Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Menu => Active Sissy Stories => Topic started by: Sandra B on January 17, 2022, 11:11:24 AM
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1.
Mrs Langston was a foster mother. She had fostered several children in her time, but now she was down to two – the last two, she had decided. She was in her fifties, fostering had been a full-time job, and she wanted a rest and some personal time.
The two – well, there was Mitch, now nearly thirteen, and the latest arrival, Lucy, who was six. Mitch was mixed race, with a dark skin, large brown eyes with long lashes, a quick laugh, and a gentle disposition.. Everyone who saw him commented on his beauty. Lucy was the opposite - pale and fair, with a mischievous and even calculating nature. Mitch had been with his foster-mother since he was small. Lucy she had taken on only a year before.
Though Mrs Langston was single, having divorced her husband year ago, (on account of his being unable to cope with taking second place to a human menagerie), she had many friends, some of whom had been erstwhile foster children. One such was Alice, now twenty-two, and three months pregnant. The father had done a quick exit upon discovering that fact, but Alice, despite her own difficult childhood, had decided to have the baby and give it everything she had lacked. She had a number of good friends, apart from Elizabeth Langston, and was confident there would be no shortage of support available.
To celebrate her decision, some of those friends had got together to plan a little surprise party. They had convened in Elizabeth’s living-room to sort out the details over a glass of wine. Someone – no-one could remember who afterwards – had made a joking proposition. One of the company, Patty, had a toddler, a girl of two, and it was suggested that she should be put in baby things and presented to Alice as an overgrown example of what she was going to have to deal with in the near future! But when the hilarity had died down, Elizabeth herself made a rather surprising interjection.
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we dress up Mitch, instead? He’d make a very pretty baby. That would be a real surprise for Alice!”
Her friends stared at her.
“Is that a serious suggestion?” asked Beth.
“I don’t know…it just occurred to me…”
“I can’t imagine him agreeing to that…”
They lapsed into silence.
“He might,” said Sarah, who knew Mitch very well, having babysat Elizabeth’s children for many years. “He might just. You know he loves dressing up and showing off. He’s always doing it for me. I think he’s going to be an actor when he grows up. And he loves parties. Maybe I could persuade him. It would be amazing if I could.”
“So what have you got in mind, Elizabeth?”
“I don’t know. I was just being facetious really. Sarah, come on. I know what you mean about him, but I can’t imagine he’d really…”
“Now you’re backtracking, Liz. Let me try, anyway. No harm done, right?”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, absolutely. Go ahead. You have them this Saturday in any case. Good luck!”
The conversation passed on to other matters, and for the time being the idea was forgotten. Forgotten by all. Except Sarah.
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2.
Sarah loved a challenge, and had decided to give this one her best shot. She knew Mitch had a bit of a crush on her, so she decided to exploit it. That Saturday afternoon, instead of her usual jeans and top, she put on a little black party dress, high heels, full makeup, and her most expensive perfume. Mitch was duly impressed, his eyes opening even wider than usual as he answered the door. Lucy, on the other hand, puckered her little forehead, wrinkled her freckly nose, and articulated an elongated “yuuuk…”
“Now, Lucy darling, don’t be rude, please,” said her mother. “I have to go. Sarah will give you your supper. Behave, remember? There’s a good girl.”
But Lucy did not behave. She could sense there was something going on, and she wasn’t that fond of Sarah in the first place. She hated the way Mitch played up to her every time she babysat – so eager to please, like her little puppy. So she made herself as difficult as possible that evening, and Sarah was relieved when she was finally in bed and asleep. Mitch, on the other hand, in his innocence, had no idea Sarah had any ulterior motive in appearing dressed up to the nines. He happily embraced the eye candy – and would have literally embraced it had he had the chance – and made himself agreeable to Sarah in any way he could. Which was just what she wanted. She encouraged him in his thespian displays that evening, from Gandalf to Deadpool, and finally invited him to join her on the couch.
“Mitch, darling, you really have a talent for acting, don’t you?”
“I dunno. But I’m gonna be in the school play at the end of term. Miss Hayward said so.”
“Really? Who are you playing? What’s the play?”
“It’s Romeo and Juliet… Don’t know who I’ll be…”
“Romeo, of course! You’d be perfect!”
Mitch blushed. “Don’t think so…”
Sarah looked sideways at him, his black curly hair and long lashes. If Miss Hayward’s got any sense, you will, she thought.
“So do you think you could play any role?”
“Dunno. I’d try, anyway.”
“Well, I’ve just seen you can play an old man. I loved the cracked voice, and the way you staggered along. What about a baby? Do you think you could play a baby?”
“A baby?”
“No, it would be impossible, wouldn’t it? That’s asking too much. I mean, apart from anything else, you’d just be too big…”
“Well, Sarah, acting isn’t just about appearance, Miss Hayward says. She says it’s about believing you’re the person you’re playing…”
“Oh, I see. Well, that makes sense. So, when’s this play then? I must come and see it.”
“It’s on the last day of term. But…why were you asking about playing a baby?”
“Oh, it was nothing really. I’m sure we’ll find somebody. Or we’ll just forget all about it. It was a silly idea, really…”
“Tell me…please…”
“Well… It’s Alice, you see. You know she going to have a baby? Yes. Well, we’re planning to give her a party… Two weeks’ time. You know, cheer her up, remind her we all support her. Someone had this idea…as a laugh, we’d find someone to play her future baby, to burst in when she was least expecting it, or jump out of a cake, or something. We just thought it would be a good joke. But I can see it’s not going to happen…”
“I can do it! Sarah, please! Let me!” The prospect of being the centre of attention was too much for Mitch.
“No, Mitch, really. You don’t have to. I mean, you’d have to dress up just like a baby, and everything. And you have your play to rehearse for…”
“Don’t be silly! Rehearsals will be in school time. Please let me do it! I bet I can be a great baby!”
“Well…”
“Okay? Deal, then?”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure, Sarah. I’ll do whatever it takes. Boy, is Alice gonna get a surprise!”
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3.
When Sarah relayed the news to the girls, they were ecstatic. Elizabeth was also very impressed.
“You must have him wrapped around your little finger, Sarah. But it’s not over yet. Now it’s going to be your responsibility to get him into his babywear.”
“Yeah,” said Grace. “And we’d better get started on that stuff without delay. There’s less than a fortnight to go.”
“Can you handle that, Grace? You’re in the rag trade.”
“No problem. But it would be useful to have some measurements.”
“Course,” said Elizabeth. “No problem.”
“And how’s he going to make his appearance?” asked Vivian.
“I have an idea,” said Patty. “The other day I saw a big old-fashioned pram outside that junk shop on Wealden Road. Must be fifty years old at least. He could curl up in there under a blanket and we could wheel him in.”
“Haha. Brilliant!” laughed Elizabeth.
“I’ll see if it’s still there.”
The pram was there, and Patty pushed it home – much to the amusement of her neighbours – and gave it a good clean and polish. It had chrome wheels and a chrome handle, a black frame, and a black hood, which still worked. It was much bigger than modern buggies, and quite wide – maybe it had been intended for twins. She bought a little plastic-covered baby mattress to line it with and a fluffy blue blanket. It would be a squeeze, but Mitch would just about have room to hide under the blanket.
Meanwhile Grace had got Mitch’s measurements and was organising his outfit. She got some big kids’ pull-ups – the puffiest she could find – and from an adult baby supplier she got a pack of plastic pants, the smallest they had, which would fit him perfectly. They were good quality – not too thin – in very nice rustling pastel blue plastic, with a design of scattered coloured stuffed animals. Very sweet, she thought with a smile. She was really enjoying her part in the surprise, and she was going to make sure it was not only a surprise for Alice, but possibly a surprise for Mitch himself too. From the same source she got him a pair of bootees, in soft blue plastic, which were secured at the ankles with blue ribbons; and a pair of short matching socks, trimmed with white lace. For his top she chose a stretchy little blue vest with short sleeves and a round collar, with “Baby Cool” in script embroidered across the front. She also bought a blue and white changing bag, with all the equipment, together with accessories such as bibs, bottles and pacifiers, and even a soft toy and a rattle to keep him amused. Satisfied she had obtained everything necessary for Mitch’s care and comfort, she reported back to her friends.
A final meeting a week before the event made arrangements for the purchase and transport of food and drink – including non-alcoholics for Alice herself – and included a discussion about Mitch’s preparation – if any. On the whole it was decided he should have as little warning as possible of what he was in for – though Sarah was quietly hopeful he would comply without demur.
“He didn’t seem to object to the idea – and I did warn him what was expected…though I might have been a bit vague about the details…”
The plan was for the girls to arrive together just after lunch, all except Sarah. Patty would bring the pram and park it to one side of the front porch, where Alice wouldn’t see it. Meanwhile Sarah would be at Mitch’s house getting Mitch ready. She’d then drive him to Alice’s, get him in the pram, and ring the bell at precisely two o’clock. Alice would answer the door, Sarah would push the pram inside, and at a signal Mitch would spring out and embrace Alice as his mummy.
The first bit went off all right. The problems started when Sarah began unpacking Mitch’s outfit. He stared at the pull-up and the pants in horror.
“What’s that?”
“Baby clothes. What do you think?”
“No…I thought you wanted me to wear a onesie or something…”
“Who said anything about a onesie?”
“No, but…I know…but…I can’t wear those…”
“Course you can. Don’t be a wimp.”
“Is that a dummy?”
“A pacifier…yeah.”
“No!”
“Come on, Mitch. You’re supposed to look like a baby. You agreed, remember? Anyway, it’s very calming to suc-k on a pacifier. It pacifies, see? Try it now and calm down.”
“No!”
“What are you afraid of? I thought you were a brave boy. Look, you don’t have a choice. Everything’s arranged. Everyone’s waiting. And if you don’t play your part, I’ll be so disappointed. I’ve told everyone you'd do it. They’ll think I’m an idiot, and you’re a coward. Don’t be silly. They’re all your friends. It’s only a bit of fun, after all. I don’t know why you seem to think it’s such a big deal.”
Mitch looked chastened.
“Promise no-one will laugh at me…”
“Course not! The joke’s going to be on Alice, not you.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true… All right then, Sarah, but I’m only doing it because you asked me. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else… And never tell, okay?”
“No way. Now come on, let’s get you ready. We’re supposed to make our entrance at two.”
Sarah turned her back while Mitch undressed and put on his pull-up. Then she sat his down to put on his socks and bootees, helped him on with his vest, which fitted him snugly and came down over the top of the pull-up, and finally held out his plastic pants for him to step into. He wrinkled his nose but gingerly slipped his feet through the elasticated legs.
“They’re so…babyish!”
“Exactly,” laughed Sarah, pulling them up and snapping the elastic waistband in place over the bottom of his vest. “There! Very smart. They’re such a pretty blue, and those little toys…”
Mitch grimaced.
“How does it feel?”
“It’s all very comfy, I suppose…”
“Of course. That’s the point. Baby’s need to comfy, and dressed in nice soft fabrics. You look terrific. Alice is going to have quite a surprise.”
“Yeah,” agreed Mitch, seemingly beginning to forget his embarrassment at the prospect of giving Alice a shock, “yeah, I’m gonna give her such a fright…”
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4.
Mitch’s enthusiasm waned a little once they were in the car and on their way to Alice’s, and he became positively dismayed when they were forced to park a good two hundred yards from her house.
“Can’t you get any closer?”
“No room, as you see.”
“I can’t walk all that way.”
“Don’t be lazy.”
“You know what I mean, Sarah! What if someone sees me?”
“Oh, really, Mitch. Don’t be such a wimp. There’s no-one around anyway. Run if you must. Go on.”
And he did, with a quick glance up and down the road, he jumped out and sprinted for Alice’s gate. He couldn’t have timed it worse. He’d got a little over half way to his goal, when the door of the house next door to Alice’s opened, and two little girls emerged. Mitch stopped dead, Which way would they turn? But his luck was out. They exited the gate and turned straight towards him. For a moment he was frozen in a state of indecision. Should he bluff it out? But they had seen him. One was pointing, and the other clapped her hand to her mouth in disbelief. His nerve failed him completely, and he turned and ran back to the car. But by now Sarah was out and the doors were locked.
“Let me in! Sarah! They’ve seen me! Please!” He was in a state of total panic.
“What’s the matter with you, Mitch? Now you really are behaving like a baby. Don’t be so silly. Come on, let’s go.” And she set off towards the oncoming girls. Mitch hesitated, then fell in behind her, trying to keep her between himself and the girls. But Sarah was having none of it. She stopped and looked back.
“Mitch! Come here and hold my hand. There’s nothing to be frightened of.”
By now the two girls had come level. They were both gawping at the squirming Mitch with undisguised interest and delight. One was about Mitch’s age, the other a year or two younger. The elder spoke, without taking her eyes of Mitch for a second.
“Hi, Sarah. Going to Alice’s?”
“Hi Lettie. Hi Lorrie. Yes, we are. This is Mitch – you know, the boy I babysit sometimes? Mitch, meet Lettie and Lottie, the Bradley sisters. They live next door to Alice. Where are you two off to?”
“Just going to the shop,” said Lettie, tossing her long blonde hair, and smirking at Mitch, who had turned bright red and was staring at his bootees.
“Why is he dressed as a baby?” asked Lottie, with innocent directness.
“He’s turned into one from being babysat so often!” laughed Lettie.
“No, girls.” Sarah was going to tell them about the prank, but her mischievous self took over. “No…Mitch just likes attention, and babies get lots of attention. We’re going to Alice’s so he can show off to all my friends. Call in later and say hi if you like.”
Mitch stared at her. “No…that’s not…”
But the girls were gone, with a whoop and a “okay – see you later” from Lettie.
“Why did you say that?” Mitch fumed.
“Oh, relax, Mitch. Stop being a big boy and get into character. If you’d played your part properly just now you could have come out of that looking smart instead of like a sissy.”
Mitch didn’t say any more. She was right in a way. It all depended how you behaved.
They found the pram tucked to one side of the front porch. Mitch climbed in, with Sarah’s help, and she stuffed the bag of accessories in next to him. There wasn’t much room even though it was a big old pram. His knees stuck up and the back of his neck was pressed hard against the frame.
“It’s only for a minute,” Sarah reassured him, as she spread the soft baby blanket over his body, and ratcheted up the hood.
She checked her watch and rang the bell. While they waited, Mitch explored the bag, and chose a big blue pacifier on a ribbon, which he hung around his neck. Elizabeth answered the door, and gave her a silent thumbs up when she saw the figure in the pram. Then she led then down the passage to the living room.
“Alice, we have a little surprise for you, darling. We thought a little practice wouldn’t go amiss…so…”
Alice was sitting at one end of the sofa. Her eyes widened when she saw the pram.
“What is that?”
Sarah steered the pram to alongside the sofa. Mitch was hidden behind the hood. Sarah thrust in back all at once, and the ‘baby’ sprang, out and landed right next to the startled Alice. Her glass of wine spilled all over her dress, and she let out a scream of surprise. But before she could react further, Mitch had flung himself at her, hanging onto her dress like a baby chimp onto its mother’s fur, and began babbling, “Mummy! Mummy! It’s me – your new baby! I’m born! Baby wants cuddles and kisses” – (that was said with sincerity) – “and lots of love from his mummy…” And he nestled his head against her breast.
Alice was recovering from the shock now, and pushed him away, but merely so she could get a good look at him. Her frends were convulsed with laughter.
“Mitch! Oh my god, I wondered what was going on! Look at you! Oh my god, you look incredible! Little plastic pants, too! Just like the real thing… Better than the real thing, in fact, because you’re already so cute. The cutest, coolest baby I’ve ever seen!” She looked around at her friends. “So who thought up this one, eh?”
“I think Elizabeth suggested it,” said Patty.
“I wasn’t serious – not at first, anyway. But really it’s all down to Mitch. If he hadn’t been so brave and agreed to it…”
Mitch looked proud of himself.
“Thank you, Mitch. I’m grateful for the lovely surprise,” smiled Alice. “Perhaps you’d stay being my baby all through my pregnancy, would you?”
Mitch blushed.
“No, I’m serious. I mean really, you’re so good.”
Mitch, gratified at the impression he’d made, popped the pacifier into his mouth, and bounced up and down on the cushions while making happy baby noises, much to everyone’s delight. Sarah looked at Elizabeth and winked, and Elizabeth raised her eyebrows slightly in reply. She hadn’t been expecting such an enthusiastic performance.
“He is,” said Sarah. “A natural actor, I’d say.”
“Baby Mitch?” said Grace, coming over and sitting down beside him. “I was planning a party myself in two weeks. Would you come and be Baby Mitch at my party too? I’d be ever so grateful…” And she embraced him warmly, enveloping him in a cloud of sweet perfume, and planted a little soft kiss on the side of his neck, which made him shiver with pleasure. Without thinking he nodded eagerly in response – for which he got another kiss, this time on his cheek.
“You’re such a sweetie,” cooed Grace.
“Well,” said Patty, “if you’re going to Grace’s party, you’ll have to come to mine too, won’t you?”
“Okay,” returned Mitch, blithely, wallowing in the attention.
“Well, I can see we’re going to have to get you a few more outfits,” said Sarah, seriously. “Can’t have you turning up to all these parties in the same old duds, can we?”
“Maybe a little pink next time?” suggested Grace. “Pink is so pretty.” And she bestowed an extra firm and slightly proprietorial cuddle on the boy at her side, giving him a fleeting pang of doubt – which, however, the pressure of her right breast against his ribs quickly dispelled.
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5.
Mitch had been seduced by all the adulation, and was enjoying his new role as the centre of attention, which he sought to maintain with amusing baby behaviour and general cavorting. As the party progressed, the wine flowed, and everyone slowly relaxed, he made himself useful by bringing in snacks and drinks from the kitchen, and receiving caresses and kisses in return. He was beginning to understand the feminine weakness for babies – especially, it seemed, big, grown-up ones. The ladies were entranced by his antics.
“He’s just too cute,” whispered Patty, while he was in the kitchen. I hope this won’t be a one-off.”
“I think he’s actually enjoying himself,” returned Sarah. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we? I like him like this!”
So they indulged him to his heart’s content. Alice was off alcohol, and couldn’t be tempted by even a sip of champagne.
“No, Grace, I’m not going to give in. I’m the sort of person who crumbles once I’ve had a taste. It’s all or nothing – so it’s going to be nothing. Pregnant women and babies are not allowed.”
“Babies? But surely a big strapping baby like that” – she nodded towards Mitch, who was in the act of proffering a glass to Patty – “could have the tiniest sip?”
“Well,” said Elizabeth, “maybe just a sip…”
So Mitch had a sip. He coughed and choked a bit, then smiled and feigned drunkenness. But he had got the taste, and on his next visit to the kitchen he helped himself to another sip…and then another…
It was a couple of hours before the ladies began thinking about supper, by which time Mitch, under the influence of the champagne, had quite lost any remaining inhibitions, and was now of the opinion this was his party, rather than Alice’s. Between cuddling up to each of them in turn, he ran about proclaiming himself the naughtiest baby there had ever been, jumped on the table and performed a little dance of defiance, demanded they all played “he”, and even at one point threatened, with a hysterical laugh, that “baby Mitch gonna do a big wee in his pull-up”! This suggestion may have been prompted by the fact he probably did need the toilet, but, rather to the disappointment of the company, it was not at this stage of proceedings acted upon, mainly because he was too busily engaged in showing off. But his elation was about to be brought to a sudden ending. There was a ring at the bell, Alice went to answer it, and the sound of voices was heard drifting down the passage.
“Sarah said we could come round later…if that’s all right, Alice.”
“Yeah, auntie Alice, if that’s all right…”
“Oh…it’s the Bradleys,” laughed Sarah. “I’d forgotten I’d asked them round. Mitch? Now you’ll have two little girls to show off to, too.”
But Mitch had frozen in mid-cavort, his happy expression replaced by one of horror, and he was looking around for a place to flee.
“Come in, girls…” he heard. That was enough. He sprang to the door, and before they had entered the house he was half-way up the stairs. He knew Alice’s house a little, and chose her bedroom as the one least likely to be invaded. It was opposite the upstairs toilet, at which he hesitated, but in view of the imminent danger, he opted to go into hiding without delay. And before the girls had arrived in the living-room, Mitch was secreted in Alice’s big wardrobe, hiding behind a row of dresses.
Downstairs, greetings having been said, the girls were invited to share supper, and offered preliminary drinks. After a while Lottie, who had been looking around with a frown on her face, turned to Sarah.
“Where’s…”
“Mitch? I don’t know, Lottie. Haven’t seen him since you arrived. He’s been so hyper today. Jumping about like a jack-in-the-box, wanting to play games all the time…”
“It’s true,” added Patty. “Earlier on he jumped up on the table and started dancing!”
“Really?” asked Lettie, a smile spreading over her face. “So where is he? Is he still in his baby things?”
“Oh, yes,” laughed Grace, “he loves his baby outfit. You know what? I think he’s probably playing hide-and-seek. He probably wants you two to go find him!”
The girls needed no second bidding. They jumped up and began to look behind chairs, then they ran in the kitchen, and then out into the garden. They soon returned, out of breath.
“He’s not out there,” said Lettie. “Can we search the house, auntie Alice?”
“Of course, girls. Look carefully. He’s a cunning little boy, that one.”
Meanwhile, up in the dark, warm, scented wardrobe, Mitch was feeling not at all comfortable. The champagne was having its effect. Not only was he feeling a little dizzy and sleepy, but now he really did need the toilet, and was regretting he hadn’t gone earlier. Everything seemed quiet, so he decided to sneak across the corridor. He had just opened the bedroom door when he heard the patter of feet on the stairs. Quickly, and as quietly as he could, he retreated to his hiding-place and slid the wardrobe door shut. He worked his way as far back into the corner as he could, bitterly regretting his decision to bypass the toilet earlier. His needs were becoming more urgent every minute.
Ironically, Mitch’s surmise that the sanctity of Alice’s boudoir would be the least susceptible to intrusion proved correct, and it was almost ten minutes before he heard the door gently open and the sound of the girls’ voices – by which time urgency had turned to desperation, and he was biting his lip with the effort of containment.
“He must be in here, then,” whispered Lettie.
“Hadn’t we better ask auntie Alice?” said Lottie, nervously.
“No, she won’t mind, cos she would have said…”
Despite his best efforts Mitch could feel himself beginning to leak into his pull-up. He gripped the front of his plastic pants, held his breath, and prayed they would go away quickly so he could dash to the toilet. They seemed to take an age exploring every crevice of the room, until they finally arrived at the wardrobe. He could hear them murmuring right outside the door. He kept very still – at least, as still as he could in the circ-umstances. At least he was well hidden behind the packed row of dresses. Then the door was slowly slid aside. Light flooded in. He hoped against hope they wouldn’t start probing between the hangers, so it was with a surge of relief that he heard Lettie say, “Well, he’s not in here then. Where can he be?”
The door started to slide shut. It was half way, when Lottie exclaimed,
“What’s that? Down there – look!”
Mitch’s relief turned to terror.
Lettie gave a shout of triumph. “Bootees! In auntie Alice’s wardrobe? I don’t think so!” The dresses in front of Mitch were thrust apart, and there were the Bradleys, beaming with delight. They had him fair and square. The sudden dénoument was too much for poor Mitch. He had been holding himself in for so long, and the shock of discovery undid it all in an instant. With a whimper of relief and despair, he lost control, and gave way to the demands of nature. He flooded his pull-up, the tightly-elasticated plastic pants ballooning with the sudden inundation. The girls’ mouths fell open with disbelief. Lottie was the first one to recover. She ran to the door, threw it open, and shouted at the top of her voice.
“Auntie Alice! Auntie Alice! Come quickly! Baby Mitch is doing a big wee in his nappy!”
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6.
When Alice and the others came upstairs, the girls were sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to persuade Mitch to come out of the wardrobe. But Mitch, in his embarrassment, had retreated into the recesses, and pulled the hangers together in front of him.
“Auntie, Mitch won’t come out. He’s soaked, but he won’t come out. What shall we do?” asked Lottie, concerned. Her sister, on the other hand, was smirking with suppressed delight.
“Don’t worry, darling. Mitch? Mitch. Please come out, dear. If you’re wet, we just need to get you into a new pull-up. Mitch! Speak to me, or I’ll have to come and get you.”
“No!”
“Mitch, darling,” cajoled Sarah, “please come out and get changed. We’re just about to have supper. Grace has made a lovely chocolate cake. Just the sort you like, with white chocolate buttons all over.”
Silence. Then,
“All right. But send those two away.”
“Good boy. Girls, could you please go downstairs? We’ll be down in a minute.”
“But…” began Lottie.
“Come on Lots. Let’s go down and have some crisps,” said her sister, taking her by the hand.
“But Lettie…”
“Come on.” She led Lottie to the door. “You go down. I just need to use the loo. Go on.”
“Have they gone?”
“Yes, they’ve gone. Now come out,” said Grace.
Mitch slowly, reluctantly, emerged from the forest of dresses. “I couldn’t help it. I was hiding from them…”
“Don’t worry, Mitch darling, it’s nothing,” smiled Sarah. But we’ll have to change you. Alice, do you have some sort of plastic sheet we can put on the bed?”
Mitch looked alarmed.
“No. I can change myself. I…”
“No you can’t, sweetie,” said Elizabeth. “You need to be cleaned properly. Don’t worry, we have everything here that we need. I’ll fetch the changing bag.”
Had Mitch been his usual alert self, there would have been no way he would have caved in to this suggestion. But he was feeling very sleepy and demoralised, and no longer able to fight. So he stood there passively, while a plastic sheet was spread on the bed, and his mother got back with the changing bag. He being technically Alice’s baby, she assumed control. She popped his pacifier into his mouth, which he accepted without demur. Then she made him lie down while she pulled off his pants and the heavy, soggy pull-up. Even the bottom of his vest was wet, so that too was discarded. Then came the wiping, which was extensive and through, and in which all four ladies assisted. They were so engrossed, they didn’t see the door open an inch or two, and Lettie’s eye appear in the crack. She had had no intention of missing what she had hoped was going to follow. And now her hopes were realised. She was already recording the spectacle on her phone, and when the now semi-conscious Mitch was rolled onto his back she could hardly believe her luck, or keep her phone still. Sarah was brandishing the wipes now, working from his navel down to his upper thighs, and paying particular attention to his private parts on the way, wiping his willy with utter disregard for any dignity he had left, by wrapping the wipe and her fingers round it and pulling it through as if it were some sort of flexible nozzle. She did this several times. At first it flopped back onto his tummy, but thereafter it began to show an inclination to remain standing, waving about like a reed in the wind. At this, there was some chuckling from the ladies, and someone expressed the opinion it was time to get a new pull-up on him, “before he starts enjoying it too much”. So on went the pull-up, followed by a new pair of plastic pants, and in lieu of his vest, Alice found an old pink jumper she used to wear when she was about fourteen, which fitted him as tightly as it must have fitted her. By this time he was fast asleep, so, removing the soiled items and the plastic sheet, they left him to have a nap.
When they got downstairs, Lettie was sitting innocently eating crisps and watching television with her sister.
“Is he all right, auntie Alice?”
“Yes, he’s fine now. We’ve left him to sleep for a bit. Now let’s eat, shall we?”
Over supper, Lettie asked Alice,
“Auntie Alice? Will Mitch be a baby again?”
“Oh, yes. It’s been decided. I’m not sure he realises it, but he’s going to play the baby now whenever we want.”
“Oh. That’s nice. He doesn’t mind, then?”
“He seemed to be enjoying himself today,” said Grace. “And he did agree to come to Patty’s and my parties, didn’t he? He can’t very well get out of it.”
“Will we get to come to your parties too?”
“Well, maybe. We’ll have to see. I’m not sure Mitch will be too happy having you girls there, after today.”
“We’ll think about it, girls,” said Patty.
“But…” began Lottie.
“Shh, Lottie. They said they’ll think about it,” interrupted her sister. “Thank you. We’d like to, of course, but we understand…”
“Good girls,” said Alice.
It was past eight when Mitch emerged, looking rather chagrined, and not at all pleased to see the girls.
“What are they still doing here?”
“Don’t worry. We’re just about to leave. Care to show us out, Baby Mitch?”
“I’d be delighted. And don’t call me baby.”
“Okay, Mitchikins. Lead the way. Bye auntie Alice. Bye Sarah and Patty and Grace and Elizabeth.”
“Bye, girls.”
Mitch opened the front door. Lottie went out first. Lettie hung back.
“Well? Are you going or what?”
“I just wanted to ask you, Baby Mitch. Would you be our baby too, sometimes?”
“Your baby?”
“Mine and Lottie’s.”
“You’re joking, of course.”
“Ah. Well, that’s a shame.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Cos it means I’ll have to show your friends at St. Luke’s Comp…this!”
She held up her phone. The video was playing. Mitch stared. The colour drained from his face.
“How d-did you…”
“If you change your mind, give us a call. Auntie Alice has my mum’s number. Or call around – we live right next door. You've got till Monday morning. Bye!”
-
7.
Mitch was very quiet for the rest of the evening. Everyone else having finished supper, he ate alone, and had an extra-large piece – it couldn’t be called a slice – of Grace’s chocolate cake, which was so delicious it did actually distract him for a moment from the cloud that was hanging over him.
“You like my cake then, Mitch,” said Grace, seeing him breaking off little extra pieces of icing.
“Mm, yes thank you, auntie Grace. S’amazing…”
“Good. Take the rest of it home if you like. And I’ll make another one for my party – and some of those cinnamon buns, if you like. You are coming, aren’t you?” She looked at him hopefully. But she needn’t have worried. What he may have been dubious about an hour ago was now of little concern. His thoughts were entirely distracted by the Lettie problem.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Thanks for the invite.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” She looked at her friends with faint surprise.
“We’ll have to find you a new outfit,” his mother chipped in, seeking to test his commitment.
Sarah frowned slightly and shook her head. Surely that was a step too far at this stage. But Mitch was unperturbed.
“Sure. Whatever, mum.” Cue mutual unspoken delight amongst the company. But Mitch was frowning. “Auntie Alice…?”
“Yes, Mitch?”
“Those girls from next door….”
“Letitia and Charlotte. Yes? What about them?”
“Nothin’. I hadn’t really noticed them before. Like…what school to they go to, fr’instance?”
“Oh, well, now I think Lettie goes to St. Cecilia’s, and Lottie…Lottie’s in primary, but I think Tabby – that’s her mum – I think she said she’ll be going to your school next year. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason, Just wondered.”
He was trying to work out if there was any substance to Lettie’s threat. He felt slightly relieved that she went to a school on the opposite side of town. She wouldn’t even know who his friends were. Then Alice, perhaps thinking he was developing some romantic interest in Lettie, offered a further piece of devastating information.
“But I do know that her best friend goes to your school. She may even be in your year. What’s her name, now? Ah yes. Molly Caulker is it? Slim girl with dark eyes.”
A shock ran through Mitch’s body. Molly Caulker. Yes, she was in his year. Everybody was slightly frightened of her. Posh, incredibly clever and confident. You may not like her, but you didn’t get on her wrong side. She always had the perfect put-down, delivered with icy ruthlessness. If she ever got her hands on Lettie's video, what a put-down that would be!
The friends were slightly bemused by Mitch’s reaction. When they discussed the matter afterwards, they came to the tentative conclusion that he must have a crush on Molly, and that it was conflicting with his feelings about Lettie. They would have been surprised to know that he presently hated both of them with a passion!
Mitch spent the Sunday in a state of abject anxiety. But he knew what he had to do, and he didn’t dare wait until Monday morning, just in case Lettie gave in to temptation early. So late that afternoon he rang the Bradley’s number, (which he had obtained from Alice at the cost of knowing smiles and sickly simperings all round).
“Hello? Is that Mrs Bradley? Hello. My name’s Mitch Langston. Yes, that’s right. Yesterday. Yes. Oh she did? Could I possibly…? Thank you.” A brief pause. “Lettie, it’s… Yes. It’s about…what you said. Yes. Okay, I’ll do it. Yes, everything. Yes, course, plastic pants!” He was getting annoyed already. “Fine. No, I can’t bring that. I can’t! What am I going to tell them? Why would I need a changing bag?” He sighed. “I see. So let me get this straight. You’re going to tell auntie Alice that I’ve agreed to this, you’re going to say you’ll need all the accessories…what, just for effect? Yes, I know I supposed to be acting, but… Yes, course she’ll agree! She’ll think it’s the greatest hoot ever… No, I do appreciate we couldn’t make it a secret. Yes, they'll have to know. Yes, I get it. You know, if I go along with all this, they’re going to think I have the most massive crush on you, and I’ll do anything you want… Yes, but that’s not the reason, is it, as we both know! I’m not shouting! Right. When? Friday? But I’m supposed to be going out… No, I’m not reneging. Yes. All right! I’ll be there! Yes, with everything. I’ve already said! Right. Good bye!!” And he slammed down the phone.
His mother was in the kitchen with Sarah. Sarah winked at her and mouthed, “lovers’ quarrel”.
-
8.
After the conversation with Lettie, he went up to his room and sat in a chair fuming. What were the others going to infer from all this? Thinking it through, he quickly realised that it would be better if they heard from him rather than from Lettie. As if it was his idea, his decision. If they thought he was under her thumb, it would be twice as embarrassing. So he ran back downstairs and into the kitchen.
“Mum? Listen. I’m going to see Lettie on Friday.”
“You are? How nice. We sort of got the impression you…quite liked her.”
“She’s a nice kid,” added Sarah. “I’ve known her since she was…”
“Well, it’s not so much like that…I mean…” This was difficult to explain. “See, she thought my baby act was so good…so I, like, offered to show her mum an’ stuff…so I, like, you know, would need to take all the stuff…”
“What? You’re going to dress up in your baby outfit for her? For all of them?” Sarah was gobsmacked.
“Well, dear, that's very…nice of you. You were very good, of course…”
“Till the champagne took effect,” grinned Sarah. “But, no, why not? It’s a great idea. It’ll be fun. And now we know you’re friends with the girls, we can invite them to the parties – and Tabby, too!”
Mitch groaned inwardly. What had he got himself into? All from being too obliging. Idiot! He trudged back up to his room, full of misgivings.
Within thirty minutes Grace and Patty and Alice had all heard the news, and Alice had spoken to Tabby, and it was all a great piece of fun for everyone. Alice was convinced Mitch had fallen for Lettie, and was trying to impress her. She said as much to Tabby.
“It just shows you how wrong you can be, dear. I thought he seemed a bit hostile, but there you are. He wouldn’t have offered to entertain your girls unless he had a very strong reason for doing so.” (That was true, all right.) “Your Lettie’s a very pretty girl, and clever, too.” (Cunning would have been a better word.) “And Mitch is a smashing kid…”
Tabby herself was a bit more pragmatic about her daughters, and had her suspicions. But she had decided to reserve judgement till she saw how they related to their new friend.
“Well, it’s nice for Letitia to have a new friend. Molly is fine, but a bit too cool and smart for my liking. Mitch sounds a lot more laid back.”
“Oh, he is. He’s lovely. And he’s agreed to do his baby act at our regular get-togethers. You and the girls are invited, of course. The next one’s at Grace’s in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh. Thanks. That’s very kind. I’m sure the girls would like to go, and you know I’m always up for a glass or two of wine… Oh, sorry, shouldn’t have said that….”
“No, it's fine. I’m getting used to it. It’s not for ever.”
Mitch, meanwhile, was trying to work out how he had got himself into such a mess. Not only had he made a complete exhibition of himself, but he had then agreed to do it again at Grace’s and at Patty’s, then allowed himself to be blackmailed into becoming the girls’ plaything, and finally presented himself as the instigator! Now, apart from his mother, there were going to be four women and two little girls in on the secret. Surely it was only a matter of time before the truth got out…
He was in the midst of these cogitations when there came a soft knock at his bedroom door.
“Come in.”
“It’s only me, darling,” said Sarah. “I just wanted to say that you were the highlight of the party yesterday. We all had such fun. It would have been rather boring otherwise.”
Mitch felt a little mollified. “Oh…thanks, Sarah. I’m sorry about…you know… It was the champagne…and then trying to stay hidden, as well…”
“Oh, it was nothing. We soon had you sorted out. Good practice for Alice, in fact!”
“Yeah… Sorry I fell asleep.”
“I don’t blame you. But I would lay off the champers in future. Especially when you’re at the Bradleys! I can’t believe you volunteered to play the baby with them. That Lettie… She’s a good kid, but she can be a bit wild at times. Her mum’s nice. She doesn’t let her get away with anything.”
“Really?” That sounded reassuring.
“Oh, yes. She’s quite strict with them. Then she needs to be with Lettie at least. I’ve noticed she's usually well-behaved at home, but quite naughty when her mum’s not around. I’ve babysat her a few times. Quite a handful.”
“Right. I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Do. Oh, and by the way, Grace is finding you a new outfit. If you’re going to play the baby regularly you’ll need more than one. You’ll be able to surprise them on Friday.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“No idea. You’ll find out in the week. Whatever it is I’m sure you’ll like it. Grace is good at this sort of thing. Who knows, she may decide to grow you into a toddler!”
I hope she does, thought Mitch. A toddler with a nice thick onesie.
But Grace had other ideas. Ever since the party she had been thinking what a pretty girl Mitch would make. She had seen some lovely dresses for twelve-year-olds that he would have looked gorgeous in. But that would come later, maybe. For now, she was aware her commission was baby clothes. Well, she could at least source some pretty girlie ones. And she imagined the girls – especially Lottie – would be wanting to dress him and undress him like a little doll, so she determined to purchase a variety of things. Some of them would have to be made up, so she made an early start Monday morning, looking at designs, choosing material, and engaging some of her contacts in the clothing trade. It was touch and go, but by Thursday afternoon she had put together quite a decent selection, and packed them neatly in a little pink suitcase she had bought especially for the project. She was going to take them round to Elizabeth’s for Mitch to see, if not try on, but then she had second thoughts and just dropped them off at Tabby’s. That way the girls would know what outfits they had, and it would be a nice surprise for Mitch.
Friday came. Tabby rang in the morning to ask if he could come straight from school, as the girls were so eager to see him. He reluctantly agreed, and then she said he was welcome to stay over. He demurred, but then Lettie took the phone from her mother.
“Mitch…you must stay over. I insist. Lottie would be so disappointed if you didn’t. And so would I. We’ve got a sweet little camp bed for you to sleep on, and we can tell you some nice bedtime stories to help you go to sleep. And you’ve got a new pacifier to suc-k. Does that sound good?”
He could sense the threat in her voice. “I guess…”
“Good. See you about four, then. Bye, bye, Mitchikins.”
That bitch, he thought.
“How nice,” said his mother. “Such nice girls…”
It was nearly half-past four when he knocked at the Bradleys’ door. It was opened immediately.
“You’re late,” said Lettie. “Where have you been?”
“Nowhere… The bus was late…”
“Yeah, right. Come and meet my mum first. Then we’ll go up to my room, and you can see all the goodies we’ve got for you!” She bestowed an evil smile on him.
Lottie popped out from a side door.
“Hello, Mitch. Thank you for coming to play.”
“That’s all right, Lottie,” Mitch smiled.
“Not that you had a choice,” said Lettie, under her breath.
She led him to the kitchen, where there was a lovely smell of cooking.
“Hello, Mitch. Lovely to meet you.”
“Hello, Mrs Bradley.”
“Tabby, please. I hope you like lasagne? You do? Good. We’ll eat in about an hour, if that’s okay. I think the girls are dying to play. I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
“Thanks, er, Tabby…”
“C’mon,” said Lettie, taking his hand as if she were his mother, and leading him towards the stairs. Let’s get started.”
