Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Sissy Story Archives (older stories) => Recent Inactive Sissy Stories => Topic started by: DaraJaney on January 26, 2020, 03:31:57 PM
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Firstly, there will be no nappies in this story. Just lots of frills and excitement (I hope).
Secondly, I'm happy for people to comment whether it's criticism, praise, suggestions or whatever. As long as it's respectful of course. Everyone is entitled to their view and taste.
As others have said, writers usually have a pretty good idea where they want the story to go so suggestions are not often taken up but sometimes it's possible to take a little detour. And I'm sure that contributors often get a little thrill from their suggestion (and sometimes no doubt from their criticism ;) ) so go for it.
Enough of that ... the story!
Frank had showered, getting ready in their aunt’s house for the wedding rehearsal. He wasn’t looking forward to having to wear the embarrassing suit they’d had specially made for him with a cute floral waistcoat. His younger sister Angela wasn’t any happier about the junior bridesmaid dress she was going to have to wear. She hated dresses and skirts. That was his only consolation – she was going to be even more embarrassed than him. They were under strict orders from their mother that they had to be good for their cousin’s big wedding day.
There was some kind of delay and their outfits only just arrived from the bridal shop in time for the evening rehearsal. Frank picked up the shirt and frowned. It didn’t look big enough. He tried to get his arms in but it definitely wasn’t his size. He examined the trousers, put one leg in and confirmed that they had obviously got his measurements wrong. Had there been a mix-up between centimetres and inches? Anyway, he clearly couldn’t wear it. He smiled as it looked like he might be reprieved from having to wear the corny outfit.
“Mum!” He heard his sister calling from the other room. They came into his room. He cringed a little being just in his briefs. “Something’s definitely wrong!” his mother fussed. “You are right. The dress is too big for you.”
“Really?” Frank added “this suit is too small for me!” His mother looked cross. “What happened?” Then she had a thought. “Is it possible they mixed up the two measurements?” Frank shrugged.
“Here try this on”, his mother urged him, holding up the powder pink dress. Frank backed off, mortified at the idea. “No way!” “I just want to see if that’s what’s happened”, she assured him. “Have they got the measurements the wrong way around?”
Running out of patience she threw the dress over Frank’s head. “Mum!” he protested as she pushed his arms into the sleeves. He could hear Angela giggling. His head emerged at the top and his mother pulled the dress down and started buttoning it up at the back.
“That could be it!” she decided as it buttoned up neatly against his back. Frank tried to push down the billowing dress which had lots of layers of petticoats. Angela was still giggling. “It looks too short though”, his mother decided. The dress flared from breast level and Frank couldn’t really see how short it was below the flared petticoats.
His mother picked up the white tights from the box. “Let’s see if these fit you.” “No!” She pushed him down on the bed and started pulling the tights over his feet. “Don’t fuss. I need to be sure what’s happened before I get on to the shop about it.”
Frank frowned as she pulled the tights up over his bottom. “They do seem to fit you”, she observed. Angela was holding her sides laughing at her brother in the pink dress and white tights. “What’s this?” his mother had returned to the box. She held up a pair of powder pink matching panties that had rows of lace across the seat. “We didn’t order these!” “Maybe they decided that the dress was very short and needed these”, Angela suggested.
In a flash her mother was pulling the matching panties up over Frank’s tights. “Hey! Stop it!” But they fitted perfectly. She pulled him to his feet. She made him twirl. His petticoats fluttered up. “Yes they do show!” Frank pushed his petticoats down as quickly as he could. Angela had her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh too much.
“And we didn’t order these for you”, her mother added, picking up a pair of ankle socks with powder pink lace around the tops. “We ordered pairs for the toddler flower girls but thought you were too old for them”, she told Angela. “Do these fit him too?” she wondered.
Frank sighed as she pulled the lacey socks over his feet. There was no stopping her. Angela offered the pink t-bar shoes that were at the bottom of the box. Her mother strapped these on his feet.
She stood back. “The whole outfit seems to be made to your measurements! Except that the dress is so short.” “And this seems to fit me!” Anglea was buttoning up his shirt and when she pulled the trousers on, they fit her perfectly too. Her mother helped her on with the waistcoat and it buttoned up snuggly.
She looked at her watch. “6pm. The shop will be closed by now. You’ll just have to go to the rehearsal like this and we’ll sort it out tomorrow morning. “What?! No way!” Frank reached up to the buttons at the back of his dress. They were small and fiddley. Angela laughed looking under the front of his dress. His frilly panties were obviously showing when he reached up. He dropped his arms quickly and pushed his petticoats down.
His mother pushed a straw basket of rose petals into his hands. “You’ll need this.” She was pushing him towards the door. Angela was eagerly putting on the shoes for the boy’s outfit. “Please no!” Frank begged. “I warned you not to do anything to spoil Marie’s big day, now do what you’re told!”
Frank sat in the back of the car amongst his petticoats clutching the basket, unable to believe that he was being driven to the wedding rehearsal, where all his relations were going to be, in a powder pink junior bridesmaid’s dress with lots of layers of petticoats, white tights, matching panties and pink shoes!
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My goodness! Frank's mother didn't waste any time getting him dressed! It looks like Frank's in for quite the embarrassing evening, but at least everything will be fixed the next morning. It's not like he's a character in a DaraJaney story, after all!
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Oh my. Pretty much a perfect start as far as I’m concerned. Can’t wait for more.
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yes definately got to be more to come, switching clothing is idle....lol
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As they arrived outside the church they could see Marie chatting with her three senior bridesmaids, checking their dresses. It had been a close run thing having the final fitting on the same day as the rehearsal but she was happy that everything seemed to be fine so far.
She watched as Angela stepped out of the car wearing the suit. That was odd. Then she saw her aunt pulling a very reluctant junior bridesmaid from the back seat. That couldn’t be Frank desperately pushing down his petticoats could it?
“There’s been a mix-up!” his mother told her. Marie tried not to laugh as she watched a mortified Frank walking towards her in the short pink dress. “We’ll sort it out in the morning I’m sure but here we are for the rehearsal.”
The bridesmaids giggled as they realized it was Frank in the dress and Angela in the trousers. “You look so pretty!” Frank glared at them and clutched his basket of petals. “Let’s get inside for the run-through.”
Inside they found the toddlers in their dresses that matched Frank’s except that theirs almost reached their frilly ankle socks while Frank squirmed, continuously trying to push his petticoats down as far as possible.
He had to walk up the aisle, pretending to scatter the rose petals while flanked by the toddlers. At the altar his mother indicated to him to put down the basket. He stooped to do this and heard an explosion of laughter behind him. “Look at his frilly panties!”
The whole rehearsal was mortifying for him, especially now that everyone knew what was under his short dress. He just wanted to get home and out of this outfit. It was a huge relief when he climbed into the car, trying to ignore the giggling behind him as he undoubtedly flashed his frilly panties again.
A frantic phone call was made to the bridal shop in the morning. Surely they had these outfits in other sizes? They had but not in the right ones, came the answers. They had already made lots of alterations to the outfits supplied – mainly shortening the dress and there was no time to do anything else.
Frank stood in his pajamas listening to the phone conversation. His mother put down the phone. “Sorry but you’re going to have to wear the dress.” Frank’s jaw dropped. His Aunt had been standing behind him and pounced before there could be any resistance from him.
He was bundled into the bedroom and soon the women had him buttoned into the dress. “You mustn’t ruin your cousin’s wedding!” “But …!” “We’ll make it up to you. We’ll bring you to the railway museum you’ve been wanting to visit.” That was hardly going to make up for it in Frank’s book. “Look, your relations have already seen you in the dress yesterday anyway”, his mother reasoned as she pulled the white tights over his bottom. He sighed. That was true. But there would still be a big congregation.
There was no stopping them. He tried to resist the frilly panties but they were insistent that he had to wear something pretty underneath because his dress was so short. “It’s strange that they got that bit so wrong”, his mother observed. Angela came in to see them pull his frilly ankle socks on and his pink shoes. She was proudly her suit with waistcoat.
Frank cringed as he saw himself in the mirror. Obviously a boy in a dress. “We’re going to the beauticians. They’ll create lovely hair arrangements and can add extensions so you won’t look like a boy. Frank cringed at the idea but it was definitely better that he didn’t look like a boy.
At the beauticians he was sat in a reclining chair and a lady set about washing his hair and then intertwining thin white and pink ribbons into his hair in intricate webs incorporating hair extensions along the way and lots of hairspray.
Another lady started on his make-up. He had to keep his eyes closed to avoid hairspray and the various powders and creams. Then he felt a third lady working on his fingernails. There was nothing he could do but lie back, close his eyes and hope that they managed to make him look convincing.
“There we go!” the lady doing the make-up finally announced. Frank opened his eyes and looked in the mirror. He was surprised to see his girly face with blush and eye-shadow looking back. His hair was fully entwined with white and pink ribbons with his hair extensions streaming down his back. Then he looked at his nails. Long pink nails had been applied to match his dress.
His mother walked in. “Splendid! You do look pretty. Well done ladies.” Then she looked concerned. “Are those acrylic nails?” “Yes, isn’t everyone to get them?” the nail lady asked. “Eh, yes, that’s right. Good job.”
Frank wondered why she seemed concerned about the nails. He followed her out of the room, pushing his petticoats down as much as possible. “What’s the problem with acrylic nails?” he asked. “Well it’s just that they last for two or three weeks. But it’s ok. They can be removed. You just need to get it done professionally or your nails will be ruined.” Frank looked at his pink extended nails. They seemed pretty solid alright.
Marie appeared in her bridal dress. “Oh you look so pretty! What an amazing job!” Frank just looked embarrassedly down at his pink dress. His mother pulled him along and they met Angela in the hallway. She was wearing the suit and waistcoat. Her face lit up on seeing Frank. “Wow! You make such a pretty girl!” Frank glared at her. “So if anyone asks”, their mother told them, “she’s another cousin, Frances”. Frank cringed.
They were joined by the toddlers in their pink dresses. Frank still could only envy them for the length of their dresses. He cringed as he thought of his frilly panties, just barely above the hem of his petticoats. They were ushered out the door to the waiting limo. There was no going back now.
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Alright, my prediction didn't *quite* come true, but I feel confident to make a new one. Surely Frank's mom won't make him dress as a girl for the full time he has his pretty nails!
In all seriousness, I'm curious to see just how Frank's time in dresses is extended. He's become significantly feminized in a very short period of time, after all.
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I agree Andlat, wonder how Frank's feminization will be extended. After all, acrylic nails can also be cut and his Mom seems genuinely sorry that he's in this predicament. Still curious as to how Frank's and Angela's measurements were switched. Given the sizes I'm surprised even the bridal boutique didn't question the dress length and the inclusion of rumba panties seems odd. Me thinks that this switch may not have been the dress shop's error at all. Not sure of Frank's and Angela's ages but could Frank be an intentional victim? As always, excellent story DaraJaney, well constructed, well written, engaging and plausible. Perfect!!!
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I agree the shortness of the dress leaves one wondering. The nails could be trimmed back and nail polish removed and hair restyled to a boys hair style, but somehow i don't see that happening. Looking forward to what is in store for him.
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The breeze rustled Frank’s petticoats and he tried to hold his basket in one hand while holding down his petticoats with the other. He desperately wanted to keep his frilly panties hidden but he knew it was going to be a difficult task.
He got into the car as quickly as he could but heard the toddlers giggling as they no doubt caught a glimpse of his frilly panties as he leaned in.
When they arrived at the church, Frank saw the photographer waiting. He cringed. His humiliation in his pink junior bridesmaid dress, white tights and frilly ankle socks was going to be captured for all eternity.
His mother lined them up. She fluffed out his petticoats saying “smile now dear. If you muck this up you may find yourself in pretty dresses for weeks.” Frank was startled but once the photographer got behind the camera, he smiled insanely. He couldn’t stand weeks in dresses. This was bad enough.
Angela made sure she was in as many pictures as possible with her big brother in his pretty pink dress. He realized that being photographed smiling like this everyone was going to think he was happy being turned out in a frilly dress. But he had no choice but to do what he was told.
The bride arrived and Frank was lined up with the two toddlers to proceed down the aisle. Frank clutched his basket of petals nervously. He was about to parade down the centre of the packed church. He swallowed hard.
The music started and his mother nudged him along. The congregation turned to watch the procession. Frank smiled desperately, trying to look convincing as he walked along in his pink dress. Were his tights sagging a little? He wanted to look down to see but realized that it would ruin the effect and might only give those behind a flash of his frilly panties.
His petticoats rocked dangerously and he tried to walk in a smoother fashion but they continued none the less. As they reached the altar, his aunt motioned him to put the basket down. He followed her direction and as the basket touched the ground he heard the giggling behind. He had just given the congregation more than a glimpse of his frilly panties.
He turned and walked to his seat with his eyes on the ground that he wished would open up and swallow him. At least for a while he was away from the centre of attention but when the ceremony was over he had to walk again in front of the bride with his toddler accomplices. Oh how he wished his dress was as long as theirs.
