, frowning. “He’s just a boy.”
“He’s an idiot!” spat Tabitha.
“I’m glad he’s coming, anyway,” replied Paul, defensively. “He’s good fun. Don’t be horrible to him.”
“No, Pauline’s right, Tabby. Behave yourself, please,” Emilia admonished her.
Christopher squeezed in, eyes dancing with excitement.
“Hi, Pauline. Thanks for inviting me!”
“She didn’t,” said Tabby, spitefully, “it was Imelda. So don’t get any ideas.”
Christopher’s face fell. He looked bemused.
“Tabby? Would you like us to take you home again? No? Well be quiet, please,” said Imelda. “It was my idea, Christopher, that’s true, but I knew it would make Pauline happy to have you along. You played together so nicely at the park. Take no notice of Tabby.”
“No,” said Rosalind, jumping at the opportunity to be bitchy when she knew she had the older girls on her side, “take no notice of old grumpyface over there. We are happy you’re coming, aren't we, Marcia?”
“Shut up, droopy drawers,” returned Tabitha, “you’re just happy cos you can’t resist showing off when there’s a boy around!”
“Now, now, girls! No more, please. Or I’ll turn around and we’ll go home right now. Understand?”
Mrs Vincent sounded like she meant business, so the passengers lapsed into silence, Tabitha frowning, Rosalind poking her tongue out at her, and Christopher staring at Paul. Paul grinned back. It’s not so bad, he thought, having an admirer. Even if it is another boy.
They arrived at about 10.15. The road ran along the beach for about a mile, and on the other side was a salt-marsh. Where the road turned away from the coast and headed uphill, there was a little secluded car park, hidden along a lane in the middle of some woods. Mrs Vincent found a place and parked the car. They all got out.
“I’m going to the village to do my shopping,” she said, I may get a bus or I may even walk, it’s such a nice day.”
“It’s quite a way. Mum. The village is right at the other end of the lake.”
“I know. But I’m in no hurry. And if I buy too much to carry, I can get a bus or a cab back. I’ll see you later. But please…keep a close eye on those kids.”
“Don’t worry!”
There was a gate on the west side of the car park, which led into a grassy area of tall old dunes, with picnic tables in the narrow spaces in between. While the older girls were unloading the car, the children ran into this area and careered along the paths, screaming and whooping. Tabitha had recovered from her mood, and went as wild as any of them. Then Imelda called them back, and they made their way down to the beach, which was very long, very pebbly at the top, and very sandy by the water’s edge. The waves were always quite big here, and the water as clear as glass. Everyone helped to carry the equipment, the towels, and the food, and they pitched camp a few hundred yards away from the car park, to the east. The beach stretched away as far as the eye could see to the west, and curled round a headland to the east, where the orange-coloured cliffs rose to their highest point. It was such a long beach, and there was such a small car park, that it never got very busy, even on bank holidays.
Imelda and Emilia set up a windbreak a little higher on the beach for everyone to change behind. Paul had been anxious about this moment since he had realised that Christopher must discover his true gender. He didn’t really care if Christopher did find out, but he was worried that, as a result, he may no longer want to know him. And he really liked his new friend. Emilia was alive to the situation, and while the others took it in turns to get changed, she came and sat by Paul.
“What’s the matter?”
“He’s gonna know I’m not a girl as soon as I change into my trunks. He’ll probably never speak to me again.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got spare swimsuits. He won’t guess.”
“Yeah?” He looked questioningly at Emilia.
“Yes. I was going to suggest a Speedo, but it’s so figure-hugging I think he may notice if you wear that. But I’ve got a lovely little yellow bikini. It’s sort of ruched at the edges and quite puffy. It’ll be perfect.
Paul looked doubtful, but Emilia pulled it out of her bag and handed it to him.
“Go on. Don’t you like it?”
Paul examined it carefully. It was made of a yellow satiny material, but not stretchy. The top consisted of two little triangles connected by tapes which tied at the back. The bottom was loose-fitting and elasticated at the waist and legs.
“It’s OK. Will you help me put the top on?”
“Course, darling. Come on. The changing room’s free.”
Paul was soon changed. He emerged from behind the windbreak cautiously. The others were already at the water’s edge kicking fountains of spray at each other. He immediately forgot his anxiety and dashed down to join them. For the next hour the five of them played happily, until spurred by the onset of hunger, they drifted back up to where Imelda and Emilia lay sunning themselves.
"We’re hungry,” said Paul. “Can we have something to eat?” With his hair wet and plastered to his head he looked a little less feminine, thought Emilia. She glanced at Christopher, but he showed no signs of realisation. The girls were still eating when Christopher jumped up and said to Paul,
“Pauline? Wanna come and look at those cliffs? I bet there’s a cave there somewhere.”
“Sure, Chris. Back in a bit, Em!” And he too jumped up and followed his friend.
They walked side by side by the edge of the sea, where the sand was firm and smooth. They must have gone a quarter of a mile before either of them spoke. Then Christopher, still looking straight ahead, said
“Pauline. I’m really glad I was invited today. It’s been fun.”
“Yeah. It’s a good place.”
“I mean, it’s nice here, but being with you makes it…properly fun.”
“Yeah. For me too. You can have too much of those girls…er, those other girls, you know.”
“Yeah. They’re OK, of course. But you’re special.”
Paul reddened slightly.
“I like you a lot, Pauline. Just being with you….”
“Christopher… I like you. But you don’t really know me… I can’t explain…”
“Will I be able to see you again after today? I know we don’t live very close to each other, but….”
“Sure. Of course. We’re friends. I think you’re great.”
Christopher stopped dead. Paul stopped too and looked up at him. His eyes had assumed a doe-like expression. Paul saw the danger, but he was too late to react. Before he could move, Christopher and grabbed his hand and planted a kiss right on his lips!
-
i like the fact he is getting to be a big sissy gurl there is so much more you can do with a big gurl. Save the sissy baby for punishments
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Chapter 20. The Club.
“No! Chris! You can’t…”
“I’m sorry, Pauline. I didn’t mean to… It’s just…. I like you so much!” he blurted.
“Chris. Listen. I really like you, too. We can be friends. But we can’t…”
Paul stood there, not certain what to say. He had no desire to hurt his new friend. And the last thing he wanted was to drive him away. For that same reason he felt he couldn’t tell him the truth.
He stood there, stammering.
“Look. Please don’t… I mean, it’s not that… It’s just…difficult to explain. I …”
But at that point another voice broke in. Tabitha had followed them down the beach, creeping along by the dunes. Now she came striding across the pebbles to where they stood.
“No. He can’t be your girlfriend. And I’ll tell you why, idiot. Because he’s not a girl. He’s a boy! If you can’t see that you must be blind!”
She stood, arms folded, a triumphant and malicious smile on her face. Christopher was transfixed, staring open-mouthed from one to the other. Paul looked helplessly at his toes. Eventually he spoke.
“Is that true, Pauline?”
Paul nodded, without looking up.
“Well… I don’t care! I don’t care if you are a boy! I still like you. I still want to be your friend.”
“You do?” asked Paul, looking up. “I didn’t want to tell you, cos I thought you might go away. You really still want to be my friend?”
“Of course. It’s you I…l-like. If you’re male or female it doesn’t make any difference.”
Tabitha’s expression had changed from one of triumph to one of disbelief during Christopher’s declaration. She was speechless with anger. But she never remained speechless for long.
“You still like him? You still want to be his boyfriend?
“Well, I didn’t exactly say ….”
“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought, then. And you’re gay! Well, pervert, wait till you see all our pictures of your new boyfriend. Wait till you see baby Pauline! Then tell me if you still want to be his little sweetheart!”
And with that she flounced off down the beach, her nose in the air, in a magnificent gesture of contempt marred only by her tripping over a particularly large boulder and falling flat on her face.
“What did she mean by all that?” asked Christopher, startled.
“Oh, nothing, Chris. She’s just jealous. Come on, let’s get back.”
Without knowing why, Paul took Christopher by the hand for the walk back along the beach. But they separated themselves as they approached the girls. Tabitha had reported back, much to the amusement of her friends. But Emilia and Imelda exchanged meaningful glances.
“What are you thinking, Mel?”
“I’m thinking I may have a little plan. It’s still working itself out….”
She addressed the three acolytes.
“Now you lot. Behave yourselves. No snide remarks, OK? Yes, you, madam, I’m talking to you,” she added, looking straight at Tabitha.
“Hi you two!” called Emilia. “Have a nice walk?”
“Yeah, thanks. Interesting cliffs down there!” replied Paul, casually.
They seated themselves a little apart from the others, ignoring the ill-disguised smirks. Imelda was looking thoughtful. Eventually she addressed Christopher.
“Chris. Do you want to join our little club? It hasn’t got a name, yet. But here we all are.”
Tabitha frowned, and snorted contemptuously.
“Tabby…” warned Imelda.
“Sorry.”
“I guess so….”
“Because if you want to go on seeing Pauline, it’s the only way. You don’t live very close to the rest of us, but if you’re in the club you’ll be included in all our little get-togethers.”
“In that case, yes I do. Very much.”
“Right. Well, what do you notice about our club?”
“Er, it’s very exclusive?”
“Yes, that’s right. And do you know what it excludes?”
“Idiots, for one,” muttered Tabitha under her breath.
Christopher looked puzzled.
“It excludes boys.”
“Oh.”
“So, what I’m saying is, you can join, but if you do so, it’ll be as a girl.”
All eyes were riveted on Imelda.
“As a girl?”
“Yes. As a girl. Are you prepared for that?”
Christopher stared at Paul in his bikini for a moment, then replied with determination,
“Absolutely. I’ll do what it takes.”
“Good boy! Of course, we’ll supply you with all the clothes and the training. And there will be an initiation ceremony, but we don’t need to worry about that just now. Are you free next Saturday?”
“Yes.”
“OK. We’ll arrange your official election to the club then. If you change your mind, that’s fine.”
“I won’t,” he said, looking happily at Paul.
“I hope not. You will present yourself at my house on Saturday morning at ten. I’ll give you the address. Now let’s just enjoy the day, shall we? Oh, and perhaps the rest of you could put your minds to finding a name for our new club. Have a think and we’ll discuss that on Saturday, too.”
The three younger girls, having recovered from their surprise at Imelda’s plan, immediately put their heads together and began chatting excitedly. Oddly, Tabitha no longer seemed angry.
“You know what this means?” she whispered. “We’ll have two sissies to play with! Oh, I can’t wait to get that annoying boy into frilly panties. I going to enjoy it so much. He’ll be squirming with embarrassment by the time I’ve finished with him!”
Christopher and Paul detached themselves from their companions and went down to the shallows to paddle.
“Did you do that for me?” asked Paul. “It may not be as easy as you think, you know.”
“I did it to be with you. Otherwise I might never have seen you again. In any case, girls’ clothes are quite cute. You really seem to enjoy wearing them, and now I want to try, too. Maybe I’ve always wanted to, I don’t know. Maybe unconsciously I knew you were a boy, and it was the ambiguity that first attracted me to you.” He grinned. “Only, I’m not sure about that sweet little yellow bikini!”
For which remark, Paul kicked a bucketful of seawater in his face.
-
Dear Sandra B, thank you so much for writing and continuing this story. I absolutely love it. The introduction of Chris is making me feel warm and fuzzy. I love me some sissy boy love. Would love to see some sissy sexual interaction between the 2 also :p
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Chapter 21. Special Dispensation.
While all this was going on at the beach, Paul’s mother was doing her bit as well. She was ringing Miss Williams. The two women had rather hit it off when they met for the first time, and had swapped numbers.
“Hello? Margaret? It’s Anne-Marie Adams here. Do you have a minute?”
“Anne-Marie! How nice to hear from you. Of course. What can I do for you?”
“It’s about Paul. Do you remember that conversation we had about gender identity? Well, it seems that Paul has started to lean a bit…”
“To his feminine side?"
"Yes."
"I’m not surprised, Anne-Marie, to tell the truth. I always thought he had more than his share of female hormones. And I heard through the grapevine that he’s taken up ballet.”
“Yes, that’s right. Well, anyway, we have a little problem. He has started wearing girls’ clothes at home, and painting his nails. Obviously he’s not going to come into school in a skirt, but I think he’d like to keep his nail polish on at least, just to make himself feel comfortable – I guess to hang onto a little reminder of his real self. I know the younger children aren’t allowed any makeup. I was wondering if you have any suggestions.”
“Hmm. Let me think. It would be difficult for me to make an exception. But I may have an idea. Can I call you back shortly?”
Fifteen minutes later Miss Williams was back.
“I’ve just spoken to Deirdre O’Connor, our drama teacher. Do you know we’re putting on a modern version of Romeo and Juliet at the end of term? Well we are. And Deirdre’s auditioning for actors this week. Now, in the best traditions of Shakespearian theatre, we’re quite happy – indeed quite eager – that Juliet should be played by a boy. If Paul would like to put himself forward for the part, I could announce in morning assembly tomorrow that, in support of the auditions, for the coming week all boys auditioning were allowed to wear female dress and make-up. What do you think?”
“That’s a very ingenious solution. Perhaps he would like to wear a skirt after all!”
“Well now he can, if he wishes. I’ll post the announcement on the school website today. I’ll be interested to see which students take up the offer. I can think of several likely candidates!”
And so the little problem was resolved. Mrs Adams immediately telephoned Emilia, and was surprised at how excited she seemed by the news.
“Oh, that’s wonderful news, Anne-Marie! He’ll be so relieved. And he can wear a skirt too, you say? Shall I ask him? Great! I’ll see you later. Yes, he’s having great fun. They’re splashing about like a school of dolphins! OK, see you!”
The other children were all in the sea now. She turned to Imelda.
“Did you get that? Miss Williams has said any boys auditioning for the part of Juliet in the end of term play are allowed to dress as girls for the whole week!”
“Wow. This is a great opportunity. And we’ve already got a uniform for him. He’s going to be so happy!”
They stayed at the beach until the sun was setting. Then they trooped off back to the car park, tired but elated. Even Tabitha was in a good mood, turning over in her mind fantastic plans for the total humiliation of her rival. Emilia and Imelda said nothing about school to Paul until Christopher and the girls had been dropped off. Then Imelda asked her mother if Paul could stay with her and Emilia for supper.
“Of course, dear. Why don’t you all go upstairs and I’ll call you when the food’s ready.”
The girls led Paul up to the bedroom.
“We have a little surprise for you, Paul,” began Emilia. “Your mum has solved the problem of your nail polish. How would you like to play Juliet in the end of term play?”
“Play Juliet? Why?”
Imelda had been at her laptop, logging onto the Brook Lane website.
“Here you are. Look at this!”
Paul peered at the screen. “Breaking News!” he read. “Miss Williams has announced that all boys auditioning for the role of Juliet in the end of term play, are allowed and encouraged to dress as girls for the duration of the coming week. They will also be allowed makeup – in moderation, please. This will assist Miss O’Connor in selecting those most suitable for the role. As Miss O’Connor explained at the beginning of term, in Shakespeare’s time it was usual for female parts to be played by male actors, and, for the sake of authenticity, she would like to reinstate the tradition for this performance. Miss Williams would like to remind all other students that any behaviour which may be considered bullying, or indeed any kind of ridicule, will, as always, be punished severely.”
“See Paul?” said Emilia. “You could wear the girl’s uniform for the whole week if you want. And you no longer have to worry about your nail polish. It’s all down to your mum!”
“Why not?” said Imelda, encouragingly. “I did the alterations it needed, and I even picked you up a pair of proper school shoes, so you’re ready to go.”
The girls were not sure Paul was ready to take such a step, even when it had been sanctioned by the head. They were half expecting him to refuse point blank, and both were considering possible methods of ‘persuasion’. But, somewhat to their surprise, he acceded willingly.
“Wow! Could I really wear the uniform? That would be so cool!”
Emilia and Imelda looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
“Of course you can, darling,” exclaimed Emilia.
“And do you think….do you think…”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I could try a little….makeup as well?” He looked up sheepishly at the girls. Emilia was unable to prevent herself grabbing him and giving him a huge hug.
“Of course, sweetie! We’ll help you with it, won’t we, Mel?”
“We sure will. Why don’t you come here early tomorrow, before school, and we’ll get you all dolled up….I mean, sorted out.”
“Would you? Thank you so much!”
“Or if you like, and if your mum agrees, you could stay here tonight.”
“Really? Thank you, Mel!. Is that OK with your mum, though?”
“Oh, she’s cool about my friends staying over.”
“I’ll ring my mum, then.”
Of course, Mrs Adams had no objections, especially when she heard about his plans for the next day.
“Oh, that’s so sweet of the girls to help you, dear. I’m sure you’ll be the best looking of the lot. I hope you get the part.”
“Oh. I wasn’t even seriously thinking about that. But I suppose I could, couldn’t I?”
“Certainly. It’s all in modern dress. I don’t know exactly what you’d have to wear, but I’m sure it would be something nice.”
“Do you think so? I’ll ask Miss O’Connor when I go for my audition.”
After supper the three friends returned to Imelda’s room. Emilia often stayed, and if there was another guest she’d sleep in the double bed with Imelda. So Paul got to have the single near the window.
Before they settled down for the night, Imelda took out the school uniform and folded it on a chair, hanging the jacket over the back.
“Do you have some clean panties, darling?” she asked.
“In my rucksack.”
Imelda rummaged around and pulled out a drawstring bag. Inside were two packs of panties, his unicorn ones, open, and another one.”
“Oh. I’ve never seen these before. Have you, Em?”
“No, I haven’t. Where did they come from, Paul?”
“Oh,” replied Paul, blushing deeply, “I bought them, actually. I thought…you know, that I should really have some more, sort of, just in case.” He had been so excited about Tuesday that he’d completely forgotten about the new pack he’d bought secretly. Now he’d been found out. He dropped his gaze, cheeks burning.
“Of course. Very good idea,” returned Emilia, seriously, winking at Imelda. “Hmm. Bright scarlet, eh? I think it has to be these. They’ll look so nice with the grey skirt.”
“Well OK, Em,” said Paul, a little relieved not to be teased, “but no-one’s going to see them, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” murmured Imelda in Emilia’s ear. Then, to Paul, “Well, we should all get an early night."
Paul lay on his bed hardly able to sleep that night. But the next thing he knew, the sun was streaming through the window. He was fully awake in a moment. It was early, and the girls were still asleep. Quietly, he crept out of bed and went to examine the uniform. It looked so smart and clean compared with his own. Clearly it had been well looked after, and it smelt as if it had recently come back from the cleaners. Beneath the chair were a pair of shiny patent leather school shoes. He couldn’t wait to put everything on. Something indefinable inside yearned to be able to dress in smart, pretty clothes, to feel attractive and confident – just like a real girl. Then he heard the others stirring, so he slipped back into bed and pretended to be still asleep, all the while peering at his uniform through narrowed eyes, and buzzing with anticipation.
-
Chapter 22. Celebrity.
The girls were not long in waking. They were looking forward to their mission. Emilia sat up in bed and yawned.
“Paul? Are you awake? Good morning, darling. Are you all ready for your first schoolday as a girl?”
Paul nodded sleepily.
“Why don’t you go and shower, put your knickers on, and come back. Then Mel and me will get to work.”
“OK, Em.”
“Take your time - and don’t forget to use conditioner on your hair!” she called as he left the room. Paul had a long shower, and emerged smelling sweet and fresh. He dried himself thoroughly, and slipped into his new scarlet panties. When he got back the girls were dressed, and there was a chair placed in the middle of the room, facing the window.
“Come and sit down here,” said Imelda.
She tied a towel around his neck, and they got to work. While Emilia brushed and combed out his hair into two tight bunches, and secured them with scarlet ribbons, Imelda refreshed his nail polish. Then Emilia carefully painted his lips with red lip gloss, a process which for some reason made Paul tingle all over. She instructed him to keep his mouth open until it dried. He sat there like a little fish, making both the girls smile. Finally came a subtle amount of grey eye shadow, a touch of mascara, and a little puff of glitter, leaving him with faintly sparkly cheeks. They stood back to admire their work.
“Phew. Paul, darling, you look stunning!” gasped Imelda.
“Good enough to eat,” smiled Emilia. “But seriously, you do look amazing. Let’s get you dressed and take you downstairs. I’ll be fascinated to see what Mrs Vincent thinks.”
They helped Paul into his new school clothes. White blouse with striped school tie; little grey pleated skirt, which felt to him a lot shorter than before; white socks and shiny black shoes.
“I think we’ll leave your choker off today,” said Mel. “That’d be pushing it a bit far. As you stand, you’re quite within Miss Williams’s parameters.”
“My skirt seems a bit short,” said Paul, uneasily. “Much shorter than it was.”
“Yes, I altered it as I said I would. But it’s fine. Just don’t go jumping about too much in the playground.”
After giving him a couple of squirts of perfume, they led Paul downstairs. Mrs Vincent was busy in the kitchen.
“Hi, mum. Good morning.” Imelda’s mother turned to them.
“Good morn…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness! Paul?”
He nodded, shyly.
“You…you’re beautiful! I mean, you look amazing!”
“Do you think he’ll get the part of Juliet in the school play, mum?”
“I don’t know about that, but I can tell you, the boys are going to falling over themselves! Oh, sorry Paul, I didn’t mean to…”
“That’s OK, Mrs Vincent. I don’t really care how anyone reacts. I’m just doing what Miss Williams suggested. I’m sure I won’t be the only one.”
“I hope not. Anyway, come and have some breakfast. Would you guys like a lift today? I’m on my way to see Moira anyway.” (Moira was Mrs Vincent’s best friend.)
“Thanks, mum. Yeah, that’d be great.”
Mrs Vincent dropped them off at the school gates. It was ten to nine, so the playground was already full. They piled out and waved goodbye as she drove off. They stood preparing to cross the road, waiting for the lollipop lady. There was quite a breeze, and immediately Paul felt his skirt blowing up, flashing those scarlet panties at everyone around! He tried to hold it down, but without much success: when he held the front, the back blew up; when he held the back, the front blew up, which was even worse; and when he held the sides, the front and the back blew up! He could see that a bunch of kids on the school side of the road were already staring and pointing. He began to doubt whether this had been such a good idea after all. As they crossed the road the eyes of the lollipop lady followed him, and as they passed her they heard her tut tutting, as if to say, “girls today! I don’t know what things are coming to!” As they entered the school gates, Imelda and Emilia walked either side of him, protectively. To his horror, he saw Mikey and Josh not ten metres away, goggling with disbelief. He felt his cheeks burning, and tears began to form in his eyes. He steeled himself for the jibes. But they never came.
His two friends approached, gingerly.
“Paul?” said Mikey, eyes nearly falling out of his head, “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” replied Paul, defensively, “so what? I’m auditioning, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, course. You look amazing!”
“Do you think so?”
“Yeah,” said Josh, “you look fantastic. Who did your makeup?”
“Oh.” Paul was taken aback. “Oh. It was Em and Mel, here. They helped with everything.”
The boys continued to stare at him, lost for words. Paul saw that dangerous doe-eyed look creeping over Mikey’s ugly face. Josh’s mouth was still open, but no words came out.
“Er, wanna come play with us before the bell?” asked Mikey. “We’ll, like, look after you, just in case…”
“Yeah, Paul,” added Josh, finding his voice. “You can be, like, a famous actor…” “actress,” corrected Mikey, “…actress, and we can be your bodyguards.”
“Sure,” laughed Paul, relief flooding through him, “why not? See you later, Em, Mel.”
And off he went into the melee, leaving Emilia and Imelda looking at each other with big grins on their faces.
“Your mum was right, Mel! No-one is proof against his charms!”
There was a few other boys in vaguely female dress, but none to match Paul. He was the centre of attention as the children made their way to their classrooms. Everyone wanted to be his friend, and be near him, boys and girls alike. There were only three individuals who were obviously unhappy about the matter. Tabitha was one. She now not only had Christopher as her rival, but the majority of Brook Lane School. She was fuming, the more so as today he looked more gorgeous than ever. The other two were the two swots from year two, Rhianna and Denise. In fact, they had spent the whole weekend plotting. They had had the photographs they had taken at the mall enlarged, and were planning to confront him with them. They hadn’t quite decided whether it was going to be blackmail or immediate humiliation. They were going to play it by ear. But now the ground had been cut from beneath their feet. They tried showing the photos to one of their cronies, but the only reaction they got was, “yeah, he’s so pretty, isn’t he?” Even Paul’s form teacher, Miss Alexander, who was very susceptible to childish beauty, couldn’t take her eyes off him, and hoped he might decide to transition permanently. When he went at lunchtime to sign up for an audition with Miss O’Connor, she told him there was nothing available until Friday – which was a lie, but she was hoping it would keep him in girl’s clothes for the whole week. But that was his intention anyway.
He had never been so popular. The girls were desperate to have such a pretty companion, and most of the boys had fallen in love with him. His male peers were at that stage before sexual love has been awakened, when their instincts are to run with their own gender, and girls are regarded as a separate species with a faintly magical, somewhat daunting, and largely inexplicable magnetism. In Paul they were presented with the best of both worlds: he was one of them, so approachable and sympathetic, yet with all those mystic charms of the opposite sex in abundance. The occasional glimpses of scarlet satin his little skirt afforded his admirers, only served to give him an extra piquancy in their eyes.
On the second day, the Wednesday, it was noticeable that a significant number of the boys had decided to emulate Paul, taking him as their inspiration and pattern. Sisters’ skirts were borrowed, altered or not, and various versions of the School’s uniform were on display. Others opted for mini-dresses, hot pants, or flowing gowns. The playground looked like a fancy dress competition, or a cosplay convention. Miss Williams had her misgivings, but as everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, and even the parents were vying with each other in an attempt to have their child outdo the others, that she let it go. It was a short week, in any case. Deirdre O’Connor had more auditions than she could deal with, as was forced to call in the English teacher to help. But the outcome was really never in doubt, and Paul’s performance on the Friday sealed his success. He entered into the part with such consummate ease, Miss O’Connor realised that he would have succeeded even had he not been the prettiest kid in the school. For his part, Paul was wondering what would become of him after the dispensation lapsed. He had had the best week of his life, and the two friends who had ridiculed him a few weeks ago were now as tame as lapdogs!
But on that Friday he came to the realisation that he’d hardly seen Emilia or Imelda all the week. He’d been so taken up with his social success that he felt he’d neglected them. His mother had helped him with his clothes and makeup, with such an easy and matter-of-fact demeanour that his relationship with her had reached a new and much happier phase. So he sought out Emilia in the playground Friday lunchtime.
“Hi Em. Haven’t seen you all week. How are things? You know I got the part this morning.”
“I heard. Congratulations. Yes, I’m sorry. Me and Mel have been preparing for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. You haven’t forgotten? Christopher’s initiation.”
“Oh, of course. What do you have planned?”
“Oh, you’ll see! It’ll be a surprise. Especially for him!”