Lottie, bouncing with excitement, led the way upstairs, chanting, “We’re gonna play babies, we’re gonna play babies, mummies and mummies and babies…”
The girls shared a bedroom. It was brightly painted with green walls and yellow woodwork, though the walls were largely covered with big posters, mainly of pop stars and bands. Some of them seemed quite sexy. The fact that were into all that only made Mitch, who was more interested in such things as animals and bikes and his skateboard, feel the more juvenile. He suddenly felt very little and very stupid.
There were three beds: a double, a single, and in one corner a camp bed covered with a pink duvet. That must be for me, he thought. Lettie looked at him spitefully.
“Want to see what you’ll be wearing this evening? Well?”
“W-well, I-I suppose…,” he found himself stammering. And he had butterflies in his tummy.
Lottie looked up at him with big eyes. “Auntie Grace brought lovely things for you, Mitch. I hope you like them…”
Lettie pulled the pink case out from under her bed, put it on top of the covers, and threw open the lid. The contents were a study in different shades of pink! She began to pull things out one by one, watching with amusement his reaction to each item.
“Pull-ups – girl ones. See? Pink with rainbows and unicorns. Poor unicorns! They’re gonna get soaked, aren’t they?” She gave a short laugh.
“Next. Pretty pink socks. Little short ones, with lace. And look, we even have long ones, almost as long as stockings! They’re for your best outfit. Then, bootees to match, with ribbons and little tiny silver bells so they tinkle when you walk.” She held one up and shook it. “See? So cute. A pile of vests, all pink, with silly writing on them. Rompers than button up right down there” – she giggled – “so we can change you easily. Now, look at these plastic pants! Pink with all sorts of pretty designs. They’re so puffy! And these ones… Have you ever seen anything like that?” She held a pair up.
Mitch hadn’t. He could see they were good quality heavyweight plastic, in a beautiful delicate shade of pink, smothered with tiny purple and yellow flowers. But it was the waist and leg openings that were unusual. The elastication was in the form of red rubber ribbons sewn into the hems. The waist ribbon, which was broader than those at the legs, emerged from the front of the waist in a snappy moulded bow; the ribbon in the legs was complemented by a matching decorative hem of red rubber in tight little frills.
Possibly Lottie mistook the look of dread on Mitch’s face for one of awe. She looked at him, and then back to the pants, and, clasping her hands, remarked,
“They are beautiful, aren’t they, Baby Mitch?”
“Grace is so clever,” smirked Lettie.
Mitch felt weak. He had a sinking feeling inside. He knew that, at least this evening, there was no way out. But Lettie proceeded relentlessly. There was a little satin dress with an very short flared skirt, designed merely to set off the panties; a bright pink sparkly metallic stretch leotard with little pink wigs at the legs; and a pair of rubber-lined pink satin bloomers – “for when we take you out”, said Lettie.
“There,” she concluded. “Lots of pretty pretty outfits for babykins. And I haven’t even shown you what’s in the changing-bag yet. Yes, we have a nice new pink one now, full of all sorts of baby things. But that’s mummy calling. Let’s go and have supper, and then we’ll have the whole evening to ourselves…”
-
I am enjoying this story so far Sandra B. Especially got intrigued by what Grace has in store for little Mitch!
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9.
Over supper, Tabby tried subtly to bring Mitch out.
“So, Mitch. I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re at St. Luke’s, then. I hear that’s a very nice school.”
Now they were downstairs with Tabby, Mitch had relaxed a little.
“Yeah, it’s okay. The headmistress is a bit of a dragon, but the teachers – mine, anyway – are fine. Our drama teacher, Miss Chambers, is the best. She’s always joking about. We’re putting on Romeo and Juliet at the end of term. I think I might be in it.”
“Oh, really? Do you know what part you’ll be playing?”
“Not yet…if any…”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. You should be Romeo. You’re handsome enough.” Mitch blushed. “Anyway, I’ve heard you’re quite the thespian.”
“What’s a…thespian,” asked Lottie.
“It’s a posh word for an actor,” said Lettie. “Yeah, mum, he is. And he’s gonna show you after supper, aren’t you, Mitchikins?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“All right, Babykins then. Cos you’re better as a baby than a boy, I’m thinking.”
“Lettie! Don’t be rude.”
“Wait till you see him.”
“Mitch dear, you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to. I think it’s enough you’ve volunteered to play baby with the girls.”
“It’s all right,” said Mitch, in a resigned tone. And added, to change the subject, “This lasagne is the best I’ve ever tasted, Mrs…Tabby. Better than mum’s… Don’t tell her I said that…”
“I’m flattered. I hope you like my apricot crumble as much…”
He did. And after supper, despite Lettie’s impatience, Tabby insisted they sit down and chat and digest their food. She asked some more about his school, and his friends, and somehow the conversation got round to the subject of Molly Caulker.
“Oh, so she’s in your year, Mitch. Do you know her very well? She’s one of Lettie’s best friends.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Ooh, that’s a good idea, mum. I should ask her round when Mitch is here,” said Lettie, mischievously, watching Mitch squirm uncomfortably at the thought. “You two should really get to know each other, Mitch.”
Mitch said nothing. Lettie pressed him further.
“I’m sure she’d be interested in your acting. I’ll have to ask her if she’s going to be in the school play, too. It’s just the sort of thing she would do.”
Satisfied she had worked Mitch into a sufficient state of discomfort, she stood up, took him by the hand, and pulled him out of his chair.
“Come on – I’m sure mummy’s dying to see your baby persona.” And she led him back upstairs, telling Lottie to wait until she called her.
Once in her bedroom, Mitch released all his pent-up anxiety.
“Lettie, please. Don’t say anything about me to Molly. If you even mention my name she’ll want to know why, then she won’t rest till she finds out everything. Please…”
She sat him on the bed and sat down next to him.
“If you don’t want her to know about you…about Baby Mitch, and how he likes to dress up in his little plastic panties and do wee-wees in them…”
“Stop it!”
“…If you really don’t want her to know, then you’re going to do everything you’re told, right? Right?”
“Yes…”
“Everything. Yes?”
“Yes! I said yes!”
“Good. Just so we understand each other. So, now we’re going to get you dressed, and then we’re going downstairs to show mummy, and you’re going to convince her that you dress up like this because you love it, because you feel happier as a baby, especially as a girl baby, and you wish you could be a girl baby all the time, and slowly grow up into a big girl, and wear girl clothes, and everything. She knows all about you wetting yourself and having to be changed, by the way – I heard Grace telling her all about it. So she already knows you must be really into the whole thing. And I want you to tell her the reason you volunteered to be a baby with us – because you don’t have any other friends who would let you, and you’re really grateful to me and Lottie for agreeing to play with you. Do you understand?”
“I understand. But what’s the point?”
“You will ask her, very politely, if she would allow you to come and play again.”
“Oh. You want me to come over again?”
“I want you here every Friday, silly boy. We used to have to play babies with dolls, but now we have you. That’s much more fun.”
“E-every Friday? But…”
“You’ve got the idea. If you don’t cooperate…well, I wouldn’t guarantee a role in the school play once that video gets passed around. Molly would be ecstatic! In fact, I was tempted to send it to her anyway.” She took out her phone. “It would be so easy... Just one click, and…”
“No. I’ll do whatever…whatever you want…” He looked as though he was going to cry, then added, under his breath, “you fuc-king bitch...”
Lettie stared at him for an instant, the colour draining from her face. Then she drew back, and administered a stinging slap to his cheek.
“Ow! Why…?”
“You will treat me with respect, you stupid little baby. One more remark like that, and you’re finished!”
“I-I’m s-sorry…I am…I didn’t mean it…I…”
“Get over my lap.”
“What?”
“Over my lap. Now!”
She was very angry, and her anger had Mitch very startled. He stood up awkwardly, not quite knowing how to proceed.
“Get your clothes off. All of them. Now!”
“But, Lettie…”
She took out her phone. “Five seconds. One…two…”
She didn’t have to finish the count. In a moment he stood in front of her, quite naked, only his hands preserving his modesty. She reached up, took him by the ear, and pulled him across her lap. She delivered six good hard smacks to his bare bottom, accompanied by a few words of advice; “I…don’t…tolerate…naughty…babies…or else!”
The smacks stung, but the embarrassment stung a lot more.
“Well? Get off me, then!”
First, she made him lie on the bed while she rubbed some cold cream into his bottom and sprinkled it with scented talc.
“You need to smell like a baby, too. Right, now get dressed. I’ll tell you what to put on.”
She threw open the case and tossed out a pull-up, those beautiful trimmed pants, and his short socks and bootees. Mitch was only too happy to be allowed to get dressed. Lettie rummaged in the case.
“I’m looking for something that will show off those lovely plastic pants…ah, here we are.”
She had found a pale pink sleeveless crop top, with an elasticated hem and ruffle collar, and the word “Ticklish” embroidered on the front. She helped Mitch on with it. It came down just above his navel.
“Perfect! Now hold still…”
She took out a large pink pacifier, threaded a length of red ribbon through one wing, and pinned the ends to his top with a safety-pin.
“Now - you will keep your pacifier in your mouth unless I give you permission to take it out.”
“Yes, Lettie.” He was rather frightened, and eager to propitiate her, and put it in at once, and suc-ked on it vigorously.
“That’s better. Now then.” She went to the door and called, “Lottie? Could you come up please?”
Lottie ran up the stairs and entered the room, looking round expectantly. When she saw Mitch she jumped for joy.
“Hooray! Baby’s ready. Let’s take him to show mummy!”
“Go on, then, darling. And baby? You’d better remember every word I said to you…every word, or you’ll be for it!”
“Come on, Baby Mitch,” said Lottie, gently, taking his hand, “come and show mummy your pretty outfit.” And she led him eagerly downstairs.
Tabby was sitting on the couch, awaiting the big entrance. But even Grace’s description hadn’t prepared for the sight of Baby Mitch.
“Goodness me! Mitch! You look…wonderful…” She stared at his frilled, beribboned pants, and his long bare legs.
“It’s a simple outfit,” said Lettie, “but do you like it, mummy?”
“Why…yes…it’s really…I mean…” Tabby was unsure of what she should say. Mitch was twelve – nearly thirteen. Was he really dressing up like this of his own accord? She looked at his face, but with the big pink pacifier in his mouth his expression was difficult to read.
“You can take your pacifier out, baby, and tell mummy all about your new outfit.” Tabby didn’t see the meaningful glance that her daughter gave him. He pulled it out and let it hang from its ribbon. His hands went instinctively to his pants, and his fingers picked nervously at the rubber frills. He had to get this right.
“Do you like my plastic panties, Mrs Bradley?” (In his present role he found it impossible to address her as an equal.) I don’t know where auntie Grace found them, but they’re beautiful, aren’t they, and they fit me perfectly.”
“Why…yes, Mitch…they're lovely…”
“I’m glad you like them. I love pink, you know. I really wanted to dress up as a girl baby. It feels so nice.” He snatched a sidelong glance at Lettie, to see if she was satisfied by his performance. There was a slight frown on her face, as though she was reserving judgement. He had to try harder.
He was standing to attention, his legs pressed together with the effort of appearing natural. He was holding onto his panty frills either side now, and there was such an earnest expression on his face that Tabby suddenly had an almost overwhelming urge to burst out laughing. She had to press her lips together between her teeth, and turn her amusement into a friendly smile.
“Do you feel more comfortable like that?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” he blurted, relieved she seemed to be buying into the whole thing, “I feel really nice and happy. You’re very kind to let me wear my baby things here, Mrs Bradley. And Lettie, too. It’s so difficult sometimes. I love being a baby so, so much, and I wish I could always wear pretty baby girl clothes, cos I do love them, they’re so cute, and my pull-up is so soft on my skin, and I love the scent of the baby powder…”
“Yes, it’s lovely, darling. Roses, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Lettie. “Mitch’s favourite.”
“So Mitch… I think I understand a little better now. You’re not really acting, are you? I mean, you are, but it’s a part you’re totally comfortable in, right?”
Mitch decided to go the whole way. He wanted Lettie to be totally satisfied. “Yes. Mrs Bradley. But it’s more like I’m acting when I’m a boy, and this is the real me…”
“Goodness. That’s…really interesting. So you would prefer if we all treated you like a baby…?”
“I…I…”
“Would you? Tell me the truth.”
Mitch blushed and hung his head. “Y-yes…”
Tabby felt her amusement being overwhelmed by her motherly instincts. He really did want to be a little baby! “Oh, you little sweetie!” She held out her arms. “Come here, babykins, and let me give you a cuddle. Come and sit on my lap.” With a rustle of plastic pants, Mitch complied. “That’s better. Mmm, you smell so nice.” She stroked his cheek. “And your skin is so soft. There, there, darling, you can relax now. You can stay here as long as you like and be our baby, and be cuddled and petted and fed and looked after. And don’t worry if you wet your nappy, will you? We’ll change you and bath you and keep our baby nice and warm and dry! And one day, maybe our baby will grow up into a pretty little girl. Do you think so?”
Mitch, not knowing what else to do, slowly nodded assent. Lettie covered her mouth, concealing a smile of triumph.
-
Fantastic writing as always. Looking forward to much more to come!
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Thanks, lovellace - appreciated. There may be a short break as I have been told I need to catch up on certain domestic duties...
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Lovely start.
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10.
Thus it was that he entangled himself in a web largely of his own making. The immediate result was that Tabby insisted on his staying at hers for the whole of Saturday. And the first thing she did after he was in bed was to ring Alice and tell her all about his “confession”. Within five minutes Alice was knocking at Tabby’s door, and they spent the rest of the evening gossiping and making plans, in between updating the other members of the circle.
Upstairs, Lettie was rubbing it in. She was sitting up in bed, grinning all over her face.
“Well done, Mitch! You’re safe - for the time being, at least. You did quite a good job there, with my mum. I think you’ve made her very happy, offering to be her new baby like that.”
“I didn’t!” blurted Mitch, unhappily. He was lying in his little camp bed, with his face to the wall. His crop top was folded on a chair at the foot of the bed, with his bootees beneath. His face was screwed up with frustration and annoyance, though surprisingly he had his pacifier in his mouth and was suc-king at it vigorously. “I just did what you told me, that’s all! I don’t want to be her baby – or anyone’s baby!”
Lettie had persuaded her mother that baby should wear his pull-up and plastic pants to bed, “just in case”. It had seemed perfectly reasonable to Tabby, given Mitch’s revelation, and she attributed his slight reluctance to assumed babyish contrariness, and had to speak to him a little sharply about the importance of obeying his elders. He picked at the rubber frilling irritably. Lottie had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head had touched the pillow. Mitch wanted to do the same, to blot out the consciousness of his predicament, at least for a few hours. But Lettie was enjoying torturing him.
“Course, she’ll have told the others by now. I thought I heard her talking to Alice on the phone just now. You might as well resign yourself to a life of babyhood from now on. When she called in, Grace was telling my mum about some supplier she’s found for outsize babywear. Maybe they’ll let me choose some of the things…”
Mitch wanted to tell her to fuc-k off, but his bottom was still a bit sore from earlier. So he bit his lip.
“There are such cute things you can get these days… I heard Grace telling mummy there are these new baby pants…”
“I don’t want to know, Lettie. I just want to go to sleep!”
“As I was saying, these new baby pants that are so well sealed that you don’t need a nappy! Imagine that! Everyone would know if you’d wetted yourself cos your wee would be sloshing around inside!”
“I don’t believe that…” returned Mitch, uneasily.
“Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll find out. I’ll ask Grace if she can get you some, shall I?”
“No! Just let me go to sleep.”
“Okay,” she said, then added, casually, “I have to be up early, anyway. I’m going riding with Molly. I go every Saturday. It’ll be nice to have a gossip with her again…”
Mitch’s heart missed a beat. But he said nothing. He knew she was only messing with his mind. “And Lottie’s going to her friend’s house for the day and staying over. So mummy will have you all to herself.”
“Can’t wait,” muttered Mitch, grumpily.
“Night, night, babykins,” she added, having delivered that unnerving piece of intelligence. “Sleep well. I’ll be gone early in the morning. Mummy wants you to have a rest from pull-ups tomorrow, you lucky thing. She’s expecting you to down to breakfast at nine in your leotard and long socks. So sweet. I’m even tempted to bring Molly back with me…”
Mitch slept fitfully, and didn’t wake till nearly nine. He jumped out of bed, found the sparkly pink leotard and the long socks, as was downstairs in a moment. Tabby had obviously been looking forward to his appearance.
“Mitch, sweetie! What a gorgeous little outfit! I love it! You look quite the young lady all of a sudden! Lottie, come see Mitch in his new outfit.”
Lottie appeared at the door. She goggled at Mitch. “Can I show Dorothea? She’s just coming up the path with her mummy.”
“Of course, dear. Here, take him to the front door with you.”
Lottie grabbed Mitch’s hand and dragged him down the corridor. “Come on, Mitch. Dorothea’s my best friend…”
Lottie threw open the door, and Mitch found himself confronted with a blonde girl of Lottie’s age and an equally blonde mother. They gaped in unison.
“What…?” began the woman. Then she smiled. “Lottie, who is this young lady?”
Tabby came up behind Mitch, and put her hands on his shoulders.
“Hi Trish. Hello, Dorothea. Meet the girls’ new friend, Mitch. Mitch? Say hello.”
Mitch mumbled something and turned bright red.
“He still a little shy,” continued Tabby. “He just needs to get to know people.”
Lottie had a sudden idea. “Mummy, can he come to Dorothea’s with me?”
Tabby laughed. “I’m sorry, darling. I need him today. But perhaps some other time?”
“We’d love to have him, wouldn’t we, Dot?” said Trish, with a wink at Tabby.
Dorothea was still open-mouthed. She quickly recovered herself. “Auntie Tabby? When can she…he come?”
“Your mummy and I will discuss it. Don’t worry. We’ll arrange something soon. Now, Trish is parked on a yellow line, so you’d better get a move on, Lots. See you tomorrow. Trish darling, thanks. Shall we speak later?”
“Definitely. Call me any time.”
Tabby kissed Lottie goodbye, and closed the door.
“There. See what an impression you make? Come and look at yourself in the full-length mirror, and you’ll see why.” She led him into the downstairs bedroom and positioned him in front of the wardrobe mirror door.
He stared at himself in dismay. There was something disturbing about what he saw. He looked more like a slightly overgrown little girl in a rather showy outfit, than a boy dressed as a girl. Tabby noted his reaction with interest. A gleam came into her eye, and the right corner of her mouth turned up, ever so slightly.
“Come and sit down and tell me what you’d like for breakfast.”
As he ate his cereal, Mitch was aware that Tabby was looking at him thoughtfully. He felt less humiliated without the plastic pants, but at the same time more vulnerable. The leotard was stretchy and skin-tight, and the way it glittered at even the slightest movement was unnervingly eye-catching. His long socks were comfortable and warm, but the feeling of having just the tops of his thighs bare, and his torso encased in spandex, felt slightly arousing. As a baby he had felt totally powerless and submissive; embarrassed but at peace. This was different. And after breakfast, when Tabby made him stand in front of her for inspection, and asked him if he liked his new outfit, he became nervous and self-conscious.
“I-I d-don’t know, Mrs Bradley…er, Tabby. I-I…it’s a v-very er, nice colour…”
“You certainly surprised me. But you know, I think perhaps I even prefer you as a little girl - and you know all babies have to grow up sometime. Maybe we’re moving too fast, but… Wait there a second. I think I know what’s needed. Take off those baby bootees, would you? I’ll be right back.”
Mitch sat down and undid the ribbons on his bootees. She was back in a minute, with a box in one hand and a red ribbon in the other.
“I bought these shoes for Lettie, but she refuses to wear them. I have no idea why.”
She opened the box and produced a pair of red patent leather Mary Janes. I know exactly why, thought Mitch. Not cool.
But she was already on her knees in front of him sliding on the Mary Janes and buckling them up.
“There! A perfect fit. You have quite small feet for a boy, don’t you? Now, this is a very pretty little ribbon choker of Lettie’s She won’t mind you borrowing it. Let me put it on you…there. That’s look so nice!”
There was some sort of little silver charm hanging from the front. Mitch fingered it, but he couldn’t see what it was.
“Oh, it’s a little silver horse that Molly gave her. You can borrow it just for the time being, okay? I want to see what Alice thinks. Come on.” And she took him by the hand, and led him towards the front door. He hung back, fearful of being seen.
“Come on, darling. Don’t be silly. She’s only next door.”
As they went down the path he saw, to his horror, a group of boys about his own age approaching from the left. They had to pass them head on to get to Alice’s gate. He saw their eyes focus on him, and closed his in despair. But to his surprise there were no guffaws. A faint wolf whistle from one, and some murmured exclamations of approval. They thought he was a girl!
He walked up Alice’s path in a daze. Could it be true he really looked like a girl? Probably they had simply assumed he was – what boy would dress up like that, after all?
Alice was almost speechless to see the transformation. But it didn’t last long.
“Mitch! Goodness me! This adds a whole new… I mean, I thought you could only do a baby, but…” She paused, took him by the shoulders, held him at arms’ length for a moment, then rotated him slowly before delivering her verdict. “I mean, you look…beautiful! If I hadn’t known you, I could easily have mistaken you for…” She looked at Tabby. “Darling…the possibilities.”
“That’s what I was thinking…”
Mitch was incensed. How dare they? They were as bad as Lettie. Treating him like an object…like a doll, to be dressed and undressed, for their entertainment. He wasn't going to put up with it. He glared at them.
“Oh, look!” squealed Alice. “He’s pouting, just like your Lottie does when you tell her it’s time for bed!”
“He is, isn’t he?” grinned Tabby. She took him by both hands, and bent forward, with her face close to his. “Mitchie, darling, I hope you’re not going to turn into one of those naughty, difficult little girls. For let me tell you now, sweetie, I know through experience just how to deal with little monkeys like that!” She pressed her cheek to his and whispered in his ear, “over-the-knee smack bottoms – yes, in front of all your friends, if need be!”
And she gave him a voracious look. A single glance, a flash of expression, but one full of meaning, that said, “I understand you perfectly, little boy. You just wanted attention at first, but now you’re beginning to realise it comes at a price, and you wish you’d been a bit more cautious when you made the deal. But please understand – now, it’s too late. Now we’ve all seen what you can do for us, and we’re not about to release you from your contract. No, quite the opposite. From now on you’re ours, our little floor-show, our little darling dolly, and you’re going to perform for us, like it or not. So you might as well accept it, smile, and flaunt yourself. In the long run you’ll find it easier, and, who knows? You might even get to like it.”
-
11.
Mitch read all this in Tabby’s look in an instant. Not articulated, but unmistakeable. At once he saw her in a new light. Yesterday she had seemed so motherly and caring. Now she appeared in her true colours; a calculating, manipulative woman, with an almost prurient appetite for control – in fact, the true mother of her elder daughter!
Tabby saw the fear in his eyes, and pressed home her advantage. “Alice, how about a few photos for the others. I bet they’ll be just as excited as us to see our little protégé’s new persona.”
“Good idea. Mitch, darling, come out into the garden, there’s a love, and we’ll put together a preliminary portfolio. We’ll send the best ones to Grace and Patty and Sarah and your mum.”
They ushered him towards the back door. It was impossible for him to resist, or to escape. He could have run back out of the front door, but… The idea made him shiver. He felt desperate.
“But, Alice, all I really wanted was to be your baby…you know, while you’re waiting…”
“Oh, don’t worry, silly. You’ll still be my baby, any time I want you – I mean, any time you want. And you’ll always be Lettie’s and Lottie’s. Won’t he, Tabby?”
Tabby smiled. “Oh, absolutely. The girls love Baby Mitch.”
“But now you can be a big girl as well! I wasn’t going to tell you - it was going to be a surprise. Grace has got you a lovely dress to wear to her party! Isn’t that exciting? Wait till you see it! I won’t spoil it by describing it. And there’ll be stockings, and panties…oh, and makeup! Patty’s the expert. She told me she can’t wait to sit you down and get to work. You’re going to be the most beautiful girl at the party…”
Internally, Mitch was in a state of panic. Now he would have given anything to be in a lovely, safe, comforting baby outfit. Dressing up as a baby was a calculated act, which in no way effaced his true identity. It was funny, clever…and embarrassing, sure. But this girl stuff was different. To anyone seeing him like this, it would appear much more than an act. He looked too good, too convincing. Too pretty. He couldn’t help his looks, the softness of his profile, his little, slightly turned-up, nose, his dark eyes and long lashes, the smooth lines of his body. It felt dangerous, and he knew that somehow, he had to escape. But for the moment, he had no choice but to go along with the charade. Yes, that was the best, in fact the only, strategy at present. Go along, let them think he was compliant, wait till they had tired of him a bit. They would understand. Though he didn’t trust that Tabby any more…and then there was Lettie, as well. He sighed, confused and helpless.
The photo session proved to be exhaustive and exhausting. They had him posing against the flower borders, posing on the patio, and standing on the table of the garden furniture. They had him standing on one leg, bending down, looking between his legs, and on all fours. They had him hands on hips, holding the little wings of his leotard, pulling up his socks, giving a peace sign, and with a stupid alarmed expression on his face and one finger to his lips, naughty-little-girl style. Then Tabby had the wonderful idea of utilising some of her girls’ bunches, ribbons, and bangles, and Mitch was taken back to her house, again running the gauntlet of the crowded Saturday street, where he was suitably adorned and then made to pose on the children’s slide and swing on the back lawn. The ladies pulled him this way and that, arranging his body and limbs to their satisfaction, and this constant handling, combined with the tight, stretchy leotard and the warmth of the sun, had the unfortunate (or perhaps fortunate, if you were Tabby) effect of casting serious doubt on his proclaimed gender.
When it was finally all over, Tabby sat him in the kitchen, made him some sandwiches, and told him to help himself to ice cream from the freezer, whilst she and Alice downloaded, sorted, and distributed the photos to their friends.
“There. I think that’s it,” said Alice, at last. “Not a bad day’s work. Look, Patty’s responded already – gobsmacked emoji, nothing else!”
“What else is there to say?” returned Tabby.
“And who’s Trish?”
“Oh just a friend of mine. She had a brief glimpse of Mitch this morning. I thought she deserved a set.”
They heard the front door being unlocked. “Oh, that must be Lettie…”
Mitch, terrified in case she really had decided to bring Molly back with her, actually left his ice cream and hid outside the back door. But he needn’t have worried. Lettie wandered in looking dishevelled, her hair awry, her britches and boots muddy.
“Good day, darling?”
“Hard work, We galloped our horses through Mark’s Field. You know how muddy that gets. Took us ages to brush them off…” She caught sight of Tabby’s laptop. “What’s that? Is that…”
“Oh, yes, Mitch. In that leotard Grace bought him. I don’t know why he decided to wear it today…”
“I do,” grinned Lettie. “I told him you had instructed him to!”
“Lettie! You naughty girl!” Tabby said, with a smile.
“You’re sending them to your friends, right? I want some too.”
“Well…”
“You’ve got me to thank for them, after all.”
“She’s right,” laughed Alice. “It was her prank.”
“Well, okay then. Choose which ones you want, and I’ll…”
“Just send me all of them.”
“NO! Don’t let her have them!” shouted Mitch, springing into the room.
Having satisfied himself there was no Molly, he had returned to the kitchen, and had been listening to the conversation.
Lettie stared at him, and burst out laughing.
“Mitch,” she said, with a reproachful giggle, “have you been showing off to my mum and Alice? You are such a naughty boy!”
Mitch didn’t know what to say. He coloured up at once.
“Of course not! I-It was y-you! Y-you played a trick on me. No way would I have… But Tabby, don’t let her have any of those pictures, please…”
“Oops, sorry Mitch. Already sent. Anyway, no harm done. I mean, she’s seen you in your new outfit anyway. And no doubt she’s going to see you in it lots more…”
“No! I mean, it’s not that. It’s just that…”
“Ooh, look at this one…” interrupted Lettie, “did you see, auntie Alice? He’s going to have to do something about that if he wants to look like a real girl…”
She turned to him with a grin of supreme triumph. Poor Mitch. He suddenly felt so silly and vulnerable in his little sparkly leotard and pink thigh socks, in front of Lettie, confident in her full riding outfit, with her whip sticking out of one boot. Tears filled his eyes, he bit his lip, and with an impotent, “I hate you,” he retreated into the kitchen to console himself with another bowl of ice cream. Even that was pink, he realised. And as he spooned it into his mouth, he just caught Alice saying quietly, “…and Grace says she’s found the cutest panties to go with his party dress…”
-
12.
But Mitch would have to wait to see his new panties. He was tired after the shoot, so his mother came to take him home.
“Did you have a nice time, darling?”
Mitch maintained a grumpy silence. He was thinking hard. There were escape routes, but each was fraught with dangers. He went over and over the possibilities, even when he got to bed that night. And when he fell asleep, he dreamed vividly. Once he was running around the corridors of St. Luke’s, enc-umbered by a thick nappy, pursued by a bunch of kids led by Molly Caulker, desperately looking for a place to hide; and when he found one, under a bench in the cloakroom, the rustling of his plastic pants gave him away! He awoke with a start, rather surprised to find he was wearing ordinary underpants. He turned over with a sigh, and tried, but failed, to get back to sleep.
But as he was doing his homework that Sunday, he made a resolution. Next Friday he was going to fight back. He was going to call their bluff. He reasoned that there was no advantage to Lettie in “outing” him. That would result simply in her losing her leverage, and it would be the end of her little game. If he failed, his future was uncertain. But if he triumphed…
During the following week he was often seized by doubt. And he was in a constant state of anxiety. But he kept his nerve. It was now or never. The following week was Grace’s party, and he had a premonition that, if he once was forced to attend that, he was lost for ever.
Friday came, and he made his way to the Bradleys as instructed. This time he was early – it was a quarter to four when he knocked, with assumed boldness, at the front door. Tabby answered it.
“Mitch! Darling! You’re early today. Come in. How are you? The girls aren’t home yet. They’ll be here shortly. But your new baby clothes are on Lettie’s bed. I think you’ll be happy when you see them. They’re a bit more grown-up than the others. Why don’t you go up and change, and I’ll make you a snack?”
Mitch wasn’t smiling as he followed her to the foot of the stairs.
“Are you all right, Mitch? Did something happen at school?”
“No. I’m fine.” And he turned and began to climb the stairs.
The bedroom door was ajar. He pushed it open. On the bed was a gaudy pink carrier bag, with “P & S” on the front in gold script, and a note pinned to it. He approached and read.
“Mitch, darling. I think Lettie has told you about these new baby pants. You’re a toddler now, so it’s time to do away with those horrid nappies! The top is pure angora, so I’ve included a silk vest so it’s not itchy on your skin. I hope you like your new outfit. Lots of love, Grace xxx”
Mitch snorted. He picked up the bag, ripped off the note, and emptied the contents onto the bed. The first thing he saw was the new pants. “What the…” The mere sight of them hardened his resolution. “No way would I ever wear those…!”
The garment in question was made of pearly pink latex, decorated with little balloons of various colours tied with ribbons. The body of the pants was loose, but the leg and waist bands were of thicker latex, an inch or two wide, and clearly designed to fit tightly and prevent any leakage. Between the legs was attached a tiny plug, apparently for drainage purposes. Mitch shuddered. And yes, there was a little long-sleeved, short angora top, with its undervest, plus a couple of other items. A pair of pink Doc Martens, and short angora socks, a pink baseball cap, with “Girl Power” scrawled across the front in silver - and a sealed red cardboard box, which he decided was probably best left alone. Probably a bonnet, or a load of ribbons. With a snort of contempt, he turned away and headed downstairs.
He could hear Tabby in the kitchen. He considered saying goodbye, but then decided simply to leave and go home. He was half way to the front door when it opened, and in walked Lettie and Lottie.
“Mitch! You’re early. Good boy. Have you seen your new outfit? It’s so cute…”
“Yes,” added Lottie, with undisguised excitement, “you’re a big girl now, auntie Grace said, so…”
“I’m not wearing it. Are you fuc-king serious? I’ve had enough. I’m going. So you know what you can do with…”
“Mitch!” Tabby’s voice halted him in his tracks. “You come right back here, young man!”
“I’m sorry, Tabby…”
She put her hands on her hips are glared at him. “Aunt Tabby to you, miss!”
Mitch was flustered. “Er, aunt Tabby, I…”
“Did you just swear at my daughters?”
“I, er, no…I…”
“He did, mummy,” cried Lottie. “He said a bad word…” Tears filled her eyes.
Mitch tried to recover his position. “Look, I’m sorry, Lottie. I wasn’t swearing at you…”
“Get up those stairs this minute!” Mitch hesitated. He had never seen Tabby like this before. “Tab…aunt Tabby, I really don’t want…”
“This minute! Or it’ll be the worse for you.”
Mitch vacillated. He knew this was a pivotal moment in his life. Tabby’s voice carried a tone of authority difficult to resist. Yet at the same time, he knew that despite the hazards of disobedience, he was a free agent – almost thirteen, almost a teenager! At that instant, his whole future hung in the balance. He made a decision. He turned towards the door. But at that critical moment there was a ring at the bell. Fatally, he hesitated. Lettie ran and opened the door. It was Alice.
“What’s going on? I heard shouting.”
“Our little man here” – she indicated Mitch with a curt nod of her head – “seems to think he can do what he wants. He’s refusing to put on the lovely new outfit Grace got him.”
Alice was horrified. “What?”
“It’s true, auntie Alice,” blurted Lottie, “and he said a swear to us!”
“Mitchell Langston!” cried Alice. “Just who do you think you are?”
Mitch opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“Well?”
“I…”
“I’ll tell you who you are, if you don’t know. And you don’t seem to know. You are the lucky boy on whom Tabby and I and our friends have lavished all our love and attention and kindness. You are the lucky – ungrateful – boy who Tabby’s daughters have chosen as their playmate, above all others. You are the boy who agreed to be my baby all through my pregnancy, and receive all the cosseting, all the pampering, of my baby-to-be.”
Mitch’s resolution had evaporated under this tirade. He looked from Alice to Tabby, and back again to Alice, and he knew their combined wills were simply too much for him to confront. He started stammering.
“A-Alice…auntie Alice…I-I… didn’t mean to be rude…I’m sorry I swore…I…”
“Grace said this one might be trouble, somewhere down the line,” remarked Tabby, with a toss of her head. “She was right. She saw the streak of rebelliousness in him right from the start.”
Alice saw him weakening, and pressed home her advantage.
“And you are the boy, Mitch Langston, who is going to go upstairs now, and put on your lovely new outfit, and come down and apologise to Lettie and Lottie for being so horrid. Or you can go over my knee right this minute.”
“No, please…”
“Well, what’s it to be?”
Mitch hung his head, whimpered, and headed for the stairs.
-
13.
Once she was sure Mitch was upstairs, Tabby went to the front door and locked the mortice lock. Then she indicated they should all go into the lounge.
“Girls? You can go and make a snack in the kitchen. You’ll find some chocolate buns in the fridge.”
“Yippee!” cried Lottie.
“Only one each, mind.”
“Yes, mummy.”
The women exchanged looks.
“Thank goodness you came round. I thought he was about to leave.”
“I guessed what was going on. I hope he’s not going to have second thoughts, though.”
“Grace thinks if she can get him to her party, she can tip the balance.”
“Yes, I know. Considering she doesn’t have children, she’s pretty good in managing them. Did she tell you her plan?”
“Not fully. I know she’s got a surprise for him.”
“She has. Her idea is that he’ll be so happy to get out of babywear and into something a bit more grown-up, he’ll start to be more compliant. She thinks that inside, he’s a natural girl. And she going to make sure he gets lots of attention – I mean lots. I guess that’s his weak spot,” Alice grinned.
“He’d make a lovely girl...”
“I know. But he’s going to be back in his baby things for me - though that will only be about once a month, by the looks of it.”
The conversation paused, each of them pursuing their own thoughts.
In the girls’ bedroom, Mitch was examining the baby clothes once again. He didn’t want to put them on, but he knew he had to, and he also knew he’d better not delay. The last thing he wanted was the women coming upstairs to assist. So he stripped off his clothes, steeled himself, and stepped into the pants.
The rubber was cool against his skin, and gave him goosebumps on his legs. But he pulled them up bravely. They fitted perfectly. Probably made to measure, he thought. The legs bands fitted firmly. He snapped the waistband into place. He checked in the mirror, just to make sure the latex was quite opaque. It was, and he noted unconsciously that the milky, pearly pink went very well with the colour of his skin. Next, on went the silk vest, and the angora jumper. It was close-fitting, just waist-length, and delightfully fluffy; and to his surprise didn’t tickle his shoulders and arms one bit. He sat on the bed, pulled on the loose socks and the Doc Martens, and laced them up. He put on the baseball cap, and pulled it down over his thick, dark hair till he almost couldn’t see, to hide his eyes. He ignored the little red box – no point looking for trouble, he said to himself. He heard movement downstairs, and hurried to the stairs, the latex making an unfamiliar but pleasant rustling, plopping, sound as he walked. Just as he got to the landing, Tabby called from below.
“Mitch? Have you changed? Hurry up, darling.”
“Coming!” he called back, as he descended. He knew the main thing now was to attempt to re-establish himself in her good books, and avoid any punishments. So he presented himself in the lounge and stood to attention for inspection, eager to propitiate her.
Tabby and Alice regarded him with approval.
“There, doesn’t that feel better?” said Tabby. “What on earth was all that fuss about? Now before you do anything else, go into the kitchen and apologise to the girls.”
“Yes…auntie,” he replied, desperate to show respect; and immediately went to the kitchen.
The girls were sitting at the kitchen table, eating sandwiches. They looked at him unsmilingly when he entered.
Lettie looked him up and down. She smirked triumphantly. “Hello little baby rubberpants. Well? What do you want?” she asked.
Lottie, for whom the snack had quickly erased her hurt feelings, stared. “Mitch, you look really nice…”
“I’m really sorry I was rude earlier,” he said, openly, turning red as he did so. “I didn’t mean to swear, either, and I wasn’t swearing at you. Please forgive me.”
“We do,” cried Lottie, jumping up and throwing her arms around him in a clumsy but sincere hug. “I don’t want you to stop being our baby…”
Lettie was not so forgiving, however.
“You need to learn obedience, baby, or you’re going to get into big trouble.” She flicked casually through the pictures on her phone.
Mitch became alarmed. “Please Lettie…what do you want me to do to make up for…my bad behaviour? Anything…”
Tabby and Alice appeared at the door.
“He wants me to forgive him, mummy,” said Lettie, wrinkling her nose. “But I think he needs a lesson so he doesn’t do it again.”
“Well, dear, what sort of lesson were you thinking of…? Please put down the phone. Remember, I let you have those pictures on the understanding you would only let Molly see them with my permission. In fact, I’d prefer you transferred them all to your computer.”
“I know, mummy, but…”
“In any case, there’ll be lots more opportunities to add to your collection.”
“All right. Then I want him to pose for us in the garden this evening.”
“All right. That goes without saying.”
“And I want to punish him. Can I spank him?”
“Well, dear…maybe not right now. Can’t you think of anything else? Something small. He has apologised, after all.”
“Okay…wait! I have an idea. I’ll whisper.”
She jumped up, pulled at her mother’s arm, and whispered in her ear. She stood back. “Can I do that, then?”
Tabby laughed, and whispered something to Alice, who smiled.
“All right. That’s quite a good idea, actually. Don’t you think, Alice?”
“Definitely. Mitch, how do you fancy a little walk?”
“A walk?” Mitch looked fearful.
“Now listen, darling,” said Tabby. “We’ve just been talking about you. It seems to us you’re far too self-conscious about dressing up. It’s no big deal. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s time you learnt to overcome these irrational fears of being laughed at. We don’t laugh at you, do we?”
“No…”
“And the girls?”
“No…but Lettie…”
“Oh, I know, Lettie can be a bit of a tease at times. But it means nothing. Now I need the girls to pop down to the corner shop for me, and they’re going to take you with them.”
“What? Like this?”
“Oh, dear. There you go again. Relax, Mitch. No-one’s going to take any notice.”