Outside the church there were more photographs. Every conceivable combination of bride, groom, families and bridesmaids. His mother kept fussing over his petticoats and frilly ankle socks and reminding him to smile.
At the reception he tried to keep to the corners as much as possible but Angela was determined to make sure that everyone saw him and kept bringing people over to meet ‘Frances’. The senior bridesmaids insisted that they all get up to dance. Angela boogied away like there was no tomorrow but Frank didn’t want his petticoats twirling to reveal anything.
The bridesmaids weren’t having it. They thought he was not lively enough. One of them took both of his hands firmly and forced him to swing side to side. Then she swung his arms up and made him twirl. His petticoats swirled up and there was no doubt the smiling audience beside them were enjoying views of his frills.
Finally his mother told them it was time to go. Frank didn’t need telling twice and was quickly standing outside waiting with Angela as his mother made her last goodbyes.
Angela smiled at him. “You know of course that it was me who deliberately swapped the measurements so that you would have to wear a pretty pink dress, white tights and frilly ankle socks in front of everyone today and I would get to wear a nice suit!” Frank was outraged.
“And I made sure your dress was nice and short and that you had pretty frilly panties to show off. I can’t wait to see the album of photographs. I’m sure mom will have an enlarged photo framed for over the mantelpiece.”
Frank dived forward angrily and pushed her into the flowerbed. Angela got up and tried to brush the mud off her pants. Their mother came out. “What on earth?!” “He pushed me into the flowerbed!” Angela accused. “She admitted that she switched the measurements”, Frank protested. “I did not!” Frank was even more outraged.
“You, young man”, his mother grabbed his arm and knelt in front of him to get his undivided attention, “have earned yourself a week in dresses.” “What?! No!” “We’ll see if that will cure you of your boyish aggression.”
She walked off. “No! Please mum!” Angela smirked at him. This was going even better than planned. Frank ran after his mother, his petticoats fluttering so Angela could enjoy his frilly panties as she strolled contentedly back to the car.
Back at his aunt’s house Frank searched desperately for his clothes. His aunt came into the room and pointed to a trunk in the corner with a thick padlock on it. While Frank looked despairingly at the locked trunk, his aunt threw open the wardrobe. It was packed with her daughter’s old dresses. “These are what you’ll be wearing!” “No! Please no!” She took his hand. “You can’t get these pink nails off anyway. I don’t think you want to be going to church in the morning in boy’s clothes and long pink nails.”
Frank didn’t know any better but to believe her. He sighed heavily in frustration. His aunt went to the chest of drawers and opened them. “Tonight you can wear this.” She held up a pink chiffon nightie. Frank cringed. “With this.” She showed him the matching pink lace-trimmed panties. She put the ensemble on the bed. “Or you can sleep as you are” she added casually as she left the room. His mother put his hair up in a net to keep his pretty ribbons and extensions in place for Sunday.
Later, Angela burst into his room in her pajamas without knocking. Frank tugged his pink nightie down but couldn’t hide the lace on his panties. Instead he climbed quickly under the flowery duvet. He didn’t sleep well that night. His thoughts kept drifting to that wardrobe of horrid pretty dresses.
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Uh oh, Frances. I'm worried that incident with shoving your sister isn't over yet just because your pants got taken away. She may have to do something to assert her physical dominance once and for all.
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The thing I particularly enjoy about a Darajaney story is that each part escalates the situation until the protagonist is completely and utterly trapped. Only then does it settle into a sort of status quo. The question on my mind is, what will be Frank's status quo? We know diapers aren't involved this time, but the sky's still the limit. Girls' boarding school? Full time dress model? Movie star a la Shirley Temple? Only time will tell!
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Very true Andlat but i like to see the sister get caught at her games to torment her bro and see what comes of that.
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The next morning his mother and aunt burst into the room and threw open the curtains. Frank sat up in the bed and looked down at his pink nightie and sighed. It wasn’t a nightmare.
His mother opened the wardrobe. She selected a yellow dress with pink trimming. “This will go well with your pink nails.” Frank desperately hoped that they were just teasing him and weren’t going to go through with it. But she threw the dress over his head and zipped him up. His aunt came from the chest of drawers. A pair of lacey white tights dangled from her hands. “These pretty things will go perfectly with it.”
Frank was pushed down on the bed and despite trying to make it difficult for them to get the tights over his feet the two women succeeded and soon they were pulled up over his bottom. They decided that his pink frilled ankle socks from the wedding outfit would go perfectly with his pink trimmed dress.
His aunt found a large white bag in the shelf above the dresses. She took it down and pulled from it a petticoat of several layers of organza. “This will go under that dress nicely.” She made him step into the petticoats, pulled them up under his dress and buttoned it tightly at his waist. His mother smoothed his dress out over his petticoats.
He looked in the mirror. The petticoats made the dress much shorter on him. He winced. His aunt produced a pair of t-bar shoes with a fairly high heel and buckled them on his feet. She pulled him up and he tottered forward. He leaned forward to try to see the shoes but couldn’t see below his petticoats. His mother was behind him. “Young man, you mustn’t show off your bottom like that!”
Once again whenever Frank leaned forward his petticoats tipped up at the back. He straightened up double quick. His aunt went to the chest of drawers again – always a bad sign for Frank. She took out a pair of yellow panties with rows of white lace on them. He sighed heavily again but she left the room with them which puzzled him.
By the time she returned his mother had placed a large white hat on his head circled, with a yellow ribbon that was tied in a bow at the back with the loose ends trailing down the back of his dress. He was wearing white gloves that had wide lace at the wrists and were open at the ends of the fingers to show off his long pink nails. He clutched a yellow handbag. She seemed to have rouged his cheeks but that could have been just because he was looking at himself in the mirror.
His aunt had the yellow panties. She turned them around and held the back of them up. She had sown on a panel between the lower two rows of lace with words on it. It said “Please spank me.”
She pushed the stunned boy onto the bed and pulled the frilly panties on over his shoes and up under his petticoats. When she was done he stood up and turned his back to the mirror. He leaned forward a little and could see the lowest row of lace on his panties. Just a little more and “Please spank me” became visible. “Mom!” But she was just sniggering.
His mother and aunt stood in front of him in his high heels, short dress, petticoats, lacey tights, pink frilled ankle socks, white gloves and be-ribboned hat and yellow handbag and smiled. “That should keep you out of mischief.” Frank tried to use his handbag to keep his petticoats down. His hat seemed a little unstable and he put his white-gloved right hand up to steady it and immediately wondered if that was enough for his dress to ride up and reveal the message on his panties.
Angela came in dressed in a shirt and trousers and roared laughing as Frank cringed. His mother waved a finger at him. “Get one grain of dirt on your clothes or tear any of that lace or get a run in your tights and you’ll be in even bigger trouble!” What bigger trouble could he be in than this?
He was pushed to the door, tottering in his heels. Outside a breeze blew and he couldn’t make up his mind whether he most needed to hold his hat on or keep his petticoats down. The heels forced him to take lots of dainty unsteady steps towards the car. His mother smiled. “We should make him wear those shoes all the time.” Frank was startled. His feet were already hurting from the heels.
Angela opened the back door of the car for him, only too pleased to facilitate her big brother being driver to church in his ultra sissy outfit. His aunt locked the front door of the house. He had no choice but to get in.
It took several attempts to get his petticoats in the door and smoothed under his bottom. His main concern was to ensure that Angela didn’t see the message on his panties.
When the car pulled up outside church he wanted to die. Hundreds of people milled around chatting. They were all in their Sunday best. He could see some girls clearly unhappy having to wear a dress but they had it lucky compared to him.
His mother opened the door. He couldn’t make himself get out. “Get out little missy and smile or I’ll tell everyone you are a boy.” Frank cringed. He put a frilly ankle out onto the tarmac. He got out and desperately pushed his petticoats down at the back. Of course he couldn’t really see if they were ok and his mother offered no help. He was terrified his ‘spank me’ message might be seen.
Heads turned and looked him up and down as he tottered nervously clutching his bag. They couldn’t decide which was more ridiculous his petticoats, the lacey tights on his long legs or the frilly ankle socks. He didn’t know much about female fashion but he was 100% sure this was not how a teenage girl was supposed to dress. If they knew he was a boy!
He struggled to keep the smile as he walked towards the church door. They passed a clutch of teenage girls. He overheard: “OMG! I mean, like, what age is she, six?” followed by sniggers.
They went in the church porch and through the doors. The aisle was tiled and Frank’s heels clacked loudly causing heads to turn. Just what he needed, more attention!
His mother chose a pew. He followed but his petticoats were wider than the gap between the seats. He pushed them through and made damn sure to hold his petticoats down at the back when sitting.
The service involved repeated standing, kneeling and sitting. Each movement required desperate adjustment of his petticoats. Angela clearly delighted in his torture.
Outside a neighbour invited them back for tea and cakes. His mother readily accepted. Frank tried to keep the smile on his face but despaired.
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In the neighbour’s living room they were invited to sit. Frank wasn’t sure what to do with his handbag. His mother suggested just putting it on the floor beside his chair. Frank leaned forward to place it there.
“Oh my word!” the neighbour remarked. Frank froze. He turned around. She was smirking. His mother said “I warned you to be careful Frances!” She looked at the neighbour. “Well, you know what you have to do.” She was unsure. “Really?” “It’s the only way she’ll learn.” “Very well then.”
The neighbour sat in her chair. His mother nudged him towards her. He wanted to die again as he tottered over to her. She wouldn’t, would she? She reached out to him and steered him to the side of her knees.
She made him bend over her knees. He saw Angela move around behind him to get the best view. There followed prolonged rustling of petticoats as the lady pushed them up over his back to clear the space. His view was back under her legs of the pink frills on his ankle socks as his feet dangled on the other side.
Slap! Her hand came down on his bottom. “How many?” she asked. There was a long pause before anyone answered. Long enough for Frank to consider how the scene looked from their point of view. His yellow, white laced panties in the air, his lacey tights below that and the underside of his petticoats, resting on his back.
“I think six is traditional”, his mother said. Frank twitched as each blow was struck. It wasn’t so painful actually. He supposed the layers of lace and the tights under his panties cushioned the blows somewhat. Far worse was the humiliation of being put over a neighbour’s knees with his frilly panties fully exposed.
Five spanks and it was nearly over. But there was an agonizingly long pause. Did he hear her take a drink of water or something before the last spank? Just when he thought it wasn’t coming he was whacked again.
She helped him straighten up and he desperately pushed his petticoats down at the back. “Now let that be a lesson to you young lady!” his mother scolded. Frank looked suitably chastened as he studied the carpet.
“Now thank the lady and curtsey.” Frank frowned. What was a curtsey? He saw Angela mime one behind the neighbour. He clutched his petticoats either side, held them out and tried to mimic the leg movement Angela had demonstrated. “Thank you.” “Your welcome. Anytime”, the lady chuckled. Frank walked to his seat and sat very carefully smoothing his petticoats under his bottom.
The ladies chatted over their tea while Frank sat demurely in is seat, a napkin protecting his dress from crumbs. It seemed like ages as the women chatted on and on. Eventually it was time to go. Frank stood up, carefully smoothing his petticoats down, especially at the back. He walked across the room. Angela called to him. “You’re forgetting something.”
Frank turned to see her pick up his handbag. She threw it to him very high. Frank instinctively reached up to catch it. He managed to hold it in his hands but cringed as he realized what had happened. He turned to see his mother and the neighbour frowning at him. He sighed heavily.
The neighbour went over and sat in her chair. Frank’s shoulders sagged but he walked over and leaned over her lap submitting to his punishment. She pulled his petticoats up over his back again. “Twelve this time”, his mother instructed. Frank bit his lip as the spanking proceeded just grateful again for the slight cushioning effect of the frills on his panties and the tights beneath.
He was relieved to get home without further incident. His mother and aunt looked him up and down. “Well at least you kept your clothes clean and didn’t get into any nasty boyish behaviour”, his mother told him. “Yes, we should dress him like this all the time!” his aunt added. Frank winced. It wasn’t fair. When he was bold he was told he would have to spend a week in dresses and now that he was good they were telling him that meant they should keep him in dresses. He couldn’t win!
“What about school tomorrow?” Angela asked. “Even a girl wouldn’t be allowed wear painted nails in our school.” His mother looked at his long pink acrylic nails. “The salon isn’t open today and I think they take Mondays off instead of Saturday. They can only be removed professionally.” That was true even it if wasn’t the whole truth. Frank knew nothing of these feminine ways.
“The convent allows girls to wear all sorts of make-up”, his aunt added. All the rich kids go there so the nuns were prevailed upon by the fee-paying families to allow it. I think we still have my daughter Laura’s old uniform.”
She went rustling in the wardrobe while Frank looked to his mother with concern. His aunt produced a hanger with a sky blue blouse and navy blue plaid gymslip on it. “I know some of the nuns very well, I’m sure I could persuade them to take him for a week. He can stay here in Laura’s room.”
“What?! No! Mum!” Surely she wouldn’t agree to that. But she was looking at the uniform. “Let’s see if it fits him.” Frank started to protest but she was unzipping his yellow dress and he was very relieved to get the mortifying dress, petticoats, lacey tights and spank-me panties off.