-
Thank you so much for an amazingly exciting and yet tender and sweet story, Sandra B. At the beginning I was expecting a classic forced feminization and humiliation story but the story has matured into something much deeper and richer. Em and Mel are actually helping Paul find himself, of course not without some wrenching embarrassment and angst as can be true in life, but also apparently now turning their skills to Christopher who hopefully also enjoys his feminine experience. Well done and looking forward to more.
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Chapter 23. The Bunny Club.
While Paul had been revelling in his celebrity, but best of all his acceptance as a girl, Emilia and Imelda had been busy. They had a secret meeting with the three younger girls that Friday evening, to which Paul was not invited. Imelda opened proceedings.
“Girls, thank you for coming. I’ve called this meeting for two reasons. First, we need to decide the name of our club. And second, and more important, we must address the matter of Christopher’s initiation tomorrow. Now, as to the club. Rosalind has suggested we call ourselves, “Only Girls”. Thank you, Rosalind. There have been other suggestions, and I admit I couldn’t think of anything suitable and punchy, till I was in a charity shop this morning looking for girls’ clothes we could utilise. And then I came across this.”
She held up a little pastel blue crop top. On the front there was an embroidered picture of a pink rabbit’s face. Underneath were the words, “BUNNY CLUB”.
“What do you think?”
“That’s perfect!” exclaimed Marcia.
“Yes,” added Tabitha, “and I like it that’s the top is blue like it’s a boy’s, and the pink rabbit is going to magic him into a girl!”
There was general agreement that this was the best name.
“And I’ve discovered a place online where they will make badges and patches to order. I’m going to get some little lapel badges with just the pink rabbit face for us to wear. It’ll be like a secret society. Only we will know what they signify.”
“Can you get some patches too,” asked Rosalind, “so we can sew them onto our clothes?”
“Yes, I’m going to, Ros. I’ll get enough for all of us, and a few extra for any additional future members!”
“What’s going to happen to the shirt?” asked Tabitha.
“Well, Tabby,” said Emilia, “we had an idea about that. Which brings us on to the matter of Christopher. We think that all prospective male members of the Bunny Club should undergo a baby girl initiation. Then they can move on to being little girls, who we can boss about, and finally, if they pass all their tests, they can be as grown up as you three.”
“Yes,” said Tabitha, determinedly, “that’s definitely what should happen to them. And some of them won't even get past being babies, or silly little girls!”
“I agree,” added Marcia, “Paul showed what a perfect girl he is. But I bet a lot of boys will never grow up into proper girls, and we’ll have to keep them as babies or infants for ever!”
“And put them in playpens and make them wear nappies and plastic pants all the time!” laughed Rosalind.
“Or dress them as little girls and invite their friends round to see them!” put in Marcia, excitedly.
“Yes!” cried Tabitha. “And teach them to hold hands and lisp and dance like proper sissies and make them wear sparkly tops and frilly panties with too short skirts and then parade them in the mall where everyone will get to see them and they’ll be laughed at till they die of embarrassment!”
“Yes! And…” began Marcia, but Imelda held up an admonitory finger.
“Girls, girls! Let’s not get beyond ourselves. That may all be in the future, but for now it is Christopher we are concerned with. Now, Emilia has something to say. Em?”
“Yes. I was walking by the chemist in the week – you know, the one where you got all that stuff for Paul – and I saw outside they have an ‘A’ board chained to the wall with a big notice on it, which says something like, “We now stock a huge range of baby accessories, including monitors and alarms.” I went in and spoke to the manager, Patricia. She remembered you lot very well. I told her we had another baby who would need some equipment, and we got to talking, and, well, the upshot was, we worked out a little scheme which would be helpful and entertaining to both of us.”
Emilia smiled at Imelda. "Do you think they’ll like it?” Imelda shrugged her shoulders.
“Tell us, tell us!” shouted the girls.
“Well, this is our idea,” continued Emilia, “Christopher will be here at nine tomorrow, if he keeps his word, which I think he will. The first thing we do is get him to have a shower. Have you noticed his hair? It’s quite blond, quite long, and a bit curly. We’re going to make it properly curly. We’re going to get out the curling tongs and give him as many ringlets as we can. Make him as pretty as possible.”
“Ha ha,” laughed Tabitha, “yes, please. I want to see that!”
“Then we’re going to get him ready. You three shouldn’t arrive till, say, ten-thirty.”
“Ooh! Why?” whined Rosalind.
“Because if you’re around, he’s going to be a lot more difficult to manage. If it’s just me and Mel he’ll be too intimidated to resist. This is how we’re going to dress him. A nice puffy pull-up, plastic pants, and the Bunny Club top. Oh, and Mel’s got him a little choker, like Paul’s, but with a ‘C’ instead of a ‘P’. Then short pink socks and pink trainers. By the time we’ve finished he’s going to be totally malleable.”
“What does that mean?” asked Rosalind.
“It means, darling, that he’ll do pretty much anything he’s told to.”
“Oh. Good. Then what?”
“Then….then…well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait and see, darlings. But it’ll be fun, I can guarantee that!”
-
Very nice story. Would be cool having Paul be a baby girl with Chris so it makes it easier for Chris.
-
Chapter 24. Christina.
Imelda and Emilia were ready on Saturday morning when Christopher announced himself with a nervous knock at the door. Imelda opened it and asked him in.
“You can ring the bell, you know, Christopher. It won’t give you a shock.”
“I know, but…”
“But you’re feeling a bit anxious? You were rather hoping there’d be no reply, and you could go home again?”
“No, course not.”
“So you’re ready to be initiated into the Bunny Club?”
“What?”
“The Bunny Club. That’s what we’ve decided to call it. And you’re our next prospective Bunny.”
Christopher looked even more alarmed. She smiled. “It’s OK, don’t be nervous, come upstairs. Emilia’s waiting.”
Christopher followed Imelda upstairs and into the bedroom.
“Hi, Christopher,” Emilia greeted him. “Gosh, you look serious. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Good. Go and have a shower, please. The others won’t be here for a while. The bathroom’s the next door along the passage. You’ll find a dressing gown there too. Leave your clothes in the basket and put that on when you’re finished.”
Ten minutes later Christopher reappeared, looking cautiously around the room.
“Come and sit here, sweetie,” said Imelda, indicating a chair next to the bed. “That’s right. Now, please sit as still as you can. We’re going to do your hair. Don’t worry, you’re going to look nice! Just relax!”
For fifteen minutes or so the girls worked on his hair, first brushing, then combing, and finally curling. They had seated Christopher so that he was facing the wardrobe door mirror, and he could see their progress. When he sat down his hair was still damp from the shower, and sticking up all over the place. After a good brush and comb the girls were delighted to see it hung down over his collar. It was still slightly damp when they embarked on the curling process.
“That’s good,” said Emilia, it’ll help the curls stay in. Did you know you’ve got really lovely hair, Chris? It looked quite dark blond when it was damp, but as it’s drying it’s turning golden. Look at those pretty curls!”
The flattery was having its effect. Chris was relaxing and starting to feel quite comfortable having all this attention lavished on him.
“What am I going to wear?” he asked. “I don’t mind dresses, you know. Paul’s outfir was nice, but I thought it was a bit plain.”
“Oh, really?” asked Imelda. “Would you prefer something a bit more elaborate and maybe a bit more feminine? A really pretty dress, maybe? That would suit you, it’s true. But Paul might be jealous. That wouldn’t be very nice, would it?”
Christopher’s vanity was beginning to get the better of him.
“Maybe…. But you know, everyone should wear what’s best for them, don’t you think so, Mel? I mean, Paul looks OK in quite simple clothes, doesn’t he? His hair is quite dull… I mean, compared to mine.” He tilted his head, admiring his curls in the mirror. “I think I could wear something quite glamorous… do you?”
“Yes, Chris…maybe something in sky blue satin, with lace trimming?” suggested Emilia, “and perhaps white tights and silver shoes?”
“Yeah, maybe. Do you have, like, a tiara or something?”
“Oh, actually darling, I think we do? Don’t we, Mel?”
“Yes. Let me have a look.” She rummaged in the bottom drawer of her chest and produced a silver tiara glittering with white gems. “Just the thing!”
“Can I try it on?” asked Christopher, eagerly.
“Course. But not in that dressing gown. That’ll completely spoil the effect. Slip it off for a moment.”
“But I’m not wearing anything underneath!”
“Whoops! No, of course you’re not. Sorry. Let me find you some panties to slip on.” She winked at Emilia, and went back to the chest. “Maybe some stockings and shoes as well. We really bought these for Paul, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t have them.” She came towards him with a handful of shiny things.
“Here, let me help you.”
She knelt down in front of him and rolled up one stocking and pushed it over his right foot. Then she did the same with the other over his left foot. They were shiny yellow spandex each with a red satin bow at the top.
“Pull those up first. That’s right.”
“They’re very long,” said Christopher. They come right up to the tops of my thighs.”
“They’re supposed to Chris. They’d go perfectly with a yellow satin dress, and the yellow will look so pretty with your blond hair.” She smiled. “You’re going to make Paul look rather dowdy, I’m afraid.”
Christopher smiled. He was really getting into this dressing up now, and all he cared about was his own appearance. Paul’s going to have some competition, he thought.
“OK, now the panties. Pop your feet in.”
Imelda opened the panties and held them for him to step into. He noticed that they matched his stockings, and also had a red bow on the waistband. There may have been some sort of red design as well, but the way Imelda was holding them he couldn’t see. She pulled them up to his knees.
“Got them? Pull them up under your dressing gown. Good boy!”
Keeping his dressing gown tied, he pulled them right up and wriggled into them, and then pulled the stockings up as far as they would go, which was virtually all the way.
“Oh, you might as well have some shoes as well, darling,” said Emilia, tossing a pair of low-heeled gold court shoes over to Imelda. Christopher held out one foot at a time for Imelda to slip them on. They fitted snugly, but comfortably.
“Now…on with your tiara…” She slid it firmly onto his head, the arms disappearing amongst the golden ringlets.
“Em? What do you think?”
“Oh, you look beautiful, Chris. Can I have a picture?”
“Course,” replied Christopher, flushing with pride.
Emilia got her camera ready.
“Better slip off that old dressing gown, Chris. That’s right. Now…pose…lovely! And again. Super! And once again, please, hands on hips. Perfect!”
“Now you can look at yourself in the mirror,” said Imelda.
Christopher stepped confidently up to the full-length mirror. The tiara set off his hair perfectly, he thought. And those stockings…. Then all at once he caught sight of his panties. Across the front, below the bow, in big red letters, was the word “SISSY”!
“What?” he exclaimed.
“Just our little prank, Christopher. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Why did you….”
“Just a little insurance policy, in case you decided to try to chicken out today,” smiled Emilia. “Would you like to see your pictures? Let me show you.”
Emilia scrolled through the photos she’d just taken. Christopher stared at them, speechless and horrified.
“I think they’re sweet,” said Emilia. “Those little panties… They’re so cute, don’t you think? Perhaps a little small for you, but they’re so stretchy that hardly matters, does it?”
“What are you going to do with them?” he wailed.
“Nothing. Nothing at all, darling,” said Imelda, “unless, of course, you don’t do what you’re told." Her tone assumed a faint tinge of menace. "Then we’ll have them made into posters and post them up around your school. Would that be nice?”
“No! Please….”
“Then just be a good obedient little boy and you’ll have nothing to worry about, will you?" she smiled. "Now, let’s find your real costume for today. Don’t look sad! You can wear all these things again soon, if you pass the initiation test.”
Poor Christopher had had a rude awakening. He was told to take off all his finery, and Imelda tossed him a big puffy pull-up to put on. His protestations were ignored. He had to take off his dressing gown. He was then given a pair of pink translucent plastic panties, nicely elasticated at the waist and the legs so they completely contained the pull-up. Then his pink socks and baby trainers, and finally the Bunny Club top, which almost reached his belly button.
“There! How nice is that?” asked Imelda. “And as a treat, you can wear your new choker as well,” she said, padlocking it in place.
“And one last touch,” added Emilia. She produced a roll of broad yellow ribbon, and proceeded to cut four lengths. It was braided at the edges, and clearly quite strong and functional.
“What’s that for?” whined Christopher, suspiciously.
“Oh, just a bit of decoration. Nothing to worry about.” Smiled Emilia. The girls tied one length around each wrist and each ankle. Christopher noticed they knotted them tightly before tying a bow.
“There. Now we’re all ready. We just have to wait for the others.”
“It’s not fair,” complained the little boy, his ringlets trembling with annoyance. “No-one said I was going to be dressed like this! I feel stupid!”
“But you look sweet, darling,” Imelda reassured him, “you should be grateful, all the trouble we’ve taken. Everyone’s going to love you!”
“Everyone?”
“All your friends, I mean. They should be here any minute.”
She had hardly spoken when there was a ring at the bell, and the three younger girls arrived. Emilia let them in, and they charged upstairs to the bedroom and burst in excitedly. When they saw Christopher, standing there helplessly, all red-faced and squirming with embarrassment, they whooped with delight.
“Oh, Chris!” shouted Tabitha, “You look so cute! You look even better than Paul did!”
“Yes,” agreed Marcia, “I think it’s cos you looked a bit older and bigger than Paul, that now you look such a lovely stupid big baby.”
“Ooh, look at his plastic pants,” put in Rosalind, feeling the material. “Feel how soft they are, almost like rubber. But the elastic is nice and tight, just as it should be.” She pulled at one leg, and let it snap back against his thigh.
“Now, now, girls,” said Imelda, “please remember you’re talking about our new baby girl, Christina. So it’s “she” and “her” now.”
“Oh, of course!” laughed Tabitha, “I’m sorry, Christina,” she smirked sarcastically, “how could I ever have mistaken you for a boy?”
Another ring at the bell announced the arrival of Paul. His mother had taken him shopping the previous night, and now he was the proud possessor of some new clothes. He had suspected Christopher would be even more thoroughly babified than he had been, so in the humane hope of ameliorating his friend’s discomfort, he had dressed himself in a rather juvenile outfit of pink sparkly top, yellow towelling shorts, and pink socks and trainers to match his.
“Hi, Chris. How’s it going?”
“Christina, please!” corrected Tabitha, maliciously. Paul ignored her.
“Don’t worry. It won’t be as bad as you think.”
“No. It’ll be worse!” spat Tabitha, “We’ll make sure of that!”
Paul looked at Imelda, expecting her to admonish Tabitha. But all she said was, “Well, Tabby, it will be what it will be. But if she wants to pass the initiation, it would be best for Christina to accept her role and act as babyish as she can. Any signs of rebellion will earn her a black mark and possible punishment.”
“Yeah. Hear that, baby?” Tabitha grinned spitefully. “Why don’t you get down on the floor and crawl, like a proper baby. And where’s your pacifier?”
“Oh, good point, Tabby. We’ve got quite a selection here." She rummaged in the drawer. "This one we'll save for later, I think." She produced a large pink pacifier on a pink leather strap. "And we'll need this too." She reached in again and pulled out what looked like a coil of narrow rubber tubing. She stowed both away in her bag. Finally, she found one she deemed suitable for present purposes. “Here, this one will do for now. Pop it in, please.”
Obediently, Christopher accepted the dummy which Imelda presented to his lips. He was feeling very anxious, and pulling on the rubber bulb seemed somehow calming.
“Good. Now, we’re going to the chemist’s down the road. Don’t worry, Christina,” she added, registering Christopher’s alarmed expression, "the Gang of Four are going to shield you all the way.”
Christopher was ushered out of the front door. The children formed up around him to shield him from prying eyes, and they set off down the street, Imelda and Emilia bringing up the rear. Christopher was terrified by being taken outside, but his terror was mitigated somewhat by the apparent concern for his privacy. Probably, he thought, he was being taken to the chemist to buy accessories. Then they would come back to the house. It was reassuring they were not intending to make an exhibition of him, or to humiliate him in public. He put on a brave face, despite Tabitha’s mischievous trick of side-stepping now and then to give some passer-by a glimpse of her charge.
“Tabby? Stay in place, please,” called Emilia.
At last they arrived at the shop, and went straight inside.
“Hi Patricia. How are you today?”
“I’m well. How are you, Mel?”
“Fine thanks. We’re all ready, as you can see.”
“Oh, what a pretty baby! Very big for her age. Hello, Christina! My name’s Pat.” She bent down and gave Christopher a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Are you going to help us today?”
Christopher nodded, uncertainly.
“Good girl! Now, let’s get you ready.”
It was time. At first, the three younger girls were all agog with anticipation. What was going to happen to Christina? Nothing too bad, they began to suspect. For Pat seemed so nice, and she was so attentive to and gentle with the baby. That was a shame. After lots of petting, she eventually sat him down on a chair by the counter and sighed sentimentally.
“She's so sweet. Would you like a drink of water darling. Or a sweetie?” she cooed. Christopher nodded and smiled. This didn’t seem too bad so far.
Tabitha was becoming impatient. “Boring,” she muttered under her breath, “hurry up and finish coddling him, so we can take him home and have some fun.”
But Christina was not going home, not for several hours.
-
Chapter 25. The Demonstration.
While Christopher was beginning to relax, Paul was filled with trepidation. He knew how this went. Lull the subject into a sense of security, wait till his guard was down, then spring the surprise. He knew Emilia and Imelda had some sort of evil plan, but as yet he didn’t know what it was. It was impossible for him to warn his friend, so he decided to keep a low profile. The assistants at the counter greeted him warmly.
“Pauline! You’ve grown up since last week. But we’re glad you’ve brought a new baby for us to pet!”
“Hi. He’s my friend. I didn’t bring him. I hope they look after him.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll do that,” one of them said, ironically.
After Christopher had had a drink and a sweet, Patricia offered to show him around the baby aisle. The assistants were looking on from behind the counter, giggling between themselves. Emilia heard one of them whisper, “She’s bigger than Pauline, but just as cute!” There were a couple of customers, but they seemed to be ignoring him, so for a while he forgot himself and allowed her to point out the various accessories. At last they came to a section marked “Monitors and Alarms”.
“Now these are very interesting, dear,” said Patricia. We have the usual baby monitors here, so you can hear or even see your baby sleeping. They’re very popular. But do you know what this is?” She pointed to a box with a picture of a sleeping baby on the front, next to some sort of control box. Christopher looked at it, puzzled. Along the top of the box was the word “URALERT” in big letters. He shook his head.
“I’ll show you.” She took the box off the shelf, went over to the counter, and opened it. By now the girls were taking an interest. There was a pink plastic box with a digital clock, a switch, a dial, and some buttons, about as big as a small radio. And there were three tiny pink plastic tablets, each no bigger than a postage stamp.
“Now these little things are the sensors, Christina. See those little silver beads on them? If they get even slightly damp, or if there’s moisture nearby, they send a signal to the monitor, and an alarm rings. There’s different types depending on where you want to put them. This one attaches to fabric, this one can just be loose. Shall I demonstrate?”
“Yes please.”
Patricia put batteries into the monitor and turned it on. A little red light appeared. She adjusted the clock until it showed the correct time. Then she selected the button marked “alarm”.
“Would one of you girls like to help?”
“Me!” cried Marcia.
“All right. What’s your name again? Ah, yes, Marcia. OK. Would you take this sensor over to the other side of the shop? That’s fine. Are we ready? Now, Marcia, if you would just moisten your lips….not too much…yes, and now just touch the sensor on them….”
Immediately the monitor started buzzing repeatedly, the red light flashed, and the clock lit up.
“Wow, that so cool,” said Rosalind.
Emilia and Imelda stood slightly apart, watching proceedings with smug grins on their faces. Clearly it was no surprise to them.
“Well, that’s just the basic function,” said Patricia. "Instead of the alarm, it can be on silent, or you can record a message. Would you like to try that?"
“Yes! Let me!” cried Tabitha.
“All right. So what are you going to say?”
“Er…”
“Well remember, baby is wetting herself. So perhaps she should call for her mummy.”
“OK. How do I record?”
“I’ll show you. If everyone else could stay quiet for a moment? Thank you. So when you’re ready, just push the “record” button, and speak your message, nice and clear please. If you make a mistake, you can always erase it and do it again.”
But Tabitha did not make a mistake. She pressed “record”, and cried in a loud, high-pitched voice, “Mummy, mummy! Come quick! I’m wetting my nappy so much!”
“Oh, that was excellent!” said Patricia. “Let’s play it back.” She pushed the playback button and immediately Tabitha's voice was heard: “Mummy, mummy! Come quick! I’m wetting my nappy so much! Mummy, mummy! Come quick! I’m wetting my nappy so much! Mummy, mummy! Come quick! I’m wetting my nappy so much!”
Patricia pushed the “off” button. “It will continue like that until someone comes and turns it off.”
“That is so great!” said Marcia, who had returned from the other side of the shop. “Will Tabby’s voice be on that one now? If so, whoever buys it is going to get a big surprise!”
“Well I’m not sure I can sell it now. I think it’ll have to be a demonstration model. Now, Christina. Would you like to come outside so I can show you our window display?”
Christopher allowed himself to be led outside, followed by all the girls. Paul feared the worst, and stayed inside, looking uninterestedly at the pacifiers and bottles. The shop door was on the corner of the high street and a side street. There were big windows at the front, to the right of the door, and at the side, to the left. Christopher was relieved that the window with the baby stuff was in the side street, where there were a lot less passers-by. The side street was pedestrianised, so there was no roadway, just a few bollards. Before, the A-board had been positioned in the middle of this window. But it had been taken away. Only the loop of chain remained. Patricia led him along the window pointing out the huge range of accessories. Despite the fact the street was fairly quiet, he was naturally feeling a little self-conscious, and tried to hide his plastic pants with his hands. Imelda noticed.
“Christina! Keep your hands by your sides, please!”
“Sorry, Mel.”
“She’s been doing that all the morning,” said Emilia. “I think we need to do something about it.”
“You’re right, Em. Do you have any more ribbon on you?”
“Sure. Here’s a piece.” She handed a short length of yellow ribbon to Imelda.
“Right. Before we go any further, Christina, please come here. Now turn around.”
She pulled Christopher’s hands behind his back, and threaded the ribbon through those already around his wrists, and tied it securely off.
“There. Now behave, please.”
“But I wasn’t…”
“No buts! Or I’ll have to restrain you some more.”
“But, Mel! I wasn’t doing…”
“Did you hear me?”
“But it’s not fair!”
“Right. That’s it! Em, do you have…thank you.”
“Now stand right here, against the window. Don’t move!”
“What did I do?” wailed the unfortunate boy.
But Imelda was down on one knee at Christopher’s feet. Her frown had quickly been replaced by a mischievous smile. Deftly she threaded the ribbon through the chain loop and then through each ankle ribbon. She tightened it, drawing Christopher’s ankles together, and tied it off. She stood up.
“There. That’s better.”
“What? Why?” Christopher looked down in dismay. He realised he was standing outside the shop window, facing the street, quite unable to move. Already a few passers-by had stopped to stare at him.
“No! Let me go!”
“Certainly not, darling. That’s where you’re staying, for a while,” she smiled.
“You…you…BITCH!”
The younger girls gasped with horror, and looked at Imelda to see how she would react. But she only smiled a big smile of satisfaction.
“If you shout like that, you’re only going to attract attention. Now, Patricia and I have work to do.”
And with that, she followed Patricia and Emilia back into the shop, leaving Christopher to be admired by the girls.
“You’re in for it now, Christina,” said Tabitha, spitefully. “I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes today.”
“Why are you blushing, Christina?” asked Rosalind, innocently. “You look so nice in your baby clothes. Now everyone will see how pretty you are.”
“Yes,” said Marcia, “so cute, with your ringlets, and your little plastic pants, and with your belly button showing. You’re good publicity for the Bunny Club.”
“And not only for the Bunny Club,” said Emilia, returning. “Today, Christina, you’re going to help Patricia in her advertising campaign.”
Patricia and Imelda re-emerged carrying a little table, the baby alarm, and a couple of big rolls of paper. While Imelda busied herself pasting the posters – for that is what the rolls turned out to be – to the shop windows, one each side of where Christopher was secured, Patricia was arranging the table and alarm monitor. When Imelda had finished, Christopher craned forward, but he couldn’t quite read the posters.
“What do they say?” he wailed.
Obligingly, Marcia went and took pictures of each poster on her phone, and then showed them to him. As he read them his face fell. The poster to his right read: “Now in Stock! The new URALERT alarms. No more continual checking of your baby’s nappy. Using remote sensors, URALERT alarms will alert you as soon as baby wets. REAL TIME DEMONSTRATION TODAY”
That to his left, “TODAY! Baby CHRISTINA will demonstrate the amazing URALERT alarm. Can you guess when she will wet her nappy? If you think you can, buy a raffle ticket inside - 50p each. The winner gets a £50 VOUCHER to spend anywhere in the shop, with the option of changing Christina into the bargain!”
A small crowd was already gathering. Patricia had set up the monitor.
“As it’s outside, I’ve set it to full volume,” Christopher heard her say. And when it goes off the clock will stop. So the person with the ticket that’s nearest that time will win.”
“What about changing her?”
“I’ve got a jumbo-sized changing mat all ready in the back room, and all the changing stuff. So if they want to take up the offer, we can take her straight in.”
“Leave her hands tied, though.”
“Course.”
“No…please, Imelda,” whined Christopher, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude… Please let me go!”
“What, after all our hard work? Don’t be silly. Now, it’s time to start the demonstration. I think you must have the honour, Patricia.”
“Thank you, Imelda.” She addressed the small but growing crowd, which included several mothers with their babies. “Ladies, this is the easiest wetness monitor on the market. This” – she held up one of the tiny pink sensors – “this is the sensor, which can simply be slipped into the baby’s nappy or pants, like so.” She pulled open the top of Christopher’s plastic pants and dropped it in. It disappeared down into the crotch.
“How clever is that?” said one of the women to her friend. I’m going to get one of these. And a raffle ticket,” she added, with a laugh.
“Christina doesn’t look very happy about it,” grinned her friend. And then to Christopher,
“Cheer up, baby! Now you can wet yourself whenever you feel like it, and get changed straight away!”
Poor Christopher. He squirmed with embarrassment, and started to snivel quietly. A single tear trickled down his cheek. Inside the shop, Paul had listened to proceedings with dismay. “Poor Chris,” he said to himself, “this is even worse than my initiation. I should tell him to wet himself quickly and get it over.”
But at that moment Imelda came back inside.
“Paul? In case you were thinking about it, I don’t want you consoling him. Understood? You’ll interfere with the demonstration. So please stay inside or go back to the house. It may be a long day."
-
Chapter 26. Relief.
Outside, the crowd was beginning to swell, ladies laughing and giggling as they read the posters. Patricia was concerned they may be getting too close to Christopher – there had been some cautious attempts to touch his plastic pants – so, using the bollards and the walls of the shop, she taped off the area immediately around him. He looked so sad, poor thing, she thought. She approached him, stroked his cheek, and tried to reassure him.