“But…”
“Well it’s that or a smack bottom in front of the girls. Make your choice.”
Mitch was silent for a moment. “How far’s the shop?”
“A couple of hundred yards, that’s all. Here.” She adjusted his cap. “Now you can see where you’re going.”
He sighed. All right. But can we be quick?”
“Course, silly,” said Lettie. “Come on Lots, let’s go. Mum, I’ve got the bag. Give me your purse and the list.”
“List…?” began Mitch.
But Lottie had already taken his hand and was leading him to the door.
-
14.
Perhaps Tabby had slightly underestimated the distance to the shop, but Mitch didn’t realise until they were out in the street and well on their way. He walked between the girls, holding hands with both of them. He was so distracted looking around for dangers, that it was three or four minutes before he realised the shop was still not in sight.
“Where’s this shop, then?”
“Oh, not far,” said Lettie. “Just down the road and around the corner.”
“But…it looks busy down there…”
“Well, that’s where all the shops are. What do you expect?”
Mitch “cast one longing, lingering look behind”, beginning to doubt he had made the right choice. “What do you have to buy?”
“Let’s see…” Lettie unfolded the list. “Hmm. Milk, rice, eggs…leeks…we’ll have to go to the veg shop for them…baby wipes!” She sniggered. “They must be for you! That’s the chemist. Stamps…post office…”
“Wait a minute! I thought we were going to one shop, not the whole street!”
“Oops. Never mind, Mitch. It says here at the bottom, “and let Mitch buy himself a treat while you’re in the sweet shop”. That’s nice.”
“Sweet shop? So that’s…five shops we’re going to? No way. I’m going back.” He stopped dead.
Lottie looked sad. “Please come to the shops with us, Mitch. It’ll be much more fun with you there.”
“Yeah, please, Mitch,” said Lettie, sarcastically. “And by the way, mummy said if you try to come back by yourself she’s not going to open the door. So you’ll be out the front for the rest of the day!”
Mitch stood there for a moment in despair. Lottie said, “are you going to cry, Mitch?” But he didn’t cry. He did, however, stamp his foot just like an angry toddler, and cry, “not fair!” – which elicited some hilarity from two passing women with two little girls in tow.
“Ooh, grumpy little thing,” said one.
“Needs his nap, I expect,” returned the other.
“Such a pretty outfit,” the first called over her shoulder, as they walked on. And as they were passing out of earshot, he heard one on the little girls say, “why is that boy wearing baby’s pants, mummy?”
Mitch had no alternative but to continue with the girls towards the shops. It was a bright, warm evening, and people were out. As they approached, and the pavements became busier, and he became more and more self-conscious. He was aware he was attracting a considerable amount of attention: even though he was keeping his eyes on the ground, he could hear the chuckles and the “oohs” and the smart remarks and the voices raised in hilarity. He felt painfully awkward. He had no pockets, nowhere to put his hands. Not knowing what else to do with them, he took the leg bands of his pants between finger and thumb, which only made him look the more silly. But he also discovered the rubber was making him sweat, and the insides of the bands were slick. Quickly he let them snap back onto his legs, hoping the moisture wouldn’t seep out. He prayed that no-one from his school saw him. How could he possibly explain…?
Lettie and Lottie led him on towards their first port of call, the vegetable shop. They seemed to spend an age selecting four leeks, but at least it gave the cashier plenty of time to gawp open-mouthed at their companion, seemingly oblivious to his embarrassment. Things got worse from there in. In the mini-supermarket he was elected to carry the basket, while the girls discussed how much milk, what type of rice, and what colour eggs their mother wanted, and the others shoppers stopped, stared, and smiled. A boy of about Mitch’s age caught sight of him, did a double-take, and burst into peals of laughter. Mitch squirmed with embarrassment and annoyance. As Lottie too was getting impatient, so to calm her Lettie agreed to go next to the sweet shop. Lettie bought the others bags of sweets, and herself a packet of white chocolate buttons. Next, the chemist, where the assistant was irritatingly fascinated by Mitch’s new pants, and insisted on dropping on one knee and examining them with professional interest, calling her colleague to come and see too, and treating Mitch as no more than a sort of mannequin. The colleague was a bit more pleasant however.
“Where did your mummy find those, darling? They suit you so well.”
“Wasn’t my mummy,” pouted Mitch. “One of my aunts. I didn’t want them.”
“Oh, you didn’t? But they’re so pretty… I love those little balloons…”
Mitch grimaced. Lettie sniggered, and popped another chocolate button into her mouth. What a beautifully humiliating trip this was turning out to be!
Their final stop was the post office, where they had to stand at the end of a queue. Lettie and Lottie wanted to go and look at the dolls and toys, so they left Mitch to keep their place. People in front of him were pretending to look idly about, clearly so that could sneak glances at him. He snorted, and pulled his cap down over his eyes, and tried to make himself invisible. He was aware of someone joining the queue behind him. Not so good. He glanced back to check it wasn’t some kid he knew. No. Thank goodness. He didn’t look at the face, but noted from the clothes it was a young woman.
A moment later he felt a tap on his shoulder. He froze.
“Mitch?” said a pleasant voice. He looked round.
“Miss Chambers!”
“I thought it was you.” Miss Chambers was too discreet and too sensitive to comment on his clothes. “How are you?”
“F-fine, miss…” And he added, as a weak attempt at explanation, “er, I’m just keeping my friend’s place in the queue...”
“Oh, I see. Is that your friend over there, at the toys?”
“Yes. And her sister.”
“Well, I’m pleased we’ve run into each other. I’d been wanting to have a word with you about the play.”
“Oh, yes? The play?”
“You know we’re casting now, and I think I’ve made my decisions. It has to be done now, because we need to start rehearsals soon. I was thinking…would you be prepared to play one of the bigger parts? Do you have the time?”
“Yes, miss. Of course,” Mitch replied excitedly. Could she be offering him Romeo?
“Do you think you could play Juliet?”
He stared at her. “B-but…I thought one of the girls…”
“Well I wouldn’t have asked you, but the fact is, the girls I have to choose from are really rather ordinary-looking. I need someone with a lively manner, a handsome face, and a good figure. And someone who can act. I know you can do that. Don’t feel pressured. I understand if you don’t want to play a girl. And I could easily find you another part… Mercutio, perhaps? Or the Prince?”
Mitch hardly needed to think about it. “No, miss. I’ll play Juliet. It’ll be a challenge.”
“Oh, I’m so glad…”
“Who’s playing Romeo?”
“You know Lawrence Lovett?”
Of course he did. He liked Lawrence. Liked him a lot, though they weren’t friends. He was about to congratulate Miss Chambers on her choice, when something happened to distract him. Lettie had noticed him conversing with a young woman she didn’t recognise. She imagined it was just someone else complimenting him on his rubber pants, and he seemed to her in this instance to be less humiliated than she would have liked. So she sneaked up behind him, yanked open the back of his pants, and dropped in a handful of chocolate buttons!
He jumped with surprise, and swung round. “Agh. Lettie! What was that?”
“Thought you might like a few of my buttons, Mitch.”
“You…” He couldn’t say what he wanted to in front of Miss Chambers. Instead he was forced to introduce her and Lottie, and soon Lettie was chatting away happily to his teacher, playing the innocent.
Eventually they all got to the front of the queue, and said goodbye to Miss Chambers, Mitch promising to meet her at the first rehearsal the following Tuesday. When they finally got out of the post office, he unleashed his fury.
“Why did you do that? In front of Miss Chambers, too!”
“I didn’t know it was your darling Miss Chambers,” returned Lottie. “I thought it was just another woman you were chatting up.” She grinned cheekily. “Are you enjoying the chocolate buttons?”
Mitch glared at her. The chocolate was already melting. He could feel it, gooey and slippery, where it was mingling with his sweat, and coating the inside of his pants. By the time they had walked a hundred yards towards the house, he became aware of a sliminess between his thighs, which was soon visibly making its way towards his knees. Angry and uncomfortable, he had to restrain himself from swearing at Lettie again, especially as she, fully aware of his predicament, deliberately dawdled and stopped at any opportunity to look in a shop window or pat a dog. By the time they did get home, the state of his pants was beginning to excite him despite his efforts, the trickles of whitish gloop had reached his socks, and he was almost weeping with humiliation. Once inside, he ran upstairs and shut himself in the bathroom, where he allowed his arousal free rein, before manually relieving his frustrations. The groan he emitted as he flooded the taut, sticky rubber was heard downstairs.
As he sat on the bathmat recovering, two emotions overwhelmed him. Hunger, and embarrassment. His cheeks burned as he remembered running the gauntlet of so many staring children and giggling women. Surely one or two had recognised him? Well, there was Miss Chambers, but she was different. She was kind and intelligent. Most of the others were like thoughtless children…
He bathed and washed and dried his pants, dressed, and went downstairs.
“Welcome home,” said Tabby, with a mildly ironic smile. “I hear you had a nice walk. Did you get yourself some sweets?”
“Yeah, thanks, auntie.” He always called her “aunt” or “auntie” now. In his baby outfit he felt like an infant, and he was beginning to behave like one.
“And I gave him some of mine,” sniggered Lettie.
He ignored her. “We met Miss Chambers. I’m going to play Juliet in the school play.”
“You are?” said Alice. “That’s wonderful! Who’s playing Romeo?”
“A guy called Lawrence.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yeah, sort of. He’s okay.”
“Will you have to kiss him?” asked Lettie, with one of her best smirks.
“Maybe? So what? You have to do lots of things when you’re acting which you would never do in real life,” he countered. Though in the back of his mind he thought he wouldn’t mind kissing Lawrence anyway. That is to say, it wouldn’t be something he wanted to do, of course, but it wouldn’t be objectionable.
After supper Lettie got her promised photoshoot, with Lottie holding Mitch's hand to make sure he didn't bottle out. Lettie knew he would never do anything to upset her. Then they went back indoors, and all of them had a conversation about the rest of the weekend.
“So tomorrow you’ll be at mine, darling,” said Alice. “My baby Mitch. But remember it’s Grace’s little get-together in the evening. She’s asked me to bring you a bit earlier – about six – so you can get changed.”
“Get changed?”
“Yes. She got a more grown-up outfit, she tells me. I don’t know what. But I do know it’ll be something nice.”
“Okay…”
“And you’re to take the red box that was in the carrier bag,” added Tabby. “Don’t open it, though, will you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll have to ask Grace that, I’m afraid.”
“And what is “P and S”?”
“That too.”
“Okay… Auntie Tabby?”
“Yes dear?”
“Do I have to wear my new pants to bed tonight?”
“Of course, dear. Why wouldn’t you?” She looked at him rather severely, expecting an argument. But she was pleasantly surprised when he smiled and said,
“Okay. I think I’ll go to bed soon. I’m quite tired after that walk and everything.”
He lay in bed that night, after the girls were asleep, his imagination wandering in and out of dreams and reality, with images of Lawrence’s face, and long, rustling satin dresses, and auntie Alice’s firm breasts, and those mystical letters, P and S; all made vivid by the seductive smell of warm, scented latex. Reaching down, he explored his erection under the taut rubber, until his thoughts exploded in a shower of stars, and he sank at last into a deep and peaceful slumber…
-
15.
He was at Alice’s front door early the next morning. Tabby had allowed his to wear his jeans and T-shirt, and to pack his baby clothes back into the pink carrier.
“Come in, sweetie. Your breakfast is on the table. Coffee?”
“Yes please, auntie Alice.”
“When you’re being my baby, you should call me “mummy”, you know.”
After breakfast, Alice instructed him to put on his new baby clothes. He seemed happy to do so. But then, he was beginning to appreciate the advantages of soft, smooth, flexible latex pants over thick jeans, and of soft angora over a scratchy T-shirt. He was beginning to appreciate girl things for the first time in his life.
Alice realised the importance of educating him slowly, step by step. He was allowed to play in the nursery, and she had made sure to mix some boy toys in the with dolls and stuffed animals – trucks and planes and quite intricate models, knowing he had a love of puzzles. And he was allowed unfettered access to the computer, with all the baby and girls’ clothes pages bookmarked. While he was scrolling through, he decided he should look up “P & S”. There were lots of references, but then he came to one which looked a possible, and in going to the home page he discovered a pink background and those familiar letters in gold script. “P & S”, he read, “everything for the Pacification and Sissification of naughty boys”! For a moment he was shocked, then offended, and he was even about to jump up and complain to Alice. But he started scrolling through the products, and instead grew more and more fascinated. There were so many things. Just the clothes! The range was huge. In the babies section there were little suits in wool and fake fur, with little feet and hoods, so the baby would be beautifully warm and cosy. He had always imagined something like that. And the pants! Plastic and rubber, and rubber shorts in all sorts of colours for bigger boys, with or without frills at the legs. The sight of them gave him a funny feeling, of anxiety and excitement all tied up together. There were little rubber dresses and skirts too, of every imaginable style. And satin, taffeta, everything! There were dolls, too, “for very naughty boys”, it said. Some were quite big, with shiny blonde hair and big blue eyes with long lashes, and open mouths, which puzzled him – though he thought he’d quite like to have one. Then there was a section which he found rather frightening, with lots of pink straps and silver chains and pink rubber balls on straps and some very large strange-shaped pacifiers and a range of pink rubber plugs and some little curved plastic and steel tubes. He closed the page quickly. It was better, he thought, he didn’t look at such things. He knew Alice would never…but Grace? He didn’t know her very well, after all. On reflection, he thought his best strategy would be to behave, do what he was told, and then he was sure the ladies would be nice to him. They were always nice when he did things to please them. So he resolved to be the very best little boy they could ever ask for.
Alice had installed a lovely big high chair in the kitchen. He had to climb into it, and then she strapped him in tightly so he couldn’t fall out. As with everything else, Alice planned to wean him slowly onto regular baby food, by the simple means of pureeing his favourite things. Pureed eggs with soldiers, pureed pizza, milk or white chocolate spread on fingers of soft white bread, fruit purees with cream and ice cream. Then, after lunch, he came and lay on her lap on the sofa, with his head resting against her breast.
“There’s my little baby Mitch. My little baby boy-girl. Because babies are just babies, aren’t they, and only when they grow up do they become boys or girls. What would you like to grow up as, Mitch?”
“Don’t know, mummy. What sort of baby do you want?”
“Well, I don’t mind. Girls are nice, and usually do what they’re told, and have such pretty clothes. Boys are nice too, except when they’re bad, and then, sometimes, they need to be disciplined.”
“Disciplined?”
“Yes, you know, occasionally they have to be spanked, but we don’t like to do that any more. No, now we prefer to pop them into girls’ clothes, or if they been shouty or using bad language we can put a big pacifier in their mouths so they have to be quiet.”
“But don’t they just spit it out?”
“No darling, they can’t. There are special ones which strap on and they just have to suc-k for as long as it takes them to calm down.”
“Oh. I think I saw some of those on that P and S website…”
“Oh! You were looking at that?”
“Yes. It says P and S on the bag auntie Grace left.”
“Well, I think she likes that place. So if I were you, I would be a very good little girl for her, otherwise…” Mitch looked a bit worried, so she changed the subject. “Did you know, Mitch, when a lady is going to have a baby, her nipples get all sensitive, and her boobies get full of milk?”
Mitch stiffened, his eyes widened and he coloured up.
“M-maybe…”
“Well they do. Perhaps when my milk comes in, I’ll let you have some. Would you like that?”
Mitch now looked positively alarmed. He had never even considered such a thing. “I-I…don't know...”
“Would you? Sometimes a mother produces too much milk for her baby. Then she may be grateful for a little help getting rid of the excess…”
Mitch gulped. Was she serious? Alice was amused to see the effect her words were having.
“Or she may prefer to bottle-feed her baby. Then there’d be lots of milk available… Tell you what. I’ll give you a bottle now. Get you used to the nipple. You can imagine it’s mine, if you like.”
She extricated herself, fetched a feeding bottle with a decent-sized teat, and filled it with warm formula. When she returned to the sofa Mitch was sitting bolt upright looking slightly apprehensive. Alice sat down, pulled him back onto her lap, put her left arm round him, and introduced the teat to his lips.
“Now, relax, darling. Sometimes babies may be reluctant to latch on. Then we do this.” She squeezed a drop of milk out of the bottle, and stroked the teat back and forth on Mitch’s lips. Immediately, and almost involuntarily, he took the teat in his mouth and began to feed. It took only a couple of minutes before he began to relax, and as he did so he thought about what Alice had said, and wondered if she were serious. His head was pressed against her breast, and as he imagined what it would be like to feed from that instead of a bottle, he gripped the teat tighter between his teeth, drawing forth a spurt of milk. He closed his eyes. He could feel himself becoming aroused, but he didn’t care. Alice smiled to see the little bulge of his stiffening sausage beginning to stretch the pink latex, and knew she had scored a hit. At last she really believed that, in whatever direction Grace and the others decided to lead him, Mitch the baby was here to stay, both for her own enjoyment and that of Tabby’s girls. She reclined on the sofa, and watched him feeding, eyes closed in contentment. And in a few hours it would be Grace’s party. She wondered what lay in store for him there…
-
Oh my this is getting just delicious.
Being turned into a little girl, and a baby, by different people, at the same time. No wonder Mitch is confused.
I think we all know what role he's going to be playing... except Mitch that is. :)
Please keep going.
-
This is really wonderful writing. I love the P&S products idea. Some tight latex shorts with an inbuilt tube or plug would be a delightful detail. Tight shiny and pink!
-
16.
It had been arranged that the ladies would make their various ways to Grace’s at about seven. Patty would be there already, as she lived nearby, and was Grace’s closest friend. Sarah would give Elizabeth a lift. Alice would bring Mitch, and Tabby would bring Lettie, having dropped off Lottie at Dorothea’s for a sleepover. Lettie had had the option of going to Molly’s – her request that Molly come with them having been denied – but in any case she had a new plan to put into operation.
As he climbed into Alice’s car, clutching the carrier full of baby things, Mitch was feeling quite pleased with himself. He had been allowed to change back into his everyday clothes for the journey, he had been told that there would be some more grown-up things for him to wear at Grace’s, and he knew that her house was a repository of delicious cakes and puddings. The only fly in the baby cream was Lettie. He had been hoping she would go off to one of her friends. He enjoyed the company of the women – all the cuddles and compliments and affection, even the gentle teasing. It was all attention, the thing he loved most. He was beginning to enjoy the dressing up, the showing off – watching them gasp and stare and smile. It was sort of like being on the stage. But Lettie spoiled everything. She just laughed at him, reminding him he looked like a sissy.
As they drove to Grace’s, he reviewed the situation. It was the middle of June. Romeo and Juliet was to be put on at the end of term – July the twenty-first - so there was about five weeks of rehearsals ahead. It was a lower school project, and Miss Chambers had edited the play down to a manageable length. His birthday was on the sixth of July, when he would be thirteen, and the following year he would be in year nine. That would be exciting. In the school holidays he was going camping in Devon with the Scouts for two weeks. They were going to be on a farm, and he was looking forward to being surrounded by animals. Really, he couldn’t complain. And this latest turn of events had added a new dimension to his experience, and despite all the embarrassment it had also made him feel sort of important, and the bearer of a great secret – even if it were one he hoped would never get out.
They arrived at Grace’s well before six. She gave them a fulsome welcome, and ruffled Mitch’s hair affectionately as she ushered them in. Patty was there too, and another slightly older woman Mitch didn’t recognise.
“Alice. Mitch. I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, Shirley Dearman. Shirley, meet Alice and Mitch.”
“Hello. How nice to meet you at last. You’ve been with Alice today, haven’t you, Mitch? Did you have a nice time?”
“Er, yes thank you…”
“Please, Mitch, call me Shirley. I feel as if we’re already friends. You see, Grace has told me a little about you already. In fact, I’m the person who’s been supplying your outfits.”
Mitch looked surprised.
“Yes, it’s true. I own a company called P & S. We supply all sorts of clothes in boys’ sizes. I hope the ones Grace gave you were a good fit? And I hope…well, that you enjoyed wearing them.”
Mitch didn’t answer directly. “I saw your logo on the bag. And I looked it up. I’ve seen your catalogue...”
“Oh, good…I’m pleased…”
But Shirley looked more apprehensive than pleased, and shot a nervous look at Grace. She had planned to give Mitch a gentle introduction to the world of sissification, to entice and cajole him step by cautious step. She wondered how much of the catalogue he had looked at… She thought she'd better backtrack a little.
“Of course, that catalogue is out of date now. It was prepared some years ago by someone who’s not with us any longer. You can pretty much ignore it. We’re in the process of producing a brand new one, which we hope will have much wider appeal.” She broke off, and looked at Mitch thoughtfully. “I wonder…”
“What is it, Shirley?” asked Grace.
“No, nothing. Nothing really. I was just thinking…”
“What? Come on, darling. Spit it out.”
The ladies were playing the parts they had rehearsed rather well.
“Well, I was just thinking…Mitch…but from what you’ve told me, school work, the acting and everything…I’m sure he must be too busy for anything else right now…”
“I’m not that busy,” said Mitch, interested. “What were you thinking…?”
“Well, darling, just that you’d be the perfect person to help us compiling the catalogue. You see, we have no-one from your age group, no-one in touch with the culture, as it were. I mean, your advice would be invaluable… But it’s too much to ask of you. You must be so busy…”
“No… I’m not…really. I do all my homework on Sundays, and maybe two evenings in the week. All my rehearsals will be in school time. I could easily…”
“Do you think you could? It would be amazing. Even just a couple of hours a week would be an immense help.”
“I could easily manage that. I mean, I could be free every Saturday, if you wanted…oh, I mean, providing I wasn’t wanted elsewhere…” He looked at the ladies, conscious his Saturdays were already spoken for.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Grace. “I’m sure we’d all much rather you did something exciting with Shirley. Go ahead.”
“Do you think you could? Every Saturday? That would be fantastic!”
“But what would you want me to do?”
“What we need, Mitch, is someone to advise us about designs. An ideas man, really. From what I’ve heard of you, you’re a smart kid.”
Mitch was totally amenable to flattery. He blushed. “Well…I do sort of like coming up with ideas…”
“I’m sure you do. And even…” She looked him up and down critically.
“Yes?”
“Maybe you could even do a little modelling?”
“Modelling? What…?”
“You really are very good-looking, Mitch. And perfectly proportioned. It’s so difficult to find really good child models. But I don’t know how you’d feel about that…”
“Well, I…”
“And with you’re acting background…”
“I’m not sure if I’d be good enough…”
“You’d be great. I can tell. I saw it straight away.”
“Well, I’d certainly give it a go…I mean, if I can be of service…”
“Mitch! You’re a gem!” And she embraced him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek – and a broad wink to Grace at the same time.
Eager to consolidate her position, Shirley sat him down there and then and started to talk business.
“Now, let’s say you work eight hours on Saturday. We’d pay you the going rate – twenty pounds an hour – in cash, of course. So that’s a hundred and sixty for the day.”
“A hundred and… Wow!”
“Well, it would be hard work. Especially the modelling. But you can always quit if it seems too much.”
“I won’t quit. I can take hard work.”
“Good. I like your attitude. You can start next week. We have a studio in the offices, and we employ a professional photographer. We can send a car to collect you at eight in the morning, and drop you back about six. How does that seem?”
“Great! Thanks!” Mitch was already thinking how he’d spend the money. A new skateboard, that was the priority.
“Let’s shake on it. There!” She turned to Grace. “How fortunate I was able to come today. Otherwise I wouldn’t have met Mitch, and we wouldn’t have done this deal.”
“Yes. I think it’s going to be good for both of you.”
“Er, Shirley? What sort of things will I be modelling, do you think?”
“It depends on the catalogue. But you’re going to have a say in that, anyway. There’ll certainly be some lovely dresses. In fact, I can show you a couple later – I’ve got some in the car.”
“Okay.”
Mitch felt slightly dazed. He began to turn the arrangement over in his mind, but it was a fait accompli now, and things were already moving on. Patty was handing out glasses of champagne to celebrate the deal, and gave Mitch half a glass, after a few sips of which, any misgivings he may have had soon disappeared. He sat down in an armchair, and began to speculate on what he would do with the money. The skateboard, yes. Maybe a new bike. In the far corner, Grace and Shirley were clinking glasses and giggling. Shirley gave him a little wave and a smile, and he waved and smiled back. There was a ring at the bell, Grace left the room, and shortly returned accompanied by his mother and Sarah. He rose and kissed them both. Five minutes later Tabby and Lettie walked in.
Their entry into that room signalled another turning point in Mitch’s life. He had been used to seeing Lettie wearing old jeans and T-shirts, or occasionally her school uniform. But this evening she was transformed. She was wearing a short, sleeveless, metallic turquoise dress with a narrow skirt and a round neck, with stockings, heels and a green choker. She had had her hair cut and styled, and was wearing a little subtle makeup. She had gold ear studs and a gold bangle. She made a point of ignoring Mitch entirely while she was being introduced to Shirley, and saying hello to the others. She knew very well that he must be staring at her in disbelief. Her motive was not punitive, however. Even at her tender age she was smart enough to know how to entice her prey. So with the courtesies out of the way, she flashed him an invitational glance, and moved towards his side of the room.
“Hello, Mitch. No baby clothes this evening? Oh, what a shame.”
“L-Lettie… You look…amazing. I-I… Have you had a good day…?”
“Hmm, not bad. Did a bit of shopping with mum… Got my hair done, in case you didn’t notice…”
“Course I noticed! You look…amazing…”
“Yeah, you said that just now.”
“No, I mean really…beautiful…”
“Well, thank you, sir. I’ll take that as a compliment.” She lowered her eyes alluringly.
Mitch was smitten. He was cursing himself. Why hadn’t he seen before just how incredible looking she was? When he thought of the costumes she had seen him in, his cheeks burnt with shame. His thoughts raced ahead. He speculated on all the boys who would like to go out with her. He pulled himself together and tried to play it cool.
“Pretty nice place Grace has, yeah? And this is good champagne.”
“I wouldn’t know. Never drink it normally.”
“No, well, course, neither do I, but…”
“So you’ve met Shirley.”
“Yes…” He brightened up. “She’s asked me to advise on her catalogue… and model for her.”
“She told me. You’ve agreed, then.”
“Yeah. I’ll get proper professional rates, of course…”
“Of course. Do you know what sort of thing you’ll be modelling?”
“Well, no…not yet…”
“But you’ll wear anything?”
“Er…well, we’ll see…I guess…”
“You’ll have to wear whatever she gives you to wear. You know that, I’m sure. But I know you’ll be good at it.”
Mitch looked at her questioningly, but there were no answers in her slightly amused gaze. Was she just teasing him? It was as if she’d not only changed her appearance, but her character as well.
“Yeah, well, I know I’ve worn some pretty weird outfits…”
“So what? I think the more of you for having the courage to dress up. Not many blokes would.”
“You do…?”
“I do…” She touched his cheek with the back of her hand. “I know I tease you a bit sometimes. But take no notice, Mitch.” And she kissed him on the cheek.
It was a masterful exercise in manipulation and control. Which is not to say Lettie didn’t care about Mitch, or didn’t like him. In fact, she liked him very much. He was easily the most fanciable boy she had ever known. And ultimately she wanted him for herself. And on her terms; there was nothing she would like better than to have a pretty little sissy Mitch at her beck and call. So she was totally on board with the sissification programme. She had discussed the whole thing with her mother that very day, and they had decided that, though humiliating him was a lot of fun, it might put the larger goal at risk. A change of tactics was called for. So Lettie had suggested discarding blackmail in favour of an equally potent incentive – seduction.
-
17.
Mitch’s brain was in a whirl. His world had been turned upside down. Ten minutes ago he had hated Lettie. Now he was bewitched by her. Grace announced they would eat in fifteen minutes, and asked everyone to take their places at the big polished table in the dining room. Lettie sat next to him, and behaved throughout the meal with unwonted grace and good manners. She gave him her full attention without fawning. She conversed with the others, but never excluded him from the conversation. She was the perfect companion.
Mitch had never seen this side of her. All thoughts of bikes and skateboards had evaporated. Now he was thinking along the line of gifts for Lettie, of asking her out for a meal. He felt he would do anything for her.
Which was precisely what she had intended. But for the time being, she found it amusing that her own transformation had provoked an even more remarkable one in him. After dinner, when Shirley suggested she bring in some dresses for him to see, Lettie encouraged him to agree.
“Go on, Mitch. I want to see them, anyway. If I like one of them, maybe you could get me a little discount, now you’re working for the firm,” she joked.
Shirley had a couple of outfits with her, which, by the merest coincidence, turned out to be exactly Mitch’s size. She thought it best he have a gentle introduction to his modelling career, to lull him into acquiescence. She lay them out in one of the bedrooms, and brought the first one in for Mitch to see. Mitch hadn’t really been expecting a ballet leotard and tutu, but as Lettie seemed so enthusiastic about it, he didn’t take much persuasion to agree to try it on. Grace and Shirley took him into the bedroom to help him to change. Fortunately, Shirley had come supplied with a range of shoes, tights, stockings and panties.
It was a little silver vest-type leotard, with shiny blue riffles along the top of the bodice, and a bouncy, multi-layered blue gauze shirt with silver decoration. It looked so insubstantial, but Shirley assured him it would fit. First, though, he needed tights – a pair of gossamer white ones, as delicate at the dress itself.
“But before you put them on, Mitch, you’re going to need some panties. Now when our boys wear girly clothes, we have to make sure their boy bits are well tucked away. So we normally use these.” She produced a pair of tiny, fine, flesh-coloured latex panties. “You may as well get used to them. You’ll probably be wearing them a lot of the time when you’re modelling.”
“I see. All right…”
“Oh, and by the way, that reminds me. Thank you for returning my bag. I’m glad to see you didn’t open the red box. That’ll be a surprise for some other time. But I couldn’t find those new rubber baby pants. Do you have any idea what happened to them?”
Mitch instantly turned red. But he said, “No…no, I’m sorry, I didn’t see them. Maybe Alice…”
“No, don’t worry. If you find them, you can keep them. There are plenty more things for you to try out. Now, get these ones on, then the tights…”
After the tights came the dress, and some soft silver ballet pumps. Grace fussed with the skirt. He really did look very pretty. He could see Shirley was delighted, which made him feel good.
“You look stunning, darling! I just knew you were someone special the moment I laid eyes on you. Your hair needs cutting and styling a bit – we’ll do that.”
“I thought you’d want me to have longer hair…”
“No, short hair is fashionable, and it’ll suit you much better, too. Get it off your ears – we’ll have to get those pierced – and a touch of makeup, and – I don’t think anyone will believe you’re a boy at all!”
“Have a look at yourself in the mirror,” said Grace.
Mitch went over to the long mirror. He was shocked at his own reflection. But not embarrassed. He actually like the way he looked. He twisted one way then the other, trying to get a look at the back view.
Shirley laughed. “I think he’d be there preening all day if we let him!” But she was inwardly delighted not only by his appearance, but by his reaction. She felt confident he wasn’t going to give them too much trouble.
“Ready?” said Grace. “Let’s go show the others.”
Mitch was apprehensive about dressing up again in front of Lettie. Was she telling the truth when she said she respected him for it? Or was she just setting him up, and then she’d fall about laughing at him. But he had no choice now, so he allowed himself to be led back to the dining-room.
His appearance was greeted by gasps of admiration. He watched her. When she saw him, she jumped out of her seat with excitement.
“Mitch! Oh my god! You look fabulous!”
Relief flooded through him. There was no smirking now, only surprise and delight. Maybe this was what she had wanted all along. And he felt flattered by the ladies’ admiring looks. His slight self-consciousness evaporated, and soon he was skipping around the room, performing clumsy leaps and attempting pirouettes. Everyone was in stitches.
“Mum?” said Lettie. “He should really have some ballet lessons. Imagine if he could dance properly!”
“That might actually be possible,” said Grace. “I have a ballet dancer friend. I’ll speak to her about it.”
“And darling,” said his mother, “I have some more news. Shirley has kindly offered to find you a dress for the play. I’m going to speak to Miss Chambers and see what she had in mind. It’ll save the school having to worry about it.”
“Great! Thanks, Shirley! Maybe I could have something with silver in it, like this?” He tugged at his leotard.
“We’ll see, Mitch. Don’t worry, you’ll get to choose from what we have.” She gave Grace a look that said, “this is even better than we’d hoped”.
“What’s the other dress, Shirley?”
“Goodness, slow down, Mitch. One dress at a time!”
“Is it a party dress?”
“Well, no. If you must know, it’s a very plain maid’s outfit.”
“A maid’s outfit?” Mitch looked a bit deflated.
“Yes, a little cotton maid’s outfit. I was going to ask you to wait on us, you see. But then I decided you deserved the pretty one. And I can see we’re going to have trouble getting you out of it!”
“I don’t mind. Can I wear this for a while, and I promise I’ll wear the maid one later.”
“Of course, darling. Enjoy yourself.”
Mitch did enjoy himself. He was realising this was what he had always wanted, though he hadn’t fully realised it. He felt so natural. The fabrics were so soft and light and smooth. But most of all he knew he looked pretty, that the others were staring at him. As a boy, he simply looked a bit effeminate. He wasn’t as popular at school as some of the tougher-looking boys, the cool ones, though he was often admired by women, he had noticed. So he might as well make the most of his assets, and enjoy himself. And Lettie… Maybe she simply didn’t relate to those macho types. In fact she’d never shown any interest in boys at all – but she’d certainly involved herself in his life. That must be of some significance.
So Mitch was beginning to look forward to his stint with P & S. Modelling all those lovely dresses… A new relationship with Lettie… Playing Juliet - he’d make the whole school stare in disbelief at his performance… Yes, the future looked exciting…fulfilling.
But things don’t always turn out exactly as we imagine they will...
-
18.
He did change into the maid’s costume later. He was impressed to see it wasn’t one of those so-called “sexy” creations, but a very utilitarian design in plain grey cotton, with broad white frilled cotton edging and a matching apron. With it he wore short white frilled socks, black shoes, and a headband. He was given the job of serving drinks and coffee and after-dinner snacks and chocolates, which he did with as much professionalism as he could muster. By this time the excitement had died down, the women were relaxed, talking and laughing, taking little notice of him, so that he was able to concentrate on providing good service, and, as a good maid ought, being useful without being intrusive. The truth was, with the advent of Shirley, he was feeling valued instead of exploited; and determined to be compliant instead of rebellious. Which very conveniently fitted in with everyone’s plans.
So it was that, as he waited for his transport to arrive the following Saturday, he was feeling relaxed and on good terms with himself. He had a date with Lettie the following Tuesday evening, and planned to take her to a restaurant with the money he was going to earn at the weekend. He had had the first rehearsal for the play, and had already learned his lines for the first act. Shirley had been in touch with Miss Chambers, and she had been only too pleased to accept her offer. Everything was turning out amazingly well.
He was waiting at the kitchen window, and he saw the car draw up outside. Wow. A Porsche! A blonde woman of about thirty with sunglasses got out, checked the door number, and opened the gate. Mitch hurried to the door.
“Mum, I’m going! See you later!”
“Bye, darling. Have a nice time.”
Lucy was in the kitchen too, watching the woman. “She looks funny,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Her shoes are too tall.”
“Shh, Lucy. I’ll see you later.” He opened the door and went out. “Hello…I’m Mitch…”
The woman didn’t smile. She had thin lips. In fact, she herself was very slim. Mitch noticed that she was indeed wearing very high heels. And he wondered how she managed to drive in them.
“Mitchell…yes…” she said, in a foreign accent. “Come with me, please,” she added, in the tone a police officer might have used when arresting someone.
Mitch was slightly taken aback, but he followed her to the car. She opened the door for him and he took his seat. She got in, sat down beside him, started the engine and accelerated away before he’s even had time to put on his seatbelt. Then, as he was still struggling with it, she looked across and said, “seatbelt please” - then deftly put on her own by dint of letting go of the steering wheel for a few seconds.
“I am Yulya,” she said, flatly. “I work for Miss Shirley. I photograph, dress. I do make up for boys. You will like good makeup I do for you.”
“Oh, yes…I’m sure I will. Thank you.”
Yulya was looking straight ahead. Her red fingernails were in proportion to her heels. Her glasses were on the front of her nose, and Mitch could see long lashes bristling with mascara. He hoped his own makeup would tend more to the subtle side.
The offices of P & S were several miles out of town, down a windy lane. Yulya seemed only to have one driving speed – fast - whatever sort of road she was on, and Mitch found himself gripping the sides of his seat. He was relieved when they finally turned off the road into a small industrial estate. She pulled up outside a two storey stuccoed building with one door and one window of frosted glass. She got out and went to the door, which she opened with a key. He followed.
Inside she led him down a corridor past several rooms. The whole place was carpeted and painted grey, and the rooms were mainly offices, except the first, which was clearly a small warehouse, with boxes which he presumed contained stock. He saw only two other women in the offices. On took no notice of them, the other looked up and smiled, for which fleeting show of friendliness he felt very grateful. Then she beckoned to them. Yulya opened the office door.
“Are you Mitch?” said the woman.
“Yes.”
Shirley asked me to tell you she’s so sorry, she’s been called away on business. But she’ll call you tomorrow to see how your first day was. Yulya will look after you. Just do what she asks. And this evening she’ll pay you and drop you home.”
“Oh, of course. Thank you.”
“Oh, and just give me a signature here, would you? It’s your contract. Just a formality.”
“Oh…course. Thank you.” He scribbled his name.
“No problem, Mitch. I’m Mandy, by the way. Feel free to ask Yulya or me if you have any questions. I hope you have a good day!”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be seeing you shortly.”
They passed on. At the back of the building the corridor turned left. On the right side there were long windows looking out onto countryside and a field of horses. On the left were a series of room with big glass windows. They looked like interrogation rooms, but Yulya explained with the single word “studios”.
“Ah. What will I have to do today?”
“First we make little play. Miss Shirley say you good actor, right? This afternoon you girl. But now you boy. Bad boy, who have to be punished. I explain.”
And she explained. Mitch did not like it. He didn’t like it at all. But it was explained to him that if he didn’t want his contract terminated before he had started, he’d better do what was required of him. After all, he was an actor, and actors have to play parts they don’t like. He had an outline script, but he had to act, to be natural. And to do anything the action demanded. They didn’t explain it all to him – they wanted his dismay to be genuine. But he was told he must go along with whatever they said, and play his part. And this is what took place.
Mandy played his mother. They were together in one of the studios, laid out like an ordinary living-room. Mitch was in his ordinary clothes, but had been given a torn T-shirt to wear. And Yulya had put a little eye shadow around one eye, and mussed his hair. She was doing the filming, and had a camera set up on a tripod by the corridor wall.
Mandy: “Mitch Langston! You bad, bad boy! Fighting again! Look at you! Your lovely new T-shirt! Ruined!”
Mitch: “But mummy, it wasn’t my fault. That horrid boy attacked me. I was just defending myself!”
“I told you what would happen if I caught you fighting again.”
“Mummy, no…please!”
Mandy sat on a chair. “ Come here!”
“Shan’t!”
“Come here…or else!”
Reluctantly, he complied. She undid his jeans and pulled them down. Then pulled him across her lap, and yanked off his underpants. “Keep still! You’re going to get the hardest spanking you’ve ever had!” And she proceeded to smack and spank his bare bottom till it was bright red, and Mitch was actually squirming with the pain. He began to sob.
“Mummy, please, I’m sorry…please stop!”
“Certainly. Now get off me and take off all the rest of your clothes.”
He had to do it, and facing the camera, as he had been instructed. Mandy went to a cupboard and came back with a changing bag. Mitch stood there squirming, and rubbing his bottom, and frowning.
“Mummy…it stings…”
“Lie down there.” She indicated a white sheepskin rug.
“But…”
“Lie down!”
“Yes, mummy.”