“I think it’s time he got some little boobies”, his aunt came towards him with a bra. Angela helpfully found some rolled up socks to pad out the cups. “Please Mum stop them!” But the bra was fastened on him and soon his mother was buttoning up his sky blue blouse. His aunt was holding the gymslip ready to pull on over him as soon as she was done.
They tugged at the pleated skirt of the gymslip to get all the pleats straight and stood back. “A bit short but not bad”, his aunt concluded. “I heard that Mother Superior uses a tape measure to check on girls whose gymslips are too short”, Angela chuckled.
Frank was still nervously tugging at the hem of his gymslip as his aunt produced a pair of tan tights. When these were on him she buckled his high-heeled t-bar shoes back on.
Finally his aunt tied the pink school cravat around his neck. “It matches the pink ribbons in your hair so I think we can leave them in there for another day or two.”
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Mum, Aunt & sister having fun with the continued embarrassment of the new sissy. Love it.
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I doubt Frank sees it this way, but a girls school uniform isn't as bad as the frilly dresses he's worn thus far. Excited to see how his time in dresses and such is extended! Even though his sister was the mastermind behind the original dress, it's fun to see the other members of his family take the reins in the escalating situation.
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The next morning Frank was pushed out the door in his navy gymslip, tan tights and high-heeled t-bar shoes. Angela accompanied him to the bus stop in her grey school shirt and trousers and trainers. She had to slow up regularly as he couldn’t keep up in his heels. “Stop tugging at the hem of your gymslip all the time”, she warned him. “You’re only drawing attention to yourself. You are going to be a big hit with the boys on the bus though”, she sniggered.
Frank cringed as they turned the corner and saw six boys waiting at the stop. He desperately wanted to keep holding his short pleated gymslip down as much as possible but had to admit it would look odd. The boys stopped their chatter as they approached. Their eyes wandered up and down Frank’s long tan legs, made seem even longer by his high-heeled shoes.
Frank looked desperately down the road willing the bus to come, conscious of the looks he must be getting behind. Angela just smiled as she kept looking from his short gymslip to the staring boys. She put her hands in the pockets of her trousers pointedly.
Eventually the bus came. Frank was anxious to get on as quickly as possible but as he was first to board he realized what might happen as he went up the three steps. He held the back of his pleated gymslip in hoping not to reveal anything, although it was just a pair of navy school knickers – almost a relief after days in frilly panties. Looking down the aisle he saw lots of boys’ eyes on his legs. He sat in the first vacant seat he saw.
The convent stop was first so he had to stand up, carefully smoothing his pleats down at the back and totter his way down the aisle to the door.
The bus pulled away and he saw Angela smiling and waving out the window. It generated a gust that had Frank desperately trying to keep his gymslip down. When he looked around he saw several convent girls in gymslips that came to their knees, all looking at his short outfit and raising eyebrows.
At the school gate a nun asked him “Are you Frances?” He was about to ask how she knew but just squirmed in his short gymslip. He nodded. “Join the third line over there.” He scampered over.
A stern Mother Superior strode in front of the lines of girls – and Frank. “You, girl!” she pointed at him. He cringed. “Come here.” The last thing he needed was attention being drawn to him but he had no choice but to go to the front.
She produced a measuring tape from somewhere in her deep pockets. Frank stood mortified as she measured the distance from his knee to the hem of his gymslip. She was tutting. The girls were trying to suppress giggles.
Frank desperately hoped he would be sent home for an inappropriate skirt length. The nun who met him at the gate stepped forwards. “She’s only temporary. It’s a borrowed uniform.” Mother Superior looked disappointed. “Very well then. Get back in line.”
Frank winced. He not only had to attend the school in the gymslip, he knew he had by far the shortest skirt in the school. Girls made faces at him as they passed. He was sure he heard “slut!”
He spent most of the day trying to get through it without flashing his knickers. Carefully holding his pleated skirt every time he sat and stood. At breaks he tried to avoid the windier parts of the school grounds. He was relieved to get back on the bus at the end, even if it was full of leering boys, and sit in beside Angela.
At home, he pleaded with his aunt. Surely he had taken enough punishment now. “I don’t really have to spend the week at the convent do I?” “No”, she responded. His heart leaped. “The minimum fee they would accept was one full term.” His heart stopped. “You’ll be a convent girl until Christmas.” Frank’s jaw dropped. “No!” “It’s all paid and unrefundable.” His aunt left the room.
His mother arrived a little later. “So we need to decide which sport you are going to do and which dance class.” Frank sat disconsolately on his bed, his knees pressed demurely together.
“The choice of sports is hockey, netball or tennis.” Frank recalled lingering around sports grounds and sports halls hoping for flashes of girls’ knickers in their short sports skirts. Netball was best because they often jumped towards the hoop, giving a nice display as they descended. He had seen old photos of tennis players wearing frilly knickers and was disappointed that fashion had died.
“You’ve played tennis”, his mother reminded him. He nodded. It was probably better than having to play in a team of girls. “Laura did tennis too”, his aunt recalled and found a box on the top shelf of the wardrobe. She put it on the bed and opened the cover. There was a white tennis dress white pink trim inside. She held it up. The skirt was pleated in eight places with pink inside the pleats.
Frank looked at it with resignation. Then his aunt took out the matching knickers with pink lace all around. Frank sighed. Obviously Laura had been around for the end of that fashion. A few minutes later, Frank was trying the tennis outfit for size. Like the gymslip it was very short on him but just about covered the frilly knickers. “Perfect!” his mother concluded.
“You haven’t done any dance classes before have you?” his mother confirmed. Frank shook his head. He’d often thought he’d like to try tap dancing though. “The choice is ballroom, tap or ballet.” “Well what did Laura do?” his mother asked. “If you still have her outfit, then he’ll do that dance class.”
His aunt went to the end of the wardrobe. She took out a hanger with a black protective cover of it. She pulled off the cover to reveal a pink ballet dress with stiff pink tutu. Frank felt sick. “Lovely!” the women laughed.
His mother unzipped his tennis dress. He suddenly wanted to keep it on. His aunt found pink tights and ballet shoes in the side pockets of the cover.
They pulled the tights on him and then made him step into the ballet outfit. The spandex material was really stretched tight around his groin and bottom. He stood in front of the mirror and nervously flipped up the tutu at the front. The imprint of his boy parts could be seen. There was no way they could make him wear this. “Look mum!” he protested.
The women looked under his tutu and saw the problem. “If we sew really thick fluffy lace on the panty part that will hide that”, his mother assured him. “Don’t worry.” Frank sighed heavily and pushed his pink tutu down at the front, trying to maintain some dignity. Looking in the mirror in his pink tutu and tights, he realized that ship had sailed.
“Mum can I please do tap?” he begged. She looked at him, trying not to laugh too much. “And spend a fortune on tap shoes when you have a perfectly good tutu?” she reasoned. “No. Remember it’s only for four months.” Frank cringed. Only four months in gymslips, frilly tennis knickers and his pink tutu!
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Four months and they won't even get him some longer gymslips? I can't imagine this will end well for poor Frank/Frances
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Now that it was known that he was going to be attending the convent, Frank hoped that Mother Superior would insist on a gymslip of an appropriate length. But either she didn’t know or she had lost interest but Frank had to continue wearing the shortest gymslip in the school.
This attracted a lot of extra attention from boys especially at the bus stop and on the bus. His high-heeled t-bar shoes made his legs look even longer in his tan tights. Occasionally there would be extra sniggering from the boys at the bus stop following a gust of wind or from the boys on the bus if Frank had to reach up to hold the bar when the bus lurched and he would know he’d given them a flash of his panties.
The girls were no kinder to him. They smirked and muttered ‘tart’ and could be heard suggesting that his short gymslip was deliberately to attract boys and give them easy access. The thought horrified Frank.
At his first ballet class he stood in the line of girls, still keeping the front of his tutu pushed down a little, unconvinced that the thick pink frills that now adorned his nether regions would be enough to conceal. This meant that the back of his tutu tipped up and revealed the lines of pink frills on his bottom but he had his back to the wall and it wasn’t as risky anyway.
“Girls as you can see, you don’t all have to match each other’s outfits. In ballet we are happy to see individualism. See here Harriet has lovely embroidery on the front of her outfit. And Frances …” she beckoned him to the front.
Frank cringed but had no choice but to shuffle his way over to her in his ballet shoes, still awkwardly holding the front of his tutu down. He stood beside her and faced the line-up. “Frances here has lovely frills under her tutu.” She went to flip his tutu up at the front but Frank turned quickly so she ended up flipping it up at the back.
He felt her fingers running through his thick pink frills. “My goodness. Double stitching! They won’t come off easily.” Frank cringed. “Now there are many different things you can do.” She continued to babble on about options while still absent-mindedly holding the back of Frank’s tutu up to the class and prolonging his exposure.
There were one or two other beginners but none had as many problems achieving the right shapes as Frank had. Madame Bouquet kept tapping at his pink legs with her stick to get them in the right place. The girls giggled at his feeble efforts.
The clock seemed to have stopped, he checked so often, desperately wishing the hour to be up. When the bell finally rang Madame Bouquet said “Frances, you stay here. You need a bit more practice.” Frank wanted to cry.
The girls gathered their things and left. Frank was now under the personal and constant supervision of Madame Bouquet. “Higher”, she tapped his arms and pink legs again and again. Unfortunately she had him touching his toes with his back to the door as the girls giggled past having changed for home.
At ten to five, Frank had to interject. “Please Madame Bouquet. I have to get the five o’clock bus or I’ll have to walk home.” “That’s no problem”, she assured him. “The stop is only three minutes away.” Frank desperately wanted to explain that he needed time to change but she was already barking commands and tapping at his pink legs with her stick.
At three minutes to the hour she finally dismissed him. He had barely time to replace his ballet slippers and put on his high-heeled shoes. They didn’t help him run for the bus as he tottered along in hurried little steps, his tutu catching the wind, not helping aerodynamically.
He just about made it. He went up the steps on the bus and looked along the aisle. The only empty seats he could see were at the back which was dominated by the toughest boys. He decided to stand and try to ignore all the amused looks at his pink tutu and tights.
Three more children came before the bus pulled away. “Move down the aisle!” the driver ordered. Frank had no choice but to push along but his tutu was wider than the aisle. “Hey!” “Watch it!” the occupants of the aisle seats complained as the underwired netting scratched them.
Frank had to turn sideways and push his tutu down at the front, thereby giving everyone in the left-hand seats full view of his pink frilly bottom. He felt slaps and pinches as he pushed along. He decided he couldn’t stand in the aisle leaving someone with a face-full of pink frills, it was better to sit.
He was terrified of the tough boy’s faces as they watched with incredulity as the ‘girl’ in the pink ballet tutu, pink tights and high-heeled shoes sank into a seat. Of course his tutu was too wide for the seat and was held aloft by the arm rests. There was nothing he could do except sit there and hope not too many frills were showing – for all the difference it made at this stage.
When it came to his stop he had to repeat the procedure of walking sideways with his tutu flipped up. He wondered should he expose his bottom on the other side this time or to the same people. These were the kind of choices he was reduced to now.
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Forced to run and take the bus in a tutu! If that's the worst thing that happens to Frank, he'll still not soon forget this term as a girl!
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When it came to the day he was to play tennis for the first time, Frank was hoping to sneak a pair of plain sports knickers into his kit bag but his aunt packed his bag for him. “Isn’t it lucky we had a tennis dress for you?” she commented. “Yes aunt”, he replied meekly. She didn’t let it out of her sight until she saw him off at the door in his gymslip.
As Frank walked out on court, tugging the hem of his pleated tennis dress, he noticed with a sigh a row of ten boys on the benches outside the fence. The tennis coach set him up in a mixed doubles. He noticed with a sigh of resignation that the real girls were all wearing shorts. “That’s a pretty dress”, the coach commented, seeing the flashes of pink inside the pleats. “Thank you” Frank tried to smile politely but was more concerned with trying to keep his dress down.
Frank didn’t run around too much and certainly didn’t bend down to play a shot, lest he show off his pink frills. His partner grew increasingly frustrated. “Come on! I thought you played tennis before.”
It came to Frank’s turn to serve. As luck would have it, he had his back to the boys on the benches. He knew that if he threw the ball up for a proper serve his dress would ride up and his frilly knickers would be exposed. He hit an underarm serve. The coach blew the whistle. “Hey! I thought you knew how to play tennis. Serve properly!”
Frank sighed. He walked back to the service line, eyeing the boys nervously. The coach’s whistle and shout had drawn their attention. Frank leaned forward to bounce the ball. He could hear tittering behind. He threw the ball up and gave a proper overarm serve. His pleated skirt flew up and all of the pink frills on his knickers were exposed to a big cheer from behind. His opponent failed to return the excellent serve.
His partner had been in front of him for the serve and wondered what all the laughter was about amongst the boys. Frank served again and there were wolf whistles this time as the boys were ready to react. This time the serve was returned and a rally commenced. Frank had to bend low at the net to scoop a short ball back and win the point. As he walked back he saw his partner smirk as she looked towards the bottom of his dress. She could see now what all the laughter was about.