“Darling, are you all right? I know it’s not easy, but you’re being such a dear helping me with my promotion. I’ll find you a special treat after it’s all over.”
“Go away! Or let me free!”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Christina. I’m sorry you don’t like your baby clothes.”
“I don’t mind the clothes. But I don’t want to be an exhibition for all these sniggering women! Let me go and I’ll wear baby stuff all the time, if you want. Or anything you want!”
“I’m sorry. In any case, Mel told me this is all about getting into the Bunny Club. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s true,” agreed Christopher. “I do really want to be with my friend Paul. But I didn’t realise what would be involved. I hope no-one I know sees me.”
“Well, once you’ve demonstrated the alarm, you’ll be free, won’t you?”
“No! I’m not doing that! No way! That would be the most…the most humiliating thing… I can hold out until five o’clock if necessary, when you shut the shop. Then you’ll have to let me go!”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to hold out that long, dear,” said Patricia, sympathetically. “Best let it out sooner rather than later. The longer you leave it the worse it’ll be for you.”
“No!” Go away! I knew something like this was being planned. So I’ve not drunk anything, except that sip of water you gave me, all the morning, and I’m not drinking anything now! These idiots are all going to be disappointed, and you’re going to look pretty silly when your stupid alarm doesn’t go off!”
Patricia returned inside and reported to Imelda.
“Oh, dear. What a naughty little baby. Fortunately, it’s past her feed time, so she can have something to drink right now. I’ll get some milk and water ready.”
“She’s going to refuse it, Mel.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Pat. But perhaps you should warn the audience that we don’t expect any developments until at least after lunch. Otherwise they’ll start getting impatient.”
Accordingly, Patricia made the announcement, which resulted in most of the crowd that had gathered drifting away, leaving only the girls and a handful of women who had decided that the pavement outside the chemist was as good a place as any to stand around in pairs idly chatting. During these conversations – or dual monologues as they more often were – the party not engaged in speaking might occupy her time taking photos of the captive and sending them to her acquaintances. Christopher glared at them defiantly, much to their amusement. He had resolved that he was going to pass this initiation test whatever it took, so that he could join his friend in the Bunny Club. In fact, had he been untied at that moment, he would still have remained at his post until closing time! Though no-one realised it, the physical bonds which held him were quite superfluous.
When Patricia came back inside, Mel asked he if she had a water bottle with a nozzle. That was easily produced, as she sold a range of such bottles for general use.
“How are you going to feed him?” she asked, as Imelda filled the bottle with a milk and water mixture.
“I came prepared, Pat,” replied Imelda. “See this pacifier?”
“Ooh. I’ve never seen one on a strap before.”
“Well, yes, that’s to make sure it stays in his mouth. But here’s the clever bit. Let me show you.”
The pacifier looked quite normal. It had a plastic boss in the centre, to which the ring was attached. But Imelda folded down the ring, and then prized open the top of the boss, which was on a hinge, to reveal an internal nozzle.
“See that? It’s connected to the internal bulb by way of a valve, and the bulb has a little hole at the end. So if we pump liquid into here, it fills the bulb, and eventually squirts into the mouth, forcing the wearer to swallow. Clever, or what?”
“I’ve never seen anything like that before!”
“No. It’s made for recalcitrant babies just like Christina. Shall we test it out?”
“Ooh, yes, Mel! Let’s!” Patricia hadn’t had so much fun for years.
They went outside. Chris was frowning darkly.
“This isn’t gonna work, Mel. You know that? I…” Noticing the bottle, he broke off.
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see, sweetie. Come here.”
Before he could protest, Imelda had the big pacifier in his mouth and was buckling the strap behind his head. He twisted about in an effort to resist, but it was useless. She stood back and admired her handiwork.
“There. Doesn’t that feel better?”
“Mmmf,” was all that Christopher could reply. A ripple of appreciative laughter ran around the much-reduced audience. Tabitha had an expression of malicious delight on her face.
“Yes! That’ll keep him quiet!”
“Well, it’ll do a bit more than keep him quiet, Tabby,” said Imelda. “Would you like to come and help?”
Tabitha needed no further invitation. She slipped under the barrier and ran over.
“Here, darling, hold the bottle for me if you would. Thank you.”
Imelda flicked open the cap on the pacifier and connected the rubber tube to the nozzle. Christopher shook his head from side to side ineffectually. While Tabby held the bottle, she attached the other end of the tube firmly to its nozzle.
“OK, we’re ready to go. Would you like to feed him, dear? All you have to do is to hold the bottle up and squeeze. That’s right. Not too hard – give him time to swallow. Perfect!”
Tabitha held the bottle up high, and gently pumped the watery milk into Christopher’s mouth. His eyes grew big and sorrowful as he gulped it down. Imelda called over Marcia and Rosalind and they each had a go as well.
“This is so cool!” exclaimed Rosalind. “Look, he’s drunk nearly the whole bottle. How much was in here, Mel?”
“Oh, a litre, I think. You’re doing a great job, girls. There, all gone! Gosh, baby, you must have been thirsty!” she smiled, removing the tube and snapping the pacifier cap shut. “I think that should do it, don’t you? Here, girls. Here’s one pound fifty. Go get yourselves a ticket each.”
“Thanks, Mel,” said Marcia, as they scurried off towards the shop door. “I think about two…” Imelda heard her say, before they disappeared inside.
Of course, what Christopher should have done was to give in to his physical urge whilst there was a depleted audience. But he resisted, which meant that by the time it was becoming a problem for him, the crowd had grown once again and there was a constant expectant chatter from the onlookers. Imelda had left the strap-on pacifier in place, to muffle any protests, which made him an even greater object of mirth. He was resigning himself to the inevitable, when he saw something which froze him in terror. Approaching on the other side of the high street he saw his two friends from the park, Johnny and Baz. “No. Please, no!” he prayed, silently. But they had noticed the crowd and were coming over to see what the fuss was about. They pushed themselves to the front. He closed his eyes.
“Baz! Look! Look, mate! Is that….?”
“It is! It’s Chris! What the…?”
“Look! See? He’s “Christina”! He doing a nappy demo! I don’t believe it!”
“Oi, Chris! Sweet! Smile, mate. Go on!”
Christopher opened his eyes. They were both filming. It was the last straw. It couldn’t get any worse. In despair, he let go. Such relief, as he felt the flood of warmth filling his nappy. There was a moment’s pause, and then the monitor responded.
“Mummy, mummy! Come quick! I’m wetting my nappy so much!” “Mummy, mummy! Come quick! I’m wetting my nappy so much!” Over and over again. The crowd cheered and applauded. His friends were open-mouthed with undisguised delight. A woman somewhere to his left jumped in the air and cried “Yes!” She must have predicted the time to the minute. Emilia and Imelda stood to his left also, clapping politely and smiling. They made no attempt to turn off the alarm, or to release him. He could feel his pull-up, soggy and heavy, dragging down on his plastic pants, and a few little trickles running down his leg. Patricia was delighted.
“Thank you, Mel, Em. I couldn’t have wished for anything better than that!”
It seemed ages to Christopher, though it was in fact only a few minutes after, that the ribbons were untied, his pacifier was unbuckled, and he was led back into the shop. His friends were still there, shouting pleasantries, but he ignored them, attempting to preserve such dignity as was left to him.
“You cracked it, Christina,” Emilia whispered to him, “we’re proud of you. You’re a full member now.”
What good was that, he thought, now I’m going to be crucified at school? He was led behind the counter into a back room, and laid on a jumbo-sized changing mat which had been placed on a bed base by one wall. It had been quite an ordeal. He turned on his side and fell asleep almost at once.
-
Love the forced feeding the strapped in paci and the humiliation.
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Sandra B,
I catching up on your last few chapters and enjoy your story.
Just before I started reading, I had changed into a clean, dry diaper to start my morning. After reading the stimulating chapters on Christina's humiliation, it's not a dry morning for me anymore.
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Love everything about this story, but the humiliating evil genius of the voice recorded alarm is particularly great. :)
The whole scene of the initiation was well done. There was a lot of detail you had to include to make it all work.
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Chapter 27. The Mob.
The winner of the raffle was a young woman who herself had a one-year-old, so she knew the value of peace and quiet. Consequently, she politely declined the invitation to change Christopher.
“Let him sleep a bit, the poor lamb. In any case, I do so much nappy changing it would hardly be a novelty for me."
So Christopher was allowed to sleep for an hour or so, and when he showed signs of waking, Patricia took him to the shower room so he could wash. He emerged wrapped in a big towel, his hair dripping.
“What am I going to wear?” he asked Imelda.
“Em’s gone back to the house to fetch your clothes. She won’t be a minute.”
When Emilia returned, she was carrying two bags. Christopher was sitting on the bed, still wrapped in the towel.
“Here, Chris. You can have either outfit.”
Christopher opened the first bag. It contained his jeans, shirt and trainers. Then he opened the second. His eyes widened. A blue gingham summer dress, white panties, white socks, and pale blue sandals. He looked from one to the other.
“Well? Which is it to be?”
He smiled, and tossed his old clothes into the corner.
“We’ll leave you to get dressed then,” said Emilia. “Welcome to the Club!”
When Christopher emerged from the back of the shop, he got a little round of applause. Imelda and Emilia exchanged satisfied glances. He looked so happy and comfortable in his simple new outfit. Paul felt happy he was no longer the only boy, and he went over and gave his friend a hug. Even Tabitha seemed somewhat mollified now that she realised he was serious in his commitment.
“Why don’t you guys walk back to the house,” said Imelda. “We just need to have a chat with Patricia, and we’ll follow you.”
So the five friends set off down the street towards Imelda’s house. As it was Christopher’s first time outside as a girl, Paul took one hand and Rosalind the other, to reassure him. However, it wasn’t destined to be an uneventful journey. After Christopher had disappeared into the shop, Johnny and Baz had decided that he would have to come out sometime before five, so they had lain in wait or him. So as not to appear conspicuous, they had pretended they were waiting for a bus. Now, as the children approached, they jumped out from behind the side of the shelter.
“What?” exclaimed Johnny. “Baz, look at him now. Now he’s dressed up as a girl!” They could hardly believe their luck. Not only was their prey now dressed as a girl, but he was apparently hand in hand with two other girls.
“And isn’t that the girl from the park? Remember?” returned Baz. “Yeah. Anyway, let’s have a look at Chris’s knickers, shall we?”
They advanced on the hapless Christopher, who started to back away. But Marcia stood in front of him protectively.
“Leave him alone, you bullies! Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“What’s better than seeing what sort of knickers he’s got on?” asked Johnny, with a coarse laugh.
“He’s dressed as a girl because he’s joined our club,” cried Rosalind in distress, “leave him alone!”
“Club? What club?” asked Johnny, with a sneer.
“The Bunny Club.”
“The what?” asked Baz, unable to believe his ears.
“The Bunny Club,” said Marcia, angrily, “and we stick together, so you’d better be careful.”
“Oh, yeah, we’re terrified,” said Johnny. “Sounds like a really dangerous crew, don't it, Baz? And what do you do in the Bunny Club when someone bothers you? Set a fluffy little rabbit on them?” And they were both convulsed with laughter.
Tabitha, who had been looking on without saying a word, decided it was time to take action. She had been jealous of Christopher before, but now he was one of them, and she felt it was her duty to protect him.
“No,” she said quietly, taking a step towards Johnny. “No, idiot. We give them a rabbit punch.” And without warning, she chopped Johnny in the throat with the side of her hand as hard as she could. Poor Johnny dropped where he stood, clutching his throat and gasping for breath. Tabitha turned towards Baz, who took one look at his friend and turned tail and ran.
“Let’s go, guys,” said Tabitha. And they resumed their journey.
“Wow! Th-thanks, Tabby,” said Christopher. “That was awesome.” He looked back at the prone figure on the pavement. “I hope he’s going to be all right.”
“He’ll be fine in a minute,” replied Tabby. “No-one messes with us.”
The others looked at each other. They were thinking how useful it was to have someone as tough as Tabitha in their club. They almost felt like they were gangsters now. “No. No-one messes with us,” repeated Marcia, under her breath.
When she answered the door, Mrs Vincent was surprised two find two new girls rather than the one she had expected entering the house.
“Hello. I don’t think I know you, dear,” she said. “I’m Mrs Vincent, Imelda’s mum.”
“Hi,” replied Christopher, “nice to meet you. I’m Chris…tina.” He remembered his new identity just in time. “Mel and Em will be back shortly.”
“Okay, guys. If you’d like to go upstairs and play for a bit, I’ll start getting tea ready. If you’re all hungry…?”
They assured her they were, very, then stampeded upstairs. Mrs Vincent returned to the kitchen.
“Well I never… It must be contagious…”
The children draped themselves around Imelda’s bedroom. Christopher was looking worried.
“What’s up, Chris?” asked Paul.
“I’m not looking forward to going back to school. Those two will have it in for me. And they were filming me this afternoon.”
“I know. I saw them. But couldn’t you switch to my school? It’s just a bus ride.”
“I’d love to. It would be fun. And it’s a lot less rough than mine.”
“And you could wear girls’ stuff if you wanted to, like me.”
“Yeah. It’d be great. But I don’t think I can. I don’t know what my parents would say, and in any case, it takes ages to get a transfer. You have to apply an’ everything.”
“Let me talk to my mum,” said Paul, thoughtfully. “She knows the head, and she might be able to pull a few strings. And ask your parents what they think.”
“I will.”
“What are they like?”
“They’re cool. They’ve always been good to me. I feel sorry for Johnny and Baz, in a way. I think they’re both a bit neglected. They’re not really bad. Maybe just unhappy.”
Tabitha was looking at Chris intently. All her animosity had evaporated. She was beginning to like him.
“Pauline,” she said, “why don’t you ring your mum and ask her if she’d talk to Miss Williams about Christina tomorrow? And maybe ask her if she’d be willing to meet Christina’s parents for a chat. She could reassure them about his dressing as a girl.”
“Okay. I will. I’ll ring her now.”
“And Christina, why don’t you tell your parents you want to have a meeting with them? And see if they’d be prepared to meet Pauline’s mum?”
“Yeah, I suppose…”
“You need to try sort it now. Otherwise things could get bad… I believe in taking action, myself.”
“Yes, we noticed,” laughed Rosalind.
So Christopher was persuaded, and the upshot was that Mrs Adams and his parents arranged to get together Sunday evening, with both the boys, after Paul’s mum had spoken to Miss Williams. Christopher didn’t tell his parents what it was all about, and neither would Mrs Adams when she spoke to them to make the arrangements, other than to say it was something very positive, and not to worry.
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Chapter 28. Nathan.
Now all the while Paul had been occupied with Chris, and with his own transformation at school, his old friend Nathan had got rather left out in the cold. It was not entirely Paul’s fault. Nathan had initially reacted to the news of his friend’s decision with disbelief, and when Paul turned up at school as Pauline, he had avoided him whenever he could. He was still keeping out of the way, even when Paul and his friends were at his own house, but on that particular Saturday afternoon he was at home when the Bunny Club returned from its adventures. His auntie Catherine was over with Autumn, and they had just all sat down to supper when the mob arrived. Emilia was first through the front door, closely followed by Imelda, Paul and Chris, with the others bringing up the rear. To Nathan’s horror, he saw that Paul and Chris were holding hands.
“What the…?”
“Hello Nathan. I haven’t seen you for days? How’s it going, mate?” Paul spoke with total unconcern, not even bothering to let go of Chris’s hand.
Nathan stood up and stared. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, sorry. Nathan, this is Chris…er, Christina. Christina, this is Nathan, my friend - Em’s brother.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you Nathan.”
Nathan was speechless for a moment. Then he let rip.
“What the f***, dude? What’s goin’ on? First of all you turn all girlie, now you’ve turned gay, too!”
“Nathan, sorry. I should have talked to you about it. But it feels as if you’ve been avoiding me all week. And I’m not gay, for your information.” But he let go of Chris’s hand.
“Nathan!” said Mrs Dikinson, angrily, “stop it at once! And please don’t swear. Remember your cousin is here!”
“I don’t give a crap! You were supposed to be my best mate, but suddenly I don’t know you any more. You never said a word to me about it. All at once you’re the cutest thing in the whole school, and everyone wants to be your friend. And you can’t even be bothered to ring me or anythin’!”
Paul realised it was true. In all the excitement he had forgotten all about Nathan. He had been so busy congratulating himself and revelling in the attention, that his old friend had been pushed out of his mind. He turned red, and started stammering.
“Nathan, I-I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t mean… I mean, I was going to talk to you…only, you know, we didn’t see each other somehow and…”
“Forget it, Paul, or Pauline, or whatever you call yourself now. I’m not interested. Go and do kissy kissy with your new girlfriend, and keep out of my way!” And he headed for the door.
“Nathan, darling…” began Catherine.
“And you can f*** off too, auntie. I bet you knew all about it and you didn’t give a shit either!”
And he crashed out of the front door, slamming it behind him. There was silence for a moment. Then Autumn piped up, “Paul, is that boy there your new girlfriend now?”
They all looked at each other, and Eleanor and Catherine were unable to suppress a smile. The children were still in shock.
“I’ve been stupid,” said Paul. “And selfish.”
“Never mind,” said Catherine. Leave him to me. I’ll try and sort things out.”
The atmosphere was still subdued even after they had all eaten supper. Eleanor had called Nathan and established he was at a friend’s house and would be back later. So she knew he was safe. Catherine and Autumn were going to stay over so Catherine could talk to Nathan when he got home. It was one of those situations in which your mother is the last person you want to discuss things with.
Chris, Imelda, and the three younger girls left soon after supper. Chris gave Paul a hug as he was leaving.
“Talk to Nathan when you get the chance, Pauline,” he whispered. “I don’t want to mess up your relationship with him. I’d like us all to be friends, if that’s possible.”
“We’ll see, Christina. I’m glad you’re keeping your dress on to go home.”
“There’s no point in pretending any more. My parents are going to find out soon enough, so I might as well prepare them. I think they’ll accept it. I trust them.”
Soon afterwards Paul too left and made his way home. As he walked he thought about what had happened, and by the time he got to his house he was full of guilt and regret. But he determined he would patch things up with Nathan whatever the cost.
Nathan walked in at ten, and headed up the stairs to his bedroom.
“Darling?” called his mother, “would you like something to eat?”
“No thanks. I’ve eaten. Dave’s mum gave me beans and chips.”
“Can we talk?”
“Mum, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“All right. But your aunt is going to come up and say goodnight.”
“Whatever.”
Catherine gave him ten minutes, then ascended the stairs and tapped softly at his door.
“Nathan?”
“Yeah, I’m awake. Come in.”
Nathan was propped up in bed reading a magazine. Catherine went over and sat down next to him.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Pissed off. Like everyone played a trick on me.”
“Is that why you told me to f*** off?”
“Oh, come on, aunt! What did you expect? I’d just discovered I’d been screwed over by the whole family. And that my best friend – as was – is totally gay.”
“Well, deciding he likes to present as a girl doesn’t exactly mean he’s gay.”
“Are you serious? Did you see them? They were holding hands, for f***’s sake!”
“Nathan. Please stop swearing! I will not tolerate it!”
“Sorry. But you can see my point?”
“You know, as I understand it, Paul never set out to present as a girl. He was blackmailed into it, until eventually he realised it was what he wanted.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes! And it’s not so odd, when you’ve been used to being a boy, all in your ugly clothes, trying to be all macho, and suddenly you have the option of being pretty, and wearing cute outfits, and getting loads of attention, and not having to prove anything any more, that you’d realise the advantages.”
“You reckon. It doesn’t alter the fact he’s a total sissy, and when I get back to school I’m gonna tell everyone about his boyfriend, and how they go about holdin’ hands!”
“Now, Nathan, I don’t think that’s fair. They are friends, but Paul at least isn’t gay. You know that. You’re not so different from him yourself. Your favourite things were always board games, and dressing up, and stuff like that. You were never a street kid. And swearing doesn’t suit you at all. Wouldn’t you like to have some nicer clothes, and stop hanging out with that crowd of idiots at the shopping centre, like you have been lately?”
“Maybe I would. But I’m not going to dress up as a girl. No way.”
“No-one’s suggesting that. You’re all boy, I know. But you can have cute boy’s clothes too. It would do you good to soften up a bit – get back to your true self. Hang out with Paul and Chris even if they are Pauline and Christina now. I know you like Paul. You know you like Paul. Let me help you.”
“How?”
“I’ll bring you some new gear next week. Cool stuff. Stuff that will let you relax and be yourself.”
“Maybe…no girlie clothes, though.”
“Definitely not. Blue for a boy. It’s a deal.”
“Okay. I’m sorry I swore at you.”
“I forgive you. But watch your step, young man. I would hate to have to spank you.”
“Shut up, aunt. I’m going to sleep now.”
“Good night Nathan,” said Catherine, giving him two kisses on his cheek. “Sleep well.”
“Yeah. Night night.”
Catherine switched off the light and made her way out of the room. She had a smile on her face. “First objective achieved,” she murmured to herself, as she returned downstairs.
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Chapter 29. The Harmans.
Anne-Marie rang Miss Williams first thing Sunday morning, and explained that she needed to see her urgently. Miss Williams immediately suggested she should come round for tea that afternoon. She like Anne-Marie a lot, and was only too happy to get better acquainted. So once they were settled in Miss Williams’ lounge, with a pot of tea and a plate of cakes between them, Anne-Marie got straight to the point.
“Margaret, you’ve already done me one great favour, allowing Paul to become Pauline. May I ask you about something else? This is not for myself, you understand. This is just an exploratory question on behalf of another family.”
“Go ahead, Anne-Marie. Ask away. And as to doing you a favour, it was nothing of the sort. You know my philosophy. And from all the reports I’ve heard, Pauline has been fully accepted by her fellow students, and indeed, several of them are following her lead. Do you know, there’s been a significant decrease in anti-social behaviour recently, clearly linked to the blurring of the separation between the genders. It has been as I hoped – the effect has been to defuse the tendency for the boys to feel the need to prove their masculinity.”
“Thank you, Margaret. Well, let me explain first that Pauline now has several close friends who are girls, and that they have formed a girls-only club. The latest member of that club is a boy, Chris, who, like my son, prefers to be identified as female, and is now called Christina. But he is at a, shall we say, ‘difficult’, school, and if he returns there in his new persona it’s clear he’s going to suffer badly. We were wondering, if there’s any possibility…”
“There is, as a matter of fact. Is he Pauline’s age? If so, we have lost two students recently, so there are places available. Clearly the matter is urgent, so I would need Christina and his parents to come for interview as soon as possible. I can arrange it any day they are free. Can you convey that message to them?”
“Thank you so much, Margaret. Of course I will. I’m meeting them tonight.”
“Well they can come to the school on Monday if they wish. If they do, just ask them to give me a call in the morning, and we’ll fix it up.”
“That’s so kind of you.”
“Not at all. The more Brook Lane can build a reputation for tolerance and equality, the happier I’ll be. I hope they decide to follow up.”
So it was that Anne-Marie felt she had good news for Christina and her parents as she waited for them to arrive that evening. They had agreed they would all come round to her house at eight. They proved to be everything Chris had said – level-headed, loving, and tolerant. Bill and Kim Harman, seeing Paul and Chris together for the first time, in their pretty clothes, and recognising their obvious affection for each other, were quite disarmed. Kim explained to Anne-Marie that Chris was really quite unhappy at his school, that he didn’t seem to fit in at all, and that he had been so much more peaceful and happy since he had met Paul. So they happily agreed to visit Brook Lane the next day to discuss the possibility of a transfer. They realised nothing could happen immediately, but they were reassured by Anne-Marie’s insistence that Margaret Williams could be relied upon to act quickly and decisively.
The Harmans met her the next day, Chris was interviewed, and it was agreed that, if the necessary criteria relating to catchment area could be met, he would be welcomed to the school. But more of that later. For now, it’s time to return to the recalcitrant Nathan.
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Chapter 30. Cool Gear.
It was ten days later, on a Thursday morning, that Mrs Dikinson told Nathan he needn’t get ready for school that day.
“Why, mummy?” he asked, puzzled.
“Your Aunt Catherine will be here soon. I believe she has some business with you. I’ve already rung the school to say you won’t be in. After you’ve had your breakfast and finished drinking your tea, I want you to go to your room and wait for her.”
“Yes, mummy,” he replied, meekly. Since his tantrum he had been rather subdued, feeling guilty about his behaviour that evening. But having an unexpected day off school! That couldn’t be bad, could it. And he had sort of made up with Paul, or at least, made a start. They had apologised to each other, and he wasn’t feeling so bad now. Paul was still his friend, and he had to admit, he did look cute in his girl’s uniform. And he thought he might be overcoming his jealously of Chris.
He went up and sat on his bed wondering what was in store. He guessed that she must have some new clothes for him. That was quite exciting. So why did he also feel a little apprehensive? Maybe because she had such an air of authority, and somehow always got him to do what she wanted, whether he wanted it or not.
“I suppose that’s cos she’s a teacher, and she teaches big kids,” he said to himself, out loud. “I guess she has to be strict to keep order.”
Catherine Lowell was indeed a teacher, teaching years nines and above at a private girls’ school. She was a form teacher to 9B, and specialised in English and something called Domestic Studies. This latter subject was nothing like the old ‘domestic science’ intended to prepare young girls for their wifely duties, or even the ‘home economics’ which replaced it. It was a broad study intended to help the girls understand the need to look after themselves, to cope with childbirth and child rearing if necessary, and to comprehend the complexities of renting or buying a place to live, dealing with all formalities, bills, health registration, and so on, and supporting a family. Its focus and direction was on self-sufficiency, the assumption that each person must be able to function as an individual, and not rely on partners or family. It was a popular subject with her pupils, and she derived great satisfaction from providing clear and useful answers to the many questions she was asked, and support to girls who were already having to face difficult problems at home. The school, the Somerville Academy, was by no means populated by the wealthy, but offered scholarships to girls from all levels of society, who were considered academically able or promising.
Nathan heard her arrive. It was nine-thirty. There was a little explosion of greeting and laughter, and shortly afterwards he heard her step on the stair, followed by a soft knock at his door.
“Come in.”
“Hello, Nathan,” she smiled, pushing open the door and advancing into the room, “how are you today?” She carried a little suitcase in one hand.
“I’m well, thank you, auntie.”
“I expect you’re wondering what’s going on.”
“Yes. And why aren’t you at your school today?”
“Well, I took the morning off to come and see you. I don’t teach first period Thursday in any case, so it was just a matter of getting someone to take the register.”
“I see.”
“So, I’ve got a few nice things for you here” – she indicated the case – “which I hope you’re going to like.”
“Things?” Nathan looked at the case with a little more interest. Could it be some sort of treat, to show him there were no hard feelings?