He pay down, and “mummy” produced a pot of cold cream from the bag and proceeded to smooth it into his bottom, Mitch gasping with relief. Then she pulled out a nappy, rolled him onto his back, slipped it under his bottom, and secured it at the sides. Next, out came the plastic pants, clear pink with little yellow flowers, and a little pair of short, lacy pink socks. Finally, she popped a big pink dummy into his mouth.
“Now hold that in! If I see you taking it out, I’ll spank you again. Now be a good baby till teatime, or I’ll invite all your friends round to see you!”
Yulya stopped filming.
Mitch got to his feet. “Is that it?” he asked, in a rather resentful tone.
“Not quite. In part two, you wet your nappy,” said Mandy.
“What?”
“Not really, of course. Yulya? Do you want to…?”
Yulya picked up a bottle of water, came over, pulled over the front of Mitch’s pants, and poured it in.”
“Urgh! That’s cold!”
“Okay. You can start filming again.”
The action resumed. Mandy entered the room. Mitch was standing in the corner with his back to her.
“Mitchell? Have you been a good little baby?”
Mandy approached him.
“Mummy…I…”
Mandy gasped. “You’ve done a wee-wee in your clean nappy! You bad boy! Now I’ll have to change you. Lie down!”
And she proceeded to take off his pants and his nappy, to cream and powder him back and front, and to put him in a clean nappy. Then she tied his pacifier in with a pink ribbon.
“Now you can stay like that for the rest of the day. And one more accident, and I’ll send you to school like it!”
Yulya shut down the camera, and allowed herself a faint smile.
“I think is a good film. We watch it later.”
“I thought I was finished with baby stuff,” frowned Mitch. “And why did you have to use my real name?”
“Miss Shirley like a little insurance, yes Mandy?”
“Oh, yes. No flies on Shirley Dearman.”
“Never mind, Mitchell Langston,” said Yulya. “This afternoon, you big girl!”
-
Fantastic! Mitch will be in for an exciting afternoon I'm sure!
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19.
But before lunch, Yulya took Mitch into a special little dressing room at the far end of the studios. There she began his transformation.
“I was professional hair stylist before I come here. I give you pretty pixie cut. You know what is?”
“Er, no. Why would I?”
“All right. Miss Shirley say you smart boy. Hmph. Pixie cut, darling, make you look like little pixie. Hair short, graded at back and sides. On top, can be combed or mussy. This stuff?” She tugged at his hair. “This stuff never comb. You can be mussy pixie.”
“Oh, thanks. Very kind of you.”
“You will see. You look very cute little boy.”
She sat him in front of a big mirror, in an adjustable chair, which she ratcheted up, and tied a cloth around his neck Then she went to work. Mitch was alarmed at the quantity of hair tumbling down in tufts, by he dared not raise any objections. When she had finished, Mitch looked a different person: no longer the unruly-looking, mischievous little boy, but innocent and girlish. The expression of mild horror on his face contributed to the change. And deprived of their cloaks of hair, his eyes seemed even larger, and his ears, previously entirely hidden from view, were now disturbingly conspicuous – so much so, that in his dismay he was compelled to cover them with his hands.
Yulya gave a rare laugh. “No, take them away! You are beginning to look pretty, boy. Let Yulya finish her work, please.”
‘Finishing her work’ took another forty minutes. She plucked and reshaped his eyebrows, cleaned his skin with wipes and applied a little foundation and a hint of blusher, applied a very little mascara to his already long lashes, and some pale peach lip gloss to his lips, administering a little smack to his leg to dissuade him from puckering his mouth. Finally, she gave him a manicure, and painted his nails to match his lips.
By the time the process was finished, Mitch was feeling deeply confused. True, he hadn’t known what to expect, but he had never imagined such a radical transformation as this. And while on the one hand he was slightly nervous, on the other he relished the nimble and delicate touch of his new mentor, and found it intensely sensual and exciting. But what about school on Monday? Of course the makeup could be removed – the nail varnish too – but how was he going to explain the hairstyle? It occurred to him that he could get his head shaved, but it seemed Yulya had already anticipated such a stratagem.
“Your hair will stay just as Yulya has cut it, or Miss Shirley will be very angry. Understand?”
“Yes, Yulya…”
“Good. Now we go for lunch, and then you will see some new outfits.”
She took him for lunch to a little local restaurant. Once outside the P & S offices he became very self-conscious of his new appearance, biting his lip and looking at the ground all the way.
“You look fine. Relax. No-one take notice of little boy-girl.”
She seemed to be well known there. The waitress made some comment about a “new recruit”, and then mouthed “boy?” to Yulya, who nodded once, with a wry smile. But Mitch was distracted by his thoughts, not to mention the rather nice home-made chips he was stuffing into his mouth. After watching him for a while, Yulya remarked, “you have good appetite, young Mitch. But remember you are girl now – must watch weight!” This, Mitch noted, was said only half-jokingly.
Back at P & S, Yulya conducted Mitch to a changing-room, right next to the dressing-room. It had built-in benches and wardrobes, a long counter, and a toilet through a side-door.
“I think we have time for two, maybe three shoots today. We see. Simple outfits, Mitch. To get used to routine. Wait please.”
She disappeared and returned with a sealed plastic packet. She tossed it to him.
“Room two. They tell me you look good in this. Bring the accessories with you.”
He tore open the plastic. A shiny peach leotard with shoulder straps, peach leg-warmers, pink ballet pumps with ribbon ties. The ubiquitous rubber panties, these one’s transparent. And a little packet with silver jewellery and a pink satin flower hairclip. He put on the panties and the leotard – light and stretchy, a perfect fit – of course – though when he slipped on the shoulder straps he felt it ride up over his buttocks at the back. He pulled on the leg warmers right up to his thighs, then the shoes, tried and failed to tie the ribbons, grabbed the packet and hurried off to studio number two.
Yulya was setting up the camera. The ballet theme must have been used quite frequently, because the far wall was one huge mirror, and a ballet barre ran along its whole length. When she’d finished positioning the camera, she sat Mitch down in a chair and laced the ribbons for him.
“Miss Shirley always gets ones with ribbons. She says ribbons very pretty for boys. Now…necklace…clip-ons…and then…flower clip.”
She fastened on the hair clip – a row of three fabric flowers with jewels in their centres – and stood back.
“Look in mirror, Mitch. Now you are very beautiful girl, I think.”
He not only looked, he was transfixed. Yulya allowed herself a secret smile, and let him luxuriate for a while in the contemplation of his own beauty. He turned his head slightly this way and that, and ran his hand down the slippery spandex clinging to his body. He heart was beating fast. Why did it feel so exciting? How could he feel so completely himself, when dressed and made up like this? The tension between fright and desire was making him tremble. Yulya decided it was time to get to work.
“Ready, Mitch? Now we’re gonna do some poses, okay? I’ll tell you what to do, and if you don’t understand you can copy me. First of all, hold onto barre, face me, and see if you can stand on your toes. Just one second…yes, is enough. Again. Good. Again.”
“It’s hard.”
“Hard, yes. All is hard. Chin up, please. Look there – top of door. Turn around…”
And so it went on. After an hour or so, Mitch was told it was time for his next outfit. He returned to the changing-room and took off the ballet costume. Then Yulya arrived with an unexpected outfit, on a hanger. A school uniform, which Mitch immediately recognised at Lettie’s, or an exact duplicate.
“Your friend Lettie? This is her spare. I hope it fit you, Mitch. Sure, we do a couple pictures. But Miss Shirley tell me you are going to go to school with Lettie one day soon.”
“What?”
“Miss Shirley tell you details. But she has bet with Grace we can pass you off as girl. They will say you Lettie’s cousin. Head will agree you can go with her. Funny, yes?”
“No…that’s crazy. There’s no way…”
“Didn’t you see self? Even in ordinary clothes waitress in restaurant not sure. You must win bet, or we have to punish you… But you actor, no?”
The unform fitted well enough. Another thing to worry about. Mitch was glad when the last shoot was under way. This time he had an outfit he felt really comfortable in. A beautiful crisp pink satin party dress, lined with cotton, quite simple, sleeveless, with big frills around the armholes, a round neck with a big neck bow, and a short pleated and flared skirt. He kept his flower clip in, and wore short plain pink socks with Mary Janes. He was also given the most beautiful little satin panties to wear, bright red edged with pink lace and decorated with tiny pink bows. He felt very comfortable and was soon posing and generally showing off for the camera. It was obvious he was enjoying himself, and Yulya made the most of his flouncing to persuade him to flash his panties flirtatiously at every opportunity, playing the naughty little girl to perfection. It was while he was bending down, apparently to buckle his shoe, but really to wiggle his bottom at the camera, that the studio door opened, and in walked an unexpected – and unwelcome – visitor.
“Sam, hello. Oh yes, we were so busy I forgot you were due in. Come and meet new colleague, Mitch. Mitch? This Sam. You two will work together sometimes.”
Mitch had turned bright red. Sam was in jeans, trainers and a T-shirt. But he didn’t laugh at Mitch. He nodded a greeting.
Mitch was taken aback. He looked from Yulya to Sam and back again, questioningly. The boy was maybe a year older than him. He looked perfectly normal, except his light brown hair had been curled into a mass of tight ringlets, and his nails were painted bright yellow.
“Sam, go change please. Mandy has outfit. Then come back and show Mitch.”
Sam looked pleadingly at her.
“Go now!”
He turned wearily and slouched out of the door.
“Oh. I didn’t realise…”
“Sam? Yes. He will be with us for at least another six months. He has good figure. You will see when he return.”
Mitch certainly did see. Ten minutes later he saw Sam pass the window and halt outside the door.
“Come in, Sam, please,” commanded Yulya.
Mitch’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. Sam was wearing a tiny ruched yellow bikini! He was fully made up, with a yellow hairbow with pink polkadots, yellow lace-trimmed socks and pink trainers. In addition he had a yellow satin choker, a jewel in his navel, and a bunch of plastic bangles around one wrist.
“Sam clever,” smiled Yulya. “Does his own makeup.”
Mitch stared. Sam looked sullenly at the floor.
“I know. You boys pose together, please. Sam, go to Mitch. Hold hands, please.”
They stood together, holding hands.
“Smile, boys… Boys, smile please…now!”
“Good… now little cuddle… Mitch, put your arms around Sam…right around… And a little kiss…”
“No! Nobody said anything about kissing another boy…” Mitch was incensed.
“You are sissy, no? You do what I say,” said Yulya quietly. “Exact what I say…”
“No. I want to speak to Shirley…”
Yulya sighed. “You want spanking then, Mitch?”
“No…but…”
“Then kiss, sissies. Yes, good. Put cheeks together… Smile more, please… Another kiss…proper, Mitch, on lips…”
“Yulya…” Mitch protested. But she cut him off.
“Right. Sam, show him.”
“Show me what?”
“Show him!”
Sam sighed, and pulled open the front of his bikini pants. Mitch stared. Sam’s pen-is was neatly packaged in one of those little plastic tubes, like in the catalogue.
“What’s…that?”
“Sam no misbehave any more. No sausage playtime no more. Sam sign contract, then not want follow Miss Shirley instructions. So we put it on. He not release till he finish contract. Understand?”
“I…”
“You want one too, Mitch? Can do it now. Shall I call Mandy?”
“No! No, it’s okay. I understand. I do.”
“Good. Now put hand on Sam bottom, please. Look at him and smile… More…touch noses…sweet boys…” She scrolled through the pictures she’d taken. “Very pretty series. Miss Shirley will be pleased. She will call you tomorrow Mitch. You two boys have engagement next weekend, I think…”
-
The two sissies have great potential together. Mitch's clitty should also be locked away to avoid accidents. Perhaps then there is a special toy from P & S s/he could share with Sam?
-
20.
At just before five Yulya gave him his pay – a hundred and sixty pounds in crisp twenty pound notes in a brown envelope, and a copy of his contract – and half an hour later he was stepping out of the Porsche by his house.
“See you next week, darling!” And off she went.
When he got inside, Lucy stared, then burst out laughing.
“Where’s your hair gone, Mitch? You look stupid!”
“Thanks, Luce. Now shut your face.”
“Mummy! Mummy! Come and see Mitch’s hair!”
Mitch lay in bed that night wondering what he had got himself into. He had put on his latex baby pants as a comforter, to distract him from his problems and allow him to sleep. But they simply reminded him of the cosmetic latex panties he was required to wear for modelling, and focussed his mind on his dilemma. And dilemma it was, not merely because P & S already had enough material on him to dictate whatever terms they pleased, but because his own feelings were distinctly ambiguous. He explored his new hairstyle. Running his fingers up the short, bevelled hairs at the back of his neck made him shiver – again, that mixture of nervousness and excitement. His mother had eulogised about his new look – but then, she would; he suspected she preferred girls anyway. Then there was Lettie. And the money, which was vital for wooing her. And he was pretty sure that, if he did become rebellious, she would not be pleased. And that had to be avoided at all costs. At all costs? Well, surely there were limits. He would have to walk a fine line. Anyway, he would speak to Shirley tomorrow. He would decide in the morning what his position was going to be. Now he must sleep… He was glad at least that he had secreted these pants in his pocket… So soft...and...ahhh….
Shirley rang at ten.
“Mitch! Good morning! How are you today? How did the shoot go?”
“Good morning, Shirley. I’m fine, thank you. The shoot was okay… I was surprised to meet Sam, though. I didn’t realise there was another boy there.”
“Oh, our models come and go, you know. But Sam’s been with us a while. And I hope you will be, too. I’ve seen some of the pictures. Wonderful! You’re photogenic as well as good-looking. I was just saying to Yulya…
“Shirley?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Shirley, yesterday was just an experiment, right? I mean, I didn’t mind modelling the clothes and all that, but…”
“What, dear?” her voice had, almost imperceptibly, hardened in tone.
“You know…the stuff with Sam…”
“What about it?”
“Well, you know, it was a bit unexpected. Was Yulya teasing us? I mean, you’ll be deleting those, will you?”
There was a short silence.
“Mitch. It’s important we understand each other. Any photographs we take, we are entitled to use. Look at your contract. As long as you are with us, you will do what you are told. You are being well paid, and I expect professional conduct. It is not necessary you enjoy or agree with everything we ask of you. That’s not how it works. Do you understand?”
Mitch felt unnerved. This was a different Shirley from the one of his imagination. “Y-yes, er, miss. Absolutely. I wasn’t objecting, I…”
“Glad to hear it. Now listen. My niece is getting married next Saturday. Over at Brentfield village church, reception in the village hall. Not a lot of guests. Very simple, quiet do. Now, we had Sam lined up as a pageboy, but now there’s you as well. So I thought…maybe twin pageboys? I have a couple of ideas for outfits. Make a change from being in the studio all day. What do you think?”
Mitch had learned his lesson. “Oh, yes, it sounds…wonderful. That would be really…exciting.”
“Good boy. I’ll ask Mandy to prepare your costumes.”
“So miss…?”
“Yes?”
“So we’d be dressed as boys, then.”
“Oh, yes. You’ll definitely be dressed as boys…,” she said, with a slight chuckle.
“Okay. But what do pageboys do? What are their duties?”
“Your main duty will be to carry the rings for the bride and groom up to the altar. You may also be asked to wait on the guests – we’ll have to see. But of course you’ll get all the perks. As much food as you can eat, for one thing. And if you’re lucky, kisses from the bride and the bridesmaids…”
Mitch had had enough of kisses. But the idea of food appealed. And at least he wouldn’t be dressed up as a bridesmaid or something, to be laughed at. There were bound to be other boys there….
After he got off the phone, he went online and looked up pageboys. Not too bad. Tunics and kilts seemed the norm. He could live with that. He felt more at ease. And in a couple of days he would be seeing Lettie…
-
21.
His main worry was school on Monday. He decided his options were limited. To one thing. Put on a brave face. Just as well he could act…
He kept his hood up on the bus, put threw it back carelessly as he entered the main gates. There was a little bunch of his schoolmates just inside. When they caught sight of him they stopped talking, stared, then burst out laughing.
“What’s ‘appened to yer ‘ead, Mitch? ‘As yer looked in the mirror?”
He went straight up to them. “It’s called a Skibadee. You know, after the DJ. Went up London at the weekend. Got it done in Soho. My mum’s furious – I’m grounded for the week. Won’t be around till next Monday. Bitch!”
The grins faded.
“Wow… Cool, man. Where d’you get it done?”
“I dunno. It was dark. Some basement place next to a nightclub.”
“’Ow d’you manage that?”
“Went with my uncle.” The lies were getting more and more sophisticated. “He used to work as a bouncer in London. He went off to have a drink, and I just sorta started looking around…”
They were not all convinced, but, not wanting to risk looking uncool, they mostly accepted his story. Things became easier as the day went on, since it soon became apparent that his new hairstyle was attractive to the girls; not only was he getting a disproportionate amount of their attention, but some of them were taking photos to present to their own hairdressers as a model. The boys assumed that Mitch must be, not merely in touch with the latest trends, but with his metropolitan connections, ahead of them.
Lettie’s reaction, he was pleased to discover, was in line with that of the girls at his school. He called to pick her up at seven on Tuesday evening. He had barely rung the bell when she opened the door.
“Mitch! Your hair! That’s so cool!”
She had substituted a black dress for the green, adjusted her makeup accordingly, and looked every bit as alluring as she had a few days before.
“Your dress is cool, too. Ready to go?”
“I’ll just get my bag.”
“Hello Mitch,” said Lottie, taking her place. “I like you hair. Lettie says you’re going on a date.” She grimaced. “Why couldn’t I come too?”
“Sorry, Lots. You can only have two people on a date.”
“Can you take me on a date, one day?”
“Sure. I’ll take you on a date to the ice cream parlour, and we’ll leave Lettie here all by herself.”
“Yes! Will you?”
“I promise.”
Lettie had returned.
“What’s going on here? Are you already dumping me for her?”
“I might do, in a few years. So you’d better watch out…”
They went for a few drinks, then on to the restaurant. At first Lettie thought she might be torn between her real affection for Mitch, her desire to have a relationship with him, and the necessity of advancing the sissification programme. But she soon realised the two pursuits were mutually compatible. One of the things she loved most about him was his girlishness, and the ease with which he could be embarrassed. She couldn’t stand male egotism. She liked to feel in control, and to be the object of affection. In Mitch she believed she could fulfil both needs. And in any case, he was good company; good-humoured, witty, interesting, and never intrusive.
“So tell me about your first day at P & S.”
“Oh, well, it was...interesting, I guess. Shirley was away on business. There were these two women, Yulya and Mandy. Yulya’s east European. About thirty, I suppose. She’s the photographer…and she does makeup and stuff.”
“She styled your hair, right?”
“Yes. She’s quite strict. You have to do what she says. She’s a bit frightening, to be honest.”
“I see. And the other?”
“Mandy’s English, a bit older. She seems nice, but…”
“But?”
“But she seems to be very efficient…formidable, that’s the word.”
“Good. You won’t be messing around with them, by the sound of it.”
“No. Lettie, there’s another boy there. Sam. He going to be there for a while. They’ve really got him under their thumb. I can’t explain…”
“How…under their thumb?”
“They just have. He was wearing a bikini! A little yellow one, sort of gathered at the edges.”
“I bet you were jealous. How old is he?”
“I was not. Shut up. He’s thirteen or fourteen, I guess. He seems okay. We both have to go to a wedding next Saturday.”
“A wedding? Whose wedding?”
“Oh, some relation of Shirley’s. We have to be pageboys.”
“Oh my god, Mitch. Really? Can I come?”
“No, of course not. You’re not part of the family.”
“Well, neither are you. Anyway, I’d like to meet this Sam…”
“Okay. But not there. Tell you what, I’ll invite him to my birthday party.”
“But that’s a month away!”
“Well I’d like to get to know him a bit first, if that’s okay with you…”
“Oh, all right, I guess… Can I invite Molly?”
“Molly? No!”
“Go on, Mitch. I promise I won’t tell her anything.”
“Let’s see if we’re still friends next month…”
“What? Why wouldn’t we be?” She punched him on the arm.
“Ouch!”
“Let me invite her, or…” She pulled out her phone.
“Damn it, Lettie! Oh, all right. But you’d better not…”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, baby Mich.”
“Shh!”
After their meal they went for a stroll about the town, and down a side street Lettie allowed Mitch to kiss her. Their conversation is none of our concern. But it was late when they returned to Tabby’s, and parting took some time.
“I think you’re just practising for the school play,” teased Lettie.
-
22.
Yulya collected both the boys Saturday morning. She was driving a people carrier this time – she wouldn’t have got both of them in the Porsche – but her driving technique was the same. In the back, the boys got to have a whispered chat.
“At least there’s no shooting today,” said Mitch. “That’s something.”
“Don’t be too hopeful,” replied Sam. “Shirley’s usually got something up her sleeve.”
“I looked up pageboys. It doesn’t look too bad. Do you know what we’ll be wearing?”
“No idea. But I bet it won’t be conventional, whatever it is.”
Immediately upon arrival, the boys were despatched to the changing-room and told to take off all their clothes. They sat side by side on the bench, waiting for further instructions. They didn’t have to wait long. In came Mandy, with two cellophane packages.
“Good morning boys. You have very special matching outfits today. Put them on, then come to studio one to be checked.”
“One thing we know,” said Mitch. “There’ll be two tiny pairs of latex panties!”
“Well, that’s just where you’re wrong, young Mitch. Not today. You won’t need them. You’re pageboys, not pagegirls.”
“Oh, yeah. Course.”
She handed out the packages and left the room. Mitch tore his open. It was not at all what he had been expecting.
Ten minutes later they were lined up in studio one, accompanied by Yulya, both looking very sheepish. Shirley had just entered.
“Ready for inspection, Yulya?”
“All ready, Miss Shirley.”
“Good. Now let me see…”
They wore identical outfits, except on Sam’s red baseball cap was printed “Pageboy 1” in silver letters, and on Mitch’s, “Pageboy 2”. They wore white pure silk shirts with button-up cuffs, and little red bowties. These were tucked into the cutest red latex shorts, tight and shiny, with latex frilling around the legs. The outfits were finished off with white knee-socks and red patent leather Mary Janes.
“You look like proper little pageboys!” said Shirley, with obvious satisfaction. “You’ll be the hit of the wedding! Yulya, just take a couple of snaps for the record, would you, dear?”
Mitch was fidgeting, tugging at the taut latex.
“Mitch, what are you doing?” said Shirley, irritably. “If you keep pulling at your shorts like that you’ll mark the rubber.”
“But miss, they’re quite tight, and there’s not much room in them. I don’t know how to…arrange myself…”
“It’s simple. Let it lie against your tummy, and the others things will go neatly each side of the front seam. That’s why the shorts are designed like that.”
“But…the seam’s tight,” complained Mitch, distressed. “It keeps slipping to one side!”
“Well just leave it to go where it wants to, then! Goodness, do I have to explain everything to you? Boys!”
Mitch should have realised it was time to be quiet. Sam whispered to him to shut up, but he didn’t hear. He made one complaint too many. “But it’s not comfortable…”
Shirley was at the end of her patience. “Yulya? Could you bring me some lubricant, please? Mitch here is not comfortable. We can’t have that, can we?”
In a minute, Yulya was back. She handed Shirley a pink tube. Shirley unscrewed the cap and sniffed it.
“Ah. Strawberry. Perfect. Mitch, come here. Come here!”
Mitch wasn’t sure this was a good idea. “But, miss…”
“Quiet! Enough. Put your hands by your sides.”
She pulled open the front of his shorts, squirted a liberal quantity of lube inside, and let them snap shut.
“Now I don’t want to hear another word, or… What on earth are you doing now?”
Mitch was frowning, and squirming. “Miss… It’s cold…and slippery…”
“Michell Langston! Stand up straight! Straight, I said! Now! Or…”
But Mitch was still shifting from one leg to the other, as the lube slowly worked its way down over his tummy.
“That’s it! I’ve had enough of this! Yulya, get Mandy. Take him to the changing room and…plug him! That’ll make him stand up straight. Here, you’ll need this.” And she handed Yulya the tube of lubricant.
When Mitch returned, led by Mandy, with Yulya behind, he was no longer misbehaving. But he was walking gingerly, his cheeks were burning, and he had a sort of frozen startled look on his face. Mandy conducted him back to his former place, where he stood very still, and very upright. His eyes were wide, and he was squeezing his lips between his teeth.
“That’s better. Now, Yulya, give them a little makeup – some scarlet lip gloss and whatever else you think – and then they should be off. The ceremony’s at twelve, and Henrietta’s expecting us there by ten thirty. And Mitch? Are you going to behave yourself now? Well?”
“Y-yes…m-miss. I r-really am, miss. I p-promise…”
-
Really hope this one hasn't stalled.
So much potential here.
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Oh my! Squirming in oil latex shorts slick with oil, and now plugged!
He will definitely behave now!!
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23.
And he did. On the way to the wedding he sat still – at least, as still as he could – in the car. Shirley was in the driving seat this time – in both senses of the phrase – and so their progress was relatively sedate. Mandy sat next to her with a rather enigmatic smile on her face. Shirley wanted to give her niece a surprise. In fact, she wanted to give everyone a surprise. So she left them in the car in the church car park while she went for a chat with the vicar. As a result, she was able to sneak them out, take them around to a back door, and hide them in a little room just off the vestry. She disappeared again for about twenty minutes, and when she returned she was carrying two little scarlet silk cushions.
“Take one each, boys. Mitch, you’ll have the groom’s ring on your cushion, which you’ll offer to Henrietta first of all. She’ll take if off the cushion and put it on David’s – the groom’s – finger. Then Sam, you offer the bride’s ring to David. The vows will be going on at the same time. You needn’t take any notice. Just hold out your cushions and wait for the rings to be picked up.”
“So, where do we stand?” asked Sam.
“I’ve discussed this with Henrietta. She suggests you walk out with Mitch in front and Sam behind. Walk slowly - don’t laugh or giggle, please – and when you’re ring has been taken, Mitch, step to one side and let Sam take a pace forward.”
“And then do we come back here?” asked Mitch, hopefully.
“Oh, no, not at all. When you’ve delivered both rings, stand nicely side by side and face the congregation. And when the ceremony’s over, Henrietta will tell you, and you must lead the procession up the aisle and out of the church. Then there’ll be loads of photos, and after then it’s off to the reception.
It wasn’t the reply Mitch would have liked.
“Will we go in your car?”
“No, you’ll be in a limousine with the bridesmaids. Don’t worry. I’ll be there to supervise. Now here are the rings. Be very careful. This one is yours, Mitch, to give to Henrietta, and this pretty one is yours, Sam.
“So…how do we know when to come out,” asked Sam.
“I’ll be at the door here to make sure you’re both neat and tidy and you have the correct rings. I’ll tell you when to go.”
Mitch had a bad feeling about the whole thing. There was a long mirror in the vestry, and he blushed to the roots of his hair when he caught sight of himself. Shirley noticed him, and attempted to allay his nervousness.
“Yes, Mitch, you look very smart. You’d better be careful of those bridesmaids, I’m thinking…”
“Do we have to go with them? I mean…”
“Of course, silly! All the bridesmaids and pageboys stay together. I expect you’ll all be playing hide and seek or something, later on. Now stop admiring yourself. Remember it is Henrietta and David’s wedding day, so please don’t start showing off.
“We wouldn’t!” protested Mitch. That was indeed the last thing he was contemplating.
“I know you wouldn’t boys. I’m sure you’ll play your parts perfectly. And Mandy or I will take good care of you at the reception. So I hope you’re both hungry.”
Mitch frowned. Shirley seemed so nice now. And only a little while ago she had been so strict with him. He wished he had behaved a bit better. Then he wouldn’t have this horrid plug to contend with. If he could have got rid of it, he would. But after she had slid it in, Mandy had used a little pump thing to inflate it. “That’s to make sure you can’t take it out,” she had said. Sure, it made him stand up very straight. But it was uncomfortable, and made him fidget, and that in turn made his poor squashed willy slide about inside the lubricated rubber, which was making it difficult for him to keep his cool.
“You all right, Mitch?” asked Sam, after Shirley had left.
“It’s this plug…”
“I tried to warn you. It’s one of the ways they keep us in line. I’d sooner be spanked any day.”
“Me too. And my shorts are all slippery inside from that lubricant. My thing won’t stay in one place. Does it show?”
“A little bit, but it’s okay. Maybe you can hold the cushion in front of it when you go out there.”
“That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
An hour later the boys were ready for their great entrance. They stood, Mitch at the front and Sam behind him, holding their little cushions. They were both extremely nervous. Shirley was at the door.
“They’re coming up the aisle now. Oh, she looks so lovely! And the bridesmaids are so cute!”
Only a few minutes, and the ordeal – or at least, the worst part of it – would be over, thought Mitch. But there was something he didn’t know. In fact, something that nobody knew, except Mandy, who had chosen his butt plug. Mandy was one of those people who presented a very conventional face to the world. She came over as very English upper middle-class – self-confident, competent, and conservative. That was why Shirley had employed her. Part of her function was to deal with potential customers face-to-face. Most were of that class, and found the smart, efficient and sympathetic Mandy understanding and impressive – one of their own.
“Yes, madam,” she would say, a serious and concerned expression on her face, “I understand completely. I have a son not unlike yours myself. In his case, a short, sharp course of babification proved to be the answer. Now, in the case of your boy, who is clearly – like his parents, if I may make so bold - highly sensitive and intelligent, and whose problems are more complex, I think we need to adopt a slightly more subtle approach. I suggest we take him two days a week – perhaps Friday and Saturday, if that were convenient? We could present the project as a treat – a weekly visit to a spa – but our skilled staff would slowly and gently introduce him to the pleasures of babyhood – soft nappies, pretty baby clothes, regular feeds, a range of flavoured pacifiers. I think, within three months or so, you could see a new Septimus, much more compliant and docile… Yes? Oh, I’m so glad. No, not at all. It will be a pleasure to help, if we can… Now, as to the charges… Really? That’s very kind…thank you, madam… Friday, then…”
But underneath all this urbane charm, Mandy had a streak of mischief. And on this occasion, it had prompted her to furnish Mitch with a vibrating plug, which she could control from her phone. And she had arranged to sit near the front of the congregation – in the third row, to be precise – so she would be able to observe the effects at close quarters, and adjust the speed of agitation to a level appropriate to the occasion.
The moment came. It was time for the vows.
“All right boys, go now,” whispered Shirley.
Mitch and Sam processed into the church. There was a moment’s silence, then a ripple of murmurs and giggles ran round the congregation. Out of the corner of his eye, Mitch caught sight of Lettie, sitting right in the front row. Well, she at least seemed quite impressed. She gave him a little approving nod, a surreptitious wave of her fingers, and a smile of encouragement. Fortunately he couldn’t see the internal struggle, as she fought off an almost overwhelming desire to burst out laughing. But she knew it was vital that the pretence of normality be maintained, if hers and the ladies’ plans were to be realised. The bridesmaids – there were four, aged between about ten and fifteen - gaped, until they were rebuked by a stern look from the priest. “Look at pageboy two!” whispered one to another. “How cute is that?”
The boys took up their places to one side of the couple. Henrietta, a blonde with a very happy and friendly face, glanced at them, and did a double-take, her gaze flicking between the little rubber hot pants and the matching lip gloss. Then she smiled, and gave Shirley, standing by the vestry door, a surreptitious wink. Trust Shirley, she thought, to come up with a special surprise on her wedding-day.
The ceremony proceeded satisfactorily. It was time for the vows, and, as instructed, the boys held their cushions within easy reach. It was at this juncture that Mandy turned on the vibrator in Mitch’s plug. She registered the faint jolt that shook his body with satisfaction. Good. It was working. And he had had enough self-control not to drop the cushion, or let the ring slide off. A boy who knew how to keep his cool would be a real asset to P & S. Surely he was going to make one of the best models they had ever had.
Henrietta turned to him and reached for the ring. She was a little surprised by the expression on his face, and the redness of his cheeks. He looked distressed, his eyes wide and his lips quivering. “You all right?” she mouthed. Mitch nodded reassuringly, despite the fact his hands were trembling, so she took the ring off the cushion and then slid it onto the grooms finger. “Poor thing,” she thought. “The ceremony’s maybe a bit too much for him. I’ll check he’s all right before we leave the church.”
Sam’s delivery was much smoother, and things continued as planned. The blessings and vows over, the couple processed towards the church door, followed by the bridesmaids and finally the pageboys, still carrying their cushions, Mitch’s strategically positioned in front of him. To his qualified relief, the vibrations had ceased after the ceremony, and been replaced by a gentle, regular pulsing. The vibrator was in standby mode. The bridesmaids couldn’t resist sneaking little curious glances behind them and the two unconventional pageboys. And in the protracted photo session in the churchyard they contrived to surround the boys for a closer examination. One of them – Mitch couldn’t work out which one, though he suspected the tallest, eldest girl – one of them gave his leg band a tug and let it snap back onto his thigh.
“Ow! Stop it!”
“Sweet little hot pants, boy. And cute makeup, too! You should have been a bridesmaid.”
Mitch was rather wishing he had, now. Especially as the bridesmaids had such pretty silver dresses and flowery headbands. No, he wouldn’t have minded that at all. He was just wondering how he could escape the unwanted attentions of the four mischievous little girls, when he heard Henrietta calling him from the front of the group.
“Pageboys? Come out here, boys. It’s your turn to be in front. Pageboy one…?”
“I’m Sam, miss.”
“And I’m Mitch.”
“You look great. You were absolute stars back there. Thank you so much for being my pageboys. I couldn’t have hoped for two more handsome fellows!” And she gave each of them a kiss on the cheek. For a moment Mitch felt quite proud, and forgot his embarrassment.
They made their way through the throng, still clutching their cushions.
“Have you still got those?” said Henrietta. “Here, give them to me.” And she peremptorily threw them aside, leaving the boys to clasp their hands demurely in front of them. She stood them in front of her and put a reassuring hand on each of their backs. Mitch would have been fine had not the felt the vibrator spring into life once more. He gasped.
“Are you all right, Mitch?” asked Henrietta.
“F-fine, thank you…” he replied. Then, thinking he might be able to get out of the photos, added, “though I’m feeling a bit sick…”
“All the excitement, I expect. Never mind. This won’t take long. Hands by your sides, now, boys. Stand up straight. That’s right.” She moved own her hand up to his shoulder and tightened her grip. He wasn’t going to escape now. She wanted something to remind her of her two remarkable pageboys, and what better than a beautiful posed photograph?
The shoot only lasted a couple more minutes, but to Mitch it seemed interminable. The sun was shining in his eyes and warming his shorts, making them exude the heady scent of latex mixed with strawberry lubricant. And when he noticed Mandy, standing slightly apart, glancing at her phone, and watching him with an enigmatic, amused expression on her face, he knew then who was the controller of his discomfort.
He tried his hardest, he really did. He squeezed his buttocks together, gripped his wrist, bit his lip, and tried to think of other things. But despite all his best efforts, he could feel the pressure in the front of his shorts steadily increasing. Fortunately, the lubrication obviated any discomfort, allowing his member to slide unhindered up his tummy, until it had attained its natural proportions and settled in a comfortable position just short of the waistband. Mandy must have been satisfied with the results of her experiment, because the vibrator dipped back into standby mode, the gentle pulsing being enough to maintain the status quo. His humiliation was complete. He blushed red to the roots of his hair, imagining what he must look like in the photographs, and what the guests – and the bridesmaids especially – would think when they pored over them in a few days’ time.
He dare not look down. He knew he must keep looking ahead, smiling unconcernedly, doing nothing to draw attention to his plight. Perhaps no-one would notice. But the temptation to check on the reality of the situation was just too strong. He waited until the photographer was seemingly adjusting the focus of the camera, and surreptitiously moved one hand up from his side, casually hooking his thumb in the waistband of his shorts and allowing his fingers to explore the cause of his confusion. What he discovered provoked a little gasp of dismay, which drew a sidelong glance from Sam. He unhooked his thumb to have a quick feel. Was it really as bad it seemed? Unfortunately, it was that very instant that the photographer chose to resume the shoot. The flash of the flashgun alerted him, but he returned his hand to his side too late. He began to feel faint, and he may even have fainted, had not Henrietta taken his and Sam’s hand.
“All done, boys. That wasn’t too bad, was it, Mitch? Now we can all relax. I think Shirley will let you travel in the limo with the bridesmaids. You’ll be able to chat them up on the way over." She grinned. "So I’ll see you both at the reception, and you can help us demolish the mountain of food, if you’re up for it.”
Mitch smiled weakly. He saw Shirley approaching, and the little knot of bridesmaids giggling by the church gate. He cast about for some protection, and, noticing the discarded cushions by a flower-bed, ran over and grabbed one, and held it casually in its former place.
“How far is the reception, Sam?”
“Dunno.”
“However far, it’s too far,” he returned, dismally.
-
24.
Mitch had been hoping to link up with Lettie after the photographs, but he and Sam were ushed away to a white limo parked in the street, and all he manged to do was give her a little wave before he was bundled in. He and Sam sat facing the bridesmaids, who looked them over critically. The car started up, and glided smoothly away from the church.
“Hello, pageboys,” said the eldest. “What are your names? We can’t call you pageboy one and pageboy two all evening.”
The boys introduced themselves. The other three were still inclined to giggle and whisper, but the one that had addressed them, took a more mature approach.
“I’m Marianne. This is Betty, and the twins here are Lindsey and Natasha. You two really made an impression back there. Wherever did you get those outfits?”
Out of the range of Mandy’s control app, the vibrator had ceased to operate, and Mitch’s arousal was subsiding. Moreover Marianne seemed friendly enough, and Mitch found himself beginning to relax.
“Well, er, it’s like this…”
“Do you know Shirley Dearman?” interrupted Sam.
“I know the name…”
“She’s that friend of Henrietta’s,” put in Betty. “Wait a minute… Is she the one who own that company? The one that… I dunno, like feminizes boys and stuff?”
“She dressed you up? How come?” said Marianne. “I mean, I get the makeup, but those little shorts aren’t exactly feminine, if you get my meaning…”
“We work for her,” said Mitch. “We’re gonna be models for her catalogue. P & S it’s called. Not that we really chose to be…but it’s difficult for us to get out of it now. We have contracts and everything…”
“You’re gonna model? Seriously?”
“Yeah… I know it sound stupid… I didn’t realise what it was all about… The only thing is, the money’s good, and I guess once we done our stuff for a few weeks we’ll be able to retire with a nice stash.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” said Sam. “I wouldn’t count on it, though…”
“So who’s P & S?” asked Betty.
“Not who – what,” grimaced Sam. “Pacification and Sissification.”
“What?”
“Yeah. You get the picture. Babies and girls. That’s our future.”
The girls stared. “You’re going to be made into babies and girls?” asked Natasha, wide-eyed.
“Not made into them,” said Mitch. “We’re just gonna model the clothes. We’re not actually, like, subjects, if you get me.”
“You’ll make lovely girls, smiled Marianne. “You’re both so pretty, with all that makeup and stuff. Mitch, that mascara makes your eyelashes look so long…”
“He’s not wearing mascara,” laughed Sam. “He don’t need much makeup, do you Mitch?”
Mitch scowled. The gentle rocking of the limo transmitting itself to his plug, and it was making him uncomfortable. He was still holding the cushion in his lap, and wondering whether Mandy intended to continue her teasing at the reception. Oh, how he wished he had been allowed to come as a bridesmaid! But he had made up his mind to one thing. From now on he was going to be super obedient. If this was his punishment for one mild complaint, he couldn’t imagine what else those women had up their sleeves. No, he would do his job, be polite and respectful and dutiful, save his pay and do his time. He wondered if he might get some beautiful gowns to wear. That would be nice. But definitely no more latex hot pants. And double definitely no more butt plugs!
Anyway, the limo had pulled up outside a country house sort of place. Graciously, he jumped out and held open the door for the girls. They alighted, Lindsey and Natasha still sneaking looks at their shorts and giggling. The building was impressive, and way out in the country.
“Wow. Cool place,” remarked Sam.