The secret was out now and there was no point in Frank trying to conceal his frilly knickers anymore. When his partner next served at that end he moved forwards and bent low so as not to interfere with the serve and swayed from side to side to be ready to pounce. There were wolf whistles again from behind. He could hear her bounce the ball a few times but then nothing.
He wished she would hurry up as he knew his frilly knickers must be on show. Eventually he looked over his shoulder and saw that she couldn’t serve as she was laughing. He sighed and straightened up, glaring at her. Eventually she composed herself and served.
The coach walked around to where the boys were sitting. “Have you nothing better to do?” “Absolutely not”, one of them replied. “It a really frilling game!” one of them joked and they all laughed. “Just because she likes to dress pretty!” the coach complained. Frank was even more mortified at her intervention. There was nothing she could do and the boys were joined now by more friends as word was clearly spreading.
Frank and his partner won the game. The boys reacted with a disappointed collective “aw!” now the show was over. Frank had to walk right by them to the dressing rooms – his cheeks as pink as his frilly knickers.
The following week Angela’s football team was playing the convent team in the County Cup. Frank was standing in the corridor outside the dance room in his tutu, pink tights and ballet shoes when the teams emerged from the dressing rooms in their football shorts and boots. As he cringed and tried to push his tutu down, he wondered why he hadn’t been told about the convent football team. He would have much rather played football and been able to wear shorts. Before he could think about that too much the door to the dance room opened and he flounced in with the line of girls for his ballet class.
Angela’s team won the early rounds of the competition as did the school’s boys’ team. They had qualified for the quarter-finals – further than any team from that town had gone before. Frank was sitting in class in his gymslip when Mother Superior came into the room. His hair had grown long enough now to be tied up in two pink ribbons to match his cravat.
“As you know the public school’s boys and girls football teams have qualified for the quarter-finals. The two matches will be played on a double bill and the whole town will turn out for them. We’ve been asked to provide a cheerleading squad. Frances, your sister is on the team, isn’t she? And you’re doing dance so you’ll want to be in the cheerleaders.” Frank could see that it wasn’t framed as a question. He slumped in his seat.
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Oh good more humiliation coming in front of the whole town hope cheer outfits are skimpy or at least his is.
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DaraJaney,
This is a great story, even if it doesn't include nappies or diapers (yet).
Another athletic event, a short skirt, and another pair of frilly panties to show off, this time to the entire town!
Are the cheerleaders going to change into uniforms at the convent and ride to the games and back in the girls team bus, which accommodates all but one cheerleader, Frances of course, who has to ride with the boys team?
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The prospective cheerleaders were told to wear their sports gear to practice until uniforms could be ordered. So Frank had to practice in his tennis dress and matching knickers. Their coach was a determined Mrs Finch. She insisted that all the team smile insanely all the time. So Frank had to jump up and down waving his pompoms, smiling, despite the line of boys sitting in the stand, clearly there to catch flashes of knickers as he would have done when he was a proper boy. Frank was undoubtedly giving the best display.
A week before the big match, the boxes of uniforms arrived. “They are varied designs - not meant to be identical but, naturally, they all have the same red and white team colours”, Mrs Finch explained. The packs were labelled. Becky took hers out and saw that she had a top and shorts and white ankle socks. Debbie’s was a dress with pleated skirt. Fiona’s was kind of like a onesie with top and shorts attached which zipped up the back.
Frank opened his pack. He wasn’t surprised to find it was a dress. The flared skirt had five layers of petticoats underneath. It had attached panties and when he lifted the petticoats he saw the rows of white lace along the seat. And his ankle socks were white with stiff red lace around the top. He looked around. One girl had similar socks but most were just plain white.
They came out onto the pitch for their first practice in their uniforms. Frank tugged at his petticoats but they only barely covered the frills on his knickers. Given the amount of jumping and high kicking they had to do, that was largely academic anyway.
“Who designed these?”, Fiona asked. “Frances’ mom”, Mrs Finch answered. “I think she got a lot of help from Frances' sister Angela.” Frank sighed. It had all the hallmarks of that.
On the big day, the girls’ team charged out of the dressing room onto the pitch. Angela took her time, wanting to savour the sight. Her brother was jumping up and down with the others. She admired his sparkly trainers and then the red frilled ankle socks. Her eyes continued up his long legs in his thick tan tights. His petticoats fluttered beautifully as he jumped up and down, his frilly knickers being revealed on each descent.
His mother had acquired a set of silicon boobs for him and these bounced up and down pleasingly under his tight dress. His ponytails were tied up in red ribbons matching the red pompoms he was eagerly waving above his head. But best of all was his forced smile. It looked like he was delighted to be jumping up and down in front of the whole town flashing his petticoats and knickers.
The match was a dour affair which meant that Mrs Finch made the cheerleading team work their routines harder to get the crowd going and the crowd watched them more intently than the match. Frank, still smiling insanely as he jumped up and down waving his pompoms desperately wished the match would get more interesting and divert the gazes from his bouncing boobs, petticoats and frilly knickers.
But the match remained scoreless as it came towards the finish. Frank knew that Angela’s team dreaded a penalty shoot-out because the other team had never missed a penalty all season. With the referee checking her watch, Angela got the ball on the sideline. She brushed aside two tackles before turning into the penalty area and blasting the ball into the top corner of the net.
Of course the cheerleaders had to jump even more excitedly at what was, undoubtedly, a winning goal. Angela ran over to the stand to bask in the adulation of the crowd. But she stopped right in front of Frank so she could relish his forced delight at the knowledge that he had to do this all again for the semi-final.
She was able to sit in the stand for the boys’ match and properly watch Frank perform his high-kicking routines. The boys’ team were three goals up by half time so all through the second half Frank could be sure he was going to have to be a cheerleader again in front of the whole town for another pair of matches.
The semifinals were played in the neighbouring town. The cheerleaders travelled on the bus with the girls’ team who played first again. The boys’ team went on another bus.
The girls’ match was a lot more interesting this time. It was 3-3 – although all those goals required a lot of celebratory jumping, waving of pompoms, high-kicking and bottom wiggling from the cheerleaders.
Once again it was an amazing individualist goal from Angela that won the day. People were asking where she got that extra energy at the end of a match. Frank reckoned he knew where she got her inspiration as he waved his pompoms in the air jumping up and down flashing his frilly knickers to the large crowd.
The boys lost their match. The girls’ team had already gone on their bus leaving the cheerleaders to travel with the boys’ team. Most of them were pleased and happily jumped on the bus so Frank was the last to board. There were only three seats left, all beside spotty grinning boys.
In the fully seated bus there was no room for their bags and everything had to go in the overhead rack. Frank stood in the middle of the aisle cringing as he realized he had to reach up to put his bag up there. He tried to do it as quickly as possible but the rack was almost full and it took him a minute to squash it in securely during which his dress and petticoats undoubtedly rode up and exposed his frilly knickers yet again – judging by the cheers and whistling.
Frank had no choice but to sit beside one of the boys who could hardly take his eyes off Frank’s boobs. Frank hadn’t realized there were so many potholes and bumps in the road on the way to the match but he was very conscious of each one on the interminable way home. He tried crossing his arms under his boobs to keep them steadier but that just made them stand out more.
Frank was naturally nervous sitting amongst all those boys in such a short pleated dress too, exposing his long tan legs, especially when they all knew about his frilly underwear. It was the first time he felt some comfort from having to wear the thick and solid tan tights.
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I don't know if it was intentional or not, but Mrs. Finch referred referred to Frances by a male pronoun. She said "his sister Angela" helped design the uniforms.
This is a fun story though! I'm curious to see where Frank goes from here. All this is keeping him out of trouble, so I imagine his grades have improved and he may find himself in this situation for another term.
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Dara Janey,
Thank you for the wonderful chapter.
France's cheer leading uniform, by far the frilliest of them all is great, with the lace trimmed socks, one of the only ones with a skirt, the 5 layers of petticoats and the only lace trimmed panties.
The silicone boobs are a great addition. I have several sets of silicone boobs and wear them often. I have them on now in one of my favorite bras as I was reading the chapter.
If I had attended the games, I know that my attention would be on the cheerleaders, especially the one with the petticoats, lacy panties, and bouncing boobs.
The boys team lost the semifinals, but at least they got a close up show of Frances flashing petticoats and panties while packing her bag on the bus rack, and on the long ride home, got to watch the bouncing boobs.
Are the boobs now going to be a permanent part of Frances's school uniform? My guess is that Mother Superior will not object and a lot of the girls will be jealous of his fake boobs because they are probably bigger than their own and they are not allowed any kind of padding, not even padded bras.
The bus rides to and from the Convent will be even more embarrassing with the boobs to deal with in addition to the short gymslip, etc. Dance and tennis should be a bit more challenging with those 2 additions.
I'm looking forward to the next chapter.
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Well spotted Andlat! That's corrected now. ;)
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Well spotted Andlat! That's corrected now. ;)
Wasn't sure if I was just imagining things or if Frank's secret was slowly slipping out.
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Thank you for the chapter. I liked it the humiliation continues with the style of dress he was to wear, now with the trip home with the boys team.
Looking forward to the next installment.
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Frank’s cheerleading outings had drawn the attention of all the boys. His new bigger boobs were a great hit and made his gymslip ride up a little more. The boys at the bus stop looked forward to every morning, watching for Frank to appear, trying to walk evenly so as not to make his boobs bobble too much. When he arrived he always turned to face down the road, desperately hoping for the bus to come as soon as possible. The boys could then enjoy his long tan legs and hope for gusts of wind.
They particularly enjoyed when Frank was late for the bus and had to scamper along in his high-heels ensuring a lovely bounce for his boobs, his blouse buttons stretched to their limit. He was hugely conscious of the stares as he moved along the aisle on the bus, hoping that he didn’t have to go too close to the back of the bus. The boys there kept the middle seat vacant every morning hoping that it would be the last one available to the buxom, long-legged convent girl.
At school, Frank had never seen Mother Superior so pleased. He couldn’t understand why she said nothing about his bigger boobs and shorter gymslip. She seemed to be very pleased with the popularity of the cheerleaders.
“The whole school is going to the girls’ final!” she announced. There was a cheer from the assembly. “Our wonderful cheerleaders will wear their uniforms to school every day the week before the match and we’ll have a pep rally every lunchtime!” Frank sighed heavily. Great! He was going to have to wear his petticoated, frilly knickered cheerleading uniform on the bus and around the school all day every day for a week.
The first day he had his pompoms stolen. He saw them disappear down the back of the bus. He knew Mother Superior would be angry if he wasn’t able to play a full part in the lunchtime practice. He had to go down the bus to retrieve them. He asked for them back in his best girly voice and fluttered his false eyelashes.
The tallest boy stood up and held Frank’s pompoms way above his head. Frank sighed. He knew what was meant to happen. His stop was coming and he had no choice. He didn’t want to be the only convent ‘girl’ left on the bus. He reached up as far as he could and there was a cheer from the boys as his frilly knickers appeared. The guy held them just above Frank’s tippy-toe reach. Frank jumped, caught the pompoms and his petticoats parachuted as he descended to a further cheer. He scampered back down the bus tugging his pleated skirt and being spanked and pinched on the way. As long as they didn’t try anything at the front of his knickers he could get away with it. He was fairly sure they wouldn’t. That could land them in prison these days.
It was mortifying wearing his cheerleading uniform at school every day. Even most girls thought he looked hilarious in his petticoated dress, frilly knickers, frilly socks, his hair tied up in ribbons and having to carry his stupid pompoms everywhere. And of course he was required to smile and be, literally, happy-clappy through it all, as if he was delighted to be a stupid cheerleader.
The final couldn’t come quickly enough. He just wanted to get it over with. Somebody had tipped the local press off that a player and cheerleader were ‘sisters’ and they insisted on getting photographs of them together. Angela was only too delighted to oblige.
Frank pushed his petticoats down as far as he could and shook his pompoms out to the side. Angela seemed to make a point of putting her face right beside his boobs to draw maximum attention to them. Of course he had to smile insanely as he was photographed for public consumption in his cheerleaders outfit. And with the internet, he knew these photos would be available forever.
“Shake your pompoms as high as you can!” a photographer shouted to sniggers. Frank knew well what they were trying to do. But Angela kept looking at him and saying ‘go on’ so he really had no option – a prudish cheerleader would just seem odd.
He cringed and waved his pompoms as high as he could reach and the cameras flashed. As he walked away he saw the photographers checking their photos and he could see clearly, even on the small screen, that several rows of frills were captured.
During the game he jumped and cheered and tried to forget about his petticoats and frilly knickers and bouncing boobs. Angela scored their second goal in a three-one win. There was more jumping and cheering for the trophy presentation with lots of phots being taken. Frank ceased to care at this stage. Everyone had seen his frilly knickers by now. He was going to be in the local papers and all over social media.
He finally got to go home and was able to change out of his cheerleading dress for the last time – and put on his pink nightie, exhausted.
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Dara Janey,
Thank you for another great chapter.
It looks like the bigger, bouncy boobs are now a permanent part of Frank's uniform, to his further embarrassment and the greater delight of his tormentors, especially sister Angela with the photographers.