“Clothes.” Okay. Fine. But he thought he’d better check, so he added,
“Not…girls’ clothes, aunt?”
“No, no. Don’t worry. I think we got that you’re not into that. These are definitely boys’ things. In fact, pretty much everything is blue. Blue means boy, all boy. The complete opposite of that awful girlie pink. Okay?”
“I suppose so. But I’m still not sure why I need new clothes. The wardrobe’s full.”
“I know. But these are special. Just as I said. Super smart and cool.”
“Okay…” said Nathan, doubtfully.
“Shall we get started? Here, hop off there and I’ll see what we’ve got.”
Nathan slid off the bed. Mrs Lowell put the case down where he had been sitting, and flicked open the catches. She opened the lid. Nathan peered in. There was something sparkly on top, and more stuff underneath. He couldn’t see what.
“Now, let’s see. First, just to make sure you don’t spoil anything, we need one of these.” She pulled out something puffy and white. Nathan’s face fell.
“That’s a pull-up!”
“Yes, dear. An extra large one, which will fit you perfectly.”
“But…”
“Now, now. No arguments please, and we’ll get along just fine. I want you to go to the bathroom, take off all your clothes – all, mind – and put this on. Bring your clothes back and put them neatly in the drawer. Understood?”
Nathan looked at his aunt. He could see she was in earnest. He knew it was best not to argue. Angrily, he snatched the offending article from her hand and stomped to the door.
“And no sulking, do you hear me? Do it with a good grace, and we’ll get on fine. Otherwise it will be girls’ clothes for you, mister.”
When Nathan returned, Mrs Lowell had laid out some things on the bed. She looked up.
“Good boy.”
He put away his clothes and waited silently.
“Now, I think this, for starters. She held out a sky-blue short-sleeved vest or shirt, made of shiny spandex and with a couple of buttons at the neck and a collar like a proper shirt collar. Nathan took it and pulled it on. It fitted closely, but comfortably. Mrs Lowell tugged and straightened it until she was satisfied. Then she buttoned it up and folded the collar up.
“There. It just about reaches your waist, which is perfect. It might ride up a bit – it’s quite snug – but I’m sure you’re not so shy that you’ll be worried about showing your belly button.”
Nathan made a sour face.
She picked a little silver bow-tie on a piece of elastic off the bed. She slid it over Nathan’s head, adjusted it around his neck, and folded down his collar over the elastic. She fiddled with it until it was straight..
“That’s very smart don’t you think?” Nathan didn’t reply.
“Now sit on the bed, darling. Time for your shoes and socks. Here we are. Nice simple white ankle socks – no silly girlish frills – and blue patent strappy shoes.”
“But they’re girls’ shoes, aren’t they?” Nathan exclaimed in dismay.
“Don’t be silly. They’re just shoes. There’s no difference between girls’ and boys’ shoes, except colour. And yours are a lovely blue. Blue means boy, remember?”
Nathan grimaced, but didn’t respond.
“Now, you’re going to love this. Look at this lovely little jacket!”
It was a short zipper jacket, in a bluish material which sparkled with rainbow colours when it moved. It had a blue woven waistband, blue woven cuffs, and a stand-up round collar with a press-stud fastening. Across the front, in sliver script, one each side of the zip, were the words “Fashion Baby” She helped him into it and zipped it half-way up. The waistband fitted him snugly, and rested just above his pull-up.
“Oh, you look great, Nathan! That’s such a cool jacket!”
“It looks stupid on top of this pull-up, aunt!” he protested.
“Don’t be so impatient, darling. Here. The pièce de resistance!”
“No!”
“Yes, Nathan. Oh, yes. These are the best quality plastic pants that money can buy. I got them specially for you. And boys’, see? Lovely bright blue, all glossy and smooth, to match everything else.”
“But what am I going to wear over them?”
“Nothing, silly! These are designed to be worn outside. They’re heavy duty, quite opaque, you see. Look, they have a little belt loops and a matching plastic belt with a silver buckle. See? It says “Fashion Baby” all around the belt, and there’s an “FB” monogram on the buckle. This is high fashion for kids – boys, that is. Now come here and try them on.”
Nathan was almost in tears as he stepped into the pants. This was not his idea of a cool outfit. Catherine pulled them up and attempted to buckle the little belt. But she seemed to be having difficulty. She was slightly bending over struggling with the buckle.
“This buckle’s very stiff,” she complained. “I do have a replacement belt, but I should be able to fix this one. Hold on a second. I’ve got some stuff here that might help.”
She reached into the case and produced a tiny tube. Nathan looked down to see what the problem was.
“Shall I try, auntie?”
“No, no, Nathan. Let me. Just stand up straight, so I can see what I’m doing.”
“What is that stuff?”
“Just a lubricating gel…for stuck zips and things. This should do it….there! That’s better. All done. Now….”
She stood up and adjusted his pants, pulling and puffing them out fussily.
“See? Do you notice the legs have nice smooth elasticated bands, so they’re completely waterproof? And they’re not cut too high on the thigh. In fact, they look almost like little shorts. And there’s the little “Fashion Baby” logo on the thigh as well. It’s perfect, this little ensemble – very fashionable. You’ll be the envy of your friends!”
“My friends? No way am I ever letting my friends see me in this, aunt!”
“Well, we’ll see. I’m must say I’m rather surprised you don’t appreciate how chic this looks on you. I think you’ve got so used to your dull old outfits that you just can’t see it. I’m sure you’ll come round, though. Let’s go and show your mummy, shall we?”
Catherine guided him out of the door. He preceded her downstairs and into the kitchen, where his mother was making a cake. He slouched reluctantly into the room, looking at the floor. He was aware his mother had stopped mixing. He heard her faint gasp of surprise.
“Well, Eleanor, what do you think?”
“Oh, Nathan! That’s a very cool outfit!”
“There. What did I tell you? At least your mother has good taste!”
“Mum, I look stupid! Why has auntie got me these clothes?”
“Nathan! Don’t be so ungrateful! Say sorry to your aunt at once!”
“Sorry, aunt. But I really don’t think this suits me, you know.”
“Goodness me, Nathan,” said his mother, firmly, “if you don’t like that outfit, I really doubt if you understand fashion at all. It’s probably not your fault. I never put as much thought into your clothes as I did into Emilia’s. I regret it now.”
“Well, mum, it’s not really the whole outfit I don't like, it’s just the pants and the pull-up, obviously.”
“You’re out of touch, Nathan,” said Catherine. “This “baby” fashion is the happening thing. I know, because I teach girls who are in touch with all the latest trends. Didn’t you know about it?”
“No. I don’t believe you. It’s not true, is it?”
“It is,” said his mother. “Here, I think I saw an article in one of Emilia’s magazines. Where is it, now? Ah, here it is.” She flicked through. “Yes, there you go – look at this.”
Nathan took the magazine. There was indeed an article about a trend towards babywear for young people. There was a picture of a teenage girl in a nappy holding a pacifier and a feeding-bottle. He began to feel a bit less sure of himself.
“But this is for girls…it doesn’t say anything about blokes.”
“That’s just because it’s a girls’ magazine, dear. Believe me, it’s for boys too. Otherwise why would they make this stuff in such nice shades of blue?”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, Nathan!” exclaimed Catherine. “I can assure you. But it’s very new. You’ll be right at the forefront in this outfit.”
Nathan was still dubious, and he looked suspiciously from his aunt to his mother and back again.
“Tell you what,” said Catherine, “I’m going to prove it to you! Just let me grab a couple of things.”
And she dashed off upstairs.
-
Chapter 31. Somerville Academy.
Nathan looked at his mother.
“What’s she doing?”
“I think she has a plan, dear. You know Auntie Cath.”
In a minute she was back again, holding a cloth bag.
“Come on, let’s go!”
“Where?”
“You’ll see. Eleanor? Back a bit later, okay?”
“Whenever, Catherine. See you later. Bye, Nathan!”
“Wait. Where are we going?”
But Catherine had already bustled him outside, and shut the door.
“No. Wait. I’ve changed my mind. I’m staying here.”
“Suit yourself. Stand in the front garden by yourself if that’s what you want. I’m getting in the car.”
And she walked off down the path, climbed into her car, and started the engine.
Nathan hammered at the door. “Mum! Mum! Open up! I’m staying!” But there was no reply. He realised his mother was not letting him back in. He hesitated a moment, and then, as Catherine started to pull slowly away, and he saw a bunch of boys approaching along the road, he made a mad dash for the car. Catherine stopped and he jumped in beside her.
“Good decision, dear,” she smiled. And they sped away.
“Where are we going?”
“Somerville. I’m teaching last period this morning.”
“What? So what am I supposed to do?”
“Come in with me? I’ll prove to you that’s a great outfit.”
“What? Come with you into school? Forget it. No way. With all those girls there? You’re joking.”
“Well I wasn’t, but sit in the car for an hour if you like. If you won’t come in, you can’t be very sure of yourself.”
Nathan frowned, but didn’t reply.
“How old are those girls you teach?”
“Oh, this morning I’m teaching year nines.”
“Year nines? A bunch of thirteen-year-olds?”
“Well, some are fourteen…”
“Like that’s any better.”
“It’s up to you.”
“Yeah. It is.”
“There’s some cans in the glove box if you want a drink.”
“Thanks. I will.”
Catherine drove into the school car park and parked. She had her own space. She sat there shuffling some papers together and looking for her pens.
“Be a darling and get my case out of the boot.”
Nathan checked around. The place was deserted. Everyone must be in lessons.
“Don’t worry. There’s no-one about. It’s third period.”
“Okay.”
He stepped out, went round to the boot, opened it, and pulled out his aunt’s briefcase. He slammed the lid down. As he did so there was a beep, and the car locked. His aunt was standing by the car, grinning. He looked at her, startled.
“Open the car, aunt. Please!”
“Can I have my briefcase, please?”
He handed it over. “Please, aunt. That’s not fair. You tricked me.”
“I suppose I did. But I told you – I just want to show you how cool you look. At least come and meet a couple of my friends in the staffroom.”
She began walking away.
“Or stay here if you prefer. Let’s see. It’s an hour and twenty minutes till lunchtime. It’s a nice day. You can go and try out some of the outside gym equipment. In any case, I’ll be back soon after the girls come out to lunch.”
“No! Open the car! You b…”
“Yes?”
“Nothing.”
“Well? Are you coming, or staying. I don’t mind which.”
The truth was that Nathan’s aunt had decided more than a week before that he needed teaching a little lesson. Then she and Eleanor and Emilia had sat down together and discussed the whole matter. Emilia had explained how, before his transformation, Paul had started getting into bad company, and aspiring to imitate it. They were afraid Nathan might be heading in the same direction, especially after his outburst. Both boys were naturally sweet and gentle. Paul’s transformation had allowed him to revert to his true self, and they wanted something similar for Nathan. But he was never going to submit to being girlified. So Catherine had hatched her little plan.
“Leave it to me, girls. It’ll take some organising, but I think I may have a way of instilling a touch of humility into our little hooligan.”
“You have a plan, Catherine. I love your plans. There always so….elaborate,” said Eleanor.
Well, Catherine’s plan was now unfolding. So far, so good, she thought. Let’s hope my colleagues and my girls play their parts well. We’ll see.
Nathan followed his aunt nervously to the staffroom, looking around all the while for dangers. He followed her in. There were only three teachers inside, all sipping coffee and chatting.
“Ladies. Can I introduce my nephew, Nathan? I’ve brought him along to see how Somerville operates. Nathan, this is Marcia, this is Winifred, and this is Teresa.”
Marcia and Teresa were quite young, probably not more than twenty or so. Winifred was probably in her forties. There was no hint of surprise or ridicule in their expressions. He began to feel a bit more confident.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, in a meek voice, his cheeks reddening despite himself.
“And you, young man,” smiled Winifred. “That’s a very smart outfit. I see you’re a bit of a fashionista.”
“I’m afraid our girls aren’t allowed anything as cool as that,” put in Teresa. “They have to make do with their dull old uniforms when they’re at school.”
“That’s right,” added Marcia. “You’re going to make them jealous if they catch sight of you. So, Catherine, are you going to introduce him to your class?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure he wants to meet them. He doesn’t think much of girls on the whole.”
“Auntie, that’s not true! You know it’s not! That’s not what I said. I like girls!” He turned to the three teachers. “I have a sister and I love her very much. I get on well with girls. It’s just that….well, my best friend was a boy, and then all of a sudden he decided he wanted to be a girl, and…well, I’m just not used to it yet.”
“Oh, I can understand that, Nathan,” said Winifred. “It could be a bit of a shock. But it’s much better for him to be what he wants to be. You should support him. It’s a brave thing to do.”
“Yes, I know. I am going to support him. I like him – her – very much, and I don’t really care what clothes she wears.”
He chatted away with the ladies quite happily. All three were drinking coffee, and Marcia kindly made one for him as well. By now he had lost all his self-consciousness. Catherine suffered a minor twinge of remorse, but she quickly quashed it. After a few minutes, Teresa looked at the clock.
“It’s nearly time, girls. Eleven forty. So are you going to brave Catherine’s horrible girls, Nathan, or would you prefer to stay here in the safety of the staffroom?”
It would have been difficult now for him to refuse. He would have looked a bit of a wimp. In any case, he had decided his new outfit must actually be quite trendy. So, making a virtue of necessity, he said,
“Of course. Let’s go, auntie. Nice to meet you all. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Nathan!” they chorused, smiling broadly.
-
Chapter 32. 9B.
He walked by Catherine’s side as she led the way to her classroom. They got there just before the change of periods, and waited outside the door. Then a loud bell rang, there was a clatter of footsteps from the adjoining rooms, and girls began to pour out into the corridor. Nathan noticed he was getting quite a lot of astonished glances, which he took for admiration. He preened himself inwardly. Just then a teacher emerged from Catherine’s classroom.
“Hi Catherine. They’re all yours. A bit skittish today, I’m afraid. Who’s this?”
“This is my nephew, Nathan. Nathan, meet Annie.”
“Hi Annie.”
“Hi Nathan. Cute outfit! Well, must be getting along. Good luck!”
“And you, darling. See you at lunch.”
She turned to Nathan.
“Wait here just one moment. I’ll settle them down and then bring you in.”
She went in and closed the door. The corridor was mostly empty now, though a couple of girls were peeping at him around the corner of a classroom door. They were giggling stupidly. Probably year sevens, he thought. Annoying. He could just hear Catherine’s voice through the door. She was telling her class to “remember what I said”. But what it was she had said he didn’t hear. Then the door opened again and Catherine appeared.
“Come on, Nathan. Come in and meet my girls.”
With a little flutter of nervousness he entered the classroom. There must have been about twenty girls in the class. Many fewer than he was used to at Brook Lane. They were all staring at him.
“Girls, say hello to Nathan. Nathan is my nephew, and he’s a very good boy.”
There was a chorus of “Hi Nathan!”, “Hello Nathan!” He nodded and smiled, and the whole class smiled back. One girl at the back snorted loudly. They all seemed very happy, exchanging remarks and laughing. One girl had her head in her hands and her shoulders were shaking. Nathan couldn’t work out whether she was laughing or crying. It was not quite what he had expected. He imagined his aunt would have them all under strict control.
“Lidia, that’s enough! Sam, compose yourself or you can stand outside! You too, Greta! Miss Carter said you’d been a bit unruly today. So please calm down, everyone.”
The commotion subsided into a sort of suppressed excitation.
“You’re cute!” shouted a dark-haired girl in the front row, with a big grin, and the whole class exploded in laughter. Nathan blushed, but felt inwardly gratified.
“Sheila, do want to go outside?”
“No. miss. But he is. And I love the little bow-tie!”
There was a ripple of agreement.
“Then be quiet. Quiet, all of you. Nathan, perhaps it would be better if you went and sat down. There’s a spare seat next to Daria, over there.”
“Miss, there’s one here, too!”
“And here, miss!”
“Quiet, girls! Quiet, I said! That’s better. I know it’s quite a novelty to have a boy in class, but you must all settle down. Right. Let’s get on. Last time we were discussing the care of babies and young children. Alicia? I believe you have a paper to read out? Thank you.”
Alicia made her way to the front, turned to the class, and prepared to read from an exercise book. However, before she could start she dissolved in a fit of coughing and giggles, her cheeks reddened, and she had to cover her face in an attempt to compose herself. Catherine waited patiently.
“What’s up with her?” whispered Nathan to Daria.
“Oh, she’s just a bit shy, that’s all. It’s nervous laughter.”
“Oh, I see.”
Finally Alicia managed to control her “nerves” enough to begin to read her work. Her paper was all about the feeding, nursing and care of babies. She had got to the section about the type and use of nappies when she broke down again, and became so helpless with mirth she couldn't go on.
“Here, Alicia, give me your book and go and sit down,” intervened Catherine. “I’ll finish it for you.”
As Catherine expatiated on the subject of nappies and changing mats and nappy rash and plastic pants, Nathan began to feel uncomfortable, not only mentally, but physically. He’d drunk quite a lot that morning – tea at breakfast, a can of Fanta in the car, and then a coffee – and he needed to go to the toilet, and soon. He put his hand up. Catherine stopped reading.
“Yes, Nathan?”
“Please, miss. I need to go to the toilet.”
“Okay. Just down the corridor the way we came, and it’s on the left. Off you go.”
He jumped up and made his way quickly to the door. There were titters from the class. He wondered what was so amusing, but things were getting urgent and he didn’t have time to linger. He trotted along the corridor. Ah, there it was. Wow, so clean and fresh! Not like Brook Lane. He shut himself in the first stall, and went to unbuckle his pants. What was wrong with the belt? It was stuck. Damn. It wouldn’t move! It must be that buckle again. I thought auntie had fixed it! Oh my god, I can’t undo it. The plastic is too strong to break! What am I going to do? I want to go so much!
He burst out of the toilet and ran back down the corridor. He opened the classroom door and called to his aunt.
“Auntie! Please, can you help?”
“Wait a minute, dear. Let me finish the essay and I’ll be right with you.”
“No! Please! Now! It’s urgent!” He could feel himself beginning to leak into his pull-up.
“Well don’t stand there dancing about like that! Come and tell me what the problem is.”
Desperately he sprinted across the classroom.
“Let me whisper!”
“Goodness, what a fuss! What is it that can’t wait a few minutes?”
“Please, aunt!”
“All right. What then?” She bent down a little so he could whisper in her ear. But the class seemed to be in a ferment of excitement, and there was a hubbub of chatter and giggling.
“I can’t hear you. Speak up.”
“I said, I can’t undo my pants!”
“What? You want to dance?”
“Auntie!” In desperation he shouted. “Auntie! I can’t undo my belt! I’m going to wet myself!”
There was instant silence. The girls were as one, riveted, eyes wide.
“Oh. I see. Come here then.”
She knelt down in front of her nephew and began fiddling with the belt.
“It does seem very stiff….”
But it was all taking too much time. He couldn’t hold it any longer, especially with his aunt tugging at his belt. All at once he knew he was going to give in. As he flooded his pull-up, he let out a long sigh of relief. Then his head dropped and he began to sob quietly. Catherine let go of the belt and gingerly prodded the front of his pants.
“Oh. Oh dear. I think we’re too late. Never mind. Thank goodness you’re wearing a pull-up.”
“Has he done it, miss?” Piped up an excited voice from the back.
“I’m afraid so, girls. And it’s a big one by the feel of it.”
Pandemonium. Banging of desk lids, whooping and whistling. Applause. Poor Nathan! He stood there helplessly, hanging his head, excruciatingly conscious of the heaviness of his soggy pull-up and his now distended plastic pants. And he was going to be so cool!
But there was worse to come.
“Now girls, calm down please. That’s enough. Thank you. It’s of course very unfortunate that Nathan has had a little…er, accident. But it gives us a wonderful opportunity to put what we have learnt to practical use, don’t you think?”
The class looked at her inquiringly. Was she suggesting…?
“Yes. Why don’t we change him? It will be excellent training. I have a fresh pull-up and all the necessary equipment with me… “
“No!” cried Nathan, horrified. “No! You can’t! I won’t let you!”
“Yes, miss! Yes! Yes! Yes! Please!”
“Well, darling, you can’t stay like that all day, can you? Best let us deal with it and you’ll soon be all nice and clean and dry. Yes?”
“Not here, aunt, please… Not in front of everyone…”
“I’m sorry, but you have no choice. I’m not dragging you around the school looking for a spare room. No, it’ll be done here, so accept it. Girls? Could you push those two front desks together, please? And Diana? Could you fetch two or three big towels from the gym? Thank you.”
-
Chapter 33. A Lesson in Childcare.
The preparations were soon made. The desks, when pushed together, formed a longish low table. Catherine folded the towels and laid them along it.
“Do any of you object to carrying on through the lunch-hour?” Silence. “Excellent. I think you all have packed lunches today anyway, which you may eat later. I’ll make sure we’re not disturbed.”
She took a key from her pocket and locked the classroom door.
“There. Now, I think it would be useful if we filmed this as a instructional video, don’t you girls? Harriet, you’re the filmmaker, aren’t you? Would you like to get the video camera? By chance it’s right there in the stationary cupboard today.”
Nathan was retreating into a corner, shaking his head slowly in protest. Catherine ignored him. Harriet returned with the camera, and took up a position on top of the teacher’s desk, from where she had a perfect view of the changing table.
“You all right up there, Harriet?”
“Yes, thank you, miss,” replied Harriet, peering through the viewfinder, “this is ideal.”
Catherine tested the towels.
“Good. Nice and soft. Gather round girls. Before we start, I want everyone to put on a pair of surgical gloves from the box. Good. Could you hold the edges of the towels so they don’t move about? That’s right. Now, Nathan. Come and lie down here, there’s a good boy.”
Nathan didn’t move. He had pressed himself into the corner alcove, and showed no inclination to come out.
“Girls, could you help him please?”
“No! You can’t! Please don’t!”
But willing hands dragged him from his refuge, peeled off his jacket, and pushed him, face down, onto the changing table.
Catherine had laid out all the necessaries on an adjacent desk, and she began by cutting his belt with scissors.
“Don’t worry, I have a spare belt.”
She tossed the cut one into the bin. She didn’t want Nathan discovering it had been super-glued.
She prodded his pants.
“You can feel his pull-up is full. Try, girls. Go on.”
A dozen fingers prodded at his bottom.
“Miss! It’s so wet it squelches when you press it!”
“Yeah! He’s really done it good, hasn’t he?”
“So what’s the first thing we need to do? Vivian?”
“Get his pants off.”
“Yes. Get his pants off and wash them, so that they’ll be dry when we come to put them on again. So let’s pull them off, carefully. If two of you could pull the legs, and Alicia and I will pull down the waistband. That’s it. If a couple of you could wash them at the sink, and hang them up off the tap. Thanks.”
“Next? Sara?”
“Get the pull-up off, miss, and put it in a plastic bag.”
“Right. Would two of you like to do that?”
Nathan, his face pressed into the towel, squirmed with embarrassment. “Please….no…”
But his pull-up was already half way down his legs, his little pink bottom bare for all to see. A ripple of delighted laughter ran round the huddle of girls. Nathan pressed his thighs and his buttocks tightly together. He was trembling slightly. The girls disposed of the soaked pull-up, and returned to the table.
“Well, I’m sorry, but we can’t clean you up like that, Nathan. Just relax and let us do our job.”
“No!”
“Oh, dear. You see, girls, it can sometimes be like this. You can’t force a baby to do what you want. At least he’s not screaming as well.”
“So what do we do, miss?”
“I’ll try some gentle persuasion.”
She bent down and put her lips next to Nathan’s right ear.
“Listen carefully, darling,” she whispered as quietly as she could, “you need to let us do our job. If you continue to resist, then this is what will happen. You’ll be wearing your pretty little plastic pants to school tomorrow, but without a nappy. Would you like that? Would that impress your tough friends? And I’ll let the girls make you open up. So your going to lose both ways.”
“No,” Nathan groaned, out loud.
“Your choice,” she continued. “Make up your mind now.”
There was no choice. Slowly, he relaxed his muscles, and allowed Catherine to open his legs. She went to work with the baby wipes, thoroughly cleaning his skin. The girls took it in turns to emulate her.
“This is fun!” said Sheila. “His skin is as smooth as a baby’s, anyway. There’s just more of it!”
“Good job, girls. Now let’s turn him over. If you pull the towels over a little, then we can roll him… That’s it. Excellent.”
Poor Nathan lay there, one arm across his face, with everything on show. Catherine was already working away with the wipes, cleaning every inch. The girls were sniggering, but eagerly awaiting their turns.
“Huh!” said Alicia, “It’s nothing. I change my little brother all the time. It’s no different. And his thing's not much different either!”
Catherine stood back to let her students take over. Sheila, seeing her back turned, took the opportunity to flick Nathan’s little willy, making him yelp with pain. Her friends fell about laughing.
“Now girls, behave! Have you finished? Good. So now it’s time for…?”
“Baby cream. miss?”
“That’s right. We’ve got a nice big pot here, but don’t go too mad. Who wants to start?”
In the event, everyone wanted to try at once, and soon a dozen pairs of hands were gently smearing and smoothing, with no regard whatsoever for Nathan's modesty. He gritted his teeth, and said a silent prayer of thanks when he was finally turned back onto his front.
“Are you getting all this okay, Harriet?” Catherine asked.
“Yes, miss. It’s gonna be such a great video. Every now and then I zoom in on his face. It’s so funny.”
After the cream came the powder, and finally it was time for a clean pull-up. They pulled it up to his thighs, then made him kneel so they could get it over his bottom. He felt a sudden rush of relief as it snapped into place. His pants were dry, and he hastened to pull them on. Harriet was still filming, doing close-ups of his red face. Catherine produced a new belt, and threaded it through the loops. She buckled it up.
“Hmm. This one seems okay,” she remarked. “There was something wrong with that other one.”
There was fifteen minutes of lunch hour left, and the girls took their lunches and dragged Nathan into the playground, where they regaled their friends with the story of their lesson, making him the centre of attention. Well, it’s what every boy wants, as Catherine remarked to Harriet. The two of them stayed inside to review the video.
“I’ll take the camera home and upload this. It may be useful,” said Catherine. “You’ve done a great job, Harriet. You’ve really got a talent for it.”
“So do I get a copy for my portfolio, miss?”
“Of course, Harriet. But don’t tell the others. They’ll all want one!”
Nathan remained with 9B for the rest of the day. He learnt quite a lot about higher mathematics and about the geography of Europe. His embarrassment slowly diminished in inverse proportion to his popularity, and at the end of the day many fond goodbyes were exchanged. But it was such a relief to be heading home in Catherine’s car.
“Thank goodness that’s over, aunt. Why did you let them do all that stuff to me?”
“Why? Because it was a good lesson, and I hope it taught you a little humility and tolerance.”
“I suppose it did. But I’ll still be glad to get these plastic pants off!”