“Yeah. Maybe we’ll have fun after all…”
-
Brilliant update (and with two chapters!) thanks so much for continuing.
And I can sense a set up coming in the country house.... just a matter of which way it's going to go...
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I'm really into this, great writing as always!
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25.
Sam glanced ruefully at his friend’s shorts. “Looks like you’ve been having quite a bit of fun already.”
“Sam! It’s not fun, idiot! I’ve never been so embarrassed. If you weren’t wearing that…thing, you’d be in the same state.”
“Yeah, well, I am wearing it, and I’d sooner have a nice honest erection any day. Wait till they fit you up with one, then you’ll see…”
“They won’t…will they? I mean, you must have been pretty bad…”
“Not at all. My “behaviour” – that was just an excuse. No, they wanted me to be the main girlie model, that was all, so they needed to keep it all neat and tidy. But you’re going to take over. That’s obvious. I mean, look at you… You’re so cute and pretty…”
He looked at Mitch strangely. Mitch stared back, and his eyes widened.
“Hey, Sam. You don’t…fancy me, do you?”
Sam looked confused. “Course not. It’s just that when you’re all dolled up – like the first time I saw you – you look just like a girl. For a moment I thought you were a girl. Then I fell in…”
Mitch quickly changed the conversation. “Look, we better go in. Shirley’s calling us. I think most people are already inside. Let’s go get some food.”
The place was very posh. Shirley was waiting at the main door. She looked them up and down, then took them aside into an alcove, where she fussed over them, adjusting their bow-ties, pulling up their socks, and straightening their shorts.
“Dear, dear! Boys! You really need to stay neat and tidy. It’s important. Remember you’re representing P & S. Here, wait. Stand still. Let me see if I can smarten you up a bit.”
She dumped her large handbag on a little side-table and pulled out a slim makeup box. She renewed their lip-gloss and added a touch of blusher.
“And you’d better put these on. Henrietta has got a little job for you later, and I don’t want you getting your fingers all sticky.” She handed each of them a pair of short red latex gloves, with little frills at the wrists, matching their shorts. The boys pulled them on. “There that’s better. Now let’s go.”
She led them through an ante-room of big armchairs and little coffee tables to the main reception room, a large, rectangular affair with tables along either side, tall windows on the left, looking out onto the courtyard, and a raised stage on the right where a jazz band was setting up. The dancefloor was polished and when the tables were pushed back could easily accommodate the greater number of the guests.
“There are a few old friends, here, Mitch, who weren’t in the church. I’m sure you’ll be glad to see them. Now be good boys, both of you. Off you go, then – relax and enjoy.”
They walked into the room – somewhat nervously, and sticking close together. Almost at once Mitch was hailed by a group standing in the far corner, holding drinks.
“Mitch! Over here!”
Sarah the babysitter, with his mother, and…oh, yes, they were all there. Grace and Patty and Alice and even Tabby. He looked around for Lettie, but of her there was no sign.
“Come and meet my mother and her friends, Sam,” he sighed. More than anything he wanted some moral support.
“Darling! Look at you! Both of you! You look so…”
“Cute!” Sarah finished the sentence for Elizabeth. “We heard you were something of a sensation in church. Now I can see why!”
The other women stared at them with a mixture of astonishment and delight.
“Oh, they’re so…adorable” murmured Patty.
“Mum, this is my friend Sam. Sam, my mum, and this is Sarah, Alice, Grace and Tabby. Tabby’s Lettie’s mother. Tabby? Do you know where she is? I haven’t seen her since the service…”
“Oh she’s gone to meet Molly. Lottie and Lucy are with her.”
“Molly?” Mitch froze.
“Molly Caulker. Henrietta said she could bring a friend.”
“Molly’s coming here?”
Tabby smiled sweetly. “Why, yes. They went riding together this morning. They had to change. They’ll be here shortly.”
Mitch panicked. “Oh, I’ve just remembered. I have to ask Shirley something. Sam, coming?”
“Sure.” Sam was as eager to escape the simpering looks as his friend, so without further explanation they took off towards the door.
“I can’t let that Molly see me,” whispered Mitch. “She’s in my year at school. I’ll be cooked. I don’t know what Lettie was thinking of, bringing her here…”
“Let’s disappear,” said Sam. “We can’t stay here with all these people. I’ll die of embarrassment. We look so fuc-king gay!”
They almost made it. They were just about to exit the main door, when they ran slap into Lettie and Molly, with the younger girls right behind.
“Shit!” hissed Mitch. Then quickly tried to rescue the situation. “Hi girls…er, me and Sam have got to go and…we’ve been asked to…Shirley wants us to…”
“Mitch!” A huge grin spread over Molly’s face. She looked him up and down. “Lettie told me to prepare myself for a surprise. Well, well. So you two were the pageboys, eh? And you…you must be Sam. Nice to meet you, Sam. I love your costumes. How brave of you…that is, you look charming…absolutely charming!”
Lettie said nothing, but looked on with a satisfied smirk. Lucy burst out laughing, and soon Lottie was giggling too.
The boys went to swerve round the little group. “Sorry. Gotta go. We’ll see you later…”
“Boys! Where are you off to?” It was Shirley. The worst possible timing. “You can’t go out now. Henrietta asked especially for you to be there at the cutting of the cake. Come on, now. Quickly. Girls, you’re just in time to have a slice. You’re Lettie, right? I’ve heard quite a bit about you from your mum.”
“And I about you, Miss Dearman… This is my best friend, Molly…”
“How do you do? Shirley, please.”
“And this is my sister, Lottie, and Mitch’s sister, Lucy.”
“Lovely to meet you all. Now come on, let’s get back to the party…”
-
26.
There was no escape. Shirley ushered them back into the main room, the girls in rear. Mitch heard Molly and Lettie sniggering behind him. He heard Molly whisper, “oh my god, Lettie, look at their cute little butts in those shorts! How in the world did Shirley persuade them? I mean, I’ve never seen anything so totally adorable in my whole life!” fuc-k! That word again. “Adorable.” They weren’t six-year-olds, for crap’s sake. He was nearly a teenager. But they were powerless. Shirley guided them down the middle of the long room, where Henrietta greeted them in a double embrace, and planted sticky lipstick kisses on their cheeks.
“Boys. You really made my day, you know. You made it a wedding to remember – not only for me either, I guess. Now, after the speeches, normally David and I would cut the cake. But as a special thank you, we’ve agreed that you two will get to do the honours. How about that? And I’ll let you cut off two jumbo slices just for yourselves. Yes?”
They nodded docilely, and positioned themselves unostentatiously by the wall. Mitch could see Molly out of the corner of his eye trying to snap pictures of them on her phone. Thinking how that was going to pan out made him feel sick. Please, please, don’t let her tell his mates at school. Please!
The speeches seemed to take ages, the guests laughing uproariously at unfunny jokes – or perhaps it was the nervousness of the groom and the best man. It was warm in the room, and Mitch was perspiring under the close-fitting latex. He shifted from one foot to the other, and registered that the leg bands now had a tendency to ride up even further, assisted by the slippery mixture of lube and sweat, which was now seeping out and making his upper thighs glisten. He had no tissue, so he tried mop it up with his hands, wiping his fingers on the front of his shorts, which only made matters worse. At last the main speeches were over, Henrietta said a few words, thanking her guests and the people who had helped organise the reception, and of course her wonderful bridesmaids and pageboys, (who received the loudest round of applause), and then it was time to cut the cake, and the boys found themselves once again at the centre of attention. Never mind. It would only be for a minute, while they cut a couple of slices, and then maybe they could discreetly slip away.
The cake was enormous. It must have been nearly three feet tall, in four tiers. And it was on a thick silver plinth. It did look nice though, Mitch noted. It had proper icing, glossy and soft-looking - not that weird ready-made stuff which you laid on. Henrietta produced the special silver cake knife.
“Mitch? Perhaps you would do the cutting, and Sam can take the slices from you and plate them up. Here, you’d better stand on a chair so you can reach.” She pushed a chair up to the table. Shit! That was the last thing he needed, to be made to stand up there for everyone to gawp at.
“I think I’ll be okay, Henrietta…”
“What? Don’t be silly. You can’t even reach the second tier! You have to start at the top, you know. Go on – up you get.”
Reluctantly, he climbed onto the chair. The buzz of conversation rapidly subsided. He guessed everyone was taking the opportunity to have a good stare at the big boy in the ridiculous shorts. He ignored the burning of his cheeks and leant forward with the knife.
“Darling, I told you – you need to start at the top. And first you’ll need to take the little bride and groom off. I’ve promised to give it to Natasha.”
Mitch tried, but he couldn’t reach.
“You’re going to have to stand on the table, my dear, I’m afraid. There’s no way you can get at the top otherwise. Sam? You stand on the chair. Mitch will hand you down slices, and you can put them on plates, and hand them out to the bridesmaids, who’ll take them round to everyone.”
“But Henrietta…”
“Up you go. The tables nice and solid. I’m sure a big boy like you isn’t afraid of heights!”
So there he was. It was like one of those awful embarrassing nightmares. Standing there in full view of everyone. Nowhere to hide. Pageboy number two, as sweet as a strawberry sundae. Shiny red shoes, snow-white socks and shirt, snappy little frilled rubber shorts, (slightly messy), matching gloves, scarlet bow-tie, cap, and lipstick. There was a flurry of clicks and flashes every time he changed position. He tried to keep his back to the room, but Shirley was having none of it. His costume was her creation and she wasn’t having it wasted.
“Mitch!” she called from the end of the table. “Mitch! Pageboy number two! Turn this way and let us see your costume, if you please!”
He hesitated, but instantly he felt the plug start gently to vibrate. A warning from Mandy. That made up his mind, and he spun round to face the room. Sure enough, Shirley and Mandy were standing side by side, Mandy smiling wickedly.
“Pose, Mitch, please. Nicely, like you've been taught.” Shirley was eager to show all the prospective P & S customers just how adept she was at taming and training naughty little boys.
Mandy had raised one finger above her phone. The meaning was clear. “Do what you’re told, or…”
He was already cooked. He might as well go for it. If she turned that vibrator up, he thought he would faint. So he did it. The whole bit. As if he was posing for the catalogue. Finger on lips, naughty girl style. Feet turned in. One leg straight, one bent, one thigh shyly across the other. With fear in the pit of his stomach he saw Molly happily videoing the whole performance. When this was all over he was going to grovel and beg her for mercy. What else could he do?
Henrietta made him cut up the entire cake. It was the ultimate irony that his audience not only got to enjoy his humiliation, but did so happily munching the slices of cake whose cutting had been the source of their entertainment. He was up there for a good twenty minutes, working away at the cake, pausing now and then to pull down the legs bands – which instantly slid up again. He was right about the icing. It was clearly home-made, soft and gooey. After the first few slices it was all over his gloves. To the amusement of most of his audience, (but to the despair of Shirley), he kept unconsciously wiping his fingers on his shorts, decorating the red rubber with sticky white smears! Shirley was livid.
“What does he think he’s doing? Mandy, is he an idiot? Doesn’t he understand everything he does reflects on P & S?” She snorted. “Wait till I get him back to the office…”
In truth, Mitch was comprehensively undermining the image she was trying so hard to create. She’d been telling every parent she could find how her system had reformed an unruly little boy into a well-behaved, obedient and cultured paragon of refinement – Huckleberry Finn into Little Lord Fauntleroy.
“Shall I give him a buzz, Shirley?” asked Mandy, taking out her phone.
“What? Are you mad?”
“Ah, no…no, I see. Of course.”
But all good things come to an end, and eventually he was allowed to climb down, leaving the wreckage of the cake on its plinth. Everyone seemed to have enjoyed the floor show – table show, that is. The room was in a general good humour. While Shirley was trying to mitigate the damage to her reputation, Mitch and Sam took their slabs of cake wrapped in napkins and made their way quietly past the jazz band, setting up on the little stage, and into the ante-room, which was almost empty. They found two big armchairs and threw themselves down.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” said Sam, taking a bite of icing.
“You were all right,” returned Mitch, indignantly. “You weren’t the one on show to the whole room!”
“Well, they seemed to like you. ‘Specially that friend of Lettie’s. She didn’t stop staring at you or filming you the whole time you were up there.”
“Oh my god, Sam. You don’t get it. She’s at my school. And she’s like, y’know, one of the coolest kids there. If she lets on…”
“She’s bound to, ain’t she? She won’t be able to resist showing that video around.”
“Don’t fuc-king say that! If she does, I’m dead! Why did Lettie have to bring her along, of all people?”
“Take it from me, Mitch…”
But he broke off in mid-sentence. The object of their conversation, accompanied by Lettie, had just walked in. The two girls were wearing similar sleek black dresses, Lettie’s a little shorter than her friend’s.
“Hello boys,” smiled Lettie, smugly. “Enjoying your cake? It is nice, isn’t it? Actually it’s home-made, by a friend of Henrietta’s. I thought the slices were a little on the large side, though, Mitch. Like you were rushing to get it all handed out…”
Mitch had a mouthful of cake. In any case he didn’t know what to say. He was staring at Molly, who was looking very pleased with herself. He made an inarticulate noise, and dissolved in a fit of coughing, having unintentionally inhaled a silver ball.
“Well I thought you were amazing, Mitch,” said Molly. “And you, Sam. But Mitch was the real show-off, weren’t you Mitch? You did your job with the cake, and kept everyone entertained at the same time. We were impressed.”
“Look, Molly…” Mitch had recovered from his coughing fit.
“Yes?”
“Look, I mean…like, it wasn’t my choice to get up there an’ everything. I was pretty much forced into it…”
“Well, I’m glad you were. I’ve got some great piccies for my album!”
Mitch looked at her aghast.
“Don’t look so worried,” laughed Lettie. “I’m sure you can arrive at some sort of accommodation.”
He looked nervously back to Molly. She smiled. “Come and dance with me, Mitch. We can talk about it.”
“D-Dance?”
“Yes. Dance. You know what that is, don’t you? I seem to remember seeing you at St. Luke's Christmas dance. You were quite uninhibited, if I remember right.”
“You noticed me?”
“You were the belle of the ball. Now come on. Let’s go..
Mitch put his half-eaten lump of cake on the arm of his chair and stood up. “Watch that, Sam. And don’t steal any of it.”
Molly went to take his hand, but presented with a close-up view of Mitch’s sticky appearance, recoiled. “Ah…and maybe go and wash yourself first? This is a new dress.”
“Oh…yes…and it’s a very nice one, Molly…” And he hurried away to the bathroom.
-
27.
After Mitch had washed the icing off his gloves and shorts, he made haste to return to the reception. He was thinking he might take off his gloves. They seemed unnecessary, and somehow added a disproportionate degree of humiliation. But when he caught sight of Shirley in conversation with the girls, he changed his mind. He approached them.
“Oh, there you are, Mitch. Not very gallant, keeping your dance partner waiting.” This in a tone of heavy sarcasm. He guessed worse was coming.
“I just had to…”
“And what was that exhibition you bestowed upon us all just now?” Her tone hardened. “Do you have any idea the cost of the damage you’ve done to the company’s reputation? You were supposed to represent the refined, sophisticated face of a P & S employee. Instead you behave just like the mucky little kid you are!”
To her credit, Lettie tried to defend him. “But Shirley, he’s only been with you a few days. Please give him a chance. I’m sure he’s going to be an asset to the company in the long run. Molly and I are going to help with his training too, with your permission.”
Mitch looked at them, startled.
“Yes, Shirley,” added Molly, putting an arm around Mitch, “we’re going to take him under our wing. We’ll cooperate with whatever plans you have for him.”
“Well, girls, that’s nice of you,” said Shirley, somewhat mollified. “If you mean that, you could be of great assistance…yes, great assistance,” she repeated, thoughtfully.
She turned back to Mitch. “So frankly I was surprised that, after that performance, there was any interest in you at all. But despite your best efforts, it seems we have already had three requests for your and Sam’s attendance at two weddings and a birthday party. Perhaps there is a demand for ridiculous little clowns which I have failed to take into account.”
“They were sweet ridiculous little clowns, though, Shirley, you have to admit,” said Lettie, mischievously.
“Hmph.”
“So Mitch? Are you ready?” asked Molly.
“Ready?”
“To skip the light…”
“Oh, please don’t, Molly,” interrupted Lettie. “It’s so annoying when people say that.”
“Sorry. Come on, Mitch, let’s dance. She took him by the arm, and led him back into the main room. The band was playing quietly, and a few couples were already dancing. She took the lead, and soon they were moving almost rhythmically around the floor. She held him firmly. Her riding had given her strength and balance, enough for both of them. Mitch looked nervously into her face, but she gave nothing away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shirley talking to Henrietta. Henrietta was holding a camera. It looked as though she was flicking through the wedding photos. And when Shirley suddenly did a double-take, and peered closely at the screen, he speculated she had lighted upon that awful last photo. He looked away, cheeks burning. He feared he may be in for it when he got back to work.
They danced in silence for some minutes. Then Molly took him by the hand and led him off the dancefloor to a pair of chairs against the wall. They sat down.
“Thank you for that dance, sir,” she smiled.
“Er, no…thank you, Molly.” He gulped. “Molly…?”
“Yes, Mitch?”
“Are you going to… I mean, like, I didn’t know you would be coming, or…”
“Or? Or you wouldn’t have been here? I know you didn’t have a choice. But talking of choice, now you do have one. When I said we’d take you under our wing, I meant it. If you accept Lettie and me as your part-time trainers, all well and good. You’re little…occupation will remain our secret. In fact, I will make you one of my special friends, with all the benefits that accrue. But if you rebel…then I’ll have no mercy. Not only do I have some wonderful video from today, but Lettie has sent me another. You may remember what that is. I’m already tempted to share these, but I shall restrain myself as long as you cooperate. Otherwise…”
“No! I will cooperate, I promise! I’ll do whatever you say, Molly. I really will.”
Molly allowed herself a smile of triumph. “I’m so pleased.” She pinched his cheek affectionately. “You’re a cute one, and no mistake. But you’re going to be even cuter, wait and see.”
“I’d sooner have been a bridesmaid today, than have to wear these…”
“Oh, I’m sure Shirley will find plenty of opportunities to dress you up as a girl, don’t worry. And she’s got a few more bizarre ideas too, according to Lettie’s mum…”
“I bet she has. That’s what worries me…”
Molly was thinking. It’s your birthday soon isn’t it?”
“On the sixth.”
“You’re having you mates round are you?”
“That’s the plan. And Lettie, of course.”
“And me too, now. Don’t look alarmed. If I’m going to be your special friend, you’re going to have to invite me. But we’ll have own celebration separately, as well. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. I think we’re going to get on, Mitch. I like you. You’re completely the opposite of many of my snotty, stuck up friends. Lettie likes you too…more than likes you. But neither of us are looking for some stupid normal relationship. Understand?”
“Yes, Molly. Absolutely, Molly.”
“I don’t think you do, actually.” She smiled an enigmatic smile. “Let’s put it this way. We both have a lot in common with Shirley. Shirley makes you do things you don’t much like, right? But you don’t have any choice. If you let us into that little game, we’re going to make you do things you don’t like at all. But we won’t be in it for the money. Our interest will be purely…spiritual, shall we say? Which may make our demands less predictable. So I’m putting you on notice. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you want Lettie in your life, she comes with me attached – and the pair of us come with risks. Is that clear?”
It was as clear as crystal. But for Mitch the crystal was slightly clouded by the attention he was now getting from not one, but two rather attractive girls. He heard Molly’s words, but assumed they were more figurative than literal – an error for which he would pay dearly in the coming weeks and months.
“I like the occasional risk,” he swaggered, stupidly. “Count me in, darling!”
-
28.
When Shirley saw the final photo of the wedding group she was apoplectic.
“What the dic-kens is he doing here? Look, here!”
“Yes, Shirley, I’ve seen. Everyone’s seen. I mean, it’s like he – or more correctly his, er, bodily part – is the focus of the whole picture. Rather unfortunate he should have chosen that instant to check it out. But everyone agrees this is the best image in the series, so that will be the one we’ll publish online and that will be the one we’ll have printed for all those who want a copy – and there’s quite a list already.
“But what does it say about me? About P & S?”
“Actually, I think it says something like, this was a unruly little boy, perhaps like your own, arrogant and rude; but after a few days at P & S, look at him – humiliated, forced to wear silly little rubber hot pants in public, chastened, self-conscious, attempting and failing to cover his shameful arousal. Perfect, n’est-ce pas?”
Shirley was confounded. She hadn’t thought of it quite in that light.
“Do you think so?”
“I do. Several of my friends have been clamouring for the story behind our pageboys – some of them with out-of-control sons of a certain age. I’ve promised to put them in touch with you – if you give your permission, of course.”
“Oh. That’s very interesting… You see, Henrietta, I thought I people would see this whole episode as failure – as the boys still misbehaving after training.”
“Silly you, Shirley. I mean, look at him there – and remember him up on the table. Total embarrassment. Total humiliation. I bet he’s terrified some of those pictures will get back to his friends. He looks a complete sissy. Can you imagine the ignominy if they did? All that’s happened is that he’s given you yet another weapon in your armoury of coercion.”
“My god, you’re right, Henrietta. How could I not see it? And this is supposed to be my business. Look, put me down for six of those photos – and here” – she rummaged in her bag – “here’s some business cards. Feel free to hand them out. And…thanks, darling.”
But Shirley had no intention of relinquishing her moral advantage over Mitch, so when she returned to the office that evening she suppressed her feelings of satisfaction. Yulya had driven the boys back a little before her, and they were seated in the waiting room. She strode in, and they immediately jumped to their feet.
“Right. Well, I won’t ask you for an excuse for today’s debacle. There isn’t one. Sam, you conducted yourself in accordance with my instructions. You may go home. Yulya will drive you. Mitch, go to my office and wait for me.”
Ten minutes later Shirley entered her office, walked to her desk, and sat down in her chair. Mitch was already standing to attention facing her, trembling slightly with apprehensiveness. She allowed him to stew for a minute or two, before she addressed him.
“I suppose you think that was funny? Spoiling your nice smart outfit?”
“Miss, I…”
“Quiet. I don’t want to hear a word from you, young man. Spoiling your nice clean shorts in front of all those people. How do you think that reflects on me? If I provide a neat, clean uniform for you to wear, I expect it to stay that way.”
Mitch bit his lip and looked penitent.
“But that’s not the worst, is it? Have you seen the photographs outside the church? No, you haven’t. But you will. And not only you, but everyone at that wedding.”
Mitch groaned.
“Everyone. And everyone they choose to show them to. And do you know which photograph Henrietta has chosen to feature. Can you guess?”
Mitch nodded slowly.
“Yes, that’s right. That one. The one in which you openly demonstrate your respect for your carefully-chosen P & S costume – the one in which you happily express your gratitude for the expert tailoring and care that went into its manufacture – by playing with yourself!”
“Miss, I wasn’t…”
“Shush!”
“The plug…”
“Ah, yes. The plug.” Shirley had to restrain the urge to snigger. “Well, Mitch, you’ll be relieved to know that on my instructions Mandy will shortly be removing it. So that will no longer be an excuse for your unruly behaviour.”
“Thank you, miss…”
“But we will be taking steps to ensure you understand the importance of restraint. For our next project restraint and self-control will be essential. Right, dismiss. Go straight to Mandy’s office. She’s waiting for you.”
“Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.”
Mitch departed, chagrined but relieved. Shirley leant back in her chair and giggled like a girl.
-
29.
Five minutes later, Mitch found himself bent over a chair in the changing-room, his rubber shorts around his ankles, while Mandy, using a special tool, deflated his butt-plug. Oh, the relief! Then he was straight off to the bathroom for a long, warm shower, with scented body gel. Luxury! He returned to the changing-room wrapped in a towel, not without trepidation. But there were his everyday clothes, folded neatly on a chair. Mandy stood to one side, looking smug.
“Ready to go home, Mitch?”
“Yes…” There was something in her tone which made him a little uneasy.
“Good. Before you dress…”
He took a step backwards. She was holding something he recognised. A tiny curved plastic tube, similar to the one he had seen on Sam!
“No… Mandy, please…”
“Stand up straight. Now don’t be silly, Mitch. It won’t hurt. It’s for your own good. And in any case, it’s necessary for the next project. If you’re going to look like a girl, your body needs to behave like a girl’s, not like a randy little boy’s!”
It was very compact. A discreet backplate, attached to the base of the tube by three tiny silver bolts. If anything, it was a little smaller than Sam’s, and Mandy had to lightly lubricate it and work it on to Mitch’s shrinking member. She tightened the bolts with a small screwdriver.
“This is the latest model of ECD – that’s Erection Control Device. Very compact and lightweight. None of those unnecessary padlocks. The bolts can only be opened with this special tool.” She held it up and grinned. “And I have the only one. So be nice to me, Mitch. Is that comfortable?”
It’s too small. Sam’s wasn’t that small,” he wailed.
“Oh nonsense. It’s a double ‘A’. It was a toss-up between that and an ‘A’, but Shirley was sure the smaller one would be fine, and she was right. Now you won’t have to worry about disgracing yourself in public – or at all,” she added, with laugh.
“It’s not fair! What’s Sam’s, then?”
“Oh, he was a ‘B’. But we’ve taken his off. He’s going to be the boy this week, you’re the girl.”
“He said that would happen…”
“Right. There you go. All neatly packaged up. Now get dressed. We’ve given you girl’s panties to wear under your jeans, to get you used to your new role.”
“What new role?”
“I might as well tell you. It’s no secret. It’ll be a short film about the ways in which P & S can help. At the beginning, you’ll both be, like, street kids – cool and swaggering. But by the end, you’ll be a cute little girl.”
“And Sam?”
“Oh, Sam will be the sweetest little baby boy! Actually, don’t tell him, will you? Let’s keep it a surprise.”
“Sure.” If Mitch betrayed the slightest flicker of a smile, it wasn’t malice. But if Sam was getting out of his device, while he was being put in one, there should in all justice be some payback.
The photoshoot was scheduled for the following Saturday. The intervening days were not happy ones for Mitch. The snugly-fitting ECD not only kept him strictly contained, but at the same time the pressure of the curved plastic tube was a constant reminder of his deprivation. He didn’t even dare to think about what he couldn’t do, and tried, not always successfully, to avoid the slightest provocation. He saw Lettie twice during the week, and it seemed to him she was complicit in his torture. She wore a sultry perfume, snuggled up to him at every opportunity, whispered erotic suggestions in his ear (in between nibbling at the lobe), and generally teased him to the very limits of endurance. He didn’t understand, but for her it was the ideal situation. She thought they were too young to have sex, and now it had been rendered impossible it was no longer necessary for her to act with restraint. Mitch was more like a girlfriend she had a massive crush on; which was in fact, if the truth be known, exactly what she would have liked him to be. But the only outcome for poor Mitch was frustration, and panties rendered slimy from his hopeless, desperate oozings.
Shirley had hired a professional photographer, Anna, a friend of Yulya. Very early Saturday morning, Shirley drove Anna and the boys out to a run-down part of town. Both boys had been dressed in ripped jeans, cool trainers and in-your-face T-shirts. Their hair was spiky with gel, they wore bling on their fingers and round their necks. Mandy had applied some dark toner to their cheekbones and eye-sockets to make them look gaunt and threatening.
They found a disreputable-looking corner, with overflowing bins and a graffitied wall. The boys lounged against the wall smoking cigarettes. Sam cleaned his nails with a knife. They looked like they were looking for trouble. An early riser gave them a wide berth. They slouched along the street, and spat on the pavement.
“Good, boys. Perfect,” Shirley encouraged them. “Look as tough and unpleasant as you like.”
They were only too happy to oblige. Mitch hooked one thumb in his jeans pocket, glared around him threateningly, and murmured under his breath, “Oo fuc-kin’ wants it, then?” They were really quite convincing, being almost hyper from the sudden access of freedom. Anna faithfully recorded the whole thing, on video and in stills.
On the way back to P & S, Mitch asked if he could have copies of some of the snaps for his acting portfolio.
“Certainly,” said Shirley. We’ll give you the whole shoot on a flash drive,” and added, “wouldn’t you like some of your other performances too, for your CV?”
“Er, no thank you. Just these if that’s okay…”
Shirley smiled. Pity, she thought, I’m sure that Miss Chambers would be interested…
They arrived back with plenty of time left for the second part of the shoot. Shirley ushered them back to the changing-room, and ordered them to undress down to their undies. Anna appeared to find the whole thing very amusing.
“I never film anything like this, Miss Shirley. Yulya tell me you turn boys into sissies…yes?”
“No, Anna. These boys are already sissies, deep down. I just help to bring them out.” She turned to the boys, now nearly naked. “You won’t need to say much, and you’ll be told what to say anyway. The video will be edited and I’ll add a commentary, though I think it’ll largely be self-explanatory. Now, time for you to get changed. Showers, please, and wash your faces thoroughly. You’ll find bathrobes on the back of the door.”
When the boys arrived back from showering, Mandy had joined Shirley and Anna in the changing-room, and was checking two piles of clothes.
“This one’s all there, Shirley. Whenever he’s ready.”
“Right. Sam, go and see Mandy please. She’ll help you dress. Mitch, just a moment. I need to check your stuff.”
Mitch got to stand and watch as Mandy handed Sam his costume. Aha. A big, puffy pale blue pull-up. A baby boy, then. Good. Sam kept his robe on as he pulled it up, registering the act Anna was watching with interest, one hand over her mouth to hide her amusement. But then Mandy ordered him to remove his robe, and presented him with the rest of his outfit. It was simple, but mortifying. A blue cotton vest with a feeding bottle design on the front. Baby pants, mitts, bootees and bonnet – all made of soft, pastel blue latex. The pants were semi-transparent, with scattered daisy flowers, and generously cut, but tightly elasticated at the waist and the thighs, as were the mitts at the wrists and the bootees at the ankles. The bonnet was the pièce de resistance, though. It fitted his head neatly, and fastened with a press-stud under his chin. The crestfallen expression on his face was prettily framed in an oval of stiff little rubber frills. Even Mitch couldn’t help smiling, drawing a glare of protest from his friend. And Anna emitted a little scream of delight.
Mandy hung a big pacifier on a blue ribbon around his neck, and presented him with a full bottle of milk and a rattle.
“Here. Play with these while we get Mitch sorted out”
Mitch’s outfit was equally simple – a short gingham dress with a rounded white collar, short lace-trimmed white socks, and black Mary Janes.
“The point of this is to contrast all that show and swaggering about with childlike simplicity and innocence,” explained Shirley. “To demonstrate how difficult and challenging boys can, with the correct training, be reduced to shy, quiet, well-behaved little kids.”
“Is that all?” he queried, while Mandy was buttoning up the dress.
“Except the panties. Here.”
She passed him a pair of neon pink “Barbie” panties, with Barbie’s face on the front and her name on the back.
“Oh, I see.” He stepped into them and pulled them up. Thankfully the dress was long enough to conceal them. He sat on a chair, pulled on his socks, and buckled his shoes.
“Nice, panties, mate,” mocked Sam, keen to get his own back.
“Oh, be quiet and suc-k your dummy, baby,” responded Mitch.
-
30.
When they were dressed and Shirley had adjusted their costumes, they made their way to the “nursery” for Sam’s shoot. The room was complete with changing facilities, a big cot, lots of childish pictures on the wall, and, of course, a heap of toys, from dolls to bricks to a big red space hopper. There was even a double school desk with an attached bench. After an introductory session of play, he was required to talk baby-talk, and make good use of his accessories, especially his pacifier – which had to be kept in at all times except when speaking or drinking - and bottle. At Shirley’s orders, he played his part satisfactorily, if a little reluctantly.
“Baby Sam hungwy, mummy…”
“Yes, dear. Have a big dwinky from baby’s bottle, then.”
“Baby Sam want pizza and…”
“No. And Baby Sam get smacked botty if Baby Sam is silly.”
“Ooh. Aw wight. Baby Sam dwink milk… There mummy, all gone. Baby Sam want more…”
“Mummy get him new bottle. Put in nice suc-ky dummy while you wait, little Sammy…”
“Fank oo, mummy. Milk nice an’ warm. Baby Sam dwink all up!”
After a while it was time for baby’s nap, and his “mummy” - Shirley in a big white apron – took his hand and led him to his cot. She dropped the side, helped him in, and raised and locked it in place, leaving Sam contendedly lying there, eyes closed, suc-king vigorously on his pacifier.
Then it was Mitch’s turn. He had been briefed that he was expected to act like a six-year old, but beyond that he was going to be allowed to be himself. There was a lot of fussing about with the cameras, so he retreated sulkily and sat on the space hopper, holding the horns in his hands as if they were the necks of Shirley and Mandy and he was strangling them. The earlier shoot had reminded him how cool it would be to adopt his own persona, to be able to act his age – or older. He was nearly, almost, thirteen, after all! He imagined being dressed up in some cool duds, with Lettie on his arm, walking down the high street, or going for a meal in a restaurant. Instead here he was, in a little gingham dress, wearing Barbie panties! So when the cameras were finally sorted out, and Shirley addressed him with a pseudonym, he wasn’t very pleased.
“So, Michelle darling, how do you like your new dress?”
“This is stupid. I don’t wanna do this!”
Thinking this was part of the naughty little girl act, Shirley continued.
“Oh dear, sweetie. Are you still upset about your lost dolly, then?”
The reply was not quite what she was hoping for.
“What fuc-king lost dolly? Look, Shirley, I can’t do this! I want to see Lettie, and even Molly, but not wearing silly rubber hotpants or dressed like a little girl! I’ve decided I don’t want to work for P & S any more!” And with a curse, he jumped off the space hopper and kicked it into a corner.
Oh dear. Poor Mitch. Shirley and Mandy exchanged glances, and then, with one accord, they grabbed him by the arms, lugged him over to the school desk, and bent him over it.
“Anna?” gasped Shirley. “Give us a hand here, would you? You’ll find a roll of duct tape in my bag. Could you get it, then come and help us hold down this rascal.
It was a fight, but eventually he was taped to the desk, one ankle to two of the three front legs, his wrists taped together and attached to a back strut.
“Let me go!” he screamed, struggling ineffectually against his bonds. A pointless request under the circ-umstances. Mandy left the room briefly, and returned with a heavy leather paddle and a plastic bag.
They left his panties on – it was easier, and they were so thin removing them would have made no difference. The ladies took it in turns – six whacks each – while Anna delightedly recorded the whole session. Mitch started off swearing and shouting, but after a couple of dozen resounding smacks, his protests gradually subsided into whimpers, and eventually pleas for mercy.
“Shirley…I’m sorry…I really am! Please… I w-won’t c-complain any more… I promise.. Please… I’ll d-do w-what you t-tell me…” By now he was sobbing quietly.
“I have to congratulate you, Mandy. You were right. Leather is more effective than wood. Quite amazing.” She pulled one leg of his panties up. “Look at that! I can feel the heat from here!”
“So, Mitch. What did I say yesterday about restraint and self-control? You seem to have forgotten every word. Well? Are you going to cooperate now?” she demanded.
Between sobs, he nodded slowly.
“Good. Now, we’re going to have to put some cream on that little bottom of yours, and I believe something else may be in order, too?”
“Well, my lad,” continued Mandy, “you know as well as we that that sort of behaviour cannot be allowed to pass without punishment. So we’ll give you a choice. Either we post some of your earlier misdemeanours, with your name, on the site…”
“No! Please, Mandy, anything…”
“Or…it’s the plug again for the rest of the day…”
“Oh, yes, please, the plug! I’ll take the plug!”
“Well, that’s better. Now, let’s get those panties down, get some cream on you, and then…”
A dollop of cold cream applied to the plug allowed it to enter with ease.
“Ahh! It feels different. Why does it feel different?”
“If you really want to know, Mitch,” said Shirley, confidentially, “this one is a slightly different model, much more suitable for girls. It’s moulded like the head of a nice big pen-is. Can you feel it? You should get used to the feeling, because when you grow up I expect you’ll have lots of them inside you.”
“No! I’m a boy! I don’t want a girl’s plug!”
“Oh dear, Mandy. Michelle’s still resisting. She still thinks she’s a boy. We may need the gag as well, or we’ll have to listen to this all the afternoon. When you finished inflating that, would you get it for me? Thank you.”
“Where’s she going?”
“It’s a shame, Michelle. I was hoping you were going to play the game and be a good little girl for us. But I can see you need more experience yet. So we’ll postpone the rest of the film for the time being. Instead you will have intensive girly training today. Ah, here’s Mandy with your gag. See? It matches your plug, so you can’t forget your gender – unless, of course, you want to be gay. That’s your choice, of course. Now, open wide – Mandy? Hold his nose, would you? There. In it goes. Buckle it up. Lock it…so. There. Now we're going to release you, and you can play…”
-
31.
“Michelle” spent an unhappy couple of hours securely plugged, and, to keep his tormentors sweet, pretending to play with the toys with which the room was littered. Sam was not averse to taking occasional advantage of his friends plight, suc-king noisily at his pacifier.
“Lucky girl, Michelle!” he whispered, extracting it from his mouth for a few seconds and holding it up critically. If you ever want to try the real thing, I might be able to help…”
Mitch could only glare at him. And when Shirley finally approached and asked him if he were ready to play his part, he cringed meekly at her feet and nodded apologetically.
Shirley decided to leave his butt plug in to remind him of his responsibilities. Otherwise the filming was able to resume, with Mitch now playing his proper part. To Sam’s delight, he discovered it was going to be just as strictly scripted as his performance. At first, Mitch hesitated over the words he was required to speak.
“M-mummy? If…if I’m good…”
“Go on, sissy Michelle! Say it!” cried Sam, excitedly.
“Shh, Sammy! That’s enough! No keep quiet or you’ll get the same treatment as your naughty friend here!”
“Sorry…mummy…”
But to Mitch’s disgust, Sam was now sitting up in his cot, gripping the bars and watching with eager anticipation. Shirley and Mandy exchanged glances. The growing rift between the two boys was not something they had expected, but isolating each one could only aid their plans. Mitch continued.
“Mummy, if I’m good, can I have a new dreth for my birthday, pleathe?”
“What sort of dress, darling?”
“A pwetty pink one with thatin bowth and puffy thleevth and flowerth on the bodithe…?”
“We’ll see, sweetie. You’d need some new panties to go with it, of course…”
“Oooh, yeth pleath! Thilky pantieth with frillth and thparkly thtars… And new thockth with lathey tops and pink shoeth!” He was really getting quite good at the lithp – sorry, I mean lisp.
“Maybe…but you’ll have to be a very good girl between now and the sixth…”
“The thixth?” Mitch froze. This wasn’t in the script, and it introduced an unwelcome element of reality into the charade.
“Yes, darling. The sixth. You know, your birthday. It’s only a fortnight away. You’ll want all your friends from school to come, won’t you? Johnny and Finn and Jasper and Archie. And of course, Lettie and Molly and Lottie and Lucy will be there too.”
He was confused – and worried. “But…mummy…I don’t want any boys…”
“But they’re your friends, Michelle dear. Imagine how surprised they’ll be when you open your presents… Then you can go into the bedroom and Lettie will help you change. It’ll be so exciting. And I’m going to get the lady that made that wedding cake – you know, the one you liked so much – to make you a birthday cake! There! I shouldn’t have told you. It was going to be a surprise. It’ll have lots and lots of pink icing, to match your dress, with your name – Michelle – on top in pretty letters, and sparkly pink candles… Oh, you’re going to have so much fun!”
He stared at her, horrified. Was she serious? Surely not… But there was a triumphant glint in her eye, which told him she could be. For a few seconds he couldn’t breathe.
“Yess!” hissed Sam from the cot. “Yes, mummy…he’ll look so pretty in his birthday dress! Please make him wear it – and please invite me with his friends…”
“Sammy. Stop it,” said Shirley. “You’re supposed to be asleep” This was said firmly, but with a hint of amusement.
“But can I come?”
“If you’re a good baby today, maybe. Now settle down.”
She turned back to Mitch.