It certainly looks like the money donated to the convent makes Mother Superior allow a lot of latitude toward Frank's appearance, allowing his big boobs and makeup that even includes false eyelashes. Are any of the regular girls allowed this leeway?
Now that cheer leading is over for this term, there is still tennis and ballet remaining. When the dance recital requires late dress rehearsals, how many bus trips home in his tutu will Frank have to endure?
I'm looking forward to future chapters on the rest of the school term (and hopefully beyond).
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With cheering over i wonder what the will come up with next to keep the sissy in his frilly outfits with the big bouncy boobies. Great story!
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News came through a few days later that Angela had been nominated for player of the year. “Oh look! It’s a Gala Dinner”, her mother saw on the invitation. “New dresses everyone!” “I’ll pass thanks”, Angela replied.
Frank wasn’t given the choice. “The one thing not in that wardrobe is a nice coc-ktail dress”, his mother told him. On the morning of the dinner he was brought to the beauticians. His mother produced a new pair of even bigger boobs! “Mum!” “Some girls mature very fast”, she giggled as she pulled the straps over his arms and fastened it at the back. Then she held up an odd looking pair of panties. “This has extra padding in the bottom and hips to give you a more feminine shape.” Frank winced but was made to step into the heavily padded panties. He looked in the mirror. The only thing that could be said for them was that they perfectly matched his new bigger boobs.
Next was a corset with underwired cups to present his boobs nicely. His mother pulled the strings so that it closed firmly around his waist. “Hey that’s too much!” Frank gasped. “It’s only the start”, his mother laughed. She put her knee in his back and pulled for all her worth. It must have taken another two inches of his waist.
Frank’s eyes felt like they were popping as his mother tied the string tightly. She quickly took his coc-ktail dress from its protective cover. It was neon pink. He almost had to shade his eyes. There were hundreds of sequins and glass beads on the bodice. She pulled it down over him and it slipped smoothly over his narrow waist. She buttoned it up the back. Frank looked down and saw that the top of the dress was pink netting which made it look low cut but shielded his fake boobs from detection. His mother fluffed out the stiff net underskirt which perked out nicely thanks to his narrow waist and well-padded bottom and hips.
Next she produced a pair of sparkly stockings that were lace topped and had a bright silver seam all the way down the back. Frank was inhibited from resisting by his tight corset and the stiff net petticoats. His mother was able to pull his stockings up his legs and attach the lace-tops to the suspender straps on his corset.
When Frank stood up he turned his back to the mirror and strained to see the back of his stockings which was not easy in his tight corset. The silver seams shone out. He cringed. He thought that everyone would know he was wearing stockings.
Before he knew it his mother was slipping high heeled pink sandals on to his feet. These were much higher than his t-bar shoes. He was unbalanced once the first one was strapped at the ankle and his mother was easily able to get the other on.
He tottered around in the five-inch heels. “How am I supposed to walk in these!” He almost fell over. “You got used to the four-inch, you’ll get used to these.”
Frank tried to bend down to rub his ankles but couldn’t in the tight corset. There was no way he could bend down to take off the shoes. He was stuck with them.
His mother was behind him as he bent over. “That reminds me!” She produced a pair of neon pink pettipants with black lace trim. She had difficulty getting them on over his heels but then pulled them up over his stockings and suspenders and onto his nicely rounded bottom.
Then he was sat into the hairdresser’s chair. She worked on a curly perm while another plucked his eyebrows and applied sparkly eye-shadow, thick eyeliner swooshing off to the sides and then very long false eyelashes. Then she applied bright pink sparkly lipstick that burned his lips and seemed to make them swell.
Meanwhile his nails were being done in neon pink acrylic. He sighed heavily. But there were a few weeks left to the end of school term anyway.
When all that was done the beautician said “there’s just one more thing really.” His mother nodded. Frank was puzzled as his earlobes suddenly felt cold and then numb. He heard a sharp click and felt a dull prick at his left ear and very soon after that his right ear. He looked in the mirror. Pink hearts shone from his pierced ears. “Mum!” It was too late to object. It was done.
He was pulled to his feet. He couldn’t believe his reflection and how he felt. The weight up front of his new boobs, the constraints of his tight corset, the dress projecting out over his big bottom and the heels that made him feel like he was walking on tippy toes.
His mother had been dressed and made up too but in a very homely motherly way. She took her bag and left. A small purse with a wrist strap was handed to him and he tottered after her. He saw that if he scampered too fast his net petticoats fluttered and he could see the lace-tops of his stockings in the wall mirrors. But his mother was striding away. “Wait Mum!” He scampered along trying to hold the netting down, unsuccessfully. The beauticians watched and caught a flash of his black and pink pettipants and smiled. “Nice job!” They high-fived.
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Awesome even in a coc-ktail dress it is short and will show everything. The 5" heels are a nice touch as he will not be able to move to fast if he needs or feels like he wants to get out of a situation. Got a feeling the newly minted sissy is here to stay awhile. Love it keep up the great story.
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At the gala dinner Frank was grateful to be sitting at the table with his sparkly stockings and short dress nicely tucked in underneath. He knew that Angela was hotly tipped to win as she had scored goals in the three final matches.
When her name was announced, he clapped along with everyone else. His aunt and mother stood at the table to applaud her. Frank hastily got up out of his seat, wobbling in his five-inch heels while he tried to push his net petticoats down at the back, only to have they flip up at the front. He looked around desperately but thankfully all eyes were on the elevated stage.
Angela made towards the steps up at the middle of the stage. She beckoned to her family to follow. His mother and aunt obliged. Frank was appalled. He wasn’t expecting this. He had no choice but to go up on stage.
His mother and aunt were already at the steps. He desperately scampered after them. He looked at the five steps and at the people at the front tables. He knew what they were about to see as he tottered unsteadily up the steps. He wanted to hold his netting down at the back but needed his arms to steady himself as he went up the steps.
He arrived beside the others but was now hugely concerned about the height of the stage above the audience. He noticed men grinning in the audience and ladies looking disapprovingly. He desperately tried to hold his dress down as much as he could.
Angela made the speech last as long as possible, enjoying Frank standing very unsteadily in his heels, cringing in his neon pink dress in front of the packed room. He was so relieved when she finished and he could return to his seat. Going down the steps he again wanted to hold his net petticoats down but again had to steady himself with his arms out so his petticoats ballooned up as he descended. He cringed at what the audience must have seen.
After the dinner the tables were cleared away. “Can we go home now?” he asked his mother. “No way, the dancing will be starting soon”, Angela interrupted. Frank sighed.
A band started up and she insisted that they dance. Frank was barely able to in his five-inch heels, his purse dangling from his wrist but he didn’t want to sit at the side alone with lots of leering boys about.
After a few songs the band started playing a slow song. They headed off the dance floor. A guy passing Frank grabbed his wrist. “May I?” Frank was hauled after him. “What? No!” But in his high heels he couldn’t resist the tug and tottered involuntarily after him.
The guy assumed a firm waltz hold and started swaying from side to side. Frank couldn’t free himself and certainly didn’t want to cause a scene. He already had a lot of eyes on him with his big boobs, tiny waist, short flared coc-ktail dress and shining silver seams in his stockings.
The guy pulled him closer so Frank’s ample boobs were pressing against his chest. It also caused the front of Frank’s net petticoat to be pushed down and he dreaded what was happening at the back. Were his suspenders in view or his pink pettipants? His hand was firmly held so there was nothing he could do.
The guy smiled at him. Frank was now acutely aware of his pink swollen lips and long fluttering eyelases. He was very conscious how his short dress and stockings allowed easy access underneath if anyone was so minded. How he wished he was wearing a nice thick pair of tights. In these heels there was no getting away from anyone.
The song finished and Frank quickly said thank you and freed himself from the disappointed guy. He saw Angela at the edge of the dance floor talking to some friends showing off her award. Frank tottered in her direction. It was taking so long to walk that short distance in these heels. Angela saw him coming and grinned at his discomfort.
Then his wrist was grabbed again. “May I?” Frank winced in Angela’s direction before he was whisked off again. She was laughing.
The same thing happened after each song. Frank just couldn’t get off the floor fast enough in his heels and the guys were just queueing up to take their turn on him. In the end he was just resigned to having to dance in his short dress and five-inch heels all night just hoping that nobody was going to take things any further in his highly vulnerable state.
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I bet his feet are KILLING him by the time he got home.
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Yes 5" heels can be a real killer if you are on them all night. I agree his feet are probably going to be sore lol.
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The school term ended a few days before Christmas but Frank’s old clothes stayed locked in the trunk. His mother told him he could have one treat in compensation which was to open his Christmas presents on Christmas Eve rather than waiting for the morning.
He opened the first parcel. It was a green Christmassy dress with red sparkly stars and baubles. He should have known! The next parcel was big and round. He ripped the paper off to reveal alternating green and red petticoats. The next small parcel contained red and green striped tights. Then there was a red coat with white fur trimmings and red boots also trimmed with white fur around the ankles. “You’ll look fantastic at church tomorrow!”
The following morning Frank was dressed ready to go out. His red coat was flared below its high waist and fell a few inches short of his green dress. His green and red petticoats peeked underneath and ended a few inches above his knees leaving his long legs in his red and green tights down to his fur trimmed boots. The coat had a fur-trimmed hood and white fur mittens which were attached to the cuffs with string. He was embarrassed to wear the mittens but they looked even sissier dangling from his wrists so he wore them.
At the last minute before he went out the door his mother added some accessories to his boots and collar. It wasn’t until he was outside that he realized she had tied little bells and he jingled unavoidably as he walked along.
So as they approached the church everyone turned to see where the jingle bells were coming from and saw Frank coming along in his red fur lined coat and boots, his green Christmas dress and his red and green petticoats and tights, his hands in white fur mittens. He could hear teenage girls scoffing at his childish outfit.
Frank sighed heavily. One day he was dressed in corsets, stockings and suspenders and high heels and the next in sissy petticoats and stripey tights. He couldn’t make up his mind which was worse.
After Christmas dinner his mother told him that she had signed him up at the convent for the rest of the school year. It was all going so well as far as she was concerned. He went to protest. “All paid up and everything.” He just sighed.
His mother and aunt detected his dejected lack of resistance. In the first weekend in January they decided “we must take in the January sales and find you some new dresses!” Frank looked at the wardrobe packed with pretty dresses. There was hardly room for any more. But he just sighed. There was no point in protesting. It only seemed to make things worse. “Yes mother.”
They decided to press home their advantage. On the Saturday morning they made him wear a corset – he felt it was tied as tight as for his coc-ktail dress. He had to put on the padded panties and they dressed him in seamed tan stockings, then a turquoise a-line dress just above the knees. He winced as they produced the five-inch heels but didn’t bother resisting anymore.
Just after they closed the front door and he was mincing carefully towards the car in tiny steps forced on him by the high-heels they told him the plan for the day. “First the beauticians, then shopping, then lunch at the Grand Hotel, more shopping and dinner at Pierre’s!” He was going to spend the whole day trussed up in this corset, padded out well with his big boobs, hips and bottom, feeling his stockings and suspenders stretching with every step and mincing around in agonizing five-inch heels!
At the beauticians he had another curly perm and acrylic nails again. Then they brought him to the town’s most upmarket boutique where a shop assistant would be with them at all times. She was clearly amused seeing this teenage ‘girl’ trussed up in such an old-fashioned way in corset, stockings and ultra-high heels with a perm.
Frank had to try on about a dozen dresses. With the assistant looking on, he realized he had to act as if he was enthusiastic about the dresses or she would wonder what was going on. Eventually his mother selected three: a floral dress in pastel shades, a pink dress with black polka dots and an apricot dress with copious frills. Each one fitted tightly around his corseted waist and fell above the knee with a full skirt. His mother assured him each one would go nicely with petticoats which made the assistant smirk again.
“Which one would you prefer dear?” his mother asked him with the assistant looking on. Frank didn’t want any dress but knew he had to give an answer. “The polka dot”, he replied. “Why do you prefer that one dear?” Frank squirmed inwardly but he had to give a plausible answer. “I like the pink and black.”
“Actually I think we’ll have all three!” his mother concluded anyway. Frank forced a smile. “Thank you mummy.” His mother immediately walked over to a large display. “Now you’ll need to choose stockings to go with each dress.” Frank cringed.
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Nice new dresses with pettis and stockings love. Since he is registered in a convent for the rest of the school year i wonder what the uniform will look like?
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Frank had to go through dozens of pairs of stockings with the close attentiveness of the shop assistant. Frank’s mother kept forcing him to answer questions. “Do you prefer lacey floral patterned stockings, or geometric patterns?” “Would you prefer lace-tops or a Cuban heel?” Frank was mortified to have to express a preference for any of these.
Eventually it was whittled down to six pairs of stockings. “So these are your favourites?” his mother asked. Frank squirmed but smiled. “Yes mummy.” The assistant took the six pairs to bag them. “Do you prefer stockings to tights?” she asked Frank. Again Frank forced his smile. “Yes”, he lied. He could feel his stockings and suspenders moving as he walked beside her. “They are so much prettier than tights aren’t they.” Frank wished she’d stop. “Yes.”