“Who said you’re taking them off?”
“Well, you can’t keep me in them!”
“Can’t I? I think, as long as I have the film Harriet made, I can keep you in them as long as I please.!”
“Auntie…please.”
“We’ll see. But I suggest you be on your best behaviour from now on.”
-
Sandra B, excellent chapters. Nathan had no idea that he was going to be the center attraction in class that day. I think he is on that slippery road to babyhood. Nathan will really learn humility and loads of embarrassment .
Thanks for the chapters and keep them coming, Sandra B.
-
Chapter 34. The Perfect End of a Perfect Day
It was four thirty before they got back to the Dikinson house. As they drew up, Emilia was just going in the gate.
“Come on Nathan, let’s get inside,” said Catherine.
“No. Let Emilia get inside first. Then go knock at the door and when she lets you in don’t close the door properly. And make sure Autumn isn’t in the hall. I’ll run in and go straight upstairs.”
“Oh, how can you be so shy after what happened to you today? That’s just silly!”
“I don’t care. I don’t want my sister and your daughter to see.”
“Oh, okay. Here. I'm locking the other doors and if you just press your catch down when you get out the car will be secure.”
Nathan watched his aunt knock and be admitted. She left the door open just an inch or two. Good. He checked up and down the road, and when the coast was clear he slipped out of his seat, pressed the catch on his door and slammed it. Then he skipped in through the gate and headed up the front path. He was almost at the front door when it slammed.
“No! You… You’re such a…a…liar!” He was going to say a different word, but he was in no position to antagonise his aunt. He stood on the path, not knowing what to do. He stamped his foot an frustration and anger. The letterbox opened and a pair of eyes appeared.
“Oooh, Nathan! Cute! You little show-off!”
“Em, Please let me in! Please! There are people coming!”
“Let you in? Well, I don’t know. I’m not sure if I should let in a grumpy little boy in blue plastic pants! In any case, I’m sure you really want to hang out in the front garden, showing off to all the passers-by.”
“No, Em, please! Oh, no,” he added looking round, “Mrs Spicer and Rosie are coming along. Please let me in. I’ll do anything…”
“Anything? Okay, I’ll let you in if you agree to stay in your cute outfit until Imelda gets here. Deal?”
“Yes. Okay. Deal. Quick!”
But before Emilia could open the door, Rosie had stopped dead outside the gate, holding her mother back.
“Look mummy, it’s Nathan. Nathan! Nathan! Hi!”
“Oh, hi Rosie.”
“Come here, please.”
“Oh, now you’re talking to your girlfriend, I see. So I’ll leave you out there for a bit longer,” whispered Emilia through the letter-box. And she let the flap snap shut.
“Hello Nathan,” said Mrs Spicer. “I think Rosie wants to show you her new shoes, if you have a minute.”
“Well, er…” He tried pushing against the door, but it was shut fast.
“Nathan, please come and see the shoes mummy’s bought me…”
Oh, what was the point. Reluctantly he made his way back to the gate.
“Do you like them? They’re special shiny leather.”
“Patent leather, isn’t it, darling?” coaxed Mrs Spicer.
“Patty leather, Nathan.”
“Yes, they’re very nice, Rosie,” said Nathan. Very smart shoes.”
“Nathan? You’ve got some new shorts. They look nice.”
“I think I’d call them pants, dear,” added Mrs Spicer, a smile playing about her lips, “ or even panties,” she added in a low voice.
“They look like baby pants, like Milly wears,” continued Rosie, thoughtfully.
“Milly’s my sister’s baby,” explained Mrs Spicer. “But she’s right. They do. But they look great on you Nathan. Do you wear them to school?”
“No!” snapped Nathan, forgetting himself for a moment. “I mean, no, they’re for…like yoga and stuff.”
“Oh, I see. That explains it then,” said Mrs Spicer, sarcastically. She was making no secret of the fact she was enjoying herself immensely. “You know that I teach yoga? No? I do. You must come round in your pants and join my students. Don’t you think so, Rosie?”
Just when Nathan thought things couldn’t get any worse, the front door opened and Autumn came bursting out.
“Nathan! You’re back!” She stopped dead. “Wow! Mummy said you had a surprise for me! You’re wearing baby pants!”
“Hi Autumn,” piped up Rosie, “Doesn’t he look nice? He’s coming round to play with me soon. Can you come too?”
“What, now, do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Mummy?”
“Well, it’s still quite early. It depends on what Autumn’s and Nathan’s mummies think.
Catherine appeared on the doorstep.
“Oh it’s fine by me. Eleanor’s out, so they can both go if it’s all right with you, Dorothy.”
“Great, Catherine. I’ll give them supper and send them back later. About eight?”
“Perfect! Thanks a mill.”
“Yippee,” said the two girls, together. Autumn grabbed Nathan’s hand and started pulling him towards the gate. While he was desperately trying to think of an excuse, with a wave, Catherine quickly closed the door again. So off he went, with a nice long evening playing with Rosie and Autumn and their dolls in store!
In the Dikinson house, Catherine and Emilia were helpless with mirth.
“Oh my god. That worked out so perfectly,” cried Catherine.
“Yes,” said Emilia. And when he gets back, Imelda’s going to be here! It’s win win!”
And they fell about imagining how embarrassed Nathan must be.
“You know Rosie’s going to tell all her friends, don’t you!” laughed Emilia.
“Oh, I do hope so, Em!”
“That’s the best laugh I’ve had in weeks.”
“Well, there’s even better one to come. I haven’t told you about today, yet. But let’s wait for Imelda, and I can tell you both together. You’re not going to believe how perfectly my little plan worked out!"
-
Sandra B, you are a devious writer. You get us all engrossed in the story and then you end the chapter. I guess that is what great writers do. Congrats on another chapter. Keep it up. :D
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I hope he ends up as a full time infant and gets the full babyfood, diapers, formula bottle feeding gig restraining mittens on his hands and they could have made him a big girl like pauline but he wouldn't behave so he's going to be a six month all little infant boy suc-king on his soother and shaking a rattle in his playpen. :)
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Chapter 35. Mummies and Aunties.
Imelda arrived about five, and the two girls disappeared up to Emilia’s room. It was after six that Eleanor returned. She was very surprised to learn Nathan was next door playing with the girls.
“How did that happen?”
“Well,….I wouldn’t say he went willingly. I must admit, I rather tricked him into it. He wasn’t happy. But I haven’t heard a sound, so, fingers crossed, everything’s all right.”
“Catherine! Knowing him, the way he’s been lately, if he’s angry with you he’s probably taking it out on the girls, or even on Dorothy. I’m sorry, I’m going to give her a ring else I shall be worrying about it until they come back.”
“I suppose you’re right…”
Eleanor dialled Dorothy’s number.
“Dorothy. Hi, it’s Eleanor. I’m very well, thank you. Just got back from my book club. Yes… Yes. Wuthering Heights, actually. Ha ha. But listen, dear, I’m a bit worried about Nathan. Catherine tells me he left here in a huff, and I would hate to think…. What? Really? He’s not! I don’t believe it…… With the dolls? They’re not! And who’s the….”
She stared at Catherine in disbelief.
“Yes….Yes….No, don’t interrupt them, please! Yes….Oh, yes, I shall have to ask Catherine, but you don’t mind? Oh, okay. Speak a bit later then. Thanks. Yes, thanks. Amazing news! Bye! Bye!”
“Well? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you did to him today, Catherine. You should have been a child psychologist, I think.”
“Why? What’s happening? Tell me, Eleanor!”
“Okay. Well, apparently he was a bit miffed at first, but within, like, fifteen minutes he was playing with dolls with the girls, walking them about and making them say things, and the girls were falling about. But the last time she looked in on them…”
“Yes?”
“They were playing mummies and babies. Autumn was the mummy – she was Eleanor – Rosie was the auntie – she was Catherine….”
“And Nathan?” asked Catherine excitedly.
“Yes! Nathan was the baby! Really playing the part, apparently, though he was refusing point blank to let the girls pretend to change him!”
“Well, he was wearing baby pants. I suppose it was a no-brainer.”
“That’s exactly what Autumn said when Dorothy asked her. And now she’s saying they all seem to be having so much fun she thinks they may ask to sleep over! Of course I said I’d have to ask you…”
“Are you serious? We can easily stay another night. We have to let it play out. I was thinking today was a one-off. But now….” She stopped talking and looked thoughtful.
“You’re concocting another scheme. I know the signs. I’ll ring Dorothy back and tell her it’s okay.”
“Yes,” Catherine mused, “and…oh, and ask her if there’s any chance of a video. I’d love to see exactly what’s going on there.”
“Okay, I will……..Dorothy? Hi. Catherine is more than happy for Autumn to stay if she wants. Oh, and she wondered if there was any chance of a little...video, maybe? You know, just so we….oh, you have? Super! I see….. That was very devious of you, darling! Okay. Can’t wait, dear. Thank you so much! Yes. Thanks again! Bye.”
She tuned to Catherine. “She’s already taken a couple. She just stuck her phone round the edge of the door. They didn’t notice.”
Catherine almost hugged herself with delight.
“He wouldn’t have played the baby unless he felt quite happy about it. I was afraid what happened today might have ended the whole thing. Now the possibilities are infinite…”
“So what did happen today?
“Yes. It’s time to let you in on the whole thing. I hope you’re okay with it. Would you like to call Emilia and Imelda. I think you’ll like what I’m going to show you.”
“Emilia? Imelda?” she called, come down please. Catherine has something to tell us about.”
There was the sound of Emilia’s door opening, and animated conversation as the girls made their way downstairs.
“You’ve got some film, then?”
“One of my students took a video for me. I've downloaded it onto my laptop. But I’ll have to explain what led up to it.”
Eleanor smiled and shook her head. “Machiavelli had nothing on you, dear.”
“Girls, come in. Let’s all go into the lounge. In a minute I'm going to show you a video. But first I need to explain what led up to it. Before I start, however, you must all swear never to let on you know anything about today, and especially Nathan must never know you've seen the video. If he knew, most of my leverage over him would be lost. Is it agreed?”
All solemnly concurring, Catherine continued.
“Okay. Now first, I had to get together the right costume. I’d only managed to persuade him to dress up by pushing the idea he was going to be given proper boy clothes. But obviously I wanted to introduce the baby concept in some way, so I did it by finding him some rather smart plastic pants which would accommodate a pull-up but which didn’t look too babyish. You saw them, Emilia. What did you think?”
“They were very cute, mum. He looks so sweet in them.”
“I wish I’d seen them.”
“Me too,” said Imelda.
“Don’t worry, you will. They’re on the video, but in any case I’m hoping this won’t be the last time he wears them.”
Catherine related how she had tricked Nathan into getting into the car so she could take him to Somerville, and how she’d got him out of the car once they were there, so he had no choice but to follow her into school. How she’d arranged with her colleagues and with her class to play along and give him confidence – though a few of the girls were unable to keep up the pretence. How she’d surreptitiously encouraged him to consume plenty of fluids during the morning, and secretly glued his belt so he’d be unable to remove his pants. She described how he’d come running back from the toilet in desperation, and danced about in front of the class until nature took its course. And how she’d then forced him to allow himself to be changed in front of everyone. Her audience listened wide-eyed. Finally, she opened her laptop and set it on the coffee table.
“Are you ready?” Everyone nodded excitedly. Catherine started the video. They watched open-mouthed. When Nathan was turned over, Imelda had to cover her mouth or she would have screamed.
“Oh, my god,” said Emilia, look at those girls’ faces! They’re having so much fun! Oh, Oh! Did you see that? Did you see what that girl did?”
“Aha! So it was Sheila! I might have guessed. She’s the cheekiest girl in the whole class. Wait till I see her tomorrow!”
When the video had finished, Catherine looked at the others. “Well? What do you think?”
They were almost speechless.
“That’s insane!” squealed Emilia, “I want to see it again!”
“I’ll leave you a copy. But keep it well hidden.”
“He makes such a perfect baby,” said Imelda, “he’s just so cute I could eat him up!”
“I have to hand it to you,” said Eleanor, “only you could have masterminded that. He surely can’t play the tough kid after he’s been through such an experience, can he?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure how he was going to react, but if what Dorothy says is true, I think we’re heading in the right direction.”
“So what’s next, Catherine?”
“I’m working on it. But I need to see Dorothy’s videos, and I need to talk to Rosie and Autumn. I think they may be able to help.”
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Chapter 36. Conspiracy.
Eleanor knew better than to ask any more at this stage. But clearly Catherine had had an idea. The next morning, Autumn and Nathan returned, both in good spirits. As they came up the front path Eleanor was looking out of the kitchen window, and saw to her delight Autumn was holding Nathan’s hand!
“Good morning, guys. Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, mummy! I like Rosie. We played lots of games! We got so tired…”
“Nathan?”
“Yeah, mum, it was okay,” he replied, in quite an upbeat tone. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”
“Don’t you want to go change first?”
“Ah, it’s okay. I’m hungry. I just want to eat.”
They sat down at the kitchen table and ate their cereal with silent relish. Catherine came down, quickly followed by the girls. Eleanor gave her sister a sly wink. Everyone knew better than to mention Nathan’s outfit. Clearly things were proceeding satisfactorily, so best not to ripple the waters. After the children had eaten, Nathan went upstairs to change for school, and he, Emilia and Imelda all left together. A few moments later there was a knock at the door. It was Dorothy Spicer, with Rosie in tow.
“ Hi girls. Can’t stop, we’re a little bit late for school. Just thought I’d drop off the ‘information’ you asked for.” She handed Eleanor a little flash drive. “Must rush. See you later.”
“Mummy, what was that you gave Mrs Dikinson?”
“Oh, just some recipes, darling. Come on, we have to hurry.”
“You have to hurry too, Cathy,” said Eleanor. Why don’t you take this? You can send it to me later.”
“Thanks. I will. Come on, Autumn. Bye Eleanor.”
“Bye, Eleanor!” said Autumn. And off they went.
Catherine was rather distracted that day. She had a few half-formed ideas, but doubted whether they were workable. Her state of mind was not lost on 9B, who were always ready to take advantage of any weakness. That brought her back to herself.
“Right class, quiet please! Get on with your projects. And Sheila?”
“Yes, miss?”
“See me at lunchtime.”
“What for, miss?”
“Never mind. Now get on.”
She needed to check the videos first. Yes. And let her subconscious come up with a plan. It usually did. She felt better now. And she was looking forward to dealing with Sheila. Saucy girl! How dare she? My nephew, too!
After school she picked up Autumn, and also Penelope. It was Friday night, and on Fridays they took it in turns to stay over at each other’s houses. After they’d eaten and gone off to play in the garden, she got out her laptop and plugged in the drive. The video was only a couple of minutes long, but it told her all she wanted to know. At first, they were all playing with Rosie’s dolls. Nathan was making a blonde one, whose name was Tiddy Moll, strut about and be rude to the others. “I’m Tiddy Moll,” she was saying in a squeaky voice, “and I’m going to eat up all your sweets! And then I’m going to bite you and make you cry!” Which she did, attacking the girls’ necks and legs until they were completely hysterical. In the second clip, Nathan had taken off his jacket, and was crawling about on the floor laughing and making baby noises, while Rosie and Autumn were giggling and scolding him at the same time, and trying to restrain him.
“Naughty baby,” cried Autumn, “come here and get back in your cot!” The ‘cot’ was Rosie’s bed. Eventually they succeeded in getting him back on the bed, and Rosie gave him a pacifier, which had probably been hers originally. Nathan happily stuck it in his mouth, but started jumping up and down on the bed, while the girls screamed at him to stay still. Then, “have you wet yourself, baby?” asked Autumn, and Nathan coyly nodded his head in reply. “Then you have to be changed!” cried Rosie, eagerly, starting to unbuckle his belt. But while he was happy to play the baby, Nathan was clearly not prepared to endure two such sessions in one day; and he quickly grabbed onto his belt and rolled over onto his face. “Bad baby Nathan!” shouted Rosie, “I shall have to spank you!” And she started smacking his bottom, which, through the thick pull-up and plastic pants had absolutely no effect. So she and Autumn jumped astride him and bounced up and down on him till he begged for mercy.
“Well,” said Catherine out loud, “there’s no denying he was having fun. How interesting.” She sat back in her chair. He certainly seems to get on well with them, she mused. I wonder how far they could push him? This has to be the way, I think. If I could arrange for him to be with them for a while, and if they’d co-operate, I think…..
After a few minutes of staring into space, she picked up her phone. First she called Eleanor, then Dorothy. Then, after a few more minutes, she made another call, this time to Penelope’s mother, Cynthia.
“Hello darling. How are you?”
“Fine Cath. Is there a problem?”
“No, no. They’re playing in the garden, good as gold. No. I wanted to ask you a favour.”
“Fire away.”
“Did I mention to you we were having a few problems with my nephew?”
“Nathan? You did, a while ago.”
“Okay, well, I’m working on a strategy to calm him down a little, and so far it seems to be going well. I had him playing happily with Autumn and her friend yesterday, which is a huge step in the right direction. They were playing mummies and babies, and he was the baby!”
“Really?”
“Yes! So what I want to do, is to build on that. I was thinking of getting Autumn and her friend, Rosie, to push it a bit further - to see how far they could get him acting like a real baby. He really seems to respond to them, strangely enough. I want an antidote to all that posturing and rudeness he’s learning from some of those kids at school.”
“Great idea. But do you think the girls will understand what they have to do? And will they be able to do it without him realising what they're up to? I mean, it is going to take a degree of subtlety and even deviousness on their parts.”
“That's true. But they’re both really bright for their age. I'm sure they'll get it. I’ll have to take them into my confidence, of course, but I’m sure they’ll understand. And I imagine they’ll be quite enthusiastic. But I was wondering…. Would you be prepared to allow Penelope to help? She’s such a smart one, your daughter, and she'd be such an asset in this situation.”
“Oh my god, Catherine, she would love it, I’m sure. But when’s all this coming off? And what’s the plan, exactly?”
“It’s the end of term in about ten days. Maybe at the end of that first week of the holidays, on the Thursday or Friday? Rosie will be free then. I’ve discussed it with her mum and with Eleanor, Nathan’s mum. I’ll tell you what I was thinking. We’d get Nathan to babysit the lot of them, maybe in Rosie’s house. In case of any reluctance on his part, of course we’d offer to pay him. The four of us could go out for the day – maybe to that pub by the river near you, and then to a film or something. I’d ask Emilia, and perhaps Imelda as well, to stay here next door, just in case. But I was also thinking I’d get a few of those tiny remote video cameras, and fix them around, so not only could the older girls keep an eye on them, but we’d be able to record what went on, in case I need it later for the purposes of….er, persuasion? Do you think that would work?”
“You’re wasted as a teacher, dear. You should have joined MI5. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’ll be great fun, in any case.”
“Brilliant! OK, I’ll maybe talk to the girls today. And I need to order some equipment, to make sure they have everything they might need. I’ll see you tomorrow, usual time.”
“Bye, Cath. Good luck!”
Catherine gave a sigh of satisfaction. But there was no time to relax. She logged onto Google, and began searching “Baby and Toddler".
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Chapter 37. Nathan Takes the Bait.
By the middle of the week things were getting organised. The four women had agreed that Friday would be the best day for them to go out. Catherine would be finished with school, and it was easier for Dorothy to get off work that day. It had been agreed that Autumn, Penelope and Catherine would stay at Eleanor’s on Thursday night, and the following day the two girls would go over to Rosie’s. Catherine thought it would be good to delay her talk with the girls as late as possible, so they wouldn’t forget what the plan was, so she decided to speak to them when she took Autumn and Penelope round on the Friday morning. Eleanor was to talk to Nathan about babysitting a few days before.
The main problem was surveillance. The remote cameras Catherine had been thinking about proved to be far too expensive. However, she installed one high-definition CCTV camera above the curtain rail in Rosie’s bedroom. Since the houses were terraced, it was a simple matter to run a cable out of the top casement and along into Emilia’s bedroom, where it was connected to her laptop. She didn’t want to tell the girls about the camera – she wanted them just to be themselves – so she needed something to encourage the baby games to take place in that room. After some thought, she put a notice on the school notice-board asking if anyone had a playpen to sell. In fact, there was already a small one in Rosie’s house, which Milly sometimes used. But it would have been too small to accommodate Nathan. Luckily, one of the students had a little brother who was now too old for such things, and she managed to buy it very cheaply. It was big – about four and a half feet by two and a half, and she and Dorothy managed to fit it in by dint of moving Rosie’s bed round ninety degrees and taking out her desk, which she rarely used anyway. Catherine also discovered the playpen would neatly accommodate three flat changing mats, laid side by side, giving a nice soft, waterproof base. From the same source she was given a high-chair, which they also installed in the bedroom. She wasn’t sure whether Nathan would be able to get into it, but if he did, she said, he was unlikely to be able to get out again!
Of course, Rosie wanted to know what was going on, but her mother told her it would be nice for Milly when she stayed, especially now she was getting bigger. Rosie always liked it when Milly was put in her room, so that explanation satisfied her. Once it was in, which was the weekend before the end of term, Catherine started filling it with baby things: a soft blanket, a pack of kid-size pull-ups, a big feeding bottle, pacifiers, rattles, changing stuff, and a box of small size latex gloves. And she stocked Dorothy’s kitchen cupboard with jars of baby food and a tin of formula. She hadn’t had such fun since Autumn was little! At the same time, she prepared a big hold-all with Nathan’s own baby stuff – his socks and shoes, his new plastic pants and a couple of pairs of extra-large standard ones, a couple of kids’ T-shirts, pale blue with pictures of bears on the chest, and a little blue romper suit, big enough to fit him, which she had got a dressmaker friend of hers to knock up.
Brook Lane broke up on the Tuesday, and the children were sent home early. After Nathan had changed into his old clothes, his mother called him into the kitchen.
“Nathan dear, are you busy this coming Friday?”
“Busy, mum? I don’t think so. But I was going to hang out with Darren and some of his mates in the afternoon. Why?”
“Well I was hoping you might be able to do a bit of babysitting for us. Catherine and I and Mrs Spicer and Penelope’s mum were thinking we might go out together, and leave Rosie and Autumn and Penelope next door to play.”
“What? I’d have all three? Why can’t Emilia do it?”
“Well, she will be in, but she wants to get started on her summer science project. It's an important part of her grade. It's the twenty-fourth today, and it has to be in by Friday the seventeenth of August, so she only has about three more weeks.”
“Oh, mum…”
“Of course, we would pay you.”
“How much?”
They had agreed to offer him twenty pounds, but Eleanor was so terrified he might refuse, she said, “Well, it would be most of the day, so we were thinking, if we each put in ten pounds, that would be thirty pounds.”
“Thirty quid?” he exclaimed, “I’ll do it!”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you, Nathan. The girls will be pleased.”
But whether she was referring to the little girls or the big girls, was not apparent.
Now Nathan was beaming all over his face, thinking to himself, that’ll be the easiest thirty quid I’ve ever made!
“No probs, mum. Any time. They're okay, anyway. They can be quite fun, for girls.”
“The provisos are, that you must keep the girls safe at all times – don’t let them leave the house - and you must make sure they’re entertained, and they don’t get bored. So play with them, and go along with what they want to do. If there are any problems you can just call Emilia, and she’ll come round straight away.”
“Sure. But there won’t be. I’ll look after them, don’t worry, and make sure they have a nice time.”
With thirty quid, he thought, I’ll have enough for that game I been wanting. Thirty squids, just for hanging out next door for a few hours! And school’s over for the summer! I knew today was gonna be a good day!
“Okay, mum. I’m off to the park. Back in a while!” And he bounded out of the house.
Eleanor picked up her phone. She wrote a text to Catherine: “Nathan’s agreed to babysit. I was afraid he was going to refuse, so I offered him £30. Sorry.”
The reply came back at once. “Great, Eleanor! Worth every penny!”
-
Chapter 38. Into the Lions’ Den.
On Friday morning they were gathered round the breakfast table in the Dikinson household, though Eleanor was playing her usual role of chief cook and bottle-washer, and Catherine was plaiting Penelope’s blonde hair into two long pigtails, securing them with elastic bunches, and decorating them with green bows. Emilia was not talking as much as usual, but Nathan noticed she had a rather smug expression on her face, and kept exchanging meaningful glances with Catherine.
“What’s up with you today, sis? I suppose you’re smirking because this time mum got me to do the babysitting instead of you. Well, don’t worry, I’m quite happy, with all the dosh I’m gonna make.”
“No, idiot, I’m not smirking, and if I’m happy it’s got nothing to do with you. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Now, now, you two,” interjected Eleanor, “no arguing please. You won’t be seeing much of each other today, so there’s no point in bickering now.”
“No, cos Nathan has to babysit us today, an’ he has to keep us happy and play all the games we want!” laughed Autumn.
“Yeah,” added Penelope, “you’d better be nice to us, Nathan, or we’ll tell your mum and you won’t get paid!”
Catherine and Eleanor stared at each other.
“Excuse me, miss,” said Catherine, “I don’t know where you got that idea!”
“Em said so.” said Penelope, blushing.
“Emilia,” said her mother, “these kids are cheeky enough, without you encouraging them.”
“Sorry, mum. It was just a joke.”
“Thanks a bunch, sis!” frowned Nathan.
After breakfast Catherine said, “I might as well take the girls round to Rosie’s now, Eleanor. Nathan, you can take over when we leave.”
“When will that be?”
“Oh,. what do you think Eleanor, about eleven?” Eleanor nodded. “Yes, about eleven. Okay, girls, have you got all the things you want to take? Let’s go, then.”
She picked up the hold-all from the hallway and opened the front door. Autumn and Penelope dashed out, and Catherine followed.
“What’s she got in the bag, mum?” asked Nathan casually, “not more toys?”
“No, just a couple of Bowie knives and a cosh, in case you don’t entertain them sufficiently,” said Emilia, deadpan.
“Shut up, Em.”
Round at Rosie’s, Catherine and Dorothy had gathered the girls together in the living-room.
“Now girls, please listen to Autumn’s mummy. She has something very important to say,” said Dorothy.
All three looked at Catherine and assumed expressions of wrapt attention. They were expecting the usual pep-talk about behaviour. But they got something rather different.
“Now girls, I want you to listen very carefully. Today we’re giving you a special mission. A secret mission. Autumn – Rosie – do you remember when you played mummies and babies with Nathan the other day?”
“Yes,” they replied in chorus. “It was fun!” added Rosie.
“Well, Nathan played really nicely that day, didn’t he? And afterwards he seemed to be a much nicer boy. You know he can be a little…difficult at times. But we, the mummies, all think that your little game was a sort of therapy – do you know what I mean by that?” Nods. “A sort of therapy, because it allowed him to be what he really is, a little boy, perhaps even, in some ways, a little baby boy. Do you see?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Autumn. “Yes. He was very happy, wasn’t he, Rosie?” Rosie nodded vigorously. “And he was nice to us, too.”