“Oh, darling…are you all right? You look as if you’re going to be sick. Never mind. We’re going out now. Get some fresh air. Come one. Come on Sammy.”
Without further ado, Sam was lifted out of the cot, and both boys were ushered to the door, Anna following. Mandy went ahead to get the car. She opened the doors, and before anything else could be said they were inside and Mandy was driving out of the gate.
“Where we goin’ mummy,” asked Sam, staying in character.
“Just to the playground, darling. Now don’t get over-excited. But we thought a few snaps in the little kids’ area would be perfect, and you two can have some proper playtime.”
Mandy drove them to the park. They bypassed the main playground – thank god, thought Mitch – and headed for the infants version. Nevertheless it was quite busy – half a dozen families with young children, all of whom stopped playing and stared at the new arrivals.
The “few snaps” lasted the best part of an hour. Sam decided the best policy was to behave just like a baby – to pretend he had a mental age of one – which not only defended him from public ridicule, but pleased Shirley no end. Mitch, recognising the futility of resistance, adopted a similar strategy, and played the role of a little girl to perfection. It was a breezy day, however, and whether on the climbing frame or at the top of the slide, the wind contrived to play games with his light dress, and his bright pink Barbie panties inevitably became the focus of attention, and the feature of Anna’s video.
Mitch hardly heard the praise Shirley was lavishing upon them on the drive back. He was thinking about his birthday, and desperately trying to contrive some escape route. Was she serious? Maybe it was just a wind-up. But he wasn’t sure, and anxiety began to gnaw at his insides. One thing he felt certain about: he was going to need to appear ultra-compliant in the intervening days. Perhaps she would relent, but if not he would need to lull her into a feeling of security, a belief she was in control, while he devised a cunning plan of some sort. But what sort…?
Perhaps it was the word “bonus” that awakened him from his reverie. Yes, she was going to give them each a bonus for playing their parts so well. But the only bonuses he wanted were to have the butt plug out, and to be reassured she was only joking about his birthday. Glancing at Sam, he saw he was smirking.
“Are you looking forward to your party, Mitch – I mean Michelle? I do hope you get that lovely dress you were asking for… I can’t wait to see your friend’s faces…”
“Don’t get your hopes up, baby Sammy.” And he tugged at the frills on his friend’s and made it snap back against his cheek. “There. Enjoy that?”
“Ow! Mummy! He hurt me!”
“Now, now, children. Be good, won’t you?” said Mandy, giving Shirley a wink.
-
32.
In truth there were no firm plans for making Mitch wear a dress to his birthday party. Not his official one, anyway. But it was fun to see him squirm, and it left the possibility distinctly open. No. The ladies’ plans for their little protégés’ sissification were much more concrete. The use of the special gag on Mitch that day had been something of an experiment. Shirley had a theory that the use of such aids was a particularly effective means of humiliation, as well as helping to fuel any doubts the subject was feeling about his sexuality. She further speculated that if the application of such a gag could be accompanied by pleasurable feelings, it might be possible to adjust his sexual orientation. She explained her theory to Mandy.
“Think how a baby gets attached to its pacifier or the teat of its feeding-bottle. These things mean comfort and pleasure, happiness and security.”
“Yes, I understand that. But I don’t see how we could apply these principles to grown boys…”
“It’s carrot and stick, Mandy. When they behave like boys, we need to be strict and unyielding. We identify some misdemeanour, then use the gag as a punishment. But then…then we dress them up in lovely soft girly clothes, with little silky-smooth panties – and don’t tell me they don’t love the feeling of them – and cuddle them and cosset them and tell them how pretty they look and generally spoil them. What then?”
“I see where you’re going…”
“I have a theory that, after a while, they’re going to misbehave just so they can get the reward. And part of that reward will be to suc-k on a nice willy-gag – I think I heard Sam call it that – because I think that’s what these little boys really want.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. For boys of that age it’s just a big comforter, so they can relive the security of babyhood. But it has another attraction, because they're not yet totally into girls, and in many ways they feel safer and happier and more attached to their male friends. In other words, it’s the perfect time to turn unruly boys into real sissies.”
“It’s a genius idea, Shirley. I hope you’re right, but I’m not convinced…”
“Well, I’ve ordered a new batch. These one are slightly modified. The bulb can be filled with anything you like. For Mitch I would say condensed milk, which his mother tells me he’s addicted to. You fill it with a syringe through an aperture on the front, which closes with a cap. The bulb itself has the tiniest hole at the end – so tiny that something like condensed milk won’t leak out unless the wearer suc-ks hard or squeezes it with his tongue. So he can feed himself if he chooses to.”
“That’s rather rude, if you don’t mind me saying so…”
“Shirley laughed. “Quite. It will teach him an important skill, which I hope he will put to good use when his special pacifier’s not available.”
“Shirley Dearman, you are a bad, bad woman! All I can say is, you’d better give him one to take with him to Scout camp this summer!”
“Well, it’s only an experiment. We’ll see what happens.”
“I look forward with interest to the outcome. If it works, I think we should patent it!”
Anna spent the next couple of days editing her film, in accordance with Shirley’s instructions, and it went live on the Tuesday evening. Of course Tabby had been informed, and she had arranged for both boys to come round and have supper, as well as inviting Molly, so they could have a communal viewing. Lottie got wind of the news, and insisted on having Lucy round as well – “otherwise it won’t be fair”.
Shirley had made a feature of the new video. When Lettie logged onto the P & S site, there was a picture of Mitch and Sam, in bad mode, lounging in front of the graffitied wall, and looking menacing.
“Wow! You guys look cool,” was Molly’s first admiring remark.
“Yeah. Not quite what I was expecting,” added Lettie.
“Patience, girls,” smiled Tabby, who had had the advantage of a long conversation with Shirley.
Mitch and Sam looked at each other. Mitch felt sick. Why did she have to put it right on the homepage like that?
The voice-over was Shirley’s.
“Welcome, parents everywhere. Do these boys look familiar? Do you know of boys like this – or maybe you have one of your own. Yes, they are a problem, and if they are allowed to continue unchecked, they may grow up into bullies, or those awful arrogant macho males we all know, or even criminals.” (At this point Mitch spat on the pavement, and Sam stubbed his cigarette out against a pillar box.) “But now there may be a solution. Forget those interminable pointless visits to the psychotherapist, the pleading and reasoning, the tears – yours, not theirs – and the sleepless nights wondering where they are and what they’re up to. There is an alternative. It’s called P & S.” Cut to shots of P & S’s rural offices. The camera approaches the main door. Shirley appears, throwing in open with a simpering smile and waving the imagined parent inside. There follows a tour of the rooms, each decked out for a different scenario. Then the camera moves into the nursery. There are those two tough boys again – but transformed! The camera pans back and forth. Sam in his pretty blue baby costume, fingering his little rubber pants nervously, the picture of misery. Mitch in his sweet little frock and white socks, cheeks burning. The camera pans down and peeps up under the hem of his dress, offering a brief glimpse of his pink Barbie panties. He quickly thrusts the gingham between his legs to hide his secret, though too late. Molly snorts with laughter, Lettie is in ecstasies, Tabby smiles quietly, the younger girls stare wide-eyed.
“Is that you, Mitch?” asks Lottie, disbelievingly. Mitch doesn’t reply.
“Yes, Lots, of course it is,” gasps Lettie, between giggles. “And that’s Sam there. Don’t they both look absolutely darling?” She threw her arms around Mitch. “Oh, you’re so sweet! Swear you’ll dress up like that for us? Please? And you Sam? I promise I’ll never tell, but just for us, eh Molly?”
“Yes, boys, please. You are so…beautiful! Mitch, you can be my bestest friend at school. But at home…my little sister…and you, Sam, my pretty little baby boy!”
Sam ignored the offer. “What if our friends find this, Mitch? We’re done.”
“I know. I just hope none of them happen on this site. I mean…there’s no reason they should, is there? The name P & S won’t mean anything to them.”
“Unless you get famous,” suggested Lettie, enthusiastically. Mitch glared at her. “What’s up? I bet you’d get all sorts of offers to be in films and stuff. I mean, you both played your parts perfectly. I think you’d be great.” Which remark did nothing at all to allay the boys’ fears.
Sam’s baby talk had everyone in stitches. Even Mitch smiled, and was about to make some jibe about Sam wetting his nappy if he drank any more milk, when he remembered what was coming next. And sure enough, soon Lettie and Molly were screaming with laughter at his very specific requests for a new dress.
“Ooh, little Michelle wanth” (almost weeping with laughter) “thatin bowth and pwetty flowerth on his new dreth!” cried Molly.
“And – did you hear that? – thilky, frilly pantieth!” added Lettie. “Oh, Michelle, if I have any say in the matter, I’m going to make sure all your wishes come true! And I promise you your “dreth” will be short enough so everyone will be able see those little panties you asked for, and they'll be so fine and snug and cute, they'll show everything you've got!”
“I have to say, Mitch,” said Tabby with a wry smile, “that you do make the most adorable little girl. Alice and the others will want to eat you up when they see this!”
“Oh, no, please…”
“Oh yes, it’s true,” interrupted Sam. “You really are a little sissy, Mitch. And they don’t even know about the willy…”
“Shut up!”
“About what…?” said Molly.
“You say one more word and you’ll regret it,” spat Mitch. And Sam could see he meant it, so he satisfied himself with sniggering and smirking, and conveying in every way he could that he knew some even more humiliating secrets about his friend.
Now they were in the park, entering the playground. Anna had recorded not only their antics, but the reactions of the onlookers. Mitch sighed. Lettie and Molly squealed with delight.
“Look, girls,” said Lettie, pointing at the screen for the benefit of Lottie and Lucy. “Now you can see Mitch’s Barbie panties properly! Don’t they suit him?”
“I want some like that,” said Lottie, sulkily. Tabby thought such things rather frivolous, so she didn’t respond. But as the boys cavorted on the climbing frame, Lottie soon recovered her equanimity.
“That’s a good playground, Lucy. We should go there tomorrow. And take Dorothea.” She paused, and added, “Dorothea’s going to be so excited when we show her this video…”
“What? Don’t you dare tell any of your stupid friends, Lottie,” said Mitch, rudely. Lottie looked as though she might cry.
“But…she’s already seen you in your pink leotard…”
“Oh. Her.” Sam gave him a funny look. “Yes, but I don’t want her to think I wear girls’ clothes all the time. And I don’t want half your school knowing about P & S!”
“P & S…” repeated Lottie, as if memorising the name. “Okay…”
“Honestly, Mitch, you can be so rude sometimes,” said Tabby, frowning. “Now say sorry to Lottie, and promise her the next time you dress up for the girls here, she and Lucy – and Dorothea - can be present too.”
Mitch looked a bit shocked. “But…I…”
“Promise her. Or I’ll tell Shirley about your behaviour. Your training clearly hasn’t had the desired result so far.”
“Oh. Yes. Lottie – I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude…”
Tabby folded her arms. “And?”
“Er…and…er…you and Lucy can…”
“And Dorothea.”
“Er…and Dorothea…can…see me in my girls’ stuff…I guess.”
“It’s a promise, right?”
“Er…yes, a promise…”
Things were getting more and more complicated…
Shirley was winding up now. “So if you have boy problems, why not give us a call? We have several strategies we can use, each tailored to the needs of the individual. And as parents, you get to decide the form and severity of the application. Once we have met and interviewed the boy in need of help, we offer a free and realistic assessment of the type and length of training we anticipate will be needed. Whether you favour Pacification, or Pacification and Sissification, P & S is there to help. Call our friendly staff today, and get the ball rolling…”
-
33.
The same day the video went live, Shirley received a parcel. Inside were a dozen of the new gags, custom made to her personal requirements. She called Mandy into her office, and handed her one to examine. She turned it over gingerly in her fingers.
“It’s perfect, Shirley. The shape…it’s so real.”
“It’s moulded from one of my first pupils. He was only a year or so older than Mitch. I think it’s just the right size, don’t you? I wouldn’t mind suc-king on that myself!”
“You could fill it with gin and tonic...”
“Great idea! But seriously, look at the craftsmanship. The leather plate and straps are so soft, and see? There’s even a flap that goes under the buckle to protect the skin.”
“Oh! And the buckle has a flat lock like a suitcase! So no need for a padlock, then.”
“Quite. And see the filling hole? That’s a tiny rubber screw-in locking plug. Same key as the buckle lock. So neat!”
“And what are those little bladders on tubes?”
“Well, I’m sure you can guess. If we have a greedy subject, we can fill one of these and screw it in in place of the plug. Even if he suc-ked as hard as he could, it would take an hour or two to empty one of these.”
“Brilliant, Shirley.”
“I’m going to call them “Shirley’s Sissifiers” – because that’s what they’re going to do.”
Mandy laughed. “Perfect. So some have pink leather, and some blue.”
“Yes…I get so used to ordering everything in pink and blue…” Her forehead puckered. “I’m not sure why I did it with these…” And for a few moments she became thoughtful, as if she were trying to remember something.
Mandy took one back to her own office for examination. The actual teat was a neutral rubber colour. Behind the bulging glans the shaft wasn’t more than a couple of centimetres long. When strapped on, the subject’s teeth could grip the shaft, but he wouldn’t be able to bite the head, which would be held firmly in the front of the mouth. So if he wanted to milk it he could only suc-k or use pressure from his tongue. It would certainly keep him occupied. What a nice surprise Mitch was going to have!
But the wicked Shirley was never one to hurry things. She understood that anticipation can be as painful – or even more painful – that the thing itself. The following weekend – the weekend before Mitch’s birthday party – she gave the boys a relatively easy time. She had them playing a two-baby scene, Sam in a blue outfit and Mitch in a pink one, talking lots of silly baby talk, suc-king their pacifiers, and being generally silly. But at the end of the day she had two nasty surprises for Mitch.
“Mitch, darling? Before you go, I must tell you your party dress is almost ready! Isn’t that exciting? Look, I can show you a picture from the seamstress.”
She held up her phone. Mitch saw a shiny pink creation with a belted waist, a bell-shaped skirt, and puff sleeves. The colour drained from his face. She was really going to do it, then.
“Of course, she hasn’t begun adding the bows and flowers, but she assures me it’ll be ready for Saturday. I’ve sent a piccy to your mum, too. She loves it. Won’t all your friends have a nice surprise?”
Mitch could see her looking at him maliciously waiting for his reaction. But he had no intention of giving her what she wanted. He feigned indifference.
“Yeah, great. So what about the cake?”
Shirley was rather taken aback. “The cake? Well, yes, of course it’ll be ready,” she said shortly. “It’s being made this week.” Then she had another try. “But the dress, Mitch. Do you like it? It’s going to be so pretty!”
“Yeah. It’s okay. Maybe she can put a big bow just to one side on the waistband. That would be nice.”
Shirley stared. She had been completely outflanked. But she still had one trick up her sleeve.
“Oh, and I wanted to show you…these!”
She produced two sissifiers, one pink, one blue. This time she did get a reaction. Mitch recoiled in horror.
“What are those?”
“I call them my sissifiers, Mitch. Do you like them? Which colour would you like?”
Mitch seemed struck dumb.
“Maybe blue…?”
“No! Not blue. Where did you get them? They’re not like the other one…”
He seemed genuinely upset. Shirley was ecstatic.
“No, they’re not. These are anatomically true. And they can be used as feeders, too.”
“Look, sorry, I have to go. I promised to be home early.” And he turned and made for the door.
“Have a nice week Mitch. See you Saturday!” She stood looking after him. “Well, well,” she said to herself. “At least that was a success.”
-
34.
Mitch didn’t sleep much that night. His mother had been eulogising over the picture of the dress Shirley had sent her. It was really happening, and he couldn’t see any way out. He finally fell asleep about four. But as often happens, the subconscious solves the problems the conscious mind cannot. And when he awoke, he had, if not the solution, at least a solution.
When he got to school he saw Finn and Archie in one corner of the playground. He made straight for them.
“Hi Mitch,” said Finn. “Looking forward to the party? We are. Hope there’s a cake…”
“Oh, there’s a cake all right,” said Mitch. “And there’ll be another surprise.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Okay. You know I’m playing Juliet in the school play, right? Well, I’m trying out dresses.”
“Trying out…?”
“You know. Different dresses for the part. Cos it all depends like, what era Miss Chambers wants to set it in, see?”
“Oh…oh, yeah.”
“So Saturday, I’m gonna wear one of the dresses.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. An’ the cake’s gonna be pink! But it’s gonna be home made, and it’s gonna be the best cake you’ve ever had!”
“You’re not serious?”
“Course I’m serious! It’s gonna be a laugh. I’m gonna wear makeup, the whole thing! It won’t be like any of our other parties, I can tell you.”
“Wow. That’s gonna be cool, man,” said Archie. “Maybe we should all dress up as girls. I could easily wear my sister’s old stuff!”
“I bet you do already,” grinned Finn. “But seriously, Mitch, that’s a great idea. You’ll make a really convincing girl, I know…I mean, no offence, but that’s why Miss Chambers wanted you for the play, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So what do you think, Mitch?” continued Archie, clearly a little more into the whole idea than his friend, “s’pose I did wear my sister’s things…I mean, would you be upset?”
Mitch laughed. The plan was working even better than he could have imagined. “Feel free if you want, Archie. But I can tell you, you ain’t gonna look prettier than me – what with your piggy nose an’ all…”
Archie was deflated. “It isn’t piggy!” He felt it just to make sure. “Well, I bet I could…just as pretty as you… You know, they had that drag competition at Westfield Comp. The guy who won that got his picture in the local paper an’ everything. And he won a hundred pounds!”
“Well, whatever,” said Mitch. “I’ll tell the others later. I was gonna keep it a secret, but then I thought the shock may have been too much for you…”
Phase one was a success. But phase two was equally important. That evening he rang Shirley.
“Hi. It’s Mitch. Hi. No, I just wanted to ask… The dress… Will I get a fitting? I don’t want to look more of an idiot than I already will. Like, before Saturday? Wednesay? After school…? Great. Thanks, Shirley. See you then.”
So it was that Wednesday at four-fifteen he turned up at the offices of P & S. Shirley and Mandy were both there to greet him. When he arrived, he witnessed the latest recruit being conducted in by, presumably, his mother and her friend. He glared at Mitch. Mandy showed the group to her office, and told them she’d be with them shortly.
Then they led Mitch to one of the dressing-rooms, where a slight, elderly woman with round glasses and greying hair pinned in a bun was waiting, next to the dress, hanging on a rack.
“This is Madame Coudrier, Mitch. Madame Coudier, Mitch.”
She pushed her spectacles up onto her forehead and squinted at him. She removed a pin, which Mitch hadn’t noticed, from her mouth, and placed it in her bodice, alongside several others.
“Hello, young man.” She spoke with a hint of a French accent. “You really are as ‘andsome as Mrs Dearman said.” She looked him up and down. “This will feet perfectly, I can see it. Voilà! Let us try it on.”
She was right. It fitted perfectly. The material was heavy and crisp, and the shades of pink changed like the light from a clouded sky as he moved. He had the big bow just to the left side on the waist, little tight flounces all around the hem, surmounted by a row of tiny flowers, and tiny flowers on the little fold-down rounded collar. The puff sleeves had neatly-fitting cuffs, each decorated with a single flower. The bell-shaped skirt was not as short as he had feared; the hem was about six inches above the knee, and it bounced slightly as he walked up and down, parading for the ladies.
“It’s beautiful,” breathed Mandy.
“Eet ees beautiful on him,” remarked Madame Coudrier, irrefutably.
Mitch admired himself in the mirror. He could see the reflection of Shirley, watching him with a slightly puzzled expression. He suppressed a smile.
Before he left, he approached her.
“Shirley, thank you. It really is lovely. Of course I’m nervous about Saturday. I hope my friends like it…”
“Oh, of course they will,” smirked Shirley, savouring in her mind their expected reactions. “They’ll love it!”
“I do hope so. I mean, I love it, but…”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I might put it on before the party? So I could greet them at the front door…”
Again Shirley was taken aback. But why not? Even better!
“Oh, you sweet thing! Of course you may! It’ll be such a nice surprise for them!”
“Thank you!” And he actually gave her a hug. “Oh, and one more thing?”
“Yes?”
“The cake.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be ready.”
“About the name…”
“The name?”
“The name on the cake. I don’t like Michelle much. There’s a girl at school called Michelle, and she’s horrible.”
Shirley laughed. “All right. Well it won’t have been iced yet. What do you want to be called, when you’re being a girl. I don’t mind.”
“Well…my favourite name at the moment is Juliet. You know I’m playing Juliet in the school play?”
“I did. All right. We’ll make it Juliet. Now, Juliet, you’d better get home. Everyone is really looking forward to Saturday. Especially me and Mandy.”
“Yes… I hope they don’t laugh at me…” He did his best to look anxious.
“Oh, it’ll be fine…don’t you worry.”
I won’t, thought Mitch. Because now it’s no longer your narrative – it’s mine!
-
35.
It was Saturday, the day of Mitch’s party. Everybody was looking forward to it. Mrs Langton, because she had seen the dress her son was going to wear, and knew he was going to look beautiful. Lucy and Lottie, because they couldn’t wait to see Mitch’s embarrassment, and because Lottie had been allowed to invite Dorothea too. All three were already running excitedly around the house, while Trish, Dorothea's mother, and Tabby were chatting to Elizabeth and the babysitter Sarah, who had been recruited to help with the food, in the kitchen. The three girls were in an elevated state of anticipation, especially after Lucy had shown the others the photograph of Henrietta’s wedding which her mother had had framed and placed on the mantlepiece. Shirley and Mandy were looking forward to it because they were proud of what they had accomplished, and could no longer resist the temptation to see Mitch’s embarrassment under the astonished gaze of his best friends.
Alice and Grace and Patty, who had not yet arrived, were eager to see the fruits of Shirley’s efforts. Tabby, likewise, but also because she had a genuine soft spot for Mitch, and empathised with his feminine side. Trish too, because she was fascinated by everything she had heard about Mitch and P & S, and was desperate to be in on the secret. Lettie and Molly were putting on their party dresses and makeup in Lucy’s room, determined that Mitch’s friends, as well as having fun at his expense, should be suitably awestruck by their presence. Mitch’s friends, meanwhile, getting ready in their own homes, were mainly interested in the prospect of exploring the eatables and drinkables provided by Mrs Langston, who had a reputation for quality and generosity in that area - and…oh, yeah, cos Mitch was gonna show off his Juliet dress, which would be, like, cool, yeah?
Anna and Yulya were already there too, Anna for the filming, Yulya to help with Mitch’s makeup. And then there was Sam. Sam was all excited at the thought of Mitch being humiliated, and he intended to do everything he could to aggravate his humiliation – such as asking innocently if he were wearing matching panties, and if his ECD was causing him any discomfort that day.
Shirley and Mandy had arrived early at the Langstone household, and brought Yulya, Anna and Sam with them. Also, a suitcase of clothes. The plan was to get Mitch dressed and ready by ten. At eleven the guests would start arriving. The cake was hidden in the kitchen cupboard for the time being. So at nine Shirley instructed Mitch to follow her and the others upstairs to the bedroom to dress, and Sam, to his delight, was requested to accompany them. Except his delight didn’t last long.
“So, Sam,” said Mandy coolly, “in view of the fact Mrs Langston has agreed to your being invited, we think it only fair you too should be a girl today. We’ve brought you a lovely little dress. I’m sure you’re going to like it.”
“What? No. That wasn’t the deal!”
“Deal? What deal? We don’t make deals with the likes of you, young man,” frowned Shirley. “Now, I will dress Mitch, Mandy will dress you, and then we’ll do Mitch's makeup.”
Sam opened his mouth to make a further objection, but the glint in Shirley’s eye dissuaded him. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “not fair…”
He was even more upset when he saw what he was going to wear.
“This is yours, Sam,” said Mandy. “Isn’t it nice?”
Shirley and Mandy had discussed the boys’ progress a couple of days before. They were satisfied Mitch was going to make a perfect little girl, but Mandy had remarked she thought Sam was getting a little above himself, and trying to ally himself with the management against Mitch, which was of course quite unacceptable presumption. So they had decided it was time to take him down a couple of pegs. Apart from yielding a double humiliation, they hoped it might foment more resentment which could later be used to their advantage.
When he saw his costume, Sam was first speechless, then desperate.
“Please, Mandy…not that, please…”
“No nonsense now. Get those clothes off and no whining! Today your name will be Samantha. Remember it.”
Sam was dressed long before his friend. It was the work of a couple of minutes to strip him naked, slip the pink spandex long-sleeved toddler dress over his head, pull up the soft, padded training pants, and pop on his fluffy, lace-topped, fleece-lined pink toddler socks. The dress fitted snugly on the arms and body, and had an elasticated waist, from which hung a little stretchy skirt no more than nine inches long, which, when held down as far as it would go, almost hid his pants. Ah, yes, his special training pants: padded, of course, bright yellow with pink waist and leg bands, with a scattered teddy-bear design. It also had a custom feature, which he didn’t notice, such was his horror at his appearance. When Mandy went behind him to adjust the waistband, she extracted the two ends of a long white cable-tie from a split in the back. She connected them, drew it tight, and tucked the end back into the sleeve.
“They won’t be coming off in a hurry,” she whispered to Shirley.
To Shirley’s mystification, Mitch seemed almost eager to get into his new dress, which was supplemented by white stockings topped with red bows, the most gorgeous pink satin panties, with ruffles across the seat and darker pink frilling around the legs, and pink satin Mary Janes. Shirley sat him in front of the dressing table, and while Yulya applied pink lip gloss and blusher, mascara and eye-shadow, Shirley laid out a pearl necklace, pearl clip-ons, and a pink ruffle bracelet. His outfit was completed with pearly-pink nail polish. Shirley led him over to the full-length mirror and stood him in front of it. Sam looked on with a confusing combination of anger, anxiety, and jealousy.
“There, Michelle…”
“Juliet, miss…”
“Oh, yes. Of course. It's Juliet today. What do you think of yourself?” She watched him keenly, waiting for the anticipated signs of embarrassment and desperate pleas to be excused. His actual reaction baffled her.
“It’s a beautiful dress,” he said, thoughtfully. “I hope Miss Chambers thinks it will be okay. I’d really like to wear this for the play…”
“Your friends will be here soon,” she reminded him.
“Yes! I can’t wait to show them! And maybe Anna could take some photos for Miss Chambers…?”
Shirley stared at Mandy in bewilderment. Mandy stared back, equally dumfounded. Even Sam looked puzzled.
The boys were shepherded back downstairs for Mitch’s mother to inspect. At the sight of Mitch she was overwhelmed with motherly tenderness, and threw her arms around him and hugged him for the best part of a minute. Then Samantha was introduced. All eyes had already been on him, snorts of laughter suppressed. Elizabeth struggled to keep a straight face.
“How do you do, young lady? What a sweet little dress.”
Sam stared at the floor.
“Oh, she’s shy!” cried Sarah, cruelly. “Maybe little Samantha would like to come into the kitchen with us? She could sit in the high chair and watch while we prepared the food.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” said Shirley. “That would be perfect. Off you go, Samantha.”
Sarah took his hand, and was about to lead him into the kitchen, when the three younger girls, who had been playing in the garden, came bursting in. They stopped dead, stared open-mouthed at the boys, then, ignoring Mitch completely, clustered around poor Sam. It was the worst moment of his life.
“This is Samantha, girls. Say hello. Samantha? Show the girls your nice new outfit.”
He didn’t have to. They were already all over it.
“Training pants!” cried Lucy. “I used to have ones like these!” She smiled, evilly. “But not half as pretty. Look at the little bears! So cute!”
Sam tried vainly to pull down his skirt. But when he pulled down the front, the back rode up.
“I think he needs a bigger size,” said Lottie, grinning. “It’s very tight on him.” She pinched his ribs through the taut spandex.
“On her,” corrected Dorothea. “She must have had a growth spurt. Look how long her legs are!” She ran her nails down Sam’s thigh, making him wince.
“Mummy? Can we take Samantha out to play in the garden?”
“Well, darling, I don’t want her to get her dress soiled before the party. Maybe later. Why don’t you all go to your room and play?”
The three girls started bouncing and jumping with delight.
“Yeah! Let’s go! Come on Samantha. You can be our baby!” And they started to pull Sam away into the house.
“Whoa!” said Elizabeth. “Lucy? Don’t you have anything to say about your brother’s lovely dress?”
Lucy cast a brief glance in his direction. “Yeah. Nice dress. I wish you’d buy me one like that, mummy. C’mon girls! Let’s go!” And Sam was dragged from the room.
The women looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Well, looks like he’s taken care of!” laughed Tabby.
“He’s so going to enjoy himself,” grinned Trish. “And poor Mitch – they had no eyes for you, dear.” Mitch smiled, imagining what sort of a party Sam was going to have. “But you look…stunning,” she added.
“Elizabeth?” said Sarah, consulting her watch, “we’d better get on. The guests will be here in…less than an hour.”
“Oh, mum…about that…”
“Yes, darling?”
“Er…that photograph…the wedding…could we…?”
“Could we…?”
“You know. I’m Juliet today. Not a pageboy. I don’t want my friends seeing that, really…”
“Oh, are you sure? I think you look very nice in your pageboy costume…”
“Please….”
“Oh, of course. If you really don’t want it there. Here, I’ll put it away in the drawer.”
“Thanks, mum.”
Anna was already taking photos. She had made Sam her priority, but now she was focussing on Mitch. Shirley watched as he smiled and curtsied and twirled for her. She said nothing, but her brow was puckered, and she looked very thoughtful….
-
Sandra B
What a wonderful story. Hope you will continue it soon. dying to know what happens to Mitch and Sam and how they will react to he new gags/pacifyers. Looks like they are destined to become VERY good friends.
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36.
Whilst they were waiting for the arrival of the guests, Shirley took Mandy aside.
“Why isn’t he worried? What’s he up to?”
“I’m not sure, Shirley. We couldn’t have done more. I mean, he looks absolutely stunning.”
“Yes, I know that,” replied Shirley, impatiently. “So he should be mortified his best mates are about to walk in and see him. I don’t get it…”
He did look amazing, all right, which only made her the more irritated. His mother and the other women were fawning over him as if he were a pretty young girl. She wished now she had him fitted with his ECD and a nice big vibrating butt plug. He wouldn’t be looking so calm if she had!
The ladies arrived at about a quarter to eleven. Elizabeth had invited all her friends, Alice and Grace and Patty, and even Beth and Vivian. There were some brief introductions, and then, amidst gasps and squeals of admiration, Mitch made his appearance, and there was more adulation and preening and showing off. Shirley was furious. This was not at all what she had in mind. He was being treated like one of them, like a woman friend who had acquired some very desirable and expensive clothes. Grace, Shirley’s friend, was fingering the material and eulogising about the quality. But she wasn’t complimenting Shirley, who had selected and ordered and paid for the dress, but Mitch – as if he had chosen it himself!
Shirley needed to insert herself into the conversation, to get the credit she deserved and divert attention to herself. She stepped forward.
“Glad you like it, dear. Wasn’t cheap, you know. I have an expert seamstress – French, of course – who works exclusively for me. I chose the material, naturally – Maison Chamouille.”
“Really,” said Grace, in a voice that indicated she had not the slightest idea what Shirley was talking about. She didn’t even bother to turn round. “It suits him perfectly. But he’s so naturally glamorous, isn’t he? I’m sure he’d look great in anything…”
The ultimate insult. Ignorant bitch, thought Shirley, and placated herself somewhat by thinking how she was going to punish Mitch for having the audacity to steal her thunder. But worse was to come.
The boys, Finn, Johnny, Jasper and Archie, arrived en masse on the dot of eleven.
“That must be my friends,” cried Mitch, and ran to the door. Shirley heard it open, and the cries of surprise. “At last,” she muttered. But the reaction was not at all what she had hoped for.
“Wow, Mitch! You look amazing!”
“Shit! I didn’t recognise you! You’re gonna make a great Juliet!”
“Makeup an’ all. Who did that for you?”
“Oh, a friend. Yulya. You’ll meet her in a minute. She’s really cool. And her friend Anna’s gonna be doing some filming.”
“Yeah? Great! Did your mum manage to…you know, the cake?”
“Course! And the rest! Come in guys, and meet everyone.”
The boys did meet everyone, though predictably they’d forgotten their names in about five seconds, having other things, largely edible, on their minds. Of course, no-one minded – except Shirley, who, in her state of heightened resentment, took their boyish carelessness personally. The other women, even Mandy, were happy to see Mitch having fun with his mates, who seemed the nicest bunch you could hope to meet. Elizabeth appeared at the kitchen door and invited them in to have a snack, to lay in some foundations for what was going to come later.
Truthfully, the only females the boys had looked at twice were Yulya and Anna. But that was about to change, when Lettie and Molly made their dramatic entrance. The boys knew Molly well, of course, but they had never seen her quite like this. She wore an electric green figure-hugging dress, matching heels, and bright red lipstick. Lettie and Molly had done each other’s makeup, and neither had spared the mascara or eyeliner, so they looked straight off some Hollywood catwalk. Lettie was wearing a scarlet version of Molly’s outfit. The boys, being young and having no understanding whatsoever of taste, were struck dumb with admiration. All except Jasper, Tabby noticed, who seemed unable to divert his gaze from Mitch himself.
Presents had been handed over, preliminary excursions had been made into the areas of sausage rolls, pastries and chocolate marzipans, drinks had been handed round – wine for the ladies, fizzy stuff for the kids - when Lettie suddenly piped up.
“Where are Lottie and Lucy?”
“And Dorothea,” added Trish. “I don’t know. They took Sam off somewhere.”
“Sam?” queried Finn.
“Oh, Sam,” said Mitch. “He’s my friend from …er, my friend. Oh…yes…that’s a point. Where are they?”
Elizabeth went to fetch them. They were in Lucy’s bedroom, playing families. Sam was lying on a blanket with one of Lucy’s old pacifiers in his mouth, looking very unhappy. The girls were telling him off for some unspecified misdemeanour. Three against one was too much for him, and he had lost any will to resist that he may have had.
“Girls! Everyone’s here. Come and join the party.”
“Did Mitch’s friends like his dress?” asked Lucy, slyly.
“They love it! No, darling, they really do. I think one of them’s in love with him!”
They all laughed.
“Okay, let’s go,” said Dorothea.
“Shall we leave Samantha here?” said Lottie.
“No! Bring her,” said Lucy. Mitch’s friends need to see her too!”
Poor Sam had to be dragged back to the lounge again. The hubbub of voices ceased abruptly as he was pushed forward. He stood there, one hand gripping his skirt, fear in his eyes, as the guests took in the sight.
“Woo!” said Finn. “Who’s this?”
“This is our baby, Samantha,” said Lucy, proudly. She’s three.”
The boys burst out laughing, and crowded round, as they had with Mitch, but with a very different reaction.
“Cute!” laughed Archie. He lifted one side of Sam’s skirt. “Oh my god, she’s wearing training pants! Hello, little Samantha. Do you still wet yourself? Shouldn’t you be in nice plastic baby pants still?”
“What’s the matter, Samantha?” asked Jasper. “You don’t look very happy. Maybe you need to do a poo…?”
Mitch was grinning from ear to ear. Sam had come there to humiliate him, and now look at him!
“She wants her pacifier, that’s all,” he laughed.
“Oh! We left it in the bedroom!” cried Lottie. “I’ll get it!” And she ran off to peals of laughter from the boys.
Shirley made him suc-k it, too. Sam didn’t know what to do with himself. No-one could forbear smiling when they looked at him. The girls fussed over him, feeding him little treats. Lucy found her old feeding-bottle, and soon he was on her lap being fed warm milk. He had given up. Things couldn’t get any worse. He could see Mitch still grinning, and joking with the boys. It was about midday when he realised he needed the toilet. Of course, he had to ask permission of his little minders. Then Shirley kindly led him to the downstairs toilet, and left him.
It took him several minutes to discover his training pants wouldn’t come off, no matter how hard he tried. He began to wail.
“Oh, dear,” said Mandy. “I’ll go and see what’s the matter.”
She went to the toilet door.
“Samantha? Are you all right?”
“My pants won’t come off! I need to do a wee badly!”
“All right. Open the door, then.”
She heard the latch click. She turned the handle, pulling as hard as she could on the door at the same time.
“Have you undone it? It won’t open.”
“Yes!” he wailed. “Open it quickly! Hurry!”
“No, it won’t open. Turn it the other way.”
“I have! I’ve turned it both ways! I have to…” His voice trailed off. A moment’s silence, then little sobs. Mandy knew what that meant. She opened the door.
“Ah, there we are. At last. Now, Samantha…oh, dear…”
When the news spread around the party, the boys were delighted. Especially Mitch. That’ll teach him, he thought. Of course, he had to be changed. Mandy was good at that. She’d had plenty of practice. The girls, as the parents, insisted on being present, and handing Mandy the wipes, and the cream, and the powder. The boys got a glimpse of the action through the door, which had somehow been left slightly ajar. Luckily, there were spare training pants in the case, and he got some pink Little Mermaid ones with scale-shaped frills, which everyone admired. But he was unable to look any of the girls in the eye for the rest of the party, and had to rely on the comforting of the ladies, accompanied by many pats on the bottom and kisses on the cheek, as befits a three-year-old. As compensation for his humiliation he was allowed to cut the first slice of the beautiful pink cake. The guests noticed that he plunged the knife right into the middle of the name ‘Juliet’, before hacking out a huge chunk, and biting off a mouthful of pink icing. While he chewed it he looked daggers at Mitch, who smiled back and gave him a little wink.
Of course, Shirley had worked it out by now. Mitch had forewarned his friends he was going to be dressed up as a girl, and had connected it to his part in the play. Hence the change of name on the cake. Clever. She had been comprehensively outsmarted. But it had been an ill-advised strategy on his part; she was a woman whose ego it was dangerous to injure, and she was already planning payback. “Oh yes, smartie-pants,” she thought, “this is the last time you’re going to get the better of me. I think we may need to accelerate your training programme a little. I am working on some very interesting new plans for you….and they won’t involve buying you expensive dresses and making you the belle of the ball. No. Quite the reverse.” And as she schemed her mood of annoyance slowly dissipated, and her face was able to resume it’s habitual expression of simpering slyness.
-
37.
When the party broke up that evening, Yulya and Anna went off together, planning to have a drink before they went home. Shirley and Mandy had Sam to drop off, and, since there had been some doubt about how Jasper was getting home, Shirley kindly offered to drop him as well. “Kindly” may not be the most apposite word, since she had seen something in him that made her wish she could recruit him to P & S, though she knew little about his parents, apart from a few details she had gleaned from Mitch. After they’d dropped Sam, who had been sitting silent and brooding the whole journey, they headed for Jasper’s house. He was a sweet, freckly boy with curly ginger hair and large trusting eyes. She could tell at once he would be a malleable subject. So she took the opportunity to introduce herself to his mother.
“Hello. I believe this is yours?”
“Oh, yes. I’m afraid it is. You must be Shirley. I’m Celia. Thank you so much for bringing him home. I simply couldn’t get away. My daughter’s not very well, you see, and…”
“Oh, it was no bother. He’s a pleasure to have around.”
Jasper disappeared into the house.
“I hope he was well-behaved. I mean, he’s not always…”
“Ah. Boys. Tell me about it.”
“You have a boy of your own?”
“Well, not exactly. But my company…we offer a form of cognitive psychotherapy for difficult boys, so I have quite a bit of experience. I won’t bore you with the details…”
“Oh, no…I’d be very interested.” She lowered her voice. “Jasper…you know, he can be quite rebellious. Quite a handful. I should be here more, but I have to work long hours sometimes… But I expect it’s very expensive, that sort of thing…”
“Well not really. We have funding from the local authority, which allows us to offer free assessments for up to three months. After that fees are by negotiation. But sometimes you see a great improvement after only a few weeks.”
“Really?”