“Now for panties”, his mother announced. Frank winced as she marched over to a display of lacey underwear. “Do you prefer this pair with flowers or the pair with hearts?” his mother ask him as the assistant arrived beside them again. “We’re going to look at jewelry for a while”, his mother told them. “We’ll be back in thirty minutes or so. You can take your time.” The assistant smiled and said “we can go through our whole collection of panties so. Do you like yours lace-trimmed?” Frank wanted to die.
Finally he was given the credit card and told to go to the till with the assistant to purchase his dresses, stockings and panties. The assistant held each item up individually to scan it and fold it. By the time she got to the stockings a queue had formed. Frank saw the people smirking as the assistant held up each item of underwear. One had no bar code. “Maureen!” the assistant called out across the store. “Could you check the price on the white lace-top stockings please?” Frank cringed.
The queue had lengthened as she got to the panties - each pair with their frills and lace and pastel colours totally visible in their clear plastic wrapping. Frank was mortified as he walked by the queue clutching his shopping bags of dresses, stockings and panties.
Next was lunch at the Grand Hotel. It was very busy being lunchtime Saturday. They had to wait by the door for a seat to become free. Frank was highly conscious of all the ladies at the tables checking out his rounded figure with his boobs, corseted-waist and padded bottom, filling out his dress nicely. As he flounced passed their tables they noticed the seams on his stockings running down to his five-inch heels.
When lunch was finishing his mother announced plans for the afternoon. “Now you need some nice blouses and skirts too. And I know a shop with especially lovely camisoles and slips.”
By the time they were done Frank could barely hold the multiple bags of shopping containing his dresses, blouses, skirts, camisoles, slips, stockings and panties. He couldn’t keep up in his heels and the wind kept catching his bags and slowing him down further.
Back at home he surveyed the packed wardrobe and chest of drawers wondering how he was going to find room for his new dresses and underwear. He felt sick as he hung his new dresses and pressed his piles of stockings and panties into the drawers, knowing he was going to have to wear all of these in the coming weeks.
The following Saturdays they dolled Frank up in his new dresses, stockings and panties. He had to wear the corset with all of these dresses since he’d been fitted for them when he was wearing it. His boobs, padded bottom and high-heels ensured he presented a mature feminine figure.
One Saturday as he was finally easing his aching feet out of the five-inch heels after walking around in them for 12 hours and loosening the strings on his corset, he dared to beg his mother. “Do I have to wear all this?” he asked, gesturing to the shaping wear and stockings. “Oh do you not want to look so grown up?” He shrugged. He just didn’t want to be so trussed up. “I suppose not.” “OK we’ll find something else for you to wear tomorrow.”
Frank was surprised at her response as he lay back in his pink nightie, visualizing himself in a normal dress or skirt and blouse. That was the height of his ambition now.
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All of this began with Frank serving as a junior bridesmaid, so a lot of what he's worn recently must be too mature for him. I'm excited to see what's in store for him next.
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As always, you write an excellent story, DaraJaney. Looks like Frank has let himself in for a long-term, if not permanent, petticoating. He doesn't seem to be putting up much resistance save for continually carping about his situation and it would seem he might deserve this treatment given earlier allusions to macho bully behavior. Also, his ability to resist may be compounded by his stature. I understand Angela is his younger sister but how physically different could they be if the wedding shop didn't note a big difference in the sizes of the junior bridesmaid and ring bearer outfits. I gather Frank and Angela are closer in age and grade than I originally suspected at the beginning of the story.
Also, given Angela's predilection for sports and more aggressive behavior, mummy is just taking advantage of Frances's natural submissiveness to enjoy bringing up a girly gurl. I don't see Frank ever standing his ground in any meaningful way and so he gets what he deserves and maybe needs. May not be real world but it's certainly plausible fiction that I love. Again, your efforts are always appreciated even though I may not comment on each chapter. Please keep up the good work.
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Oh he just opened up a new idea or at least 1 that was there and now up front. Looking forward to how his mother is going to have him dressed.
Very very good story love it!!
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The next morning Frank heard his aunt rummaging in the attic. When she came down she was clutching a yellow dress. Frank could see it flared from breast level, had quite puffed sleeves and just one layer of petticoat which peeped an inch below the hem. He sighed heavily. It was clearly quite little-girly. He didn’t dare protest as his aunt buttoned his yellow dress up at the back. “Luckily Laura was quite a chubby girl when she was little so this fits you nicely.” Frank didn’t feel lucky as he tugged the petticoat hem of his dress half-way to his knees. At least it wasn’t as short as his junior bridesmaid dress.
He was almost relieved to see her select plain white tights rather than the even sissier lacey ones. Of course there was a pair of yellow matching panties with five rows of white lace and he wasn’t too surprised to find a pair of ankle socks with yellow lace being pulled onto his feet. At least he got to wear low-heeled Mary Janes.
He looked in the mirror. It wasn’t too bad and he felt so much more comfortable in a looser dress, tights and low heels than in his corset, stockings and suspenders and five-inch heels.
Then his mother produced a snow white pinafore and drew it over his arms. It had stiff lace trimming standing upright over his shoulders and she tied it in a big bow at his back. His aunt fluffed it out over his dress as Frank looked at his increasingly juvenile appearance in the mirror.
Then his mother took some elastic hair bands and twisted his hair on either side of his head into tight pigtails. His aunt tied big yellow ribbons onto the base of each pigtail.
“Happy now?” his mother asked as Frank squirmed in front of the mirror. He didn’t dare object he knew he had to thank his mother and aunt for dressing him up like a six-year old again. “Thank you mummy and auntie”, he mumbled insincerely.
At church he naturally got all sorts of funny looks. He still had his boobs in his bra which made him look clearly like a teenager dressed like a six-year old. He saw some girls from his convent class surreptitiously taking photos on their phones, no doubt to show around at school on Monday.
After church his mother decided it was a nice day and they should go to the park. Frank trotted along obediently relieved to be in low shoes at least. They sat on a bench near the snack shop.
His mother took out a pound note. “Why don’t you buy yourself one of those nice lollipops?” Frank took the money, stood up, taking great care to smooth his dress and pinafore down and walked over to the shop. The lollipops were great big things with swirly pink and white colouring. Frank bought one as instructed.
He knew exactly what he looked like walking back in his short yellow dress with peeping petticoat, puffed sleeves, snow white pinafore, white tights, frilly ankle socks and hair tied up in pigtails with fluttering yellow ribbons and now clutching a jumbo-sized lollipop.
He sat on the bench, carefully smoothing his dress down with his free hand. He started licking the hard candy. “We won’t leave until you finish your lollipop.” Frank sighed. It would surely take hours given the size of the thing. He tried biting a bit off to make it go more quickly. “No, no!” his mother scolded. “That’s bad for your teeth! Just lick it.” Frank sighed and resumed licking his lollipop as hard as he could.
“Let’s walk!” His mother made sure they visited every nook and cranny of the park, lingering in the busier areas as people sniggered and pointed at Frank, clutching his lollipop and licking it, seemingly enthusiastically. When they passed the playground Angela ran off to the climbing bars. Frank looked at the various climbing frames and slides enviously. There was no way he was going on any of them in his short dress. He would probably snag his tights anyway.
A little girl clutching a doll, probably an actual six-year-old, stood with her mother by the hop-scotch grid painted on the tarmac. Her mother saw Frank and assumed he was much younger than he was. “Would you play with her please?”
Frank looked to his mum pleadingly but it was clear from her look that he was to accept. “Yes sure!” he forced a smile. “Would you mind holding Cindy for me please?” the girl asked, handing Frank her doll while she started the game.
Now the picture was complete. Frank clutched a doll in one hand and a jumbo lollipop in the other. He watched the girl jump, twist and bend over to pick up the counter. It was alright for her in her shirt and little pair of jeans.
It came to Frank’s turn. His only consolation was losing the doll. He braced himself as he went to throw the counter. He hopped forward, feeling his dress, petticoat and ribbons fluttering as he did so, and jumped over the counter. He heard sniggering behind him – the usual sign that he had treated everyone to a view of his frilly panties. He got to the end and jumped and turned, his pinafore ballooning out as he did so. He could see all the amused faces now.
He smoothed his pinafore down. He could see one of the frilled shoulders was drooping badly. He fluffed it up, thinking it would look silly with one standing up and the other flopping down. As if he didn’t look silly enough – a teenager in a flared dress with pinafore, white tights, frilly panties and pigtails in ribbons clutching a large lollipop.
He hopped back and knew he had to pick up the counter. He tried to think of a way of doing it without bending over so much but he was on one leg, clutching his lollipop. There was no other way. He looked over towards the climbing frame and saw Angela watching with interest. He bent over to pick up the counter. The wind blew his dress up over his head. He had to go down on both feet to push his dress back down. He didn’t dare look at the faces around.
“You lose!” the little girl was delighted and seemingly oblivious to Frank’s mortification. “Never mind”, her mother told Frank. He tried to give a disappointed smile. “OK. Best of three!” she added. Frank cringed.
By the time the third game was over and Frank was mercifully free from the inevitability of showing his frilly panties as he played, his lollipop was still only half its original size. His mother finally took some pity on him. “OK we can go home now - if you skip all the way.”
Frank had to think about it. The numbers walking in the park seemed to be increasing in the late afternoon. He nodded. His mother, aunt and Angela stood to go and waited for Frank to start. He sighed, clutched his lollipop and started to skip along. He knew his short dress and petticoat were billowing as he skipped. The frills on his pinafore and the ribbons on his pigtails fluttered. The best he could hope for was that he was only giving short glimpses of his frilly panties.
People stopped and started at this teenager passing in the frilly dress, lacey ankle socks and pigtails, clutching a lollipop and seemingly happily skipping along but awkwardly trying to hold the fluttering dress down with the free hand.
Back at home that night his mother asked: “so next weekend do you want to wear your pretty frilly dresses or your corset, stockings and high heels?” Frank sighed. “The latter”, he mumbled eventually. “Sorry? Ask properly.” Frank winced. “Please can I wear the corset, stockings and high heels mummy?” “Of course dear, if that’s what you want.”
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Lucky Frank has dodged the DaraJaney protagonist curse. He went back to little girl clothes and has escaped more or less unscathed! Can't say I'm not at least a little disappointed he won't spend more time in such a state of juvenile femininity, but I'm still along for the ride!
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Excellent scene of Frank's little girl excursion but wonder if his decision to return to corset, stockings and heels is a wise one. At least he doesn't have to worry about boyfriend issues in that younger age group.
Curious as to what his return to school will be like after some of his classmates took pictures of Frank in his yellow little girl dress, white tights, yellow satin rumba panties, anklets and mary janes with his hair in pigtails at church. Maybe he hasn't escaped little gurlhood yet.
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Frank got lots of funny looks on Monday morning and he saw groups of girls gathered around mobile phones giggling and looking up at him, back in his short gymslip, tan tights, high-heeled t-bar shoes and his hair tied up in ponytails.
All resistance had been knocked out of him. Saturdays and Sundays he spent trussed up in his corset, stockings and high-heels – as he had requested. He had learned that resistance or complaining only made things worse so he just accepted it.
He did manage to improve at ballet – Madame Bouquet didn’t have to tap his pink legs with her cane quite so much and he was more confident that the thick frills below his tutu hid his embarrassment when his stiff tutu perked up at the front. At tennis he just had to accept that he was going to entertain the group of boys gathered on the benches as he reached up to serve or bent low to scoop the ball back over the net.
When it came to the summer holidays his mother and aunt had an idea. They visited a lady friend of his aunt who lived on her own in a large house outside town. “How would you like to have a maid for the summer?” his mother asked. Mrs Polstead was surprised. “A proper maid to clean and bring you tea – whatever you want. Provided free for the work experience.” Now Mrs Polstead was interested.
The problem was that his aunt had previously told her friend about Frank being a boy that they had coerced into dresses for the last year. She loved hearing the stories of how the boy was displayed in his ultra-feminine garb whenever they got the chance. So they told her that her maid would be Frank. She was unsure about that.
“There will be no problem” his mother started to explain. “We will provide him with a special maid’s uniform. It will be very traditional black with white lace collar and trimmings on the sleeves and hem. It will have a full lace-trimmed apron, frilled over the shoulders. There will be five layers of organza petticoats sewn into the waist.
“The waist will be narrow enough that he will have to wear a corset every day for his maid’s uniform to fit. The corset will have suspender straps for his lace-top stockings and he’ll be wearing four-inch heels to ensure that he minces around daintily all the time.
“The dress and petticoats will be only just long enough to cover his stocking tops to ensure that he is constantly conscious of them being seen. We will supply half a dozen pairs of frilly knickers in combinations of black, white and pink. He will have a large lacey headpiece perched on top and lace-trimmed fingerless mittens which will show off his long pink acrylic nails.
“He is well trained on doing his make-up including false eye-lashes, eye-liner and lipstick. Having done ballet at school he can curtsey and mince around daintily very competently.