“He was really nice,” added Rosie, “and he didn’t even swear once!”
“What, he played mummies and babies with you?” asked Penelope, incredulously.
“Yes, Pen. He played being baby, and he did everything babies do!”
“Except get changed,” said Rosie, with a tinge of sadness in her voice.
Penelope laughed, and a wicked grin spread over her face. “I want to see that too,” she said, “can we play that game again?”
“Yes!” cried Rosie, suddenly remembering. “I’ve got loads of baby stuff in my room now, and a big playpen, and a high chair, and everything! We could easily play that game again!”
“Yes, you can, girls,” said Dorothy. “There’s even some things inside the playpen you could use. In fact you can use anything that you can find.”
“Yes, that’s right.” said Catherine, “We’d really like it if Nathan decided to play that game again. We think it would be really good for him, and help improve his general behaviour. In case some of those things are not big enough for him, I’ve brought over his baby outfit and a few other things. He won’t be here till eleven, so you’ll have time to look through them.”
“His baby outfit?” repeated Penelope, wide-eyed with delight.
“Yes, Pen,” said Rosie, “he has real plastic pants, blue ones, and he wears a nappy, and sometimes he wears them to go out! He was outside in the front garden the other day!”
Penelope’s mouth fell open.
“It’s true, Penelope,” nodded Catherine, “a couple of weeks ago he visited Somerville all dressed in his baby stuff. You should have seen him showing off to all the girls.”
“He did? He really did?”
“Oh, yes. He thought he looked really cool. Actually, that’s a good point – it’s possible he still thinks so. He’s under the impression baby clothes for boys is a fashion trend. You and Autumn never laughed at his outfit, did you?” she asked Rosie.
“No,” said Rosie, “we didn’t, even though he was worried about his friends seeing him. In fact, I think he was showing off to us at bit, don’t you, Autumn?”
“Yes, he did seem to want lots of attention. I never really thought about his outfit, except that it was good for pretending to be a baby.”
“Hmm,” mused Catherine, “ of course he wouldn’t want to be seen by his tough friends. But it may be that he still thinks he can impress the girls….”
“He wouldn’t impress me!” laughed Penelope.
“No, I’m sure Pen. But listen. If I’m right, he may want to show off to you. You’re ten now, aren’t you? That’s only two years younger than him, for one thing. You’re not his cousin or his next-door neighbour. You’re someone he only sees occasionally, and you’re pretty, with a rather grown-up air about you. If he does start to flirt, exploit it, okay?”
Penelope laughed. “Maybe he does like me. I hadn’t thought of it till you just said that. I’ve noticed he always tries to speak to me when I’m round, but then gets all shy. Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“Here, let me show you his pants. The whole outfit’s in here.”
She opened the bag, rummaged around, and pulled out Nathan’s blue plastic pants. She passed them to Penelope. Penelope held them up by the waistband.
“I don’t believe it! They’re so cute! Oh, please, please let him wear them for us! That would be so amazingly cool!” And she clapped her hand to her mouth and snorted with laughter.
“Well, fingers crossed,” said Catherine, replacing Nathan’s pants in the hold-all. But listen, girls, this is very important,” she continued, “You all need to be good actors, because Nathan mustn’t know we’ve had this conversation, and mustn’t realise what the plan is. I’m a little dubious about giving you his outfit – I don’t want to alert him - but I’m going to tell him Rosie particularly asked for it. Anyway, as I say, there’s loads of other stuff upstairs, and even baby food in the kitchen, so we’ll leave it to you. I have no idea how things will pan out, but please don’t worry if they don’t. If he is open to the idea, by all means encourage him, but don’t be pushy.”
All the girls nodded vigorously. The idea of being given a secret mission obviously appealed to them.
“Leave it to us, auntie Catherine,” said Penelope.
“I want to see what’s upstairs!” cried Rosie, and dashed out of the room, with Autumn in pursuit.
“Here, Penelope, don’t forget this,” said Catherine, handing her the bag, “Keep an eye on the others, won’t you? I know I can trust you to be discreet. Remember, even if the plan fails, the main thing is to keep Nathan believing in his babywear. That way there will always be another day.”
“I will, auntie Catherine. We’ll do our best.”
“Good girl.”
At eleven Eleanor and Catherine were ready to leave. They walked round to next door with Nathan to collect Dorothy.
“Right, we’re all set,” said Catherine. “Nathan, remember, look after them nicely and keep them happy.”
“I will, aunt.”
“And I have to tell you that Rosie specifically asked if you could play mummies and babies with them again…”
“Oh, no.”
“I’m afraid so. I said I didn’t know, but I sent round your things just in case.”
“My things? My outfit?”
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to disappoint her. I know you must have hated having to play that silly game the last time, but you know what these girls are.”
“Yes, I do. Playing with them isn’t my idea of fun, obviously. But don’t worry, I’ll keep them happy even without their silly baby games.”
“Good boy. We’ll see you later then. Remember Emilia’s there if you need her.”
“I won’t.”
“Bye, then. Have a nice day.”
“Bye Nathan.”
“Bye. See you later.”
And Nathan entered the lions’ den.
-
Chapter 39. Baby Nathan.
“Nathan! We’re up here!” It was Autumn calling from the bedroom.
“Coming!”
He bounded up the stairs and into Rosie’s room.
“Hey! What’s that?”
“It’s a big new playpen for Milly.”
“Nice! And you’ve got a high chair. That should be downstairs in the kitchen.”
“Yes. Mummy’s just storing it here for the time being.”
“Oh. I see. Hey, and Tiddy Moll’s in the playpen! I think she wants to come out!”
“Nathan was being Tiddy Moll last time,” Autumn explained to Penelope.
“Oh, was he? And what was Tiddy Doll doing?”
“Being very bad! Trying to bite us!” laughed Rosie.
“Why am I not surprised?” said Penelope.
“Can we plays dolls again, Nathan?” asked Rosie. “Can I be Tiddy Doll this time?”
“Sure, if you want. Is that a new bear in the playpen?”
“Yes. I think it’s going to be Milly’s.”
“I want to be Blue Bear,” said Nathan, “cos I’m a boy.”
“Oh. Do boys always have to have blue things,” asked Penelope, innocently.
“Well, not really. But it’s the opposite of pink.”
“Oh, I see. Well can I be Barbie then, cos she must be the opposite of blue.”
“And I’ll be Baby Doll,” said Autumn, selecting a chubby naked doll from Rosie’s toy box.
The dolls had a wildly exciting time that morning, jumping in and out of the playpen, hiding in the drawers and cupboards, and drinking milk from a tiny feeding bottle. But it was getting near lunchtime, and the children were hungry. Rosie’s mother had left them plenty of food, and they spent an hour sitting around in the kitchen and the dining room eating sandwiches, cold pizzas, fruit and crisps, and drinking juice, and watching stuff on television. Penelope was watching Nathan out of the corner of her eye. She was amazed how happily he fitted in with the girls, how he had enjoyed playing dolls just as much as they, and how now he was lounging around happily chatting with them. She was beginning to like him, but she was not going to forget the task she had been charged with. Just then Rosie suddenly remembered the dolls hadn’t had their lunch. She found a jar of apricot puree baby food, and a plastic spoon, and headed upstairs followed by the others. Soon the dolls were arranged in a circle, being fed the orange mush. Each one was fed by her owner, and while Nathan was savvy enough to pretend to feed Blue Bear, while actually feeding himself, a couple of the other dolls were getting sticky faces. Then Autumn managed to drop a blob of puree onto Baby Doll’s tummy.
“Oh, dear, Baby Doll, you are such a messy eater,” she scolded, wiping it off with a tissue.
“She needs something to wear,” said Penelope. “Doesn’t she have any clothes?”
“Look in the box,” said Rosie. “She used to have lots of things.”
Autumn looked.
“Ooh, is this her nappy? Yes, look, it fits.”
“And there’s her pants,” said Rosie, leaning across her friend.
“That’s better! Nice pink plastic pants! Now she really looks like a baby!”
Penelope saw her chance. “That’s right. She looks very trendy now.”
“Trendy?” queried Nathan.
“Yes, trendy,” said Penelope. “You know, like with that babywear fashion that’s around now.”
“That’s a real thing, is it?” Nathan was interested now.
“Yes, course. Didn’t you know about it? One of my friends has just got an outfit. I’d like one, but my mum says it’s too expensive at the moment. She thinks it’ll get cheaper when it catches on more.”
Nathan decided to sound her out.
“Yeah, well obviously I’ve heard about it. One of the kids at school says it’s just for girls, but I don’t think that true.”
“Of course it isn’t! Girls have pink stuff and boys have blue. Obviously!”
“But Nathan,” interposed Autumn, “don’t you have an outfit? I mean, what you were wearing the other day?”
“That’s right. I do, as a matter of fact.”
“Why were you asking me about it, then?” asked Penelope, frowning.
“Oh, I just wanted to see how much you knew. I wasn't sure how much you younger kids keep up with fashion trends.”
“Just as much as you, Nathan. Do you really have a babywear outfit? I’d be surprised if you do. Not many boys know about that stuff. They spend too much time thinking about football and computer games.”
“Not me, Pen,” Nathan replied, familiarly. “I’m really into fashion and all that stuff. As a matter of fact I think my aunt packed my outfit for me today.”
“Oh, yes Nathan,” piped up Rosie. “I forgot to tell you. She left that bag for you. There – the big bag in the corner.”
“Thank you, Rosie.” Nathan stood up importantly and went over to the hold-all. He picked it up and peered inside. “Yes, it’s here.”
“Show me,” demanded Penelope, trying to keep a straight face.
Obligingly Nathan opened the bag and began to take out the clothes one by one, passing them to Penelope for inspection.
“Let’s see, vest, jacket…”
“Wow, that’s a cute jacket,” exclaimed Penelope, not altogether dishonestly.
“…socks and shoes – they’re called ‘Mary Janes…”
“Yes, I know.”
“… and pants…”
“Nathan, these are really smart! And such good quality. I love the bands round the legs! They’re even better than what my friend’s got. So you really do have a babywear outfit! Why did you tease me, then, pretending you didn’t?”
“Sorry. I just wanted to surprise you.”
“Where did you get it?”
“My aunt bought it for me. She’s really into high fashion and stuff. Oh, she’s even put a pull-up in. You need to wear one under the pants, see, so they puff out like they’re s’posed to.”
“I know. You don’t have to tell me. I know all about it.” She looked at him admiringly. “Would you put it on for me? I can’t wait to see you in it.”
“Sure. I’ll go change in the toilet. Back in a minute.” And he collected up his outfit and swaggered out of the room.
Poor Penelope had to bite her lip to stop herself screaming with laughter. The two younger girls still didn’t quite get it though, even after Catherine’s chat. Probably just as well, she thought.
“I didn’t know about all that,” said Autumn. “But it’s true, he does look very smart. Normally I only see him in his school clothes or old jeans.”
“Yes,” said Rosie. “And then we can play mummies and babies again, can’t we, Penelope?”
“I think that’s a great idea, Rosie. Who’s going to be mummy? Shall we all be mummies?”
“No,” said Autumn. “There can only be one mummy. It should be you, Pen, cos you’re the oldest. We can be aunts, can’t we Rosie?”
“Yes. We’ll be aunts.”
After a few minutes they heard the toilet door open. Penelope dug her nails into her palms to help her maintain a straight face, but when Nathan appeared at the door in his blue splendour, she nearly lost it, and was seized with a fit of coughing.
“Are you all right, Penelope?” he asked in a concerned voice.
“Yes…ahem…yes. Would you mind getting me a glass of water, Nathan?”
“Of course.” And he went downstairs to fetch one, giving her a few moments to recover herself. Next door, Emilia was following events closely on the monitor. “Catherine’s going to be ecstatic!” she murmured to herself.
He returned. Penelope had composed herself now. She took a few sips of water.
“You look amazing!” she exclaimed – which was the absolute truth. “ Do you mind if I take a picture?”
“Help yourself.”
“I’d like to show my friend. She’s gonna be so jealous.”
Nathan preened himself, posing proudly for not just one, but half a dozen snaps.
“Point at you pants! Super! Now turn around and look over your shoulder. Perfect!”
When Penelope was satisfied, she said, “Thank you, Nathan. Great. The girls were asking if we could play mummies and babies, like they did the other day. Could we?”
“Sure. Who’s going to be the mummy?”
“Well, Nathan, I think it’s me, if that’s all right with you.”
“You’re almost too pretty to be a mummy,” he hazarded, clumsily, colouring up. But Penelope expertly defused the awkwardness.
“Well, you’re too handsome to be a baby, Nathan,” she smiled, blinking prettily and playing coquettishly with one pigtail. Gosh, he thought, I never realised how cute this girl is. I’ve always thought she was pretty, but I imagined she was just like Autumn. She’s nothing like Autumn. She’s so grown up!
Penelope knew she had him on a leash now, and she would have no compunction in exploiting it.
“So Baby Nathan, mummy thinks you should go take off your jacket and bow tie and go in your playpen now, and your aunties will give you some nice toys to play with, and some milk.”
“Yes, mummy.” And Nathan obediently slipped out of his jacket, took off his tie, and crawled through the little barred wooden door that Penelope was holding open for him.
“Good Baby!” she smiled, fastening it shut. “Is Baby comfy?”
“Yes mummy.”
“Auntie Rosie, would you like to take my phone and video Baby Nathan so we can see how much he likes his new playpen?”
“Yes, Nathan mummy,” she replied, taking Penelope’s phone. “Oh, it’s already running. I’ll sit on the bed so I can get a good view.”
“Would Baby like his Blue Bear to cuddle?”
“Yes please, mummy.”
“Auntie Rosie, could you pass Baby Nathan Blue Bear, please? He’s just next to you on the bed. Thank you.”
“And would Baby like his nice milky bottle?”
“Yes please, mummy.”
“Auntie Autumn, could you go and fill Baby Nathan’s bottle for him, please?”
“Yes, Nathan mummy. I will.” And she took the bottle downstairs to fill it with milk from the fridge.
“And what’s that I see in the corner of Baby’s playpen, on top of the pull-ups?”
“It’s a rattle, mummy.”
“And would Baby Nathan like to have his rattle to hold?”
“Yes, mummy,” Nathan replied, picking up the rattle and shaking it happily.
“Is Baby happy, with his bear and his rattle all nicely dressed in his shiny blue panties and his little vest?”
“Yes, mummy.”
“Oh, look! Here’s Auntie Autumn with Baby’s milk! What a big bottle. Do you think you’ll be able to drink it all up, like a good boy?”
“Yes, mummy,” said Nathan uncertainly, “I think so…”
Autumn handed the bottle into the playpen. She had filled it to the very top. The teat was already dripping milk.
“Hmm,” said Penelope, “we don’t want to get milk on Baby’s pretty vest, do we? Maybe mummy should change him into one of these nice shirts with bears on the front that Auntie Catherine sent.”
“All right, mummy.”
“Auntie Autumn, could you give mummy one of those shirts, please? Baby, stand up and I’ll pull off that grown-up shiny one, and put on a proper baby vest. There. That’s much better. Now you can drink your milk.”
Nathan propped himself up against the big pack of pull-ups, and started guzzling the milk. He looked like a real baby, trying to hold onto his bear and his rattle as it dripped onto his vest and trickled off his pants. Eventually Penelope said, “Nathan darling, I think maybe we should feed you, then you can hold Blue Bear in one hand and your rattle in the other.”
Autumn and Rosie, who had been watching proceedings with undisguised delight, both sprang up at once. Rosie shouted, “me first!” and Autumn countered with, “okay, me second!” So Rosie passed the phone to Autumn, and had first go, leaning over the side of the playpen and holding the teat of the bottle firmly in Nathan’s mouth while he fed greedily. None of them could believe how easily and completely Nathan had fallen into his role. In the next house, Emilia was hugging herself with disbelief, and periodically sending little texts to Catherine, such as “you won’t believe this!!!” or “Pen’s a genius!”. But the truth was, that Nathan was in a state of bliss, submerged in the fantasy of being a real baby, and dreaming of walking down the street hand-in-hand with Penelope, wearing his amazing babywear outfit!
Autumn had taken over feeding duty, and Rosie had resumed filming, and he had consumed nearly half the bottle, when Penelope noticed his eyelids beginning to droop, and his grip on the rattle loosening.
“I think Baby’s going to sleep,” she whispered. “Auntie Autumn – why don’t you stop feeding and give him a pacifier – look, there’s one right there next to him,”
“Yes, Baby mummy. There we go. Look, it popped right in straight away.”
Nathan was indeed asleep, and his mummy gently laid him down on the soft changing mats and pulled his baby blanket over him.
-
Sandra B, Nathan doesn't know that the moms are conspiring against him in order to turn him into a baby. Rosie and the other girls are going to have fun. Thanks for continuing this story. This story is fantastic. Keep up the good work.
-
Chapter 40. Baby at Last.
While Nathan was sleeping, Emilia was on the phone to Catherine, relating in an excited voice all that had passed. She was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Imelda.
“Come in Mel. You’re late. Catherine? Have to go. Mel’s here.”
“Sorry. My mum needed me to help her with the shopping. Anything happened yet?”
“You won’t believe! I can’t run the recording yet, but I’ll tell you all about it.” And she related the events to an increasingly amused Imelda.
“So he still believes in this babywear fashion stuff?”
“Absolutely! Mum showed him an article in one of my magazines – it was basically about cosplay – and since then everyone has been reinforcing it.”
“We mustn’t disabuse him of it. Keep him believing as long as possible.”
“Yeah, course. But aside from that he really is into it, the whole baby thing. Penelope – have you met Penelope?”
“I’ve seen her with Autumn a couple of times, that’s all.”
“Penelope is the best. She ten, but she’s incredibly cute – I mean cute as in clever.”
“She quite cute anyway, isn’t she?”
“Yes, I guess. But she’s got Nathan wound round her little finger, calling her “mummy” an’ everything! “Yes, mummy,” “no mummy,” “please mummy”! She’s playing her part to perfection.”
“So where are they at?”
“He’s been playing baby for over an hour. He asleep now – see?”
“Oh, he looks so sweet! Cuddled up under that little blanket, the dear thing.”
“I know.”
“Where’s his ordinary clothes?”
“I dunno – outside somewhere. Maybe he left them in the toilet when he changed. Why?”
“I was just wondering… How about if they got stolen? He’d have to stay in his baby stuff till everyone got home.”
“You’re naughty, Mel! Always thinking of pranks. But I don’t know. How would we do that?”
“Simple. Text Penelope, get her to collect them up and put them downstairs in the hallway, then one of us can sneak in and snatch them. It’d take a few seconds. Why not? You’ve got a key, right?”
“Yes. You’re gonna do it, right? You'd better be quick. Okay. I’ll text her. What should I say?”
“They don’t know they’re being filmed, do they?”
“No.”
“Okay. Just say, “If Nathan’s in his baby stuff, Auntie Catherine would like you to find his other clothes and leave them in a bag in the hallway.”
Emilia picked up her phone. “Okay, done.”
On the monitor they saw Penelope, who was sprawled on the bed, take out her phone and read the text. She looked a little puzzled, but she left the room, and when she returned she texted the single word “Done” back.
Imelda was about to fetch Nathan’s clothes, when things started happening, so instead she pulled up a chair and sat next to Emilia, riveted to the screen.
Nathan was waking up after his nap. Penelope jumped off the bed, let herself into the playpen, and knelt down beside him. She looked into his face and smiled a motherly smile.
“Hello, darling. How’s my sleepy little man?” She stroked his forehead gently. Autumn and Rosie knelt outside the playpen, looking on eagerly.
Nathan opened his eyes fully and stared at Penelope for a moment, not understanding.
“It’s mummy, dear.” She leant forward, her pigtails tickling his face, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Nathan yawned, and sat up.
“Have I been asleep long, mummy?”
“Oh my god!” ejaculated Imelda, on the other side of the wall.
“No darling. Would you like some more milk?” She picked up his bottle, which was leaning against the side of the playpen, and used the teat to moisten his lips with milk. Automatically, he drew it into his mouth and started feeding.
“There. Baby Nathan likes his milk, doesn’t he,” smiled Penelope, tilting the bottle higher.
Nathan nodded, without relinquishing his hold on the teat, which he was now milking vigorously with his teeth. The bottle was nearly empty when he suddenly repulsed it, and said,
“Nathan need wee-wee, mummy.”
He threw his blanket off and struggled to sit up, but Penelope took him by the shoulders and pushed him gently back down.
“That’s all right, darling. Baby’s wearing a nice fluffy nappy and his best pants. Baby can lie there and wee as much as he likes.”
A momentary expression of panic flitted over Nathan’s face, but then he lay back again.
“Mummy won’t mind?”
“Of course not, dear! That’s what Baby’s pull-up and panties are for.”
He closed his eyes. The younger girls were craning over, wide-eyed.
“I think he’s going to do it,” whispered Autumn to her friend.
Nathan’s forehead puckered for a moment. Then his face relaxed, and in the silence the girls could hear the sound of wee filling his nappy. It seemed to go on for ages. As the pull-up absorbed the liquid it slowly swelled, tautening his plastic pants. When he was quite finished, he opened his eyes.
“Baby Nathan do big wee, mummy,” he said, in a voice devoid of either shame or pride.
“Good boy,” whispered Penelope. Relax, Baby, and soon we’ll come and change you. Okay?”
Nathan nodded passively, and closed his eyes again.
Penelope beckoned to the others, and led them out of the room. Softly she closed the door, then they all hugged each other with delight.
“Pen, that was incredible! You’re amazing!” exclaimed Autumn, in a delighted whisper.
“I didn’t believe he would do it,” said Penelope, “but he really believes he’s a baby now, doesn’t he?”
“He, like, is a baby! It’s just like having a big Milly. And now we get to change him! Our very own baby!”
Next door, the girls were wondering what was going to happen next.
“Aren’t you going to nick his clothes?” asked Emilia.
“Not yet. I’m not gonna miss this for the world.”
The friends were glued to the screen as Autumn, Rosie and Penelope returned. Penelope hardly dared to hope Nathan would actually allow them to change him, but it quickly became clear that he was deep in baby mode. He watched them with interest but unconcern as they entered the playpen one by one. Penelope took a pair of latex gloves and handed the box to the others. When they had put them on, she passed them a plastic bag for the soiled nappy. All the other necessaries were next to the big pack of pull-ups by his head. Then she knelt down next to him, while Autumn and Rosie took up positions at his feet. She smiled tenderly at him as she began gently to unbuckle his belt. She realised she was actually experiencing an access of real maternal affection. It was very easy now to see him as a real baby, not as a little boy.
“Lift up, sweetie,” she cooed. As she began to ease his pants down. He obediently raised his bottom, and she slid them down to his knees, where the other girls took over and pulled them over his feet, laying them to one side. Then the pull-up. It was very wet and soggy, but she held it by the legs and it was soon around his knees. The others pulled it off and dropped it into the bag. Penelope opened the box of wipes and pulled out two or three, which she used to wipe him, which she did with meticulous thoroughness. Then she helped him to turn over, and with some fresh wipes cleaned his bottom and his flanks. She collected up the used wipes and dropped them into the bag, which Rosie held out for her.
“In a minute I’ll get rid of these and rinse out his pants,” said Autumn.
When his bottom had dried off, she turned him over and patted him dry with a couple of tissues. She knelt back and looked at him. Was this really the little boy who was capable of being so rude and so grumpy sometimes? It hardly seemed possible. She noticed he was looking around for something. Of course. His pacifier. She found it and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes peacefully.
Rosie and Autumn were entranced.
“Our very own baby! Our very own baby, Autumn! Ours to play with whenever we want!” whispered Rosie.
“Yes,” returned Autumn. “We’re, like, his parents now. Mummy says that’s a big responsibility.”
“Yes. But we can look after him, can’t we? We know what to do and everything.”
Penelope picked up the pot of cream, scooped out a blob, and applied it carefully to his front, smoothing it lightly into the skin. Then she turned him and did the same for his bottom. Lastly, she dusted him with a little scented talc. She leant forward, putting her face close to his neck.
“He even smells like a baby now.”
The other two crawled up and sniffed Nathan’s face and cheeks, making him giggle.
“He does!”
Then it was time to put on a fresh pull-up.
“There! All sweet and clean again. Does that feel better, darling?”
His mouth being fully occupied with his pacifier, Nathan smiled and nodded in concurrence.
“Now, what can you wear? Your blue panties will need washing and drying. That’ll only take a minute, dear, but I think auntie Catherine put some other things in the bag for you. Let me see.”
She got up, went out of the playpen, and rummaged through the hold-all.
“Here we are! Plastic panties and some pretty little rompers. They almost match your vest. Let’s see if they fit, shall we? Stand up, dear.”
They were pale blue with little white bunnies on them. Nathan stood up.
“Which pants would you like, darling? There's blue, but look at these pretty pink ones!”
“But they’re for girls!” he protested. “Nathan have blue panties.”
“All right. Blue, then. Come on then, pop them on.”
He stepped into them, and Penelope pulled them up until they were nestling neatly over his pull-up.
“Now Baby’s pretty rompers.”
She held them out for him. He looked at them dubiously.
“These wompers for boys, mummy?”
“Of course! Blue for boys.” He climbed in. Penelope pulled them up, got his arms through, and buttoned up the crotch.
“There. A perfect fit! And they match your vest and your shoes. Who’s my pretty boy?”
Nathan responded with a pleased smile.
Next door, Emilia said, “now’s your chance, Mel. Go and get his clothes.”
“I’m going. Give me the key. Back in a second.”
-
Chapter 41. The Great Escape.
But Nathan had become frisky after his sleep, and now he started agitating to get out of the playpen. The passive baby stage seemed to have been subverted by the naughty child stage, and once out he began chasing and tickling the girls and bouncing on the bed as if it were a trampoline. Then someone suggested chocolate, and all four of them burst out of the room and barrelled down the stairs in search of Mrs Spicer’s secret stash of sweets. Imelda had just let herself in, grabbed the bag, and was about to leave, when the torrent of children was heard thundering down upon her. She looked around, and the only hiding-place available was a cupboard, which turned out to be full of brooms, buckets and mops. Quickly she slipped in and pulled the door to. The children, screaming and pushing, dashed into the kitchen. The front door was right next to the kitchen door, so it was clear she was going to have to stay where she was until the coast was clear. But in the kitchen things were taking an unexpected turn. The sweet box was empty!
“That’s stupid!” cried Rosie. “There’s always something there!”
“Maybe your mum emptied it cos she knew we’d eat the lot,” suggested Autumn.
“What are we going to do?” wailed Rosie.
“We’ll have to go to the shop and get some stuff,” said Penelope. “Come on, it’s not far.”
“No! Wait!” cried Nathan, finally reverting to the role of responsible babysitter. “You can’t! I’m not allowed to let you out!”