“Look, Celia, we have another boy to drop off, but why don’t we discuss Jasper’s needs sometime. I could call you, or…”
“Whereabouts are you?”
“Well we’re out of town, Stretford way.”
“Oh.”
“Tell you what, Celia. Maybe I could call in one day. I’m often in this area. All I would ask is a cup of coffee…”
“Oh, that’s so kind, Shirley! Please do. I’m free Tuesday to Friday, provided it’s before ten. That’s when I leave for work. Then sometimes I’m not back till ten at night. Shifts, you know. Monday’s slightly different. I start early and get back at three..”
“Well why don’t we say Monday? About three-thirty?”
“Oh, that would be perfect.”
“Good. I’ll see you on Monday then. Lovely to meet you.”
“You too, Shirley! Look forward to it.”
Shirley returned to the car.
“We may have another recruit. I gave her the ‘free trial’ routine. Frankly, I’d take that one on for nothing.”
“Did you see how he was looking at Mitch all day?”
“I did. What a sweet pair they’d make.”
“What did you think about – you know, the way things panned out?”
“Mandy darling? I’ve been an idiot. I let him totally outsmart me. I’ll never forgive myself for allowing a trainee to take me in wholesale like that.”
“Well, it couldn’t have been foreseen…”
“I should have foreseen it. But I’ve learned a valuable lesson. A lesson about making assumptions, but also a lesson about Mitch himself.”
“And that is…?”
“I’ve been on completely the wrong tack with him. I thought the way to go was feminisation. Wrong. Now he realises his power, he revels in being a girl. He makes such a lovely girl, he entrances everyone around him. No. What he fears is, not being a girl – but being a sissy! What embarrassed him the most? The pageboy outfit. Why? Because in that he was forced to flaunt his boyhood, parade it for all to see, while at the same time the little frills, and the lace and the juvenility of the whole costume hinted at girlishness, shyness, silliness…even…”
“A suggestion of…gayness?”
“Exactly! And do you remember how he reacted to my sissifiers? The idea of a blue one – a boy’s one – horrified him. Yes, that’s his weak spot. And that’s what I’m going to work on. He made a big mistake when he decided to prank me…”
Shirley got to work first thing Monday morning. She placed some new orders with her latexwear and aids suppliers, she accepted a couple of the party invitations that had been extended to Mitch after Henrietta’s wedding, and she arranged a meeting with Lettie and Molly for the next day. In the afternoon she called on Celia, and they chatted for nearly two hours over coffee and cake. When she got home Monday evening she poured herself a malt whisky, neat on the rocks, put her feet up, and said, out loud, “Shirley Dearman? You suffered a temporary setback. But you’re back on track. And Mitchell Langston? You may be smirking now, but make the most of it. Because there’s a few surprises coming your way!”
-
Hmm. Perhaps a baby boy sissy in cloth diapers and plastic panties wearing latex babywear suc-king on his blue sissifier at the party?
-
38.
One of the things Shirley knew about Mitch, was that his body responded well to the smooth, stretchy feel of latex. She knew he had held onto those latex baby pants she had provided – his blushes had told her that. And using Elizabeth as an agent, she had discovered he frequently wore them to bed, then hid them in a cloth bag at the back of his underwear drawer. Henrietta’s wedding had confirmed his predilection. That was a useful tool in her plans, which she had already put in motion.
The first part of her order arrived on the Thursday morning. It was a box of sissifiers, but these were not gags. These were simply large pacifiers, but with the same teat exactly as the locking gags. It was essential to her strategy that Mitch should ultimately use them voluntarily. As an optional incentive, some included the reservoir modification, so that, if desired, the rubber reservoir – about the size of a small lemon – could be attached to the sissifier by its tube, and used to replenish whatever little liquid treat was desired. The sissifier end of the feed tube was fitted with a valve, so that, whether forced into the teat by pressure on the rubber sac, or by the user’s nursing, the fluid could only flow in one direction. The modified sissifiers came in a larger box with instructions and a syringe for filling.
There was no reason to delay, so she rang Elizabeth straight away.
“Elizabeth, darling. It’s Shirley. How are you? That was a lovely party on Saturday. Is there any cake left?”
“Thank you, Shirley. No, not a crumb! Mitch and Jasper finished the last of it yesterday.”
“Oh, Jasper. How is he? You know I’ve met his mother?”
“Yes, I’ve spoken to her. I gather he might be joining Mitch at P & S?”
“That’s the idea. He’s a lovely kid, but apparently he’s not always so lovely! We’ll see how that works out.”
“It would be so nice. Jasper adores Mitch, you know.”
“Yes. I’d noticed.”
“So what can I do for you?”
“Well, how can I put this? We’ve had a little discipline problem with Mitch.”
“Really? What’s he been up to now?”
“No, no, it’s really nothing serious. But I need to re-establish a continuous relationship of teacher and student between us. It’s absolutely essential to his progress. I was wondering… Would you be able to help me with something?”
“Anything. Of course.”
“He needs a daily reminder of his commitment. The weekend appointments by themselves are not enough. It takes a couple of hours to get him back to the position he was in at the end of the last session. So I have a little aid I would like him to use every night. Would it be possible to bring it round today? I’d like to start him off as soon as possible.”
“Of course, Shirley! I’ll do whatever is necessary. I agree we must keep him focussed. He looked beautiful on Saturday, of course, but I did notice him starting to show off again towards the end. And I wasn’t happy about the way he spent the whole afternoon poking fun at his friend.”
“Precisely. Some of his old traits were beginning to emerge, weren’t they? That’s why he needs a regular reminder of the importance of politeness and modesty. I’m so glad you’re on board with this.”
“Absolutely, Shirley. The first thing I did after the party was to put his photograph up again. That certainly damped his spirits a bit!”
“Good. Actually, I have a poster version of that. I’ll bring you one. Maybe he could have it on the wall of his bedroom.”
“That’s a lovely idea. He could show all his friends!”
They laughed.
“Also, I’ve got a few more events lined up for him in the coming weeks – and now we have our own photographer, I’m hoping for a few more snaps in a similar vein!”
“Great! That little pageboy costume really seemed to quiet him down. I wish he had to wear it every day, instead of those old ripped jeans he likes so much. Well, maybe not at school, but the rest of the time. And he looked so nice in it,” she added, wistfully, “like a proper little boy.”
Shirley filed away that last thought for later consideration. They agreed she would call around four with the new equipment. Elizabeth was eager to know what it was, but Shirley said it should be a surprise, for her and for Mitch.
When Shirley arrived, Mitch had just got back from school. He opened the door.
“Shirley. I mean, miss. What are you doing here?”
“Brought you a little present, Mitch.” She held up a small package and a long tube. “Help with your therapy.”
She followed him into the lounge.
“Shirley, hi.”
“Hi, Elizabeth.”
“Mum, I’m going out for a bit.”
“No, dear. I think we need you here for a minute or two.”
“Yes, Mitch. This concerns you. Now, I won’t go into our recent little problems. You know what I’m talking about.” Mitch assumed an expression of boredom. “Your mother and I agree that you need reminders of your training responsibilities between sessions. So… First, a present for you.”
She took the cap off the tube and drew out a rolled poster. She unrolled it and held it up for Mitch to see.
“For your bedroom wall. Your favourite picture.”
“No way!”
“Oh yes, young man,” said his mother, firmly. “Or you’ll be grounded – permanently!”
“And maybe worse,” said Shirley quietly, with a meaningful look. “Maybe your friends would like one too…”
“No! All right.” He looked at the package nervously. “And what’s that?”
Shirley unwrapped the package. It contained two boxes, one larger than the other. First she opened the small one. She showed them the contents.
“This is our new boy’s pacifier.” (She didn’t want to call it a sissifier in front of Mitch.) She held it up, and passed it to Elizabeth. She wasn’t sure how she would react. She needn’t have worried. Elizabeth took it open-mouthed. She turned it over in her fingers, and gingerly squeezed the teat.
“Ooh, darling,” she breathed. “Look at that! A real big boy pacifier!” She glanced at Shirley, and added, “in every sense!”
“Quite. I hope you like the colour, Mitch. Blue for a boy, you know.”
Mitch was horrified. “I’m not suc-king on that!”
“Oh yes you are. Every night. You must go to sleep with it in your mouth. Your mother has offered to check you every night when she goes to bed. If it’s not in, she will report to me, and the necessary penalties will be imposed.”
“But…I mean, it’s…”
“Perfect for you,” interrupted his mother. “It will be a constant reminder you’re not superior to other boys. In fact, after your behaviour towards poor Samantha – I mean Sam – last Saturday, it will be an appropriate reminder that you can be inferior to some of them at times. So you will do what you’re told.”
Mitch was speechless. His mother teaming up with Shirley was a disaster.
Shirley opened the larger box.
“The teat of the one I’ve shown you can be filled with a liquid treat, if that is needed to make it more acceptable. See? Just flip open this little cap on the outside. Now this one comes with a feeding tube and reservoir, and a syringe for filling. The instructions are inside. The reservoir has two caps, one at each end, so it can be washed thoroughly between uses. That will be your job, Mitch. Similarly the tube and the pacifier itself. There. You’re all set up.”
“Say thank you to Miss Dearman, Mitch. She’s come all this way to bring you your presents.”
Mitch’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish’s, but no sound came out.
“Well?”
“Th-thank you….miss…”
“Good boy. Now run along.”
After he was gone, Shirley confided in Elizabeth.
“Actually we call them sissifiers, but…”
“No. Quite right.”
“Do you think he’ll use it?”
“Don’t worry, Shirley. I’ll make sure. It’s just what he needs. Any problems, I’ll threaten to leave it lying around when his friends are here.” She picked up the sissifier again. “It’s very realistic… I think he might even begin to like it after a while. And I’m sure it’ll help him sleep…
“I hope it makes a difference…”
“I’m sure it will.”
-
39.
Mitch went away to think about ways to avoid using the awful “super-pacifier”, as he called it. Clearly he had to pretend to have it in his mouth when he settled down, but there was no way he was going to lie there suc-king that thing all night. Perhaps his mother wouldn’t be bothered to check up on him. In any case, till he discovered what her routine was going to be, he was going to have to eschew the pleasures of his rubber baby pants.
That night, when he went to bed, he found the standard sissifier waiting for him in its box on his bedside table. He ignored it, and started reading a comic, until his mother came in.
“Now, Mitch - you know the drill.”
“But I’m not going to sleep yet!”
“Number one, yes you are…and number two, your pacifier is to be in as soon as you’re in bed. Understand? Then we won’t have any excuses about how you “forgot”.”
“Mum…” he whined.
“No arguments. Here. Open wide. Good. Now sleep, please. You’ve got school tomorrow. Don’t make that face. It’ll soon be the holidays, and then you can stay up a bit later.”
As soon as she was out of the room he spat out his dummy – literally. He was going to throw it across the room, but then he thought if she did come in later it would be obvious it was a deliberate rejection. So he left it by his pillow, just in case. If she came back – and he wasn’t at all convinced she would – she was unlikely to wake him up if she thought it had merely fallen from his lips.
So he reasoned. Unfortunately, Elizabeth took her responsibilities very seriously, and at twelve he was awaked and had the sissifier shoved unceremoniously back in his mouth.
And so it went on, for the rest of that week and the following weekend. Until his mother won the battle of wills, and he popped it in unbidden, and kept it there until he sank into unconsciousness. He was surprised that after only a day or two he found it still in his mouth on waking. And also, that it had a satisfyingly calming effect, and helped him sleep peacefully. He realised now how important was a pacifier to a baby. After a few days more he found himself becoming habituated to the simple device, enjoying its comforting influence. But there was a side-effect: suc-king on the smooth, bloated teat was a little sexually arousing. This worried him at first, but, not wanting his new-found pleasure to be blunted, he fabricated an explanation that exempted him from any sense of guilt. “It’s not that I’m imagining, well…doing it to another person,” he mused. “No. What it is, is that I’m imagining that it belongs to me. And I’m imagining that some girl – maybe Lettie – in suc-king and licking at it, driving me crazy. When I suc-k it, I’m thinking how I would like her to suc-k me. Yes, of course. That’s it. No doubt.”
And having arrived at this ingenious conclusion, and his mother having no further need to undertake her midnight inspections, he felt free to resume his secret (so he thought) practices with his rubber pants – much needed in view of his heightened arousal.
The first night he experimented was one he remembered for a long time. He retrieved them from their hiding place, dusted them with talc, and climbed into bed. Then he took the “super-pacifier” from his bedside table, and pushed it into his mouth – literally pushed, resisting for a moment with his lips, imagining Lettie doing the same. But once it was in, and he explored the slick, firm head with his tongue, his body reacted with startling enthusiasm. His pen-is grew to full erection in a matter of seconds, until it was straining against the stretched latex. He almost choked with surprise. He threw off his duvet and turned onto his back. When he suc-ked at the rubber one, he could feel his own throbbing with excitement. By moving his hips gently back and forth, the head moved up and down against the taut latex. Soon it was lubricating freely, slipping and sliding, and even the slightest movement send waves of pleasure through his whole body. He reached down and touched the tip gingerly. It was as hard as a little apple, and quivering with excitement. He breathed deeply through his nose, trying to maintain control. Why was this so stimulating? He wasn’t going to ponder that question for long. Instead he started treating the sissifier as if it were his own erect member – holding the shaft between his teeth, while suc-king and licking the head. Soon he was trying to replicate the movements of his tongue with his fingers, stroking and squeezing himself gently, bringing himself nearer and nearer orgasm, while simultaneously trying to stave it off. Then he started sliding the tip of his tongue back and forth in the cleft of the glans, while using one finger to imitate the action on himself. That was a step too far. With a startled moan, he toppled into an explosive climax. He saw an burst of stars, and then his sperm was flooding his pants, hot against his tummy. The sissifier fell out of his mouth, and he gave a cry, which he quickly stifled by biting on his pillow. He was still twitching with the aftermath when his mother came in.
“Mitch? Are you all right?”
“Oh, god. Oh…oh, yeah…mum… Bad dream…”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Your pacifier’s fallen out. Put it back, won’t you?”
“Yeah, course.”
“There. Good boy. Sure you’re all right?”
“Oh, yeah, mum. Fine. I’m…totally…fine…”
Whether or not Shirley had planned it this way, she had certainly had a result. An unbreakable link had been established between the sissifier and sexual pleasure – a bond of pleasure which could only heighten and intensify with time and repetition.
-
40.
Whilst all this was going on at home, Shirley hadn’t neglected his duties at P & S. Mitch became aware of her change of policy straight away. The following Saturday he was cast as a little servant boy, in a suit of blue taffeta, with white silk knee stockings and shoes with silver buckles. He didn’t really mind the outfit – he thought it quite smart – but Shirley had invited Celia and Jasper for an exploratory visit, and thought it would be amusing to have Mitch waiting on Sam and Jasper. Sam, of course, was delighted, and took pleasure in ordering him about. Jasper spent most of the session looking about him with bewilderment, or staring at Mitch.
“What do you think, darling? Would you like to come here for a while? Mitch will be here, won’t he Shirley?”
“Oh, yes. He’s not going anywhere.”
“You see, sweetie? You’ll have your best friend, and Sam as well.”
“Sam seems such a nice boy,” she added sotto voce, to Shirley.
“Oh, he is. So nice,” said Shirley, thinking what he might do if put in charge of Mitch. “So…he could start next weekend, if you liked…” she added.
“Did you hear that, Jasper? You can start next week. Isn’t that exciting? And you’ll be in films, you know. Wouldn’t you like to be on the internet? That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”
Jasper was not at all sure what he was being let in for. But Mitch would be there. That was all he cared about really.
Shirley and Celia had a chat about money. Celia was nervous that she might have to start financing the therapy if Jasper was there long term. But Shirley put her mind at rest.
“As I said, Celia, you don’t have to worry at all. There’ll be no charges at all at first. If he responds to training, and we’re able to use him in promotional or advertising material, then he’ll be paid. In fact, we’d pay you direct. We pay decent rates, so if he decided to stay long-term, it could even provide some extra income for you. No pressure. We can see how things pan out.”
“Thank you, Shirley. I’m so glad you approached us. I’m quite excited about it. I really think something like this is just what he needs to bring him out of his shell. He gets so sulky and rebellious sometimes.”
“I must say he seems a very quiet boy…”
“Well, he has his moments, I suppose. Perhaps his anger is directed towards me, because I’m not able to give him all the attention he would like…”
“Don’t blame yourself, Celia. In a few years he’ll have a crowd of new friends and he won’t want to know you. That’s how boys are. Leave him to me. I’ll bring him out. I think the change will do him good.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“So we’ll see you next Saturday, then?”
“At nine. And thank you again.”
After that day’s session, Shirley took Mitch aside.
“Well Mitch, how did you like that role?”
“It was okay. I liked the costume. Sam was a bit bossy, though.”
“Oh, don’t take it personally. I’ll keep an eye on him.” She paused. “How’s the pacifier thing working out? Your mum tells me you’ve been making progress…”
“I guess. I’m trying.”
“Good boy! Routine. Very important. Anyway, good news. You’ve been booked for a couple of assignments.”
“Oh? What sort of…?”
“The first one is on Wednesday the twenty-fourth. You’ll be broken up then. Stretford W.I.”
“W.I.?”
“Women’s Institute. The anniversary of their foundation. They have a do every year. You’ll like it. It’s very low-key. Mainly older women. Very motherly. You’ll be spoilt.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Oh, waiting. That sort of thing. Nothing arduous.”
“And what…will I be wearing?”
“Let’s discuss that nearer the time, shall we?”
“And the other one?”
“Hen party. Some friends of mine. Saw you at Henrietta’s wedding.”
Mitch looked anxious.
“Don’t look like that! They’re a lovely bunch of girls. And of course you’ll be paid for both events. With tips!”
“Oh, well, I guess…”
“Great. Well, off you go, darling. Yulya will drop you home. Get some sleep. Don’t forget your siss…pacifier. Sweet dreams!”
-
Great story. hope next chapters soon. Can't wait to see what happens to Mitch, Sam and now Jasper. Could it be that Jasper will now become the baby?
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41.
The Women’s Institute booking was no accident. Predictably, Shirley had several friends in that organisation who shared her views on the discipline of children. When they met up for drinks, which was not infrequently, one could hear lots of the old platitudes: “In my day…”, “If I’d behaved like that, it would be a good spanking and sent to bed without any supper!” “In my view, dear, children should be seen and not heard…” “They don’t know they’re born, children today…” etc. etc.
Over the aforementioned drinks, most of which were based on a high proportion of gin, (the evils of which the women had either forgotten or conveniently overlooked), Shirley and her friends discussed such global issues as the best anti-wrinkle creams, the merits of chocolate as against banana and blueberry muffins, and, of course, delinquent youth. When Shirley was around, this was their favourite topic, and they pumped her for details of the latest experiments being undertaken at P & S. So it was inevitable that the idea should emerge of having one of her acolytes to entertain them at their annual do. And who better than the boy of the moment? All that remained to decide was his precise role in the proceedings. For which purpose an extraordinary private meeting was arranged, composed of Shirley and half a dozen of the senior members.
“Shirley, for the benefit of those of us who haven’t heard the details, tell us more about change of policy towards Mitch. It sounded fascinating.”
“Well, dear, yes. It was a simple conclusion I should have drawn long before. What troubles him most – and therefore what is the best aid to his training – is being perceived to be a sissy.”
“And how do you define a “sissy”, exactly?”
“A sissy, Rachel dear, is a boy – it can only be a boy – who shows feminine or babyish tendencies. My usual policy is to aim for total babification or total feminisation. But I realised these were less effective in his case than something in between. I needed to create a feeling of ambiguity about his age and gender, even his sexuality. If I could achieve that it would generate a tension which would keep him anxious, unsettled, and vulnerable. A spin-off is that his appearance generates curiosity. He attracts attention, which increases his embarrassment even more.”
“Sounds interesting,” said another. “And how do you intend to create this ambiguity?”
“Well, it’s early days yet. I’m working on suitable outfits for him to wear. But I need to make a decision about the twenty-fourth. And it would be good to have your input.”
“I saw those wedding pictures. He looked so helpless and uncomfortable. Maybe something like that again? I’m sure the ladies would appreciate it…”
Murmurs of concurrence.
“Yes, he does respond rather well to latex, doesn’t he? And he’s in the process of learning to accept one of these.” She produced a basic sissifier and placed it in the middle of the table. There was a pause and then squeals of delight. Rachel picked it up.
“That brings back memories,” she laughed. “So, is he actually using this?”
“His mother tells me he’s making satisfactory progress. We also have a locking version in the event of resistance.”
“You’re a genius, Shirley. I’d like to see that, whatever else we decide.”
“Yes, but I want him to be able to speak, too,” said another. “I want to ask him all about his training.”
“Well, you’ll have the key,” said Shirley. “You can do what you like. But as to an outfit…”
There followed an hour of heated discussion. The wedding photo was passed around, and several of the women favoured a repeat. But Shirley wanted to reserve that, or at least a variation on it, for her friends’ hen party. They had pretty much reached an impasse, when someone said, “You know what? I know it’s a bit boring, I suppose, but I miss babies. Even my grandchildren are growing up now, and I don’t get to feed them and tickle them and change them any more - I guess I could try, but they might object! So…”
“It doesn’t have to be boring,” replied Shirley. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t find Baby Mitch boring…at least, not the way I could prepare him. But remember, ladies, babies can be a lot of work. Do you really want to have all that trouble…”
She was interrupted by a chorus of approval.
“That’s the sort of trouble we like!” cried Rachel. “And he’s been a baby before, hasn’t he?”
“He has, but…”
“We want Baby Mitch!” laughed one of the women. And they all took up the chant, “We want Baby Mitch!”
When the noise had died down, Shirley looked around the table, and took another gulp of gin and tonic.
“All right, ladies. Baby Mitch it is. Baby Mitch the boy baby with frills on, so to speak. He won’t be happy about it, mind. And no doubt you’d like me to come up with something a little…unconventional, shall we say? That won’t be easy, but I’ll do my best.”
-
42.
Over the next couple of days, Shirley and Mandy thought about Mitch’s outfit, and Shirley put in the order. It arrived on the nineteenth, the day Mitch’s school broke up for the summer, and just in time for the W.I. party the following Wednesday. They discussed having a fitting, but thought better of it. Let it be a nice surprise for Mitch as well as the W.I.
He was instructed to be at P & S by eleven. On arrival, Shirley sent him straight to the changing-room to get undressed. His outfit was ready for him when he emerged. Shirley and Mandy had been adamant that he should be as little trouble as possible to the women of the W.I. They expected good behaviour, and Shirley was determined they should get it. As she had said, babies can be trouble sometimes. But this one wasn’t going to be.
He couldn’t play a tiny baby. He was too big. No, he had to be a one-year-old at least, a toddler, and it would be nice if he was still a bit uncertain on his feet, so he couldn’t run rings around his hosts. So Shirley had ordered him a pair of canary yellow leather bootees, with matching leather straps about the ankles, the straps connected together with a strong rubber rope something less than a foot long. So far so good. Then, she didn’t want him tampering with things either, grabbing food, or suchlike, so there was also a pair of thick yellow rubber mitts, also secured by straps, which could be linked together with a simple screw link if needed. His bonnet was of pastel blue latex, with yellow frills around the oval opening for his face, secured by a strap under the chin. At eye level were two big silver press-studs, one each side, to which an optional accessory – a moulded rubber blindfold – could easily be attached. And lower down two loops, to accommodate the straps of a sissifier gag – should that be needed. As to his clothes, Shirley had ordered a pretty blue cotton top of her own design, with cuffed and buttoned puff sleeves, embroidered collar, and yellow elasticated smocking across the chest, from which it flared out to a waist-length hem decorated with yellow tassels. What he was going to wear below that little ring of tassels was the most gorgeous pair of yellow, translucent rubber pants, with tiny coloured stars and planets and tiny pieces of glitter buried within the latex. They had a broad flat waistband and narrower leg bands, tight enough to prevent any escape of liquid should there be (heaven forbid) an accident, whilst being loose enough to accommodate the thickest nappy. To start him off, however, Shirley had selected a large, unusually puffy pull-up decorated with blue polkadots, which she was gratified to discover were visible through the semi-transparent latex.
“What do you think, Mandy? Simple, but effective. I do hope they like it.”
“Simple, yes dear, but with a few modifications on the bonnet, you must admit. I don’t know…I think they may like it,” she smiled, “even though it is a little conservative…”
“Do you think Mitch will like it…?”
“Ah. That’s another question. If he does,” she laughed, “I’ll be very disappointed!”
He didn’t. He was quite angry, actually, though he dared not show it. So he contented himself with sulking, while Shirley and Mandy got him dressed. They decided to link his hands behind his back as a precaution.
“Rachel can release them when you get there. Now be a good boy, Mitch, and be polite to all the nice ladies,” she added, sprinkling his pants with scented talc. “And remember – baby talk, please. And act cute, okay?”
“Huh. Aren’t you coming, then?”
“No. Anna will drive you and do the filming. I asked Lettie and Molly if they could chaperone you, but they’re both busy today.”
“Thank god for that.”
“So Lottie and Dorothea offered to do it.”
“What? No. Not them, please.”
“Dear, dear. They’re quite capable of taking care of a baby. They’re waiting in the car. They have all the baby equipment with them... Ah, Anna. Perfect timing. Here he is, all ready for you.”
“Ooh! He so sweet! Come with Anna, little baby. Come and show the girls.”
Anna took him by the mitt and led him out to the car. The pull-up was so bulky between his legs that, what with that and the ankle tether, he found himself waddling like a duck with a sore foot. The girls were in the back, and when they saw him approaching they bounced up and down with excitement and delight. He climbed in next to Anna.
“He walks just like a baby.” She sniffed. “He even smells like a baby!” cried Dorothea.
“I’m not a baby – I’m supposed to be a toddler at least,” replied Mitch sulkily, and instantly regretted it, as the girls dissolved in laughter.
“Ooh, he’s not a baby, Dot, he’s a big, grown up toddler!” squealed Lottie delightedly. More peals of laughter.
The drive was a nightmare. One or other of the girls was continually poking his ribs or tugging at his pants. There were constant whispers and giggling. Anna, having no part in the P & S hierarchy, ignored their teasing and rattled away about what a hit he was going to be, and begged him to pose for her as and when she requested. Mitch gritted his teeth, and was almost relieved when they finally arrived at the venue, a meeting-hall on the edge of the village. Anna was first out, and as he went to open his door, Dorothea reminded her of the baby equipment in the boot.
“Oh yes, Dorothea. I not forget, don’t worry.”
“And make sure you bring the sissifiers,” Lottie added, having learned the word from her sister on the understanding it must be kept strictly secret.
“Sissifiers?” asked Mitch, anxiously. “What’s a sissifier?”
“Oh, nothing, sorry,” said Lottie, realising too late she had betrayed a confidence, “nothing at all…”
Puzzled and irritated, Mitch alighted. The girls took one arm each, and followed Anna towards the main door….
-
Wonderful story, can't wait for next chapters. Poor Mitch paraded as a 1yr old baby. Would have preferred thick cloth nappy, much bulkier and humiliating.
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43.
Inside there was a small ante-room, at the far side of which double doors with glass windows led into the main hall. As the girls pulled Mitch forwards, he could see tables inside, populated by mainly middle-aged women, and he could hear the murmur of voices – a murmur which ceased abruptly as he was pushed into the hall. At the far end was a long trestle table with plates and glasses and covered trays with food and bottles and jugs, being supervised by two young women in white aprons. Along each side were four smaller tables, at each of which sat four or five of the older women. At his entrance there were smiles and exclamations, and one of the women at a table to his left jumped up to greet him.
“Mitch! How lovely. And what an amazing costume! Thank you for bringing him, girls.”
Rachel – for it was she - took Mitch by the arm – his hands were still linked behind his back – and led him up and down the rows, like a horse up for auction. He kept looking straight ahead, though out of the corner of his eye he could see the amused and delighted stares of his audience. Clearly his appearance was all that they could have hoped for, and more. The only faces he looked at directly were the two young women at the trestle tables. They were smiling, whispering to each other, and giggling – but at least they looked friendly. As Rachel reached the far corner and prepared to bring him back along the other side, he noticed, in the corner, a giant white playpen with a barred top. Seeing him looking at it, Rachel whispered, “that’s for you, darling, courtesy of Shirley - for when you have your nap – or when you’ve been naughty,” she added with a wink.
The parade over, he was put to work in his role as entertainer straight away. It seemed as if the programme had been planned in advance. First, it was “he”. Rachel left him standing in the middle of the hall. He had no idea what was going on. Then Dorothea approached, slapped his arm, and ran. “You’re it!” shouted Lottie, and the girls started running around him, making faces and sticking their tongues out. “Come get us, baby pants!” cried Dorothea, taunting him from a safe distance.
“Go on, boy,” said Rachel from the sidelines, “do what you’re told. That’s why you’re here.” It was said in a tone that brooked no objections, and he knew he’d better play along or punishment of some sort would definitely ensue. Clumsily, hampered by his tether and his padded nappy, he lurched at them. Of course, he had no chance of ever catching either. They simply danced around him, giggling and poking fun, while the company shouted encouragement. As the ‘game’ went on, he grew more and more annoyed and resentful, and his cheeks were burning with the effort and with embarrassment. And when he final tripped and sat down on the floor, he could have cried with frustration. Then Lottie generously allowed him to catch her, which simply led to her chasing him around the room, skipping behind him while he lumbered along, much to everyone’s amusement.
After twenty minutes of this, he had had enough. He stopped dead.
“Shit! I’m not doing this any more!”
There was a shocked silence. Rachel strode onto the floor.
“Mitch! Babies do not swear!”
“That wasn’t a swear…” he began.
“Silence. We don’t put up with that sort of language here. In front of all these ladies, too! Bethesda?” She addressed a tall lady with a grey perm. “Bethesda? You know what is needed.”
“No!”
Bethesda knew exactly what was needed. As did Mitch. She went to a cupboard at the end of the room, and came back carrying a blue sissifier gag.
“Show everyone first ,” said Rachel. “Most of them haven’t seen this yet.”
The gag was passed around, eliciting gasps of surprise from the women of the W.I. Mitch’s pleas were swept aside. To the undisguised delight of Lottie and Dorothea, Bethesda held Mitch’s head still while Rachel threaded the straps through the loops on the side of his bonnet and closed and locked the buckle. The swollen teat filled his mouth, making all but the most muffled grunt impossible. Rachel stood back, holding his shoulders and looking at him with obvious satisfaction. “There. That’s better. Don’t look so sad, Mitch. It’s better than a spanking, don’t you think?” And added, in an undertone, “something nice to suc-k on…”
The girls were soon tired of “he”. Lottie suggested races, but in view of Mitch’s handicap Rachel doubted that would be very entertaining. Then Dorothea said, “what about Blind Man’s Buff?”
“Perfect!” said Rachel. “we have just the thing!”
The eye mask was produced, and attached to the press-studs. Each eye was covered with a blue rubber cup. Now Mitch was blind as well as dumb. All that could be seen of his face was his nose and part of his red cheeks. But you could still tell he was very angry. The girls danced around him, taunting him and calling him names to provoke him.
“Come on, panty-boy, come and get us!”
“Mer-mer-mi-mer-mer,” chanted Lottie, “can’t get us, wee-wee pants!”
“Do you like your new dummy, sissy Mitch?”
It was probably fortunate the tight rubber bonnet muffled their words. Indeed, he was virtually deprived of all his senses. But he could still feel, and Lottie soon had the idea of running in, slapping his bare leg, and running away. He tried vainly to lurch towards the direction from which these attacks were being launched, but after falling onto his bottom twice more, it was soon clear the girls had more than an unfair advantage. His thighs were soon red with slap-marks, and he had given up trying to chase them. So Rachel decided to even things up a bit. First of all she released his hands, but as he still couldn’t grab anyone with those rubber mitts on, and as his legs continued to suffer from the attacks of the squealing girls, she removed his ankle tether as well.
After that, things began to get more interesting. And certainly more entertaining. Mitch’s strategy was to stand still and wait for an attack, then hurl himself in the apparent direction of the attacker, who would flee, screaming with laughter. It was clear that sooner or later he was going to catch one of the girls, which would have spoiled the fun, so Rachel gave them an old riding whip, (which she brought with her with some idea that it might be useful), so that they could launch their assaults from a safe distance.
Really, it was a rather cruel thing to do, and soon the poor boy’s legs were marked with little red patches from the leather flap at the tip. But the audience didn’t seem to mind. The women were really getting into the spirit of the game.
“Behind, you, Mitch!”
“Now, Lottie! No, the other leg! It’s hardly marked…”
“It’s Dorothea’s turn. Dotty, higher up! Try to get the inside of his thigh!”
Mitch ran this way and that, straining to hear the girls’ voices, but by now they were being drowned out by the shouts of the spectators. Once or twice he careered into one of the tables, and was quickly repulsed back into the middle of the floor. Then at last he got lucky. He had fallen over, but as he sprawled, he came into contact with one of Dorothea’s legs. Before she could retreat he had grabbed it, and pulled her down. As he struggled to hold her, she fought to escape, and in the melee he caught her nose with his fist. She screamed, but several women were already dragging him off. He was so frustrated and angry by this time that he completely forgot himself, and began to pummel Dorothea’s rescuers. It took six of them to subdue him, holding down his arms and legs. He lay there, helpless and fuming. He knew he was in big trouble. He could here some murmured conversation, then Rachel’s voice, raised so he could hear.
“Do you know you’ve made Dorothea’s nose bleed? And do you know that Betty got your fist in her tummy? Do you even care? That’s the trouble with you boys, isn’t it? Isn’t it? We buy you nice clothes, lovely pretty little outfits, and how do you thank us? Well? (As Mitch was firmly gagged, posing all these questions was clearly a fruitless exercise. But mothers in particular specialise in this sort of interrogation when they know their subject either cannot or is too afraid to answer.) “We dress you in lovely soft baby clothes, and play nice quiet games with you, and what do you do? Beat us all up. Yes, beat us up. The one thing you seem to be good at!”
“And be horrible!” added Dorothea, holding a tissue to her nose.
“Yes. And be generally horrible and aggressive. It’s a waste of time treating you nicely, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” (Nodding of heads all round.) The only think you understand is a smacked bottom. Right? Am I right?”
“Mmmfff…” responded Mitch – which probably meant, “no, please don’t do that,” but was interpreted as an mmmfff of defiance.
“Oh, right, you don’t think we dare, don’t you? Well we’ll show you, young man. Arabella?”
Arabella was a woman in her sixties. She had recently retired as headmistress of a private girls’ school, and was fond of reminiscing about her early days as a teacher, when she was regarded as something of an expert in the application of corporal punishment. She was unable to say whether in those days she preferred using her hand or a paddle or the cane. “Each aid has it’s peculiar uses,” she would say, enigmatically.
So it was that, five minutes later, Mitch found himself across Arabella’s knee, held in position by two women on his right wrist, two more on his left, two more on his right leg, and Dorothea and Lottie attached to the remaining limb. The rest of the gathering, including the two attendants, were gathered round, two or three deep.
He felt someone take hold of his pants. He struggled, but he was firmly pinioned. He heard Rachel’s distant voice. “Now we’ll see…”
-
44.
Indeed, they did see. As his rubber pants were pulled down to his ankles, immediately followed by his pull-up, they saw everything there was to see - particularly those kneeling on the floor holding his ankles. He squirmed and wriggled with embarrassment, forgetting that it merely rendered the spectacle of his bare bottom all the more amusing. Anna took up a position kneeling on a table, to get an uninterrupted elevated view. There was a collective holding of breath as Arabella prepared to begin. Though he was ready for it, that first smack still came as a shock to Mitch. Partly because it was directed to the flank of his right buttock rather than across both buttocks, partly because of the unexpected sting of Miss Baxter’s hand. She was an expert, and had developed a method of flicking her wrist downwards at the last moment to increase the impact velocity, as well as working around the posterior in a sort of spiral pattern so no part escaped attention – and then back again, to enhance and prolong the agony. She never set herself a target of six or twelve or twenty-four smacks. That would have allowed the subject the luxury of anticipating an end. No, she liked to keep them guessing. Maybe it would never stop! Just go on and on, until they had been reduced to a mere mass of quivering, pleading, flesh.
After only three or four minutes of this, Mitch was squirming and emitting a string of muffled moans and squeaks. His bottom was on fire, but the slaps kept on coming.
“I’m not used to spanking boys,” remarked Miss Baxter. “Really I need my cane to do him justice.”
“There’s a riding whip…” suggested Lottie, helpfully.
“Maybe later, dear, if his behaviour doesn’t improve.” She administered one last, swinging smack. “There. Now in future, my boy, think about the consequences of your actions.”
One consequence he was certainly not going to forget was that spanking. His bottom cheeks were scarlet. Rachel held her hand near them.
“Phew. You’ve certainly warmed him up, Arabella. I think maybe some cold cream is needed here. Keep him right there. I’ll get some. There’s a chemist right next door.”
Mitch was no longer struggling. He lay there, his body racked with silent sobs. Arabella smiled at the onlookers, who were mostly watching attentively, obviously impressed by her expertise.
“It’s the only way with some children, I’m afraid. Boys especially. Now then, Mitch, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Any more misbehaviour today and…well, let’s put it this way. It won’t be just my hand across your bottom.”
Mitch emitted a short whine, which seemed to say, “I have…I’ll be good…”
Rachel returned with a big bag. She’d bought a large pot of cold cream and several pairs of latex gloves, along with some other stuff Mitch couldn’t see. In the playpen was a big padded plastic changing mat. They cleared a space on one of the trestles and placed it there. Mitch’s pull-up and pants were removed, he made his way gingerly over, and they helped him up. His bottom was still stinging, and he was looking forward to the coolness of the cream.
The honours were awarded to someone whose face looked familiar. Grace!
“Hello, Mitch, darling. Didn’t you know I was in the W.I.? What a pity you weren’t able to maintain your proper role today. Shirley will have to intensify your training, no doubt. But she’ll get the job done in the end, and you’ll be a quieter, happier boy – or girl, depending. Now, let me attend to your bottom.” She pulled on a pair of gloves. “Ooh, that must smart! Arabella’s such an expert.” Rachel opened the pot and set it down. Grace scooped out a generous wad. She hesitated a moment, then gently applied it to one buttock, then the other. Mitch made a little squawk of relief as the cold, soft gloop touched his skin, followed by a silent sigh. What relief! Grace had a light touch, and worked slowly, smoothing away the pain. All right, she did play a little trick on him, with one finger between his buttocks, but he forgave her that. Of course, Lottie and Dorothea were pleading to be allowed to have a go, which eventually they did, with childish clumsiness. Mitch pressed himself firmly to the mat, but he didn’t even mind that too much, the feeling of the cream was so delicious – until he saw Anna using it as a photo opportunity. He frowned as her, as best he could, but it made no difference. Afterwards his garments were restored, and he and the mat were transferred into the boy-sized playpen. It was big enough for him to lie full length if he wished. The lid was closed and locked.
“That’ll keep him out of mischief while we have lunch,” laughed Rachel. But Mitch was quite happy to be inside, protected from persecution. The women moved away, but immediately Rachel returned and squatted down beside him.
“We decided we’ll take off your gag – wait...we’ll take off your gag, if you promise to behave like a baby and suc-k your pacifier instead.”
Mitch nodded vigorously.
“Good. I’ll ask the girls to give you some food, and then you can have a nap. Okay?”
He nodded again. So she reached between the bars and unlocked the gag. It was such a relief.
“Fank oo, Rachel. Me have my pacifier now?” He was showing her he was totally on board.
She gave him a sissifier. “You’ll find that one’s particularly sweet,” she whispered, cryptically.
He popped it in his mouth. Yes, it did have a faintly sweet taste.
“suc-k it then…”
He did as he was bidden. At once something sticky erupted from the tip.
“Your mum said you liked condensed milk,” grinned Rachel. “Enjoy. Tell us if you’d like a refill.”
-
45.
After she had returned to her table, Mitch lay down. There was a soft pillow with little yellow ducks on a blue background for his head, and soft toys to play with. He suc-ked contendedly at his sissifier, drawing the thick sweet milk into his mouth one drop at a time. It reminded him he was hungry, and he wondered what he would be given for lunch. But the feeling of the gooey milk oozing from the smooth, bulblike teat was also annoyingly arousing, and was soon creating an uncomfortable tightness in his pull-up. He tried to adjust it, but with his hands still in their rubber mitts he could do nothing. But he certainly wasn’t going to stop nursing on his favourite treat.
He saw Lottie and Dorothea approaching. Why send them of all people? Ah well, at least they had some food by the look of it. And – oh, yeah, of course, a feeding bottle!
They knelt down by the side of the playpen, clearly delighted at the responsibility they had been given. Mitch knew better now than to upset them in any way. He knew if he wanted to eat and to be left alone he had to play along.
“Baby, look at what we’ve brought you!” cried Dorothea, excitedly. A nice bottle of warm milk, and some yummy baby food from the chemist!”
The bottle was about litre-sized, and full. The girls lined up a little row of jars of baby food on the floor, and Lottie produced two plastic spoons. “Baby hungry?”
Mitch paused, but acceded to the inevitable. “Baby hungwy, yeth. Oo feed baby nice foods?”
The girls were ecstatic. He was being just like a proper baby now. Lottie harboured thoughts of having him at home and looking after him when Lettie wasn’t around. Dorothea simply revelled in the idea of humiliating this big silly boy. She turned to Anna.
“Anna, watch us feed the baby. And let us have the film afterwards, okay?”
They put a plastic bib on him and spooned the various pastes into his mouth, no being too careful about getting it on his cheeks or up his nose. In between spoonfuls he was required to drink milk from the bottle. It wouldn’t go between the bars. She pushed the end through and Mitch had to lean forward to suc-k at the teat. While this was going on, Rachel took away his sissifier and refilled it. Oh yes, he was going to be properly looked after today!
Eventually Mitch could take no more variously-flavoured mush and warm milk, and he drew back and made a face. The girls were beginning to get annoyed, until Rachel intervened.
“Girls, girls. Look, baby’s had enough. You musn’t force him to eat more than he wants. What, he’s eaten all those jars? Cheesy tomato, and apple and squash and creamy porridge and carrot and cauliflower and… goodness! And he’s drunk nearly all his milk! That’s enough. And look at the state of his face! Lottie, run and get me a damp cloth from the kitchen, please. Dorothea? Here, take this bib and wash it out.”
The girls ran off on their errands. Rachel replaced Mitch’s sissifier in the playpen.
“There. All filled up again. Now, once we’ve cleaned you up, baby, you can have your nap. We’re all still having our lunch, as you can see. So nobody will disturb you.”
Mitch looked at the sissifier queasily. Lottie returned with the cloth. Rachel wiped all the baby food off his face – and off the changing mat – smiled, said “sleep well, baby,” and left him. He lay down carefully on his side, staring at his sissifier.
“Pacifier in, please,” called Rachel from her table. He put it in, but this time he didn’t suc-k it. He closed his eyes. He felt sick. But he did actually go to sleep. All the activity had tired him out.
-
46.
He must have slept for about forty minutes. When he opened his eyes, for a moment he couldn’t think where he was. He still had the sissifier in his mouth, and was conscious of its sweetness. Then it all came flooding back. He was aware he was in desperate need of a pee. He sat up. The ladies were sitting at their tables drinking coffee. He couldn’t see Rachel. Her place appeared to be empty. But he could see Grace.
“Grace! Grace!”
She said something to her friends – probably “the baby’s awake” – got up and came over.
“Hello, darling. Did you have a nice nap?”
“Grace, I need to go…I mean, baby need wee-wee…now, please…”
“All right, dear, let me get this thing unlocked.” She turned round. “Anyone seen Rachel? I need the key to the playpen.”
“I think she went outside to have a smoke,” someone replied.
“Oh, all right. Darling? Can you hold on for ten minutes?”
“No! No I can’t! It’s urgent!”
“All right. Don’t you start being rude now, Mitch. If you want me to go and find her, ask politely.”
“Grace, please. Please go get her…” And he added, seeing her fold her arms and look archly at him, “please, miss…baby need to do pee-pee – very bad…”
“That’s better. Wait and I’ll be back in a moment.” And she strode off in pursuit of the key-holder.
Whether Rachel hadn’t been where Grace expected, or whether she and Grace had deliberately taken their time, he never knew. He suspected the latter, since, when they entered the hall, they were laughing about something and didn’t seem in any particular hurry. Rachel approached. She actually had the key in the lock when Mitch lost the struggle with his bladder.
He had drunk most of that bottle of milk, and a commensurate quantity of pee flooded his pull-up. Rachel could tell what was happening by the expression of dismay on his face, the puckered forehead and the quivering bottom lip. But she pretended she didn’t.
“Come on, baby, time to go do a big wee in the toilet.” She swung open the lid. “Come on…”
Mitch sat down on his bottom, looking like he might cry. Rachel heard the squelch.
“Oh, dear. Is baby wet?”
A slow nod in reply.
“Never mind. We’ll soon have you all changed and dry again!”
“No.”
“No?”
“Don’t wanna be changed.”
“Oh, but we have to change you, baby. Otherwise you might get a rash. And you wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“But…”
“No buts! Well, apart from your own little wet one,” she added as an afterthought, with a snigger at her own joke.
Mitch sighed. “Please don’t change me here…”
“Don’t worry. There’s a changing-room just off the lobby. Come on. Hold my hand.”
She led Mitch down the middle of the room. Anna and her camera followed. Everyone could see his soaked, heavy pull-up through his rubber pants, which were sticking to it. He could hear the sniggers and smart remarks, and, as they neared the door, Lottie piping up, “look, Dotty, he’s really wetted his nappy badly!” It was a relief to get to the changing-room. He didn’t much care what happened now, as long as he could get a dry pull-up on. He climbed up onto the counter by way of the toilet, and lay down. There was a knock at the door, but it was only Grace, coming to help. She’d brought his sissifier, thinking, she said, he might like something to suc-k on while he was being changed. Then she whispered something to Rachel which he didn’t catch. He felt he needed comforting, so he took it and popped it in. He was divested of his wet things, wiped thoroughly, and allowed to lie there for a minute to dry. Grace dumped the pull-up and washed, dried and dusted his pants. Rachel rubbed a little cream into his skin, sprinkled him with scented talc, and helped him down. He waited for his new nappy, preserving his modesty with both mitts.
“Mitch? There’s a small problem. Shirley doesn’t seem to have provided a replacement pull-up.”
Mitch took the sissifier out of his mouth. “What?”
“Yes. And the ones in the chemist wouldn’t even get near you.”
“So… What am I…?”
“You’ll be fine in just your pants. I’m sure you won’t have any more accidents today.”
“But…no! They’re…virtually see-through!”
“Oh nonsense. Look, they’re quite a cloudy yellow…”
“And in any case…”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. You can’t make me.”
“I bet Arabella could…”
He looked at her. She was serious. “Let me go straight back into my playpen, then.”
“Okay. No problem.”
So he had to run the gauntlet all the way back down the middle of the hall. He kept his mitts firmly in front of him, but his little bare bottom was clear for all to see under the semi-transparent, glittery, yellow latex, with its cute little planets and stars. By the time he climbed back into the playpen his cheeks were burning. He sat down facing into the corner of the room, and pretended to be playing with his toys. In his nervousness he suc-ked hard on his dummy, and a wad of thick sweet milk burst from the tip. Grace must have refilled it again. As he swallowed it, to his horror he felt himself beginning to get aroused. The combination of the rubber pants and the oozing sissifier had been to much. He quickly spat it out, but the damage was done. In less than a minute he was fully erect, the head of his pen-is stretching the front of his pants taut. He heard someone approaching, so he quickly lay down on his side, facing the wall, and pretended to be asleep. It was Rachel.
“Mitch, darling. Come and meet Miss Brentford. She’s a very important member of our local federation, and she’s been kind enough to pay us a visit. She’d love to meet you.”
-
47.
Mitch groaned silently. Not now, please. He bit his tongue, hoping the pain would somehow counteract his tumescence – but to no avail. He imagined Miss Brentford’s horror if he were to stand up and greet her, as in politeness he should. She was probably about seventy, and incredibly posh. He imagined the look of disgust on her wrinkly face. He decided to make his excuses.
“Sorry, Rachel… I’m feeling a bit sick after all that food… I think I just need to lie still for a bit…”
“Well, you might at least have the courtesy to say hello,” said Rachel, testily. “Miss Brentford's a very busy woman. She's just popped in for a few minutes to say hi to everyone.”
“Hello, er, Miss Brentford,” said Mitch, not moving. “Sorry I can’t get up…”
“That’s all right, darling,” came back a soft, youthful, friendly voice. “Maybe some other time…?”
The voice made Mitch screw his head round and look at the woman addressing him. She was nothing like he had expected. She can’t have been out of her twenties. She was simply dressed in black faux leather leggings, high-heeled ankle boots, and a white shirt, pulled taut across her pointed breasts. Her blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail above a fresh, slightly freckled, smiling face. Rachel was standing beside her, and the ubiquitous Anna was also in attendance.
In a second he forgot all about his erection. He jumped to his feet and extended his hand.
“Oh…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Pleased to meet you…”
Miss Brentford went to take the proffered mitt, but before she could make contact she caught sight of the head of Mitch’s rigid member, pressed against the virtually transparent latex, and pointing straight at her. Rachel was also staring. But Miss Brentford’s hesitation was momentary. She took hold of the rubber-encased fist as well as she could and shook it.
“Lovely to meet you Mitch. I must say, it’s not often I get such an…enthusiastic greeting.” She raised one eyebrow and one corner of her red lips. “You certainly are just as…spirited a boy as everyone has told me…”
“Oh…” All at once he remembered himself, and was seized with a fit of embarrassment. Turning bright red in an instant, he placed his mitts strategically in front of him, and started stammering.
“Oh…yes… I-I…it’s very nice to meet you. I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting…”
“A visitor? No I don’t suppose you were. But I was particularly interested to meet you. You see, I know your boss. Shirley’s a good friend of mine. In fact, she’s booked you for my friend’s hen party in a couple of weeks. Now I know we’re going to be very well entertained…”
“Oh, I see… Well I don’t know… I’m not a very good entertainer… And I’m not sure what’s expected of me…”
“Don’t worry about that Mitch. Just come as you are” – she lowered her eyes momentarily – “come just as you are, and we’ll all be well satisfied.”
She leant over the side of the playpen and gave him a peck on the cheek. Her lips were warm, and her lipstick slightly sticky. Mitch gulped, opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say.
“So I look forward to it, Mitch. But I have to go. Ta ta for now.” And with a wink, she turned and walked away, giving him a view of a narrow waist, swinging hips, and a perfect butt. Rachel threw him a surprised glance, as if to say, “I don’t know how you have the nerve!”, and followed after her.
Grace, having received a report of the encounter from Rachel, and assuming Miss Brentford must have been outraged, was soon on the phone to Shirley.
“Darling, your little protégé…oh, nothing, but his…thing… It’s out of control. Yes, and in front of Miss Brentford! I don’t know what she must have thought! I mean… I think you’re going to have to fit him with a…you know, what do you call it? What? An ECD. Oh, I see…yes, perfect. I mean, he was supposed to be a baby today, you know… No, I didn’t see it myself. Why should I want to? Really, boys! Myself I always preferred him as a girl. So pretty. That’s what I think you should do dear, one of those…ECD things, and a pretty dress and panties, and keep him like that. Teach him to behave demurely.”
Five minutes after Grace’s call, Miss Brentford rang.
“Hello, Teddy.” (Miss Brentford’s name was Edwina, which she hated, and consequently had abbreviated it to Teddy as soon as she had become a teenager.) “How are you? I hear you’ve met little Mitch then…” She listened for a full minute. “Well, I’m so glad you approve. Yes, he’s all boy, all right. That’s how you want him, isn’t it? Yes, I’m working on it now. I know…they’ll love him. He is, isn’t he? Cute and sexy, yes! Okay, I’ll let you have a preview. Pleasure. See you soon!”
She sat back in her chair and took a sip of her gin and tonic. That boy… So many possibilities. He could be anything you wanted. Girl or boy or baby. But Grace was right. If girl or baby, he needed some restraint. Now, if she kept him under lock and key until the party…then, once released, he be ripe and ready for anything, and guaranteed to put on a good show…
And she mused and schemed and laid her plans…
-
48.
The next day she reviewed her strategy. So Teddy wanted Mitch to present as a boy. Well, it was a hen party, after all, and Teddy was the most awful tease. Shirley suspected she was lesbian. All her close friends were female, and she couldn’t recall her ever having a boyfriend. But that didn’t stop her flaunting her considerable charms in front of anything in trousers, watching them make fools of themselves, and then simply walking away. In Mitch she must have seen the perfect subject to provide a little harmless entertainment for her friends. Anyway, she had already anticipated Teddy’s wishes, and ordered a new pair of shorts from her supplier; though now she was seriously considering if this had been a good idea. According to Grace, Mitch’s behaviour had been wildly inappropriate. She didn’t want that. He needed to be a proper boy, but she didn’t want him getting out of hand. He needed to be contained somehow, kept within the bounds of respectability. So she rang her supplier.
“Alison? It’s Shirley. Have you started on that last order I put in? The shorts for Mitch? No? That’s good. I wanted to talk about the design. The last pair were excellent – they had a very impressive effect, just as we expected. But there was a little too much…movement, if you get my drift. Is there any way of…”
“You want it kept firmly in its place? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Is that possible?”
“It’s possible. It would help if I had some precise measurements…”
“Oh, yes. I’ll send them on later. We’ve got absolutely everything on record, you know.”
“Otherwise as we agreed?”
“Yes.”
“And the colour?”
“Er, let me think about that. I was thinking blue, but on reflection that may be a bit boring. I’ll get back to you.”
“As soon as you can, please. I’ll need to get started fairly soon. For the second, you said?”
“That’s right. I’ll get back to you shortly. Thanks a million, Alison.”
“No problem, Shirley. Look forward to hearing from you.”
So that was that. All that remained was to decide on the rest of his outfit. Something boyish but cute. Difficult one. But right now she had another concern. Mitch needed fitting with an ECD as soon as possible, so he would be at his best for Teddy and her friends in ten days’ time. She rang Elizabeth and arranged to call round that morning. She would have to get there before eleven, because Mitch had a meeting at Scouts about the trip.
Now school had broken up, she intended to offer the boys extra days. There were a number of prospective clients booked for visits, and they could help to welcome them, and provide real physical evidence of the benefits of P & S. Once fitted up, Mitch could be the girl and be put in panties without any fear of him disgracing himself. She was sure he would be only too pleased to revert to his favoured gender.
She selected a few of slightly varying size, compact, with built-in locks, so they wouldn’t be noticeable under the thinnest underwear. Then she set off, and arrived at Mitch’s house twenty minutes before eleven. Elizabeth opened the door.
“Shirley. How nice to see you again. He’s still here, but he’ll need to leave soon to get the bus.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll give him a lift. Spencer Street, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Thanks. That would be great. Er, about the…device… Were you thinking of putting it on him now…?”
“The sooner the better. Let me have a word with him.”
Elizabeth led her through to the kitchen, where Mitch was sitting at the table eating a sandwich. He was wearing his Scout uniform.
“Hi Mitch. How are you?”
“Hi, miss. I’m okay, thanks. Gotta leave for Scouts in a minute, though.”
“Yes, I know…” She was staring at him thoughtfully. He wore a green shirt with badges on the chest and all down one sleeve.
“Wow! Are they all proficiency badges, Mitch?”
He blushed slightly. “These are, yeah,” he said, proudly.
“I love it. You look really cool. Is that your scarf?” She pointed to it, lying on the table next to his plate.
“My necker, yeah.” He held it up. Mauve with yellow edges. Nice colours. Shirley had an idea.
“Can I have a photo?”
“Sure!”
“Miss Dearman’s going to give you a lift. But she needs to talk to you first. I’m going to do the washing. Be a good boy, Mitch, and do what you’re told. All right?”
“Yes, mum.”
When they were alone, Shirley began.
“Now, Mitch, I need you to work some days before you leave for Devon. You’ll get full pay, of course. You can start tomorrow.”
“Great!” Mitch had plans connected with bikes and phones and suchlike. “Er, what will I have to…”
“You’ll be pleased to hear I’ll need you to be female.”
“Oh! Well, I can do that. Did you hear about the school play?”
Shirley hadn’t – with everything else going on, that had rather gone under the radar. But she pretended she had. “I heard you were a great Juliet…”
“I did my best. I think Lawrence forgot I was a boy! He almost snogged me!”
“Well it sounds like you passed the test with flying colours. But here’s the thing. You might have to wear panties and short skirts…so we need to make sure…you know, that you look the part.”
“Look the part?”
“You’re going to have to wear one of these.”
She opened her bag and produced the ECD.
“No… Do I have to?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Mitch looked thoughtful. “How many days will I be working…?”
“As many as you like, if you’re free…”
“Really? Okay, then.”
“But I’ll need you to try this on now – just to make sure it fits? Can you do that?”
“Oh, okay… But I’ll need to be quick…” He looked at his watch.
“It’s fine. I’m driving you. Quickly, get your trousers and pants down, and I’ll check.”
“Okay…” he said, uncertainly.
Shirley knelt. She soon found the right one for Mitch, in pink plastic. She fitted the back ring and pushed on the sleeve. She locked them together.
“How’s that?”
“It feels okay, I suppose.” He found the sensation a little alarming. “But what if I start getting…you know?”
“You won’t be able to. That’s the point.”
But… How long will I have to wear it for each day?”
“Well, now it’s on, it might as well stay on - until…let me see… Well it’ll have to come off for the hen party, of course. That’s on the second.”
Mitch began to panic. “What? No! Are you serious? I can’t…”
“Why not?”
“Well, I…you know…it’s not fair…cos…I can’t!”
“You can – and you will. It’ll be good for you, Mitch. Teach you some self-discipline.”
“Miss, please…”
“Sorry. Get dressed. We need to leave right now.”
Mitch pleaded and whined all the way to Scouts. But Shirley ignored him. She dropped him off.
“See you tomorrow, then? Nine o’clock, bright and early.” She smiled at his sulky face as he got out of the car and slammed the door. “Be good,” she added, with a grin.
-
49.
The sight of Mitch is his Scout uniform had decided her. What could be nicer? He’d be able to show off all his badges, the ladies would love him, and it provided the answer to all the colour issues. She got straight back onto Alison.
“Hi, darling. It’s all sorted. The shorts mauve with yellow trim. And I’ll need a pair of long green socks, and some trainers for him, dyed mauve and yellow. Yes, mauve tops, yellow soles. Oh, and a cap? Maybe yellow with a mauve peak. I’m sending you a photo so you can see exactly what colours we need. And I’ll send the measurements you wanted as soon as I get back to the office. Let me know when… Thanks!”
As she drove back, she put her phone on speaker and called Teddy again.
“Darling. It’s all sorted. What? No, it can be a surprise. Sorry! But there’ll be a few extra expenses. When I get the bill from the supplier I’ll invoice you. No problem. Bye…”
She parked outside P & S. It had been a good morning’s work. But now she needed to think of the next day. She had clients coming at ten and at two and at three. The first was a fifteen-year-old called Meredith. She had been thinking for some time what a sweet little maid Mitch would make. This was his opportunity to prove it. But she wanted Sam and Jasper in on the act too. She picked up her phone again…
Shirley and Mandy had been developing new strategies for recruiting subjects to their training regime for some weeks. Through pure nepotism, through the secret network of female professionals that were influential in the local authority and the schools, she had secured social funding, and an entrée into the education system. Shirley had given introductory talks at the two main local secondary schools, accompanied by a poster campaign, encouraging teachers and pupils to nominate any subjects they thought might benefit from a course at P & S. From the nominations it soon became obvious who the trouble-makers were. She would then have a meeting with the head teachers to whittle the list down to the worst offenders and to those whose parents would be willing to support the experiment – which was nearly all of them. The potential subject, of course, would refuse to cooperate. Then Shirley would arrange a private meeting with him, which she would record, as if it was a police interview of a suspect. The following dialogue is based on one of the recordings in the P & S files.
“Well, Meredith, Miss Taylor tells me you’re having some problems in school this year. Would you like to talk to me about it?”
“Not really.”
“For instance, I understand there have been several instances of bullying. Mainly younger boys, and even some of the girls.”
“Well, they were asking for it. What a bunch of dic-ks!”
“I see. And then I’m told there’s also been – well, what Miss Taylor described as behaviour verging on sexual harassment. Is that true?”
Silence.
“Things like pestering girls for dates, touching, and worse. I won’t go into details.”
Meredith made a face, looked away, but still said nothing.
“I understand very well, you know. You are clearly in need of…how can I put it? Physical fulfilment. In fact, it is my view, having read the reports, that P & S can be of service to you.”
He looked at her, puzzled but interested. “In what way?”
“I think maybe you’re under a misapprehension about what we do.”
“What I heard is, you turn boys into sissies!”
“Some we do, because that is what they need. They were sissies already. They just didn’t realise it. But clearly you’re not in that category.”
“No, I ain’t.”
She looked at him steadily. “For boys like you, we have a slightly different regime. We aim first and foremost to reduce tension. The first day at P & S would be devoted to a massage from our professionally-trained masseuse, Yulya. Let me show you a picture.”
She held up her phone. Yulya was wearing a cream latex nurse’s uniform, which fitted her like a second skin, matching latex stockings, red ankle boots, and a cap. On her right breast, just to the right of the little row of straining buttons, was a red cross, and she wore red latex gloves. She seemed to have an unnecessary amount of makeup for a healthcare worker – but never mind. She was pouting slightly. Behind her was a padded massage table and some pots which looked as if they contained creams and oils. Meredith was staring with his mouth open. He appeared unable to speak, so Shirley continued.
“As to the amount of massage therapy required, that can vary from one individual to another. We can’t prescribe an appropriate schedule until Yulya has carried out her assessment. However, let me assure you you’d be well looked after during your stay. You will be allocated a comfortable room and a maid. Here, this is Michelle.”
She help up her phone again. With commendable foresight, she had had Yulya take some photos of Mitch in a pretty little maid’s outfit soon after he arrived. It was one of these she showed Meredith.
“Michelle will dedicate her day to serving you and pandering to your needs. She is very young, however, and I would ask you not to be too hard on her.”
A smile had spread over Meredith’s face. Now there was someone he could push around to his heart’s content.
“After the assessment we would discuss possible future interventions. There would be no pressure on you. All our consultations are conducted very much by negotiation.” She put on a disinterested air. “Now of course we don’t expect any decision now. We understand you will have many other things planned for the summer vacation. Let us know in due course if you feel what we offer may be of benefit to you, and…”
But Meredith interrupted her. “No. I don’t ‘ave much goin’ on this summer, matter of fact. Yeah, I’ve decided. I’ll come and try you out. Why not? Give me a date.”
Meredith was the first new recruit of the holidays. Shirley had found Mitch the sweetest maid’s uniform of crisp black satin. He wore some light makeup, a little cap, white stockings held up by suspenders, and black patent leather shoes with a block heel. The little skirt was underlaid with a single layer of stiff netting, giving everyone a view of his white ruffled panties when he walked or bent over. Yulya was resplendent in her role as rubber nurse. Sam and Jasper were present to lull the subject into total acquiescence. They dressed casually, and lounged around in reception. They were introduced to him as current trainees.
When Meredith arrived he was asked to wait. He soon struck up a conversation with Sam and Jasper, who eulogised about P & S, and made cryptic remarks about Yulya’s “expertise”, accompanied by smiles and winks. Before he could pump them for more information, Mitch arrived to collect him.
“Excuse me, sir, are you mister Meredith?”
“That’s me.”
“Would you be so kind as to follow me, please?”
Mitch led him down the corridor towards room nine.
“You’re Michelle, right? So you’re gonna be my maid?”
“Yes, sir, if you please. I will be your servant during your stay. Anything you want…”
Meredith couldn’t believe his luck. He thought it very clever of him to have discovered this place. He couldn’t wait to see the masseuse. Even the maid was sort of cute…
He wasn’t disappointed. Mitch showed him into room nine. A small, cosy room, the walls painted pink, and there was the padded table, and there… His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Yulya, fully attired as massage nurse, was at that moment bending over adjusting the legs of the table. She stood up quickly and welcomed the new arrival.
“Good morning, mister Meredith, sir. I Yulya, your masseuse. I ‘ope your stay ‘ere pleasant. Michelle, you may go now. Mister Meredith not need you for a while.”
Her breasts looked as though they were about to burst open her dress. Meredith could clearly see the nipples pushing against the taut latex. He stared, rudely. He was already feeling aroused.
“Yeah, er, nice.”
They were alone together.
“Please undress, sir,” she said, pointing to a side door. “Undress and shower, then lie on bed. Yes?”
“Yeah, sure…”
He returned, stark naked and vulnerable. He covered himself and lay face-down as instructed. Yulya looked up at the light fitting on the ceiling and winked. Then she put on her gloves, and pushed a stainless steel trolley up to the table. On the top shelf were a range of oils and creams, below a blue steel box with controls and a plug, some surgical tubing and appliances, and a pair of earphones.
“Are you ready, mister Meredith?”
“Yeah. Ready.”
-
50.
As a matter of fact, Yulya had trained as a masseuse, and, as her hands moved gently but firmly up and down his back, Meredith thought he was in heaven. She began conventionally enough, working up and down between his waist and his shoulders. A pleasant lassitude descended on him. When she started on the backs of his thighs he felt an accompanying increase in the pressure of his pen-is against the bed. He wriggled luxuriously. And when she asked him to turn over onto his back, he was so confident in the size and firmness of his erection, he did so without the slightest self-consciousness, merely looking at her face to see if he had made the expected impression. He was gratified to see that her eyes widened with surprise. She even licked her lips slightly, which made him harder than ever.
“Very big pen-is,” she remarked, thoughtfully. “Maybe you don't lie still when I do…those things…”
“I will! Promise!” cried Meredith, eagerly.
“No. You don’t know what I do…”
He was breathing hard now.
“I have to restrain…”
“Do what you like, darlin’. I’m ready.”
“Give me hands.”
“Sorry?”
“Hands. Here.”
She took one wrist and pulled it down the side of the table. In a moment she had buckled a strap around it. She went to the other side, and got hold of that wrist. Now the idea of a bit of bondage was quite attractive to Meredith, and he happily allowed her to secure his hands, and then his feet, which she did by strapping his ankles together and chaining the buckle to a ring at the foot of the table. She stood back.
“There. Now you not give any trouble.”
“I won’t, sweetie, don’t worry.”
She moved round behind his head. One minute he was grinning with anticipation. The next he had a sissifier forced between his lips and buckled tightly behind his head.
“And you not make fuss.”
At first still harboured a suspicion that this was part of an elaborate sex game. That was, until he realised what he had in his mouth. He emitted a muffled protest. He struggled and frowned. Yulya took no notice. She lifted the blue box onto the upper shelf of the trolley, and plugged it into a wall socket. Meredith strained sideways to see what she was up to. She methodically screwed one end of a thin clear piece of plastic tubing to the back of the box. The other end she fitted into a plugged measuring cylinder attached to the box by a bracket. A second, long piece of tube was also pushed into the plug, until it protruded a couple of inches inside. To the other end of this, Yulya attached a clear, hard plastic sheath about eight inches long. She flipped a switch on the front of the box, and turned a knob. There was a steady whirring sound. Then she applied the sheath to Meredith’s now semi-tumescent pen-is. It was instantly suc-ked inside. Meredith gave a moan of despair. Yulya then turned the knob again, and at once the box started clicking, at a rate of about one click a second, the sheath twitching in unison. Finally, she clipped the middle of the tube to the side of the bed, for the sake of neatness. Then she pulled up a chair and sat down to watch.
Meredith’s pen-is soon recovered its previous dimensions – or at least, as far as the sheath allowed. It wasn’t long enough to reach the top, falling a couple of inches short, but it was clearly a tight squeeze in terms of diameter. At each click of the pump it jumped a fraction up the tube, then fell back. At each click the tube twitched, as if impatient to be filled. At each click, Meredith jerked against his bonds. He was making little whimpering noises through his gag. This was not at all what he had been hoping for.
When Yulya was satisfied the pump was operating as it should, she picked up the earphones, placed them on Meredith’s head, and secured them with a strap buckled beneath his chin. She attached a little recorder on a long cable, turned it on, and adjusted the volume. The expression on Meredith’s face was enough to reassure her he could hear what was playing.
Soon they were joined by Shirley and Mandy, for whose benefit Yulya demonstrated the range of pulse speed of the pump, before returning it to default.
“Very nice,” said Mandy. “What’s he listening to?”
“Ladies having sex. Very good sex. Very noisy. Talk a lot.”
“And how long before…we see some results?” asked Shirley.
“Not long. We wait.”
They didn’t have to wait long. The milking machine was irresistible. All at once Meredith gave a great lurch and a squawk, and wads of white sperm erupted from the end of his pen-is and were suc-ked along the tube. As the first drops dribbled into the collection cylinder, he was still pumping it out. When his orgasm slowly subsided, and his convulsions diminished, Yulya turned the pump to continuous, and switched off the recorder.
“You like, Miss Dearman?”
“Excellent! Very impressive. So now?”
I give him a minute to recover. First one is worst. Then turn everything on again, and leave him. It will milk all day. By evening he drained. Then we see.”
“And what will we see?”
“We see whether he behave. If not, he sleep for few hours, then start again.”
“And what’s going to happen to all that lovely creamy sperm?”
“By tonight collection vessel half full. Then I show you.”
“Thank you, Yulya. You are truly a woman of many talents.”
“Thank you, miss. I enjoy to work here.”
-
51.
The two o’clock visitors were a husband and wife concerned about their wayward fourteen-year-old whom they suspected of attaching himself to a local gang. Not that the local gangs in that part of the world were particularly dangerous; it was rather that the parents themselves were naturally anxious and over-protective. When they were introduced to Mitch, and they realised he was a boy, they started fawning over him straight away.
“Oh, why can’t Damien be like that?” whined the mother. “You know, Douglas, I always wanted a little girl.”
“Well, little girls become big girls, you know, Mrs Surry,” offered Shirley, “and big girls can be worse than big boys, sometimes.”
“Oh, I know… I know… But Damien is so rude. He hardly ever says “please” or “thank you”, does he darling?”
“Well, I…”
“I think you’re too soft on him, that’s what I think,” she rattled on.
Shirley had had enough of this. From everything she could glean, there was nothing wrong with Damien except that he wanted to escape from his overweening parents, which she could well understand. So she delegated the tour to Mitch, and whispered, “and don’t for god’s sake let them anywhere near room nine…”
Sam and Jasper had been assigned as babies for the purposes of the visits, and were having fun in a nursery room making silly noises, belching, throwing bottles of milk around, and wringing the necks of dolls. Mitch was rather taken aback at the ease with which Jasper had entered into the spirit of P & S. But then, he hadn’t experienced any of the humiliations it had to offer yet. He was a new boy, and Mitch hoped he could have a hand in his initiation.
The couple were less than impressed by this display, however, especially when Sam addressed the wife.
“Yo, bitch! You can change me an’ wipe my willy any time, darlin’!”
That pretty much terminated their visit. The final potential customer of the day was made of different stuff, however. Deborah Buff-Hopkins was a single mother with a thirteen-year-old boy who was always playing pranks and getting into trouble at school, to the point where he had been three times threatened with expulsion. She arrived at P & S apparently straight from the hunting field, in muddy breeches and muddier boots, carrying a riding whip. She and Shirley got on like a house on fire.
“Every time there’s trouble, I give him six strokes across his bare backside with this.” She waved her whip. “Only trouble is the little beggar takes it and comes back for more. Don’t know what else to do. Ideas exhausted, get me?”
“I do, Mrs Buff-Hopkins.”
“Miss. And it’s Debbie. Came to you. Heard you had some new ideas.”
“Well, yes, as much as I approve of corporal punishment, it sounds to me as though it’s the wrong tactics in your son’s case. There are other ways…”
“Such as?”
“Well, see Michelle here? Michelle is really Mitch, you see. His manners have improved no end.”
Mitch curtsied on cue.
Miss Buff-Hopkins stared. “Great Scott! That’s a boy? You think you could do that to my son?”
“We could try. Of course, there’s more than one way…
“…to kill a fox? I know. Tell me one of yours.”
“All right. Michelle? Please conduct us to room nine.”
“Yes, miss. This way, please Miss Buff-Hopkins…”
Shirley opened the door and showed Debbie in.
“Meredith here…a difficult case.”
Meredith was coming up to orgasm eight, he thought. He’d lost count. His eyes were glazed, dribble was trickling out from under his gag, and he had started making a faint, high-pitched hum. Debbie goggled. Her gaze drifted from the helpless, trembling figure to the collection vessel, already half full. The electric pump clicked with relentless regularity.
“What – what are you doing to him?”
“We’re draining off all his sperm to see if it will make him less of a nuisance. Sometimes that’s all it takes to cure bad behaviour. Regular forcible milking. One of my employees devised this equipment. And she put one of our sissifiers – that’s a nice pen-is-shaped rubber gag – in his mouth as well. I believe the advantages of sperm extraction are greatly underestimated. It may be…oh, I think he’s about to come again. Yes, he is. What good timing! You can tell when he starts arching his back like that.”
Meredith started convulsing violently. But very little sperm spurted into the sheath.
“It looks like he’s nearly done. But he’s done very well, don’t you think, she added cheerfully, indicating the graduated cylinder. Let me see… Hmm, about…at least fifty mils. Not bad, I suppose. Michelle, would you tell Yulya I think he’s pretty much empty?”
“Yes, miss. Right away.”
Deborah Buff-Hopkins was astounded, but also impressed.
“You’re a woman after my own heart, Miss Dearman. This sort of thing is just what he needs. Of course, I’ll miss thrashing him…”
“If you’re serious about that, we could use you here upon occasion. I can just see the boys wilting when you stride into the room in all your riding gear with a whip under your arm!”
“I might just take you up on that, Miss Dearman.”
“Shirley. So you’re in?”
“Me and my recalcitrant son.”
“Ah, here’s Yulya. Yulya, meet Debbie Buff-Hopkins. Your subject looks all in, Yulya. He didn’t last as long as I was hoping.”
Yulya, still in her nurse’s outfit, made a face. Debbie stared at her with delight.
“No. We try again tomorrow. He stay here tonight. I collar him and chain to wall.”
“So. The sperm?”
“Cannot waste. I make nice drink for Meredith. Back in minute.”
She unclipped the collection vessel and disappeared. When she returned she was carrying a feeding-bottle full of white cream, with a rubber tube attached to the nozzle..
“What’s that?” asked Debbie.
“Sperm, white of egg, spoonful of condense milk. Whip up into nice thick milkshake for thirsty boy.”
She went to a corner of the room and pulled over a hospital bottle holder on a stand. She inverted the bottle and slipped it in, then flipped open the cap of the sissifier and pushed the end of the rubber tube into the gag. Meredith made whines of protest, but they were soon stifled by the steady influx of sweet, slimy sperm.
“Don’t waste any. Good for you, you know. Make lots more for tomorrow, and if you good boy, nurse give you kiss goodnight. See you later.” And she marched out.
“She’s a gem, Shirley,” enthused Debbie. “I’m in. Let’s go and do the paperwork, and enrol Hugo. And if you really need me… I know I look a mess at the moment, but I’d love to help, and in my best dressage togs…”
“You’ll make all the babies fill their nappies simultaneously!”
And, with a friendly wave to Meredith, they left him to his supper.
-
Omg. I adore the forced milkings and ensuing forced feedings. On a regular basis, to pacify a troublesome boy into submission. That is the perfect disciplinary treatment. More, please.
-
Great to read. I'm looking forward to Michelle's new uniform immensely!
-
52.
For him, Meredith was rather docile when Yulya returned that evening; well, maybe ‘sulky’ would be a better description. The bottle was empty, and she disconnected the tube and unbuckled his sissifier. She spoke to him as if he were a toddler - or a puppy.
“Good boy! Meredith enjoy nice milkshake?”
He struggled against his restraints. There were tears in his eyes. “You’ve taken all my sperm! Now I won’t be able to have babies! You bitch! I thought I was gonna get a handjob at least!”
Yulya laughed. “Silly boy! By tomorrow you will have more. Lots more. Body will compensate. Meredith balls will be full to bursting!”
“Yeah? Is that true?”
“True.” She leant over him, allowing her breasts to brush his chest, and gave him the promised kiss on the cheek. She stroked his face for a moment. “Here, I give you handjob.” And she slapped him hard. “never call me “bitch” again! You’re my bitch, now, mister Meredith!”
She unbuckled his restraints.
“Get up. Nightie in changing room. Toilet next door. Clean up, please, shower. Come to canteen. Supper time.”
He rose stiffly, with a groan. “I’m fuc-king knackered. That’s it. I’m out of here. Give me my clothes. I’m gonna call the police on you lot. You’ve all had it!”
He struggled to the changing room. There was the nightie, and his clothes folded in one corner. He grabbed his jeans, pulled them on, and headed for the door. He wrenched it open, turning his head to Yulya, who seemed quite unconcerned. “You’re finished!”
But as he turned back, he found himself confronted by the imposing figure of Deborah Buff-Hopkins. She stood firmly in his way, her face set under her mass of tousled blonde hair, her red-painted lips pressed together. She wore a white shirt and tie, immaculate cream breeches, and gleaming riding-boots. She held a riding whip in her right hand, slapping in gently against her left. Some of Meredith’s bravado faded.
“Get outta my way…”
She took a step back, but only for the purpose of delivering a cut of her whip across his bare stomach. He screamed and ran back into the room. She followed, closing and locking the door after her.
“You’re not going anywhere, boy. I’m your gaoler, now. In view of what I’ve just heard from you, you won’t be going to the dining-room anytime soon. From now on you’ll eat in here, out of a dog bowl. Yulya? If you’d be so kind?”
Yulya approached the cowering boy. She buckled and locked a pink leather collar (with studs) around his neck, and attached a chain which she padlocked to a ring on the wall.
“Now,” continued his gaoler, “you will stay in this room until your training is complete, except when we take you – on your chain – to use the toilet or shower. You will only be released when we are satisfied your behaviour has been permanently modified. If you try to escape again, we will release the video of your milking.” She broke into a smile. “It’s really quite amusing – the expressions on your face…”
There was a knock at the door. Debbie opened it.
“Shirley. I was just explaining to this young man…”
Shirley nodded. She looked at Meredith with distaste. “I heard your exchange with Yulya, young man. You really are the most unpleasant, misogynistic individual it’s been my misfortune to meet. But we’re going to change all that. By the time you get out of here you will no longer be interested in girls. No. You will fear them. And you will have become habituated to masturbation, from which you will only be able to derive any satisfaction if you have a coc-k in your mouth – preferably a real one. And you will have become addicted to the taste of fresh sperm. Don’t look so dismayed. Just think of all the pleasure you’re going to bring to your own sex!
-
53.
Over the coming days, it was Mitch’s duty to ferry food and other items back and forth to room nine. It was a difficult time for him. Unable to gain any sexual satisfaction himself, he had to watch Meredith squirming and moaning under the unceasing ministrations of the milking apparatus. On the occasions he witnessed one of Meredith’s explosive orgasms, the discomfort became almost intolerable. His frustration was compounded by the fact that all three boys were spending the period living in at P & S. It had seemed the obvious solution. They shared a large room, their beds arranged in three of the corners, the door in the fourth. It wouldn’t have been such a problem had it not been for the Meredith project. Shirley wanted to increase his intake of