“He will be ordered to curtsey every time he enters a room, before he leaves and whenever he speaks. He will be permitted only to say ‘Yes Madam’, ‘Thank you Madam’ and, if necessary, “I’m sorry Madam”. For anything else he will need to ask permission to speak. We recommend that you regularly refuse him permission. If he is unsure how to follow an order let him try and you can always get him to do it again the right way.
“When he arrives he will present you with a paddle. He will ask you to use it whenever his service is unsatisfactory. He doesn’t know this but I will then ask you if you have ever used one before. You should answer ‘no’. I will suggest that you practice and order him to bend over a chair and raise his petticoats up over his back exposing the frilly knickers. You should give him six light strokes. There is no need to strike him hard. Getting him to raise his petticoats and bend over in front of everyone in his frilly knickers is enough to keep him in check. I will make a comment about starting as you mean to continue.
“We recommend that you conjure up a reason to use the paddle on him at least every few days. This will ensure that he will desperately try to satisfy you at all times. It’s a good idea to use the paddle for entirely spurious reasons. Claim that you asked for something that you didn’t. He is not allowed to argue, he just has to accept the paddle whenever you say so.
“On a daily basis tell him his stocking seams or apron or headpiece needs to be straightened – even if they don’t. Occasionally give him the paddle for being sloppy. This will ensure that he is consumed by trying to ensure his uniform and deportment is perfect. If you do all of this you can be sure that he will be an attentive and obedient maid.
“We will also supply him with a second uniform. It will be pink, have a narrower waist, be shorter exposing his suspenders and stocking-tops, just about covering his bottom. We will supply white and pink lacey stockings, pink pettipants and pink ballet boots. He will be able to walk in the ballet boots thanks to his lessons, but of course he will only be able to take tiny steps and it will take him much longer to go anywhere and do anything.
“The dress will have metal rings under the lace collar so that the zip can be locked up and the ballet boots will have straps that can be padlocked in place. We will also supply a small time-lock safe. You can lock him into his pink dress and ballet boots at 7 in the morning and set the timer to 11pm so that he knows he will be fourteen hours in those clothes. He has previously spent that long in 5-inch heels so the ballet boots will only be another step up.
“We recommend that you invent a reason to make him wear the pink uniform at least once a fortnight. After a day locked in that he will love his ordinary maid’s uniform and beg to be allowed wear it.”
Mrs Polstead readily accepted the offer of a free obedient maid for the summer. She was more than a little shocked at everything Frank’s mother had said but had to admit that she rather looked forward to it.
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Frank tottered in wearing his maid’s uniform. His mother had made him stand in front of the mirror and check his apron, the seams on his stockings, his headpiece and fluff out his petticoats.
He curtsied in front of Mrs Polstead and she smiled. “Welcome Frances.” “Thank you Madam”, Frank curtsied. “What have you got in your hand there?” she asked. Frank frowned a little. “Please use this whenever my service is not satisfactory”, he said handing her the paddle and curtseying.
Mrs Polstead took the paddle and felt the weight of it. “Have you ever used one before?” Frank’s mother asked. Frank gave her a worried look. “No.” “Well I think you should try it out first. Frank.” It looked like Frank wanted to cry but instead he minced over to a chair and leaned over it. He gathered his petticoats behind and pulled them up over his back. They all admired his frilly knickers with alternating pink and white frills as well as the tops of his stockings where there were little black bows at the top of the seams.
Mrs Polstead took her time getting into position. Frank could only wait underneath his inverted petticoats. She gave him six moderate strokes. He thought that once again the frills on his knickers had been a welcome cushion. “May as well start as you intend to continue”, his mother said. “Yes, indeed”, Mrs Polstead agreed. Frank sniffled a little as he studied the carpet.
He lowered his petticoats and curtsied. “Thank you Madam.” “Put the paddle on the sideboard there please where I will have easy access to it.” Frank curtsied “Yes Madam” and flounced over to the sideboard and placed the paddle there.
Mrs Polstead did indeed decide to continue as she had started and follow Frank’s mother’s advice. On the second day she complained that his stocking seams were not straight even though they were. She told him to come back when they were straight.
He must have spent five minutes at the hall mirror wondering how to make them straighter than they were. Because he had to try to twist in his tight corset, he could never really be sure. Later that day, even though he had checked his stockings and apron and headpiece in the mirror before entering, she still found fault with them. “Fetch the paddle!” she ordered. “Yes Madam”, he curtsied and minced over to the sideboard without hesitation, though inside he was wondering what he had to do to get his stockings straight.
He handed her the paddle and immediately bent over the chair and raised his petticoats. Black and white lace on his knickers today, she noted. She took her time over 10 mild strokes, returning to her chair after six for a sip of water while Frank wondered under his petticoats if that was it.
The next day she insisted that his seams were awry again. He was not permitted to argue. “Tomorrow you will wear your pink uniform”, she ordered. He winced a little before stopping himself and curtsied. “Thank you Madam.”
The next morning he knocked on her bedroom door with her breakfast. “Come in!” The door opened and Frank tottered in making tiny steps in his pink ballet boots, desperately trying to hold a tray steady which was carrying her tea and toast. She waited patiently as he approached and placed the tray on her lap.
She opened the bedside locker and took out three little padlocks. Frank looked at them curiously as he exercised a very unsteady curtsey in the ballet boots. She opened the padlocks and removed the keys. She handed him one. “There are metal rings under your lace collar at the top of the zip. Use this to lock them to the zip.”
Frank reached up revealing the bottom three rows of lace on his pink pettipants. He rummaged around for a moment and she heard a little click. “Now these go on your boots.” Frank frowned. Being locked in the dress was not much of a problem but being locked in these ballet boots was another matter.
It was very difficult for him to bend sufficiently in his tight corset to reach the straps just below his knee. He managed it with his left leg first – click – and then the right one – click.
He was surprised that she handed him the keys. “There is a time-lock safe over on the dressing table. Put these in it.” Frank curtsied and tottered over to the dressing table wondering how long she was going to keep him in the outfit.
When he finally got there he placed the locks in the safe. “Now set it for 11pm.” Frank’s jaw dropped. He recovered just in time to curtsey and say “Yes Madam.” He didn’t want to get into more trouble.
He cringed as he pressed the buttons to enter 23:00 hours. There was a pause before he could bring himself to close the door. He knew he had to. It clicked shut, it beeped and a red light came on. He felt sick. Fourteen hours in these ballet boots. It was the first time he was grateful for his ballet lessons. He could stand it better than most, he supposed.
He tottered back to the end of the bed for his orders. “You will dust the house from top to bottom.” Frank curtsied despite his horror and said “Yes Madam.” “Those boots will help you reach the higher parts”, she smirked. “Thank you Madam”, he curtsied. “And then you will vacuum the whole house.” Frank winced as he pictured himself dragging the vacuum cleaner around the house in his ballet boots. But he curtsied and said “Yes Madam”.
He tottered over to the door casting one last look at the red light on the safe and the blue digits indicating 23:00.
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Last 2 chapters to catch up on,, Frank does not appear to be in for an easy summer. Wonder what else could be coming his way
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Vacuuming the stairs was a particular challenge in the ballet boots. He was lucky he didn’t break his neck. As he got to the bottom and turned the machine off, a bell rang in the sitting room. He tottered over to the mirror. His petticoats were considerably ruffled after the hoovering and the seams of his pink stockings needed straightening.
When he entered the sitting room he curtsied. “What kept you?” “I’m sorry Madam”, he curtsied again. “Come over here!” He tottered over. It seemed to take a full minute. “I’ll take my tea now.” “Yes Madam”, he curtsied, frustrated that she had made him walk over just to receive that order. He tottered over to the door, turned and curtsied before he left the room.
He had to go across the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen at the end of the corridor. There he made the tea and put two chocolate biscuits on a little plate. He started the slow journey back.
He entered the room, curtsied while clutching the tray and brought it over which took another minute. She tasted the tea. “This is cold. What took you so long?” Frank couldn’t believe it. She knew very well what took him so long. “I am sorry Madam”, he curtsied. “Well you can make a fresh cup!” Frank wanted to die. He curtsied. “Yes Madam.”
He took the tray and tried to get to the door as quickly as possible in the ballet boots. Mrs Polstead watched his petticoats flutter, giving flashes of his pink pettipants as he desperately scuttled along.
Thankfully there was more hot water in the kettle so it didn’t take so long to boil and he was able to trot back in time to satisfy her. “Back to your work”, was all she said. He curtsied. “Yes Madam.”
The following week Mrs Polstead’s niece visited with her six-year-old girl, Annie. Frank, in his normal maid’s uniform, brought tea and cakes and an orange drink for the little girl. Her mother was clearly amused at Frank’s uniform and tried not to laugh at his repeated curtsies.
“Actually we will take our tea in the garden. Frances, you show Annie the old play room.” Frank curtsied. “Yes Madam.” They were about to leave but Mrs Polstead turned and said “Annie, you are in charge now. Understood Frances?” “Yes Madam”. Frank curtsied while inwardly cringing at being put in the charge of a six-year-old.
The play room had lots of old toys and dolls. Annie ordered Frank to play dolls with her. He was initially mortified but then supposed it was one of his easier chores. “Let’s have a tea party”, Annie decided. She arranged some dolls around a children’s table. “Frances bring us the tea!” she ordered. Frank curtsied. “Yes Miss Annie.” He went over to get the tea set and brought it to the table. He put it down and curtsied again to six-year-old Annie.
She pretended the dolls were talking. “What’s that? Samantha said she would like some biscuits.” Frank turned to face the doll she called Samantha. He curtsied. “Yes Miss Samantha.” He scampered off cringing. He was now talking orders from, and curtseying, to a doll!
Annie seemed to be happy playing with him so the next time her mother was away for a day they arranged a play date. Mrs Polstead and his mother agreed that Annie would probably enjoy it more if Frank was dressed more appropriately.
Angela was sent over with his clothes for the day. She gave him the yellow dress that flared from breast level. She handed him a pair of white tights and smiled broadly as she produced the matching frilly panties. Frank cringed as he pulled them on over his tights in front of his grinning younger sister. Then she gave him the lace-topped ankle socks and the low-heeled Mary Janes.
Next she took out the pinafore and insisted on pulling it over his arms herself and tying it tightly at the back in a big bow. Then Frank had to sit there while his sister worked his hair into two pigtails, humming happily as she did it. Then she topped it off tying large yellow ribbons onto the end of his pigtails.
He didn’t understand why they had to make him look so sissy when Annie just wore a t-shirt and jeans again. She giggled when she saw Frank in his pretty dress and pinafore and his beribboned pigtails.
When she first caught a glimpse of his frilly panties she laughed and held the back of his dress up to get a proper look. He just had to take it, afraid of the consequences of saying boo to her.
He certainly felt a lot more comfortable in his pretty dress, tights and low shoes than in his maid’s uniform. He wondered if he had made the wrong choice the last time he was dressed in such a juvenile fashion.
But as a maid, he was well away from people, whereas if he had to attend school while spending the weekends in sissy dresses he would be tormented by the girls. He couldn’t make up his mind which was worse. How long could they get away with dressing him like a six-year-old? Where was that leading?
Anyway, he spent the day playing with dolls and the doll house and the doll tea set. He was under strict instructions to give the impression that he was having great fun. Angela stayed around for the morning enjoying watching her big brother in his pretty dress, pinafore and pigtails happily playing with dolls. She took out her phone and started taking videos. Frank cringed inwardly but had no choice but to smile and hold up his dolly to the camera when Angela told him to.
There were breaks from the dolls so she could teach him skipping. Angela videoed that too, crouching to take it from a low angle. Frank didn’t think that was necessary as his dress ballooned up every time on his descent, undoubtedly revealing most of his frilly panties. Frank had to keep telling himself that this was better than being trussed up in his corset, suspenders and high-heels and having to do housework. Mrs Polstead seemed to enjoy watching them play too as she sat on the patio with her cup of tea.
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I don't know what would be more humiliating being a sissy maid or dressed as a sissy 6 yr old in front of your sister. I agree with the story line that it is at least alot more comfortable dressed as a 6 yr old than what he had to wear as a maid.
At least he was not dressed any younger than a 6 yr old sissy.
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Dara Janey,
You are pushing all the right buttons.
Here are ideas for future chapters:
Before the school term starts Mrs. Polstead could invite Frank's classmates for a luncheon where Maid Frances in black uniform would be serving;
To mark the end of term, Mrs. Polstead could host Frank's classmates with male dates to a formal dinner, served by Maid Frances in pink uniform;
More play dates with Annie while dressed as 6 year old Sissy Frances, in public places.
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When Annie had gone, Mrs Polstead looked wistfully at Frank in his pretty dress and pinafore clutching a doll. “It would be nice to have a granddaughter around the place again.” Frank wondered if she meant him. Pretending to be her granddaughter would be much more desirable than working as her maid. Frank tried to look as cute as possible. He smiled shyly, hugged his doll and took the hem of his short dress and held it out prettily, hopefully showing a few frills of his panties.
“Would you like that too?” she asked. Frank grabbed his chance. “Oh yes Granny!” “Well why don’t you go back to your doll’s house and I’ll phone your mother.” Frank skipped away as happily as he could muster and knelt down beside the doll’s house and started pretend-talking with the dolls.