“How you gonna stop us, then?” taunted Penelope. “Come on guys, let’s go!” And with a shout, they headed for the front door, and before Nathan could react, were running down the path. In desperation he dashed after them, but by the time he got outside they were already ten yards down the road. He ran to the gate, calling them to come back. But they ignored him.
“Won’t be long, Nathan!” called Autumn over her shoulder.
Inside the house, Imelda saw an opportunity. She emerged from the cupboard, sprang across the hallway, and slammed the front door! Nathan wheeled round. “No!” he cried. Not realising there was another person in the house, he assumed the wind must have blown it shut. What to do? Rosie had the key. He considered knocking at his own door, but knowing Emilia she’d refuse to let him in; an in any case, then she’d find out that he’d allowed the girls to go out unaccompanied. He could see a couple of boys approaching from the opposite direction. It looked like Darren and Steve. He hesitated no longer. He slipped out of the gate, and ran as fast as he could until he had caught up the girls.
“Rosie…” he gasped, “I…I got…shut out. Give me the key.”
“No way, Nathan. You’ll probably lock us out if I do. You might as well come with us to the shop. We’re half way there already.”
He looked back. Those boys were only a hundred yards behind. It was Darren and Steve! He got in front of the phalanx of girls so he couldn’t be so easily seen. They were soon inside the shop and the girls were piling up goodies on the counter.
“What do you want, Nathan?” asked Autumn.
I want to be invisible, he thought. “Can I have a Picnic bar?”
“Okay. And one Picnic, please. Yeah a double one. Thank you.”
The girls had what they wanted, and they all headed for the door. Politely, Nathan opened it to let them through. He was about to exit himself, when he came face to face with Darren coming in!
“Nafan!”
“Er, hi, Darren.”
Suddenly he clocked the rompers.
“What…?
“Gotta go. See you round.”
Nathan dashed out and caught up with the girls.
“Can we run? That was Darren.”
“So what?” said Penelope.
“He saw what I’m wearing. He’ll never let me forget it!”
“Oh, who cares. He looks like an idiot, anyway.”
“I care. Please!”
“Oh, all right. Come on then. Race you.”
And she shot off down the road, with the rest in pursuit. But as they turned in through the gate, Nathan could see Darren and Steve running after them. They got inside the house and he slammed the front door. He went into the kitchen and peered out between the curtains. The two boys were outside now, standing at the gate and smirking.
“Nafan!” Darren called. “Come out ‘ere and show us yer rompers!”
“Why did that have to happen? What am I going to do?”
“Go out there and punch him in the face,” suggested Rosie.
“That would only make it worse. Why did I have to be wearing a baby’s romper suit?”
“Yeah, that was unfortunate,” said Penelope. “If you’d had your proper babywear on you’d have been okay. They’d probably have asked where you got it.”
“Do you think so?”
“Course. Why don’t you go and change now? Your pants will be dry.”
“You comin’ out, or what,” Darren yelled.
“Go on. It’s the only way.”
Nathan dashed upstairs to change. When he was out of sight, Penelope opened the door and advanced on the two boys.
“What d'you want? Come to beat us up?”
“No. I’ve come to offer you money.”
“What?”
“In a few minutes, Nathan’s going to walk out that door in full baby gear. You are not going to laugh, you are not going to jeer, you are going to be impressed and respectful, and tell him how cool he looks. And you’re not going to tell anyone about this.”
“Who says?”
“Five pounds each.”
“Five? Ten!”
“Okay, I’m not going to haggle. Ten. But if you laugh at him, or give the slightest hint he’s not the coolest kid in town, no money. And if you tell your mates, the Brook Lane Mafia will finish the pair of you. Understand?”
“Yeah. Understood. You better come up with the cash, though, or we’ll come in there and trash yer garden.”
“Don’t worry. Just do your job. Excuse me.”
She pushed her way past them, went next door and knocked. Imelda answered. She’d nipped back as soon as the kids were out of sight.
“Penelope. Hi. What is it?”
“Lend me twenty pounds. Now. Don’t ask why. It’s important.”
“Wait a mo.” She returned with two ten pound notes.
“You’ll get it back tonight. I have to go.”
She returned to the house, flashing the notes at the boys on the way. Nathan was coming downstairs, dressed in his baby outfit. He looked close to tears.
“They’re going to crucify me.”
“No they’re not. Tell them this is your real outfit.” She pushed him out of the door. “Courage, Nathan!”
He advanced on his erstwhile friends, not sure how to begin. They took in his outfit, but there was not a flicker of amusement on their faces.
“Why didn’t you stop and say hi back there?”
“Sorry. You know I’m babysitting. The girls weren’t supposed to be out, so I had to get them back quickly.”
“Ah, course. That’s a cool outfit, ain’t it, Steve?”
“Yeah! Dead cool! Where d’yer get it, mate?”
Nathan looked at them closely. Were they being sarcastic? Maybe not!
“Oh, actually my aunt got it for me. She’s, like, really into fashion. She’s cool.” He was suddenly feeling better.
“Oh, I see…cos I’d like one like that, but I reckon it’d be dead expensive, wouldn’t it?”
“It’s true, Darren. They’re not cheap.”
Okay, well that’s…er...really cool, Nafe. We gotta go. But see you round, yeah?”
“Yeah, sure. Bye guys!”
Nathan returned, glowing with confidence.
“What did I tell you, Nathan? Now go upstairs with the girls and share out the chocolate. I’ll be up in a sec.”
Once they were upstairs, she slipped out and paid the boys.
“Thanks, guys. Great performance.”
“No probs. Any time. What’s it all about?”
“Private matter.”
“Oh..yeah. okay.” He lounged against the gatepost and leered at her. “You ain’t from round 'ere, is yer?”
“Nope. So don’t waste your time. Bye!”
Penelope returned indoors. She let out a long sigh. That had been a close one. But she felt sure she had done the right thing.
“They’ll happily pay up for keeping him in play,” she said to herself.
-
Chapter 42. Acronyms.
Penelope’s surmise was quite right. At that very moment the four women were sitting round a table in “The Three Kildurkins”, sipping wine and discussing their conspiracy.
“You know, he’s not going to swallow this stuff about a baby fashion for much longer,” Catherine was saying.
“No Cath, but he’s obviously into babyhood and baby stuff anyway. So does it matter?”
“Not really, I suppose. It’s just that it would be a shame if he suddenly gets it, and refuses to wear it any more. It would be better to end it with a bang rather than a whimper. You know, at least get one final laugh out of it.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“I don’t know. I’m still working on it.”
“I can think of one way he could fall in – or rather we could push him in,” said Cynthia, mischievously. The other three looked at her questioningly. “Penelope’s been bugging me to have a party for ages. What if I arrange one, a big one, invite all her friends, and she invites Nathan?”
There was a pause. They looked at each other.
“That could work,” said Catherine. “He’d have to turn up late, when the party was in full swing. But if we could engineer it, well! Imagine the reaction!”
“What, his or the guests?” asked Dorothy.
“Well, both, I guess. What do you think, Eleanor? He’s your son.”
Eleanor shook her head. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’d really like to see that! It won’t do him any harm. I think he still needs a lesson or two, after the way he behaved towards Paul.”
“How long do you think it would take to arrange, Cynthia? The sooner the better, really.”
“Leave it with me. I’m pretty sure most of her friends aren’t going away before the end of this month. I’ll sound them out. Penelope will be delighted.”
“I think it’s a great plan,” said Eleanor. “But it’ll be boring when he doesn’t dress up any more.”
“Who says he won’t dress up?” exclaimed Catherine. “Our little subterfuge will be at an end, but if what I’ve heard from Emilia is right, we’ll have so much dirt on him we’ll be able to make him do anything we want!”
“You’re right,” said Eleanor. “You know, I feel a bit ashamed to admit it, but I find the whole thing so much fun. I wish we could find a few more boys to prank. A few more of those big louts, like the ones Paul and Nathan used to hang out with, to turn into overgrown babies, or little sissies!”
“Maybe we could,” replied Catherine, thoughtfully. “It’s just a matter of getting some leverage on them... I bet there are plenty of mothers out there whose kids are out of control, who'd be only too happy to help.”
“You’re right,” said Dorothy. “I know several, just amongst my friends, who are having problems. Maybe we should form a society. Sort of lady superheroes.”
“Why not?” said Cynthia. “My life is so boring at the moment. I’m all for it!”
They all agreed, and spent the next fifteen minutes trying to come up with a name. Someone came up with the Behaviour Adjustment for Louts Ladies Society. Cynthia suggested “Women for the Adjustment of Naughty Kids”.
“That’s just the sort of idea I would expect from you,” scolded Catherine.
Nevertheless the idea was born, the possibilities of which were, like this story, endless.
-
Sandra B, those girls and the mom's are devious. They set Nathan up so he would play baby again and when they took his clothes away and then the girls ran to the store, it was the perfect setup to get him stuck outside in his romper. When the boys showed up, Nathan took off after the girls. The girls, Penelope mostly, got the boys to tell Nathan that his baby outfit was way cool.
I can't wait for the next chapters. You are one KEWL writer. Keep up the good work. ;D :D ;) :)
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Chapter 43. Ensnared.
Back at Rosie’s house, the children were playing happily again, no longer confining themselves to the bedroom, but dashing all over the house and garden. There was no longer anything to see on Emilia’s monitor, but they could hear the screams, shouts and crashes through the wall.
“It’s all that chocolate,” Imelda remarked. “they’ve gone completely hyper.”
Emilia laughed. “Yeah, good for them. I’m glad Nathan’s having a good time. I hardly recognise him when he goes into baby mode.”
“They really get on well together, don’t they? It’s so sweet he likes playing with the girls.”
“Yes. He’s a good kid. He just needs to stay away from the Darrens of this world.”
The two friends climbed onto Emilia’s bed and started chatting about the summer holidays.
“I’ve got this project to finish, but then I’m free. We should do some stuff together this summer. You know, interesting stuff.”
“Would your mum let you go away for a week or something? We could go camping. Wales, maybe.”
“I can ask her. It was a big no no last summer, but I’m a year older now. Could you?”
“No problem. My mum said it would be fine, provided she knew where I was and I kept in touch.”
“It would be great! We might even meet some nice boys, do you think?”
“We might meet some boys. Nice? I doubt it.”
They laughed. They speculated about where they might go and what they might do. Suddenly Imelda said, “They’re back.”
The kids had returned to the bedroom, red-cheeked and out of breath. The girls threw themselves on the bed, but Nathan was still over-excited, jumping about and prodding at them or grabbing their hair.
“Nathan, stop it!” cried Autumn, annoyed. “Leave us alone for a minute!” But he persisted, laughing uncontrollably.
“He’s hysterical,” remarked Emilia. “Calm down, boy.”
At that moment, Penelope jumped off the bed and confronted him.
“Nathan!” she bellowed. He stopped dead. “Nathan! Stop it at once, or mummy will have to smack your bottom!”
The effect was remarkable. At once he stood still, and hung his head.
“Sorry, mummy!”
“That’s better. I won’t have this behaviour. Now go and sit in your playpen until you’ve calmed down.”
Meekly, Nathan went in to his playpen, and sat down cross-legged on the mats. Noticing his pacifier, he picked it up and put it in his mouth.
“Good boy. Now you’ll stay there for ten minutes. I’ll tell you when you can come out.”
He momentarily removed his pacifier. “Yes, mummy.” Penelope resumed her place on the bed, and winked slyly at the others.
Emilia and Imelda looked at each other open-mouthed.
“Do you think anyone could do that?” Imelda asked. “I mean, would it work if your mum spoke to him like that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it would. But that Penelope definitely knows how to handle him.”
“He likes her, doesn’t he?”
“There’s not much doubt about that.”
The rest of the day passed off without serious incident. Though when the girls decided it would be fun to feed baby, Nathan insisted on climbing into the high chair, before they smeared his face with every variety of puree available in the kitchen. Of course, just as Catherine had predicted, he contrived to get himself stuck, and for a moment Emilia thought she might have to concoct an excuse to go round and rescue him. Eventually he extricated himself, pulling off both pants and pull-up in the process, to the great delight of the girls, but apart from the indignity, he suffered no other injury. He showed no interest in resuming his everyday attire, even when the mothers returned at six. Indeed, he seemed to have forgotten all about boy clothes, and when Mrs Spicer called them all to come round to his house, he happily dashed into the street in his babywear.
“You needn’t have bothered,” said Emilia, “Here, give me the bag. I’ll put his stuff in his room.” She dropped it off, and they both went downstairs and joined the others.
“Well you guys, did you have a good day?” asked Eleanor.
“Yes, mummy,” gasped Nathan, “it was great. We played games all day.”
“Did you?” asked Emilia innocently, winking at the ladies. “So that’s what all that noise was!”
“Sorry Em. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“I’m only joking. Mum, they must be hungry.” (Vigorous nods.) “Shall we make them some food?”
“Good idea, darling. That would be nice. We’ll go and sit down out of your way.”
So while Emilia and Imelda prepared supper for the children, the four mothers disappeared into the living-room. Penelope followed them and explained to her mother why they now owed Imelda twenty pounds. She had been right; she was commended for her quick thinking, and they assured her Imelda would be discreetly reimbursed. Penelope returned to the kitchen, and gave Imelda a thumbs up.
“I can’t wait to see the video,” whispered Catherine. “From what Em’s told me it sounds as though it might be quite entertaining.”
“Which reminds me,” said Dorothy, “I’d better go and disconnect the camera while Rosie’s still here. Back in a minute.”
At the supper table, Penelope was flirting with Nathan. She had contrived to sit next to him, and was now flicking her pigtails about, clipping his ear.
“Stop it, Pen,” he giggled, obviously gratified by the attention.
“Where’s your phone, Nathan?”
“Er, it’s in my room, I think. Why?”
“You should have my phone number. We should keep in touch.”
Nathan stared at her. She smiled back innocently.
“Y-yes, course. We can go upstairs after supper.”
“Ooh,” smirked Autumn, “is she gonna be your girlfriend, Nathan?” And she and Rosie dissolved in giggles, while Nathan turned bright red. Penelope just kept smiling enigmatically, and said nothing. It was true she had developed a liking for him. But it was fun to have a boy two years older than her on a string. She was enjoying her newly-discovered power. As she ate her pancake, she watched him out of the corner of her eye, sitting there in his plastic pants and little bear T-shirt, and wondered casually how far he could be pushed.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her mother.
“Penelope, darling? I was thinking about that party I’ve been promising you for ages. Do you know how many of your friends are going to be around next week?”
“Really, mum? That would be so cool. Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re all gonna be around, except maybe Winny, but I don’t like her that much anyway.”
“Okay. Good. Let’s discuss it when we get home. Obviously you three are invited.”
Autumn and Rosie looked at each other with delight.
After supper, Nathan took Penelope upstairs and showed her his room.
“It’s nice. It could do with tidying, though,” she remarked.
“Oh, I was just about to do it yesterday, but then my mum asked me to, er, wash up,” replied Nathan, mortified by the thought she might think him slovenly.
She moved his discarded pyjamas, and sat down on his bed, an action that Nathan unconsciously interpreted as a mark of the greatest affection and familiarity. He fumbled with his phone. The truth was he rarely used it. But that was going to change now, he decided. Please don’t let it be out of charge, he thought. But it was all right. Ten percent left. Penelope called him and he saved her number. He added her to his contacts – of which there were few – as “Pen”. His heart swelled with excitement. Was it possible…she could be…?”
She patted the bed. “Come and sit with me a minute.” He sat down so suddenly Penelope bounced up in the air.
“Sorry….”
“We had a really nice day, didn’t we? You play such good games, Nathan. I really enjoyed myself. But we don’t know each other very well, yet, do we?”
He hung on that “yet”.
“N-no….”
“Would you like to come over one day? I mean, before the party?”
“Yes…yes, that would be great!” He looked at her, slightly startled. This was a new experience. Suddenly all his other friends were forgotten. No-one mattered except this girl. No-one, and nothing. It was the old tale.
She smiled. If she had told him to throw himself out of the window, he would have done it without hesitation. “I’ll ask my mum.”
“Kids?” It was his mum calling from downstairs. “It’s time for everyone to go home. Come and get ready.”
Penelope put her arm round him and gave him a quick hug. Before he could recover she was at the door. He followed her downstairs, his mind in a whirl. Five minutes later everyone had left, and he was there with Emilia and his mum.
“That Penelope’s really nice, isn’t she?” said his mum. “So grown up. Did you get on with her all right, Nathan?”
“Yeah, mum. She’s okay,” he responded, with assumed unconcern.
-
Chapter 44. Answering the Call.
The next day Cynthia rang around Penelope’s friends’ parents, and discovered they would nearly all be at home the coming week. It took a little time – Penelope was a popular girl, and had a lot of friends. So she arranged that the party would take place the following Friday, the third of August. However, for some mysterious reason, the conspirators also agreed that Eleanor should tell Nathan it was going to be on the Saturday. Penelope, Autumn and Rosie were in on this innocent little deception, but only Penelope knew the reason for it. However, these were not the only arrangements being made. The same day, Catherine was in front of her computer ordering some very interesting items. When she had finished, she drove to Dorothy’s house and helped her pack up the playpen and some of the other equipment, and drove it over to Cynthia Lissington’s. Things were falling into place, but a lot would depend on Penelope and her powers of persuasion.
Nathan couldn’t wait to hear from Penelope again. He wasn’t confident enough to call her, but in any case, he didn’t have to wait long. On Saturday he went swimming with Paul and Chris. He seemed almost reconciled to their new personae now, and his friendship with Paul was on the way to being restored. He had asked his mum whether he could wear his babywear outfit. He wanted to impress them, show them they weren’t the only ones with cool clothes. But his mum said no.
“You must keep your babywear for best, darling. Otherwise it’ll get spoiled, and it was expensive. Save it for Penelope’s party next weekend.”
“Okay, mum. I understand.”
That evening, just after supper, Pen’s name popped up on his phone. He was downstairs, but he quickly headed upstairs, answering as he went.
“Hi, Pen!” he said excitedly, going into his room and closing the door. “How are you?”
“Hi, Nathan. I’m fine. It was such fun yesterday.”
“It was.”
“I was thinking. What about if us four form our own club? I mean, your sister and your friends have got the Bunny Club – that’s a silly name, isn’t it? – so why shouldn’t we?”
“Yeah, why not? What would we call it?” He liked the prospect of being in a club with her. It would really help to cement their relationship. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
“I haven’t really thought. Maybe “The Baby Crew”? Is that cool?”
Nathan wasn’t sure about that.
“I’ll think about it. I’ll maybe ask Emilia, too. She’s good at coming up with ideas.”
“You’re so lucky, Nathan.”
“Lucky? Why?”
“You’ve got a big sister. I’m an only child. It’s not the same.”
“It can be crap having an older sister, sometimes, I can tell you. I mean, I love her an’ all that, but it’s sort of like having a second mum.”
“I always wanted a little sister.”
“Yes?”
“Yeah. I think my parents wanted another kid, too, but there was some problem – you know, physical.”
“That’s a shame. Is it too late?”
“Well probably not. They’re still young enough. I think I’ll ask them. I’ve never mentioned it before, though.”
“Well, why not?”
“Wouldn’t it be great? I mean, if I had a baby sister. I could look after her, and take her out, and take her to the seaside, and when she got older we could go places on our own….”
Nathan began to understand that everything wasn’t perfect for Penelope, as he had imagined. It was for him perhaps the first access of grown-up empathy.
“Maybe you will, yet…”
“Maybe,” she said, but she sounded sad. There was a pause. Then she said, suddenly brightening up, “Nathan? Would you be able to come round this week? Maybe stay for a couple of days? The party’s on Saturday. If you came before, we could be by ourselves for a bit.”
Nathan heart leapt. “I’d have to ask my mum. Hold on. I’ll ask her now.” He ran downstairs.
“Mum? Penelope’s asked me to go and stay….when, Pen?....Thursday, mum. Maybe for a couple of days. Until her party. Can I?”
“Okay by me, Nathan. As long as her mum doesn’t mind, and you agree to behave.”
“I promise! Pen? Yeah, I can. Hold on, I’m just going back upstairs.” He bounded in to his room again and threw himself on the bed. “That’ll be great!”
“Fantastic! I can show you my house, and the garden. It’s a big garden – long, I mean, and half of it’s sort of wild. And there’s an old empty stable we could use as a clubhouse. And I have a cat. His name’s Dinky. He’s friendly and stupid.”
“I’d like to have a cat. We had one when I was younger, but he died. I think I’ll ask mum if we can get another one.”
“I have to go. Mum’s calling. I think we’re going shopping. I’ll call you tomorrow…or later today?”
“Any time, Pen. Bye!”
“Bye, Nathan.”
Nathan dropped the call and lay back on his pillow. Something was vibrating inside him. He had an idiotic smile on his face, and every time he tried to dispel it and be serious, it came back again. Somewhere is his unconscious a question, unspoken and unthought, kept repeating itself. Is she going to be my girlfriend?
-
Chapter 45. The Stable.
There were other such conversations before Thursday, but they were inconsequential, and private. Catherine collected him from home and drove him over, and while she and Cynthia sat chatting and drinking coffee, Penelope took him by the hand and showed him over the house. She looked particulary pretty, Nathan thought. Her pigtails had been taken out and her blonde hair had been carefully brushed out, and was lying on her shoulders. The fact she wore a pair of cropped, ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, and cool trainers, only served to accentuate the attraction he felt. Her father was some sort of businessman, engaged, according to Penelope, in quite a lot of “boring old stuff”. Whatever stuff it was, to judge by the size of the house, it was reasonably profitable. Penelope’s bedroom was twice the size of Emilia’s, and even had an en suite bathroom, which Penelope referred to simply as an “en suite”, with the familiarity of someone used to staying in posh hotels. Downstairs there was a lounge, a kitchen, a dining room, and a sort of room for anything you wanted, as big as a small dancehall. Penelope called it the "activity" room. French doors led out into a conservatory, and beyond that the lawn stretched away for a hundred yards or so, until it became lost in a massive tangle of bushes and trees, in the midst of which Nathan could discern some sort of slightly dilapidated wooden construction.
“Is that the stable?”
“Yes. Come and see.” And she took his hand and made her way along a paved way which ran down one side of the lawn. Or, as you might say, led him up the garden path. The shed was no lightweight prefabricated affair, however. In fact, as they approached, Nathan realised it was a double stable, constructed of heavy planking and with a proper stable door, from which most of the white paint had flaked off.
“It came with the house. I used to have a horse, and sometimes I’d stable him here overnight. There’s a bridleway at the end of the garden, behind all these bushes, and I could ride him out into the fields. He used to like eating the lawn. But his hooves made such a mess of the garden my parents made me give him to the local riding stable. I still ride him sometimes. He seems very happy.”
“What is he called?”
“Hercules. Cos he’s so little,” she laughed. “Have a look inside.” She unbolted the upper door, then the lower. Nathan peered in.
“Wow. This is so cool! It’s big - like your own little house!”
“Yes. I and my friends stay out here sometimes.”
“What, at night?”
“Sometimes, yes. It’s the best.”
Nathan looked around. The floor was concrete, but covered with a variety old carpets and mats. There was a shelf on one side, and some old furniture – a chest, a little table, a bedside cabinet. On the table were two empty wine bottles with half-burnt candles stuck in the necks, and an old electric kettle. There was a pile of mattresses and a heap of blankets in one corner, with two old stuffed animals, and something familiar-looking in another.
“Is that a playpen?”
“It’s the playpen. Rosie’s mum decided it was too big for her bedroom, and my mum said she could store it here.”
“This is fantastic!” cried Nathan, eyes gleaming.
“It has electricity,” said Penelope, pointing to a pair of covered sockets next to the table, “so we can actually have a light and boil a kettle. But mum’s always afraid we’re going to scald ourselves or get electrocuted or something, so she doesn’t let us use it. But it’s fun being in here with candlelight.”
“She doesn’t mind you burning the place down, then.”
“No. Funny, isn’t it? But maybe, as you’re a bit older, she would let us…”
“Do you think we could stay here tonight?”
“Maybe. I’ll ask her. In any case, we could bring our supper down here to eat.”
“Yes, let’s!”
They played happily for the rest of the day, Nathan falling in with pretty much everything Penelope suggested. At supper time, Cynthia was quite happy to let them to take their food to eat in the stable.
“Mummy,” asked Penelope, “Nathan was wondering…if we could sleep there tonight…”
“Oh, Nathan was wondering was he?”
“Well…we were both wondering, I guess…”
“As Nathan is such a responsible boy, I’ll let you.”
“Yippee,” cried Nathan. Penelope smiled, but didn’t seem surprised.
“But you must bolt the door on the inside and make sure your phone is charged. I think I’d rather have you use the electric light than those candles. I’ll take a bedside lamp down and plug it in for you. Make sure you’ve got everything you want, and take some water.”
“Yes, mummy. I’ll go and get the sleeping bags and pillows. Could you help me, Nathan?”
Nathan and Penelope carried the piles of bedding down the garden. Penelope was also carrying a big black bag.
“Let me carry that, Pen.”
“No, I’m fine.”
They ensconced themselves in the stable, leaving the door wide open. It was still bright day, and the sun shone from behind the building, illuminating the lawn and the house. They tucked into pizza and salad and drank from cans.
“This is a great place, Pen. You’re so lucky.”
“Yes. It’s like a secret hideout in the jungle. And when the doors are shut, no-one can tell you’re here.”
“It’s a great place for games, ‘specially with all those trees and things around.”
“I know.” She paused. “What game shall we play this evening?”
“What do you want to play?”
“Would you…would you play mummies and babies again? I mean, only if you want to…”
Nathan was only too happy. “Sure. Why not?” Not only did he really enjoy playing the baby, but he knew he would be petted and stroked by Penelope, which at that moment was all he wanted in the world.
“Did you bring your babywear?”
Nathan paused. “I did…but my mum said I’m only to wear it for best. Like for the party on Saturday.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I have got an outfit here, actually. “Oh, I see. Along with a whole lot of other dressing up stuff we play with.”
“You have?”
“Yes. My mum bought it for me for my last birthday, but it was too big. She says I’m going to have to grow into it.”
“Oh.”
“But it would probably fit you…”
“Show me.”
Penelope pulled over the black bag, and started fishing out pieces of clothing, throwing some to one side.
“Dressing up…dressing up… Oh, here it is.”
“Oh. It’s pink. And flowery. I’m not sure…”
“Well, course it’s pink. But somewhere here there's a little grey top that goes with it. And some bootees. Do you really mind? There’s no-one else to see. And there’s something else…”
“Yes?”
“You know what I said about having a baby sister? It would be so nice if I could pretend you were my baby sister, and cuddle and kiss you just like you were a real baby. But maybe you’d hate that?”
Nathan stared at her for a second. “No, no, not at all,” he replied quickly. All his reservations had evaporated in an instant. “Of course. That would be a great game. Show me the whole outfit.”
-
Sandra B, I have to admit that you are one GREAT writer. You paint a great picture with your words. I just love reading your story. Keep up the fantastic work. :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D
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Chapter 46. The Black Bag.
Penelope found the grey top, and the bootees.
“There. What do you think?”
“There’s not much to it, is there? I sort of imagined a dress of some sort.”
“Don’t you like it?” Penelope’s face fell. But there was no way he was going to disappoint her.
“Oh, yes, I like it a lot. It’s great!” He contemplated his substitute babywear. It consisted of nothing but a pair of ample elasticated pink pants decorated with…it looked like, roses…and two shoulder staps, which crossed over at the back. Sort of like hot pants for babies. And a soft little short-sleeved grey shirt. Oh, and a pair of pink bootees lined with fur.
“It’s true, it’s not very glamorous,” said Penelope, “but I can tie some pink ribbon round one wrist and one ankle. That’ll look cool. Anyway, I don’t want you to put it on now. Let’s save it for tomorrow, and then you can wear it all day.”
“Okay.”
“Here, stand up. I want to see if it’ll fit you.”
Obediently Nathan climbed to his feet. Penelope held up the bloomers, and then the shirt.
“Perfect, by the look of it. Can you try on the bootees?”
“Surprisingly, they fit.”
“Well, your feet aren’t that much bigger than mine anyway. I have some little socks you can wear with them. Now, what can you wear for now? Let me see… Oh, there’s a few very pretty dresses, here. Look. A little stripy pink smock. You’d look lovely in that.”
It is pretty, I suppose, he thought. Cute little collar. The dress was virtually sleeveless, with thin pink vertical lines, and a band of smocking across the chest, decorated with three little sailing boats. It was awfully short, though.
“Or there’s this dark pink satin one. I want to wear that when I’m a bit older.”
“Yes, that is lovely,” said Nathan, eyes gleaming. “Maybe I could…”
“No Nathan. I’m sorry. That is definitely not babywear fashion. That’s a proper girl’s dress.” She smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re actually into girls’ clothes? Are you?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” he said hurriedly. “No. I’m nothing like Paul and Chris.”
“Pauline and Christina, you mean? “ She looked at him quizzically.
“What?” She looked so grown up, he thought. Especially in those clothes.
“Oh, nothing…. I just wondered… All I mean is, it’s nice for a change to find a boy who’s actually interested in clothes, and appreciates new fashions and good design.”
Looking at the dress, Nathan felt a strange and unfamiliar thrill. Actually, he thought, pink’s not such a bad colour after all, if it’s the right kind of material. It’s sort of fun, exciting. Blue feels a bit bland and uninteresting alongside. Maybe girls do have the best of the deal after all…
“Well, I think it’ll have to be the smock dress. Come here.”
She held it up to him. “That’ll fit you fine. And look, there’s matching panties. They’re nice and roomy, so you can wear a nappy and plastic pants underneath. Then we can play our game, and later mummy will give you a cuddle and feed you.”
Yes, please, thought Nathan.
However, in the event, they sat and talked for nearly two hours, until the shadow pushed the sunlight to the top of the house wall. Then Penelope said, “It’s getting late.” She turned on the lamp. “I’ll go in and get your bottle. There’s pull-ups in the bag, and some plastic pants. You can get dressed. Could you put two of those mattresses next to each other? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Quickly he stripped off his clothes and slipped into a pull-up. There were several pairs of plastic pants in the bag. He selected what seemed to be the best quality ones, and pulled them up. Then the matching panties. They fitted comfortably over the pull-up and waterproof pants, and the elasticated legs and waist gripped him firmly. They made him feel snug and secure, just a like a real baby would. Finally the smock. The band of smocking was elasticated, and fitted neatly under his arms. He looked down. His panties were on show, just as they were meant to be. Everything fitted so perfectly. They could have been made for him! It was an amazing piece of luck that Penelope had all this oversized babywear. But fortunately he was too lazy to follow his thoughts to their logical conclusion. He pulled out one mattress, laid down on it, and waited for Penelope to return.
Soon he heard her coming up the path, singing to herself. She came in. She had a bottle full of milk in one hand, a pacifier and a pretty little doll in the other. She smiled at him.
“Sweetie! You look adorable. Here, let me find you some socks, in case your little feet get cold.”
She rummaged around in the black bag and found a pair of pink cotton socks with white lace trimming.
“Here, give me your feet.” She pulled them on and fussed with the tops. “Turn round and let me do that button up on your dress. That’s it. Now, would you like dolly to cuddle while I feed you?”
“Yes please, mummy,” he nodded.
“Good boy. This is Suzie Cute. You’ll like her. She’s a ballet dancer, see? See her little leotard and shoes? Hold her very gently, won’t you. I’ve had her since I was very little.”
Nathan took Suzie Cute, and cuddled her in his left arm.
“Now, move over and sit up a minute.” She piled up three pillows behind his head, lay down next to him, and indicated he should lie back against her arm. He nestled into her, his head on her shoulder.
“That’s right,” she murmured. “Comfy? Good. Now you can have some milk.”
She squeezed a little warm milk out of the teat, and brushed it against his lips, until they opened and he accepted it. She watched, fascinated, as he cheeks worked, drawing the milk into his mouth, and his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful. She smiled in spite of herself, and gave him two little kisses, one on his cheek and one on his nose. His only response was a faint murmur of pleasure. He fed eagerly at first, but after he had drunk half the bottle his cheeks moved slower and slower, until, with a little tremble of his upper lip, he descended into sleep. She watched him tenderly until she was sure he wasn’t going to wake. Then she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. After a while she carefully extricated her arm, slid one of the pillows out from under his head, and pulled a blanket over him. She laid his pacifier on the pillow next to him, in case he should wake in the night. She closed the stable doors, undressed, laid her sleeping bag next to him, opened it, and got in. She lay on her side watching his face. She reached out and lightly touched his cheek. “You’re going to have fun tomorrow,” she whispered, with a mischievous grin. The she turned onto her other side, and was soon fast asleep herself.
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Sandra B, Another great chapter. He is unsuspecting of the plan that Penelope has for him. She has spun her web and caught her prey. The next chapter will be another knock out. Thanks for keeping this story going. Hugs. :D :D :D :D :D
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Chapter 47. Hot Pants.
Nathan was the first to wake the next morning. He lay there for a moment, not quite knowing where he was, but he caught sight of Penelope lying beside him, and remembered all at once. Her hair had fallen across her face, so that only her nose could be seen, peeping between the strands. He propped himself up on one elbow and drank in the vision, his heart full. He had a glimpse of what it might be like to be able to reach out and gently brush the hair from her face - but it came as an abstract idea, unrealised by any of his senses. Softly he rose, stepped carefully over her, and opened the doors. He had to shield his eyes. The dazzling early morning light flooded the garden. A few birds were hopping across the lawn, and a squirrel ran along the fence. He looked back. Penelope was still asleep. He pulled both doors to, as quietly as he could, and made his way to the house. Penelope’s mum was in the kitchen. He could smell cakes baking.
“Good morning, Nathan,” she smiled, “you’re up and about early. That’s such a pretty outfit!”
“Hi. I’m just going to the toilet.”
“You know where it is. Come and have some breakfast after. Pen’s still asleep, I guess? She loves to sleep in, that one.”
“Thank you. What are you baking?”
“Just little fairy cakes – for the party.”
“They smell great.”
He made his way to the toilet. He didn’t fancy being changed today. He was struggling to be more grown up. He didn’t want always to be a baby for Penelope.
When he returned, Mrs Lissington had put the cakes on a rack to cool, all except one, which she had iced and put on a plate.
“You get the first one, dear.”
“Thanks!” The icing was melting, dripping down one side. So he bit the whole top off in one big mouthful. Delicious!
“You look hungry. What would you like for breakfast?”
In the kitchen there was the biggest variety of cereal he had ever seen, so he took the largest bowl he could find, prepared an eclectic selection, and drowned it in cold milk. As he was eating, there was a ring at the bell.
“Oh, that’ll be Autumn,” said Cynthia.
“Autumn?”
“Yes,” she said, going to answer the door. “She's going to help Penelope get ready for the party.”
Nathan had been hoping to have Penelope to himself that day. But now it looked like he’d have to share her with Autumn. “Girls!” he sighed – and didn’t realise the absurdity of that remark until Catherine walked into the kitchen, exclaiming, “Oh my goodness! Whose this pretty little baby girl, then?”
Nathan blushed a little, but carried on eating his cereal.
“Hi Nathan!”
“Hi, Autumn. What’s in the bag?”
“My party dress. Wait till you see it!”
“Oh. You’re staying over, then?”
“Course. Me an’ Pen do everything together.”
That made him feel really fed up. That meant she’d be in the stable with them tonight.
“I love your outfit, Nathan,” she cooed, tugging at the skirt. You look so sweet!”
“He does,” said Catherine. “Oh, here’s Pen now.”
Penelope had finally woken up, and appeared at the garden door in a slightly dazed and dishevelled state.
“Hi guys…” she said, sleepily. “Hi Autumn. Thanks for coming early.”
“We were just admiring Nathan’s little dress,” said her mother.
“Actually, that was yesterday’s outfit,” laughed Penelope. “He has something even nicer for today! But I’ll need to use some of that lovely pink ribbon, if that’s okay?”
“Help yourself, dear. It’s in the workbox.”
“Thanks, mum. But first I need food!”
Autumn and Penelope breakfasted together, chatting away excitedly the whole time. At one point, Penelope whispered something to Autumn that made her choke with laughter, and cough a mouthful of cereal onto the table.
“Girls! Please!” said Mrs Lissington, “Remember your table manners!”
“Sorry, mum.”
“Sorry, auntie Cynthia.”
After they’d finished, Penelope went for a shower. Autumn went into the big room and started blowing up balloons.
“Nathan? Come and help me.”
“Okay. But there’s all day to do that. What’s the hurry?”
“Oh…you know…it’s nice to have everything ready, isn’t it?”
Penelope returned.
“Nathan? Go have a shower, then you can put on your new outfit. Get dressed and come back to the house. Oh, and a pink pull-up please. Wait till you see this, Autumn.”
Nathan complied, but he was sulking. It was supposed to be between the two of us, he thought. Never mind. At least I’ll get to play with Autumn too. Hope she doesn’t take the piss cos I’m in pink. He showered and made his way back to the stable. He selected a pull-up, wriggled his way in, and pulled on the pink plastic pants. Then the little shirt. Then the baby hot pants,. And finally the bootees. He thought he looked okay. He could have a look in the mirror back in the house.
He pushed open the kitchen door uncertainly. The four of them turned towards him at once. Their faces registered appreciative surprise.
“Oh, that’s really nice,” said Catherine. “What do you think, Autumn?”
“Yeah,” she said, putting her head on one side, “It’s a sweet little outfit. Actually, Nathan, I think it suits you better than the blue one.”
”Do you?”.
“Yes, I agree,” said Penelope, “this is much more vibrant. Mummy?”
“Oh, it’s perfect! The epitome of babywear fashion, I would say. Go look in the hallway mirror, Nathan.”
He skipped down the hallway to where there was a full-length mirror. He regarded himself with satisfaction, swivelling around to check out the back view. He’d certainly made a splash! He returned swelling with pride.
“Yeah, it’s really cool. Can I wear it all day, Pen?”
“Of course, if you want to. We just have to add the finishing touches, though. I’ll get the ribbon.”
She came back with a reel of broad, bright pink satin ribbon. Her mother cut off several lengths with the scissors. “Come here, darling and we’ll sort you out.”
Nathan stood in the middle of the room while she tied ribbons around his right wrist and his left ankle. She knotted them tightly so they wouldn’t come off, and then expertly tied a big bow on each.. Then she took another length of ribbon and looped it around the wrist band, slipping on a pink pacifier before knotting it. Finally, she combed out a tuft of his hair on the left side of his head, secured it with an elastic bunch, and tied that up too, again with a big bow. She stood back to admire her handiwork.
“There. What do you think, girls?”
“He looked amazing,” exclaimed Autumn.
“Why don’t we go outside and take a few photos?” suggested Catherine.
The photo session lasted about twenty minutes. Nathan loved being the centre of attention. He posed and preened and twirled and generally showed off until he ran out of ideas.
“He looks so smart,” said Penelope. “Why can’t we put our best dresses on too?”
“Well I thought you wanted to keep them for the party, dear, but I don’t mind, do you Catherine?”
“No, of course not. As long as they keep them clean. They don’t get to dress up very much, do they? Not like this lucky little boy here!”
“Go on then, girls. I can finish hanging the balloons.”
And the two girls disappeared inside with whoops of delight.
When they returned, Penelope was wearing a blue satin Alice in Wonderland dress with big pockets, and white cotton trimming around the neck, sleeves and hem, accompanied by white tights and shoes. Autumn looked very glamorous in a purple crêpe off-the-shoulder dress with an A-line skirt and matching patent leather shoes.
“Wow,” said Nathan, quite taken aback, you two look great!” Though he was mainly staring at Penelope.
“What can we play?” said Autumn.
“Well I think we’d better stay on the lawn,” said Penelope. “We daren’t spoil our outfits. Mum? Can we have a groundsheet to sit on?”
So they sat playing for more than an hour. They played some board games, and Penelope brought out some of her dolls, but even they were only allowed to play quietly.
“Shh, Jane,” said Autumn to the naughtiest doll, “you must behave yourself in front of the baby, or she will copy you!”
Nathan noticed Penelope kept checking the time on her phone, and glancing at the house. The conservatory blinds were down, but it seemed to him he could hear noises from inside.
“Did you hear that,” he asked Penelope at one point, “it sounded like some kids laughing.”
“Oh, my mum has the TV on,” returned Penelope, “she watches the stupidest programmes.”
“Oh.”
“But it is nearly twelve. Shall we play a new game? Now what could we play?”
“How about blind man’s buff?” suggested Autumn. “Nathan, you can have first turn. We’ll blindfold you, then you count to ten while we find positions on the lawn., then you have to try to find us without looking. Yeah?”
“Okay. But we’ll need a blindfold.”
“Oh, I’ve got a piece of black velvet, here in my pocket,” said Penelope. “Come on, Nathan. Stand up and I’ll tie it on.”
He didn’t have much success. And he started to feel disorientated. He heard the conservatory doors slide open, however, which helped him get his bearings.
“Hey, you two! You’re not moving, are you?”
“No silly,” came Penelope’s voice from quite close by. “That was mummy opening the doors, that’s all. Now keep looking. We’re not far away.”
Nathan headed gingerly towards her voice, but he still couldn’t locate her. He stopped and listened. He could hear something. Someone saying “shhh” very quietly. Probably Autumn. It came from nearer the house. He began to move in that direction, a triumphant smile on his face “I’m going to get them now,” he thought….
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Sandra B, You are weaving an intricate web for Nathan. I don't have any idea what is going on in the conservancy; but, I don't think it will be a pleasant experience for Nathan. These girls are cunning. Can't wait for the nest chapter. ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
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Chapter 48. Surprise, Surprise.
He made a quick rush forward. “Got you!” His arms closed around what felt like Autumn’s body. There was a high-pitched scream, followed by hysterical giggling and squirming as she tried to escape. In fact, there was a chorus of screams! What the… He let his captive go, and tore off his blindfold. He stood there, blinking in the bright sunshine, not understanding. He was in the midst of a pack of little girls, jumping and squealing with excitement, but keeping their distance from him as if he were some sort of wild animal. He looked around. To his right, over against the fence, stood Penelope, Autumn, and Rosie, in a row, convulsed with laughter. Penelope pulled herself together.
“I’m sorry, Nathan. Don’t be angry. We played a little prank on you, that’s all. The party’s today!”
Then she was off again.
“You…what? Today?”
He felt a sudden surge of disappointment. Unconsciously, he had been looking forward to impressing all Penelope’s friends with his blue babywear, and being the centre of attention. Well, he was the centre of attention all right! But for all the wrong reasons. He stood there, frowning and blushing, not knowing what to do.
As the guests perceived his embarrassment and confusion, their nervousness changed to boldness, their hysteria to ridicule. The girl he had grabbed approached him again.
“Hello, Baby Natalie. Did we surprise you? We’ve been looking forward to seeing you since we arrived. Love your pretty panties!”
Autumn piped up from the sidelines. “Yes, I’m afraid we told them to call you Baby Natalie. I mean, you couldn’t be Nathan, dressed like that, could you?” And she dissolved in giggles once again.
The pack were now closing in on the main attraction, and soon Nathan was being pushed and shoved and pinched. He looked around for a way of escape, but there was none. One girl pulled at his floral bloomers to see what was underneath.
“Look! He’s wearing pink plastic baby pants!”
“Let us see!” cried several voices.
Nathan decided on a dash for the kitchen door, where Mrs Lissington was standing smiling at the melée. But as he went to force his way through the throng, someone tripped him and he stumbled and fell. In a moment they were on him. Two climbed astride his back, and others held his wrists and pinned down his legs. He was well and truly captured. He felt inquisitive fingers tugging at the leg of his pants.
“You’re right, Sasha! These are just like my baby sister wears! And look, a pink pull-up! Maybe he really is a girl!”
“Shall we look and see?” An eager voice came from one on the girls sitting on his back.
“Now, now, girls.” Catherine thought it time to intervene. “I think we ought to let Nathan – I mean Natalie – get up, don’t you?” (Disappointed cries of “Ooh?”} “Yes. Come on. You’ll have all day to play with him. Why don’t we go and get some lunch. There’s lots of food. And ice-cream with sprinkles and chocolate sauce.”
The distraction took immediate effect. The guests relinquished their captive and made a beeline for the conservatory, where there was a long table laid out with goodies. Nathan was left lying on the ground, getting his breath back. Penelope came over and knelt down beside him.
“Sorry, Nathan. We couldn’t resist playing a little trick on you. You’re not angry, are you?”
He looked up at her. Her long blonde hair was hanging down like a curtain over her face, the sunlight flickering through it as it waved gently in the breeze. He stared back up at her.
“N-no, of course not.”
“Let’s go and get something to eat before my friends scoff the lot.”
Back in the conservatory, the chattering had died down, replaced by noises of eating. When Nathan and the girls came in, hardly anyone even bothered to look at him. They took a paper plate each, and helped themselves. Catherine and Cynthia were busying themselves refilling the dishes, or bringing in more sandwiches. Catherine addressed Nathan and Rosie.
“Your mums said to say they were sorry, but they both have to work today. In any case, we’ve already got a houseful, haven’t we?”
I’m not sorry, thought Nathan. It’s bad enough as it is.
He and his friends sat to one side, eating and observing the guests. Penelope’s friends were mainly about her age, though there was one younger girl, perhaps seven or eight, dressed in a pink tutu..
“That’s Arabella,” said Penelope, “Angie’s sister. Angie’s the one with the black hair, in a yellow dress. She wanted to come so desperately, we couldn’t disappoint her.”
She must have seen them looking at her, because suddenly she left the others and came running over. She went straight up to Nathan, and with a shy smile, whispered in his ear, “I think you’re cute!” And then, with an embarrassed giggle, went running back and hid behind her sister.
“What did she say,” asked Penelope, curious.
“Nothing in particular.”
“I heard,” said Rosie, who had been sitting next to Nathan, “she said she thinks he’s cute!”
“Ooh,” smirked Penelope, “you have a little admirer, Nathan. If you’re lucky you might be able to steal a kiss later on!” And they all fell about laughing.
“Shut up,” said Nathan, not amused.
“You know,” said Autumn, “I think he does like her! Well, I suppose she seems quite grown-up to a little baby.” More hilarity.
“Look,” said Nathan, really annoyed now, “I don’t want to be a baby girl all day!”
“Oh, stop having a tantrum, silly,” replied Penelope, shortly. “Look, it’s time for some photos. I know you like showing off for the camera. Let’s go.”
Indeed, Cynthia had got out her camera, and was ushering the girls into the garden for a communal photo session. They were running wild after their injection of food and sugar, but eventually, with Catherine’s help, she managed to calm them down and arrange them in a group. Being the tallest, Nathan thought he should be at the back, but little Arabella grabbed his hand and wouldn’t let it go, so he ended up with her right in the middle in the front!
“Okay, everyone, ready? Nathan, smile please. Come on, this is a party, not a funeral! Is that the best you can do?”
Arabella tugged at his hand. “Nathan. Please smile. Look at me.”
He looked down at her. Her face was radiant with happiness. How could he possibly disappoint her? So he smiled, and smiled some more, and in the end the photos went off very well.
The children played in the garden for the first half of the afternoon. Several forays were made into the jungle, resulting in torn dresses, scratched legs, and tears. But everyone had a good time. Everyone, including Nathan, who forgot completely he was Baby Natalie and ran around screaming with the rest. But at some time after two, he took Penelope aside.
“Pen. Please can I change into my boy stuff? That was always the plan, you know, if you hadn’t tricked me.”
“You really want to? You think you’re going to fit in better wearing a teddy T-shirt and bright blue plastic pants? These girls are mostly too young to understand baby fashion. They’ll just start on you all over again.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do. So go put it on if you want to. But I’ll give you an alternative. If you prefer, you can wear my pink dress.”
“What? The one you showed me the other day?”
“Yes.”
He thought for a while. He looked at her. Maybe she had a point.
“Okay…” he said slowly, “I’ll give it a try.”
“Good. Come on. You can change in my room. I’ll grab your shoes.”
Penelope’s bedroom was nice. Pale greens and mauves. Very peaceful and uncluttered. And it smelt of her. She went to the wardrobe and laid the dress out on the bed.
“I rescued it from the stable and hung it up, so it’s not creased on anything. Here, you can have a pair of my panties. They should fit. And here’s some white socks. And you’ll have to wear your blue shoes, but they shouldn’t clash too much. I’ll be outside when you’re done.”
He was trembling slightly as he pulled on the panties. The satiny dress felt cold and slippery as he pulled it over his head. It fitted him perfectly. Then the socks, and the shoes. He looked at himself in the mirror. The satin shimmered and changed colour, from dark pink almost to mauve, and back again, as he moved. It came down to his knees. It was such a lovely simple outfit after all those nappies and pants. It felt so…so natural. He left the ribbons on his limbs and in his hair. They seemed to go with the dress quite nicely.
He presented himself to Penelope. She stared at him, slightly startled.
“Wow. You look good in that…” She turned him round, then back again. To his slight surprise, she put her arms round him and gave him a hug, resting her head momentarily on his shoulder. Then she took him by the hand and led him back to the party.
He was apprehensive about what sort of reception he’d get. But he needn’t have worried. He quickly became the centre of attention again, but this time for all the right reasons.
“That’s a beautiful dress! You look so good in it, Nathan!”
“Is it yours? Penelope’s? Pen, you should let him keep this. He looks great!”
“Nathan? It’s my party in two weeks. Would you come? It would be so great if you could…”
And little Arabella liked it best of all.
“Nathan, you look so pretty. Will you be my friend? And come to all my parties? Angie, I want Nathan to come to our house and play…”
In short, Nathan found himself accepted without reservation into the society of Penelope’s friends. He no longer excited ridicule. He was just one of them, and they chatted and laughed with him as if he were just another girl. Penelope watched him, not without a pang – maybe of jealousy, maybe of regret. But when the party was over, and the guests had all departed, and Arabella had got her goodbye kiss, she sat him on the sofa and cuddled up to him and looked into his eyes.
“Do you like me, Nathan?”
“Yes…yes..." A long pause "I…love you, Pen.”
“I love you, too. But sometimes…will you still be my baby, sometimes?”
“Course. As long as you’ll be my mummy!”
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Sandra B, That was a great chapter. Nathan, or baby Natalie, got a big surprise when he was finally able to see. All of the little girls had a blast with baby Natalie. Penelope, in the end, told Nathan that she loved him and that he would still have to be her baby.
Can't wait for you to write the next chapter. ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
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Epilogue.
In the coming weeks two relationships became cemented: Nathan’s and Penelope’s on one side, and Pauline’s and Christina’s on the other. The two couples played together, and had adventures together. Nathan lost all pretences to his former distrust of girls’ clothes, and took pride in trying to rival his two friends in the femininity of his attire. It dawned on him only slowly that he had been the victim of a prank; but once it had, Penelope discovered that, apart from playing his mother, she now had another way of keeping him in line, to wit, reminding him of his credulity, and of her party, when he would frown a frown of protestation and then dissolve in blushes.
The Bunny Club continued to thrive, and grow in size; the rest of the children were added to its membership within weeks of Nathan’s transformation. At the first meeting of the enlarged society, the matter of new challenges was raised; in particular, Marcia, Tabitha and Rosalind were keen to look around for new prey – “fresh meat”, as Marcia put it. This suggestion being universally applauded, it was agreed a written agenda of the Club’s objectives should be drawn up, at the head of which would be “the re-education and feminisation of recalcitrant boys,” and that it would be the duty of all members to observe and report back on any likely candidates. The triumvirate turned out to be the most assiduous members in the pursuit of this end, and their operations will form the core of our next narrative, which will follow after a short hiatus.
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Sandra B, although this was a short chapter, it shows that the Bunny Club will thrive for a long time while Marcia, Tabitha and Rosalind look for their new prey. If this is the end of this story, it has been a fantastic ride. Thank you for taking us along on this journey. IT HAS BEEN FUN!!!! :D :D :D :D :D :D
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Sandra B, I'm going to miss this story. It was well written and kept our attention. Nathan has found his girlfriend and it is a shame that we won't be able to follow him thru the rest of his adventure. Thanks for a great story. 8) 8) 8) 8) 8) 8) 8) 8) 8) 8) 8)
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I only recently found this site and this story is one of the first that I have read.
For me it was truly something that I couldn't put down. Every time I had to stop reading, I couldn't wait to return to the story.
This was a great read and I look forward to reading your other stories.
I was a bit disappointed that we really didn't get a chance to read more about Pauline and Christina. How did Pauline's ballet recital and the production of Romeo & Juliet go? Did Christina join Pauline in ballet? Or for that matter, was he able to transfer successfully to Brook Lane?
Anyway, thanks for a great read.
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I appreciate your comments, Denise. I enjoyed writing this very much. But I have a tendency to ramble on, so sometimes I have to force myself to bring a story to an end. However, there's always the possibility of a continuation or sequel. After all, the characters lives didn't just end there!
I hope you like the site. I only found it myself last year. There are loads of great stories here and a real sense of community.
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SandraB, thank you for another wonderful Fantabulous story. Natalie(Nathan) now fully integrated to the Bunny club. Could it now be that Darren and Steve will be tricked/blackmailed into being their next project?. Would be nice to see them totally babyfied with thick nappies and frilly knickers and gradually grow up through the potty training stage with training knickers and potties, before becoming fully feminised. Would be lovely to see them as Doreen and Stephie.