His mother was agreeable and had his junior bridesmaid outfit sent over for the next day. He put on the pink petticoated dress, the white lacey tights his mother had included, the matching frilly panties and ankle socks and the pink shoes. He took the pink ribbons provided in the pack to Mrs Polstead.
He walked into the room while she was having breakfast. He curtsied and asked sweetly “could you tie my hair up in pigtails please Granny?” as he proffered the pink ribbons. She was as pleased to be asked as he hoped. He stood with his back to her, trying not to yelp as she pulled his hair into tight pigtails and tied the ribbons into big bows.
He curtsied, thanked her and skipped over to the doll’s house quite sure that she was enjoying the sight of his layers of petticoats fluttering. He knelt at the doll’s house and leaned forward to ensure that she got full sight of his frilly panties.
When she was having her late morning cup of tea on the patio he fetched the skipping rope and performed for her. He could feel the wind resistance in his ballooning petticoats as he skipped and his pigtails bouncing against his head.
He was inseparable from the dolls all day and made sure to skip around as much as possible and carelessly expose his frilly bottom whenever he could. She was more than happy for him to continue for another day.
It was mind-numbingly boring playing with his dolls all day – relieved only by periods of skipping or hop-scotch. It was mortifying having to pretend to love wearing a short frilly dress, lacey tights and pigtails. The alternative was to be trussed up in corset, suspenders and high-heels doing housework all day. Frank had to remind himself of that, as Angela appeared with her camera phone again to video him playing with dolls, skipping and bending over to retrieve the counter at hop-scotch – all the time smiling and skipping around.
The next day he was playing with his dolls wearing the yellow dress and pinafore when Mrs Polstead came in with an envelope. “Annie is having a birthday party tomorrow and you are invited!” Frank smiled as if he was happy with that but he fiddled nervously with the frills on his pinafore as he wondered how he would be dressed for the party. How many people were going to be at this party?
Mrs Polstead decided that his junior bridesmaid dress would be perfect. When Frank stepped out of the car outside Annie’s house he observed the dozens of cars parked up on the grass verges and he could hear the chatter of dozens of people in the back garden of the house.
He smoothed down his petticoats as best he could. He needed to check that the lacey tops to his ankle socks weren’t awry. The only way to check this below his petticoats was to bend substantially forward so he checked that nobody was looking first. The frills on his left sock stuck up untidily so he went down on one knee, hoping not to dirty his white lacey tights, reached below his petticoats and straightened the frills.
He stood, leaned forward to check again and heard a little boy’s voice behind him. “Look Mummy!” Frank straightened up double quick, pushing his petticoats down at the back. The woman was looking him up and down incredulously. Frank squirmed as the breeze ruffled the pink bows on his pigtails.
When they went out onto the patio at the back of the house Frank could see only a couple of girls wearing dresses – and nothing as frilly and flouncy as his dress. Most of the children were five, six or seven. He towered above them but even the little girls giggled at his juvenile attire. He could see he was the only one in pigtails. He was also conscious how high the patio was over the garden and the little boys looking up at him. He clutched his petticoats and went quickly down the steps.
Annie saw him and came rushing over. “Frances is really good at skipping!” she told everyone and handed Frank a rope. All eyes were on him and he had no choice. He started skipping. He could see the ladies eyebrows raise as his ballooning petticoats obviously exposed his frilly panties.
He stopped as soon as he thought was reasonable but Annie had fetched another rope. “Let’s do it together!” Frank was mortified as she kept up their joint performance for several minutes. He was so relieved to be able to hand back the rope and settle his petticoats back to a more respectable order.
Little boys kept conspiring to make him reveal his frilly panties. One threw a ball to Frank well above his head so he had to reach up to catch it. Another rolled one to Frank’s feet hoping he would bend over to pick it up. Frank was terrified he would dirty his pink dress or white tights and get into trouble.
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Good story glad he likes being a little gurl sissy but either way there is humiliation involved. The naughty boys trying to make him bend over to show his panties. I don't think the birthday girl was any the wiser but it ended up showing his panties. Does he get really nervous and pee his panties next?
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Unfortunately, Mrs Polstead soon tired of her ‘granddaughter’ and missed having all the housework done so Frank was informed that he would return to being the maid the next day. He marched off clutching his petticoats ruefully. He could never have guessed how unhappy he would be having to take off his frilly dress, lacey tights and untie his pigtails.
At the end of the summer and his work experience as a maid, his mother came to visit. Frank was dispatched to bring them tea and cake. He returned with the tray, wondering how many more hours or minutes he had to be the maid.
“How has Frances performed as your maid?” his mother asked as he stood awaiting orders. “Adequately, I suppose”, Mrs Polstead replied, unwilling to admit in front of him that he was a superbly obedient maid. “It does require regular use of the paddle and pink uniform to ensure proper behaviour though.” “I did tell you they would be vital”, his mother remarked.
“So would you like to take Frances on as your permanent maid?” his mother asked. Frank was appalled but had to stand there poker faced so as not to get into trouble. “I suppose I could live with that”, Mrs Polstead replied, hiding her thrill at the idea of having Frank permanently and her beck and call. Frank wanted to cry. He had thought he was about to get out of his maid’s uniform and get back to the relative comfort of being a convent schoolgirl but instead it was being made permanent!
“Permission to speak please”, he squeaked. “Permission denied”, Mrs Polstead responded. “There is absolutely no need to thank me. Now I think the kitchen floor needs scrubbing.” Frank curtsied. “Yes Madam”. Frank scampered off too afraid to disobey despite having been told he was staying on as a maid. The ladies admired his fluttering petticoats, delighted that these were now to become a permanent treat.
The following week Mrs Polstead decided to celebrate her new permanent maid by inviting a dozen friends over to dinner. She decided that she should tell them in advance the reality of the situation – that her pretty maid was actually a teenage boy who had been gradually coerced into restrictive female clothing and was now permanently trapped in his petticoats, stockings and high heels. She was pleasantly surprised that they all approved of what had happened and were keen to see for themselves.
So Frank had his busiest day ever. Greeting guests at the door with a curtsey, scampering back and forth to the cloakroom, tottering up and down the stairs to the kitchen fetching food and drinks, curtseying every time he entered or left the room and any time anyone spoke to him. The ladies loved it and they struggled to maintain a stern outward appearance whenever Frank was in the room.
“Audrey, would you check the maid’s stockings are straight, they look awry to me”, Mrs Polstead said. Audrey told Frank to turn around and raise his petticoats at the back so she could see. He curtsied, said “Yes Madam” and turned his back to the table. He raised his petticoats. With his back to the table the ladies permitted themselves some silent sniggers.
Audrey adjusted the tops of his stockings a little but then asked “Where do you get those pretty pettipants?” Mrs Polstead offered to check and email her the details. Audrey rummaged in her bag for a pen to write down her email address. All this time Frank remained with his back to the table holding his petticoats up and exposing his pink pettipants because nobody had given him permission to lower them.
The conversation moved on to other things and the ladies pretended not to notice Frank was still there holding his petticoats up. Eventually Mrs Polstead blurted “for heaven’s sake Frances. I know you love showing off your frillies –you do it all the time – but please lower your petticoats and get on with clearing the table.” Frank gratefully let his petticoats down, turned to the table and curtsied. “Thank you Madam”. He was sure he caught a few mischievous grins before the ladies all managed to look stern again.
One day his mother and Angela visited. They knew from the frantic scampering behind the front door that Frank must be in his pink uniform and ballet boots. Sure enough he opened the door and held out his pink dress as he curtsied. His mother smiled at the pretty lace-tops of his pink stockings.
Seated in the living room as Frank tottered across with the tea tray, she asked if his service had been unsatisfactory. Mrs Polstead looked at his ballet boots. “No but I noticed that he was very uncomfortable on the occasional days he was required to wear the boots so I thought that it was better for him to wear them with his pink outfit every day. This way his feet will just get used to them.” Frank tried not to cry. He wondered how many days would it take before his feet became irretrievably molded to the shape of the ballet boots and he would be unable to wear anything else. Would he ever be able to walk normally without the now familiar weight of his large boobs and the tight support of his corset?
“Oh that is so thoughtful of you”, his mother replied. “Isn’t it Frances?” Frank curtsied and said “Thank you Madam.” “Have you not finished cleaning the toilets yet?” Mrs Polstead asked. Frank curtsied “I’m sorry Madam” and tottered off as quickly as he could in the boots.
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Interesting change going back to being a maid. Now his services offered full time as a sissy maid by his mother. Looking forward to seeing where this continues to go too.
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Frank was scrubbing behind the toilet bowl in the furthest bathroom when he was summoned by a bell from the sitting room. He sighed as he pulled off the rubber gloves and replaced them with his lacey white mittens.
They were all laughing as he tottered in before them in his pink maid’s uniform and ballet boots and curtsied. “So it was Angela’s idea to get him into the junior bridesmaid dress?” Mrs Polstead asked. “Yes, and she fixed it so it was so short he kept exposing his frilly panties.” They all laughed. “We have all the photos now. You should see him smiling awkwardly in his pink dress and cute white tights clutching his basket of flower petals!”
Frank was mortified as he stood on enforced tippy-toes in front of them. “And then we used the excuse of the acrylic nails to get him to go to the convent in a gymslip!” “He had no idea that they could be filed down and the pink colour removed”, Angela giggled. Frank wanted to cry.
“Where did auntie get that old fashioned tennis dress with the frilly knickers?” Angela asked her mother. “She found it at a jumble sale – same with the pink tutu.” His mother was laughing out loud now. “He totally believed that they had been her daughter’s!”
“When Mother Superior was told he was actually a boy, she was only too happy for us to keep him in the short gymslip”, Angela added. “And give him bigger boobs”, her mother recalled. “Yes it meant all the boys were ogling his long legs in those tan tights and his big chest in the push up bra instead of the real girls.”
“Madame Bouquet had great fun keeping him back for the extra ballet ballet lesson and then making him late for the bus so he had to go home in his pink tutu and pink tights!” They were barely able to talk now they were laughing so much. Frank could do nothing except stand uncomfortably in his ballet boots and listen to it. “I bet you are grateful for those ballet lessons now though”, Angela tittered, looking at the padlocks on his pink boots.
“It was actually Mother Superior’s idea to make him a cheerleader and give him the frilliest and shortest uniform of them all. She loved the idea of all the boys in town unknowingly ogling another boy dressed up in big boobs and short petticoats. If only they knew!” His mother put her hand to her chest to try to control her laughter.
“Remember him in his coc-ktail dress?” Angela recalled. “Oh yes! In those five-inch heels he couldn’t get away from the line of boys wanting to dance with him.” Frank could only WISH he was able to wear five-inch heels now, as he wobbled a little in his ballet boots. “It took me ages to find those stockings for him with the bright silver seams so everyone would know he was wearing stockings.” “Well I think everyone could see anyway when he was up on the stage. It was not surprising that all the boys wanted to dance with him.”
They settled down a little. His mother looked at him. “It took a while for him to realise that everything he did to resist only made the situation worse.” “I think it was in the new year that he finally seemed to accept that we were in total control”, Angela added. “Yes. Do you remember taking him to the park in his sissy pinafored dress?” “That’s right! I can still see him skipping along holding the big pink lollipop! Was that the first time we did his hair in pigtails?”
“He really couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be a sissy little girl or a perfectly formed maid”, Mrs Polstead observed. “As if it was ever going to be his choice!” Angela laughed.
His mother stood up and walked around Frank. “So do you like your pink maid’s uniform?” Frank curtsied. “Yes mother.” “You are too afraid to say otherwise aren’t you?” Frank wasn’t sure how to respond to that. There was a pause before he curtsied and decided the safest thing to say was “Yes mother.” “Because we can still make things worse for you, can’t we?” Frank wondered what could be worse than being trussed up in a tight corset, pink lacey stockings and suspenders and ballet boots locked on, wearing a short pink petticoated maid’s uniform, frilly apron and pink pettipants. But he didn’t doubt that they could find some way. He curtsied. “Yes mother.”
“So why don’t you politely ask Mrs Polstead to let you wear your pink uniform and ballet boots every day from now on?” Frank knew that this was going to happen anyway. He curtsied, holding the position with his petticoats held out while he said “Please Mrs Polstead may I wear this uniform and the ballet boots every day from now on.” She just gave him a questioning look. “And the corset, pink stockings and pink pettipants?”
Frank sighed. He curtsied again, just barely able to hold the curtsey while he uttered “Please Mrs Polstead may I wear this pink uniform with the petticoats, the corset, pink stockings and suspenders, the pink pettipants and ballet boots every day from now on.” “Well seeing as you asked so nicely, yes!” They all laughed.
“Now fetch a bottle of champagne from the kitchen and three glasses before you get back to cleaning the toilets.” Frank curtsied. “Yes Madam.” Frank tottered off to his future.
THE END
Many thanks for all the comments. Hope you enjoyed it :)
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Dara Janey,
Thank you for writing this story - I enjoyed it.
The last chapter did a great job of wrapping things up.
A lot of us are looking forward to future stories from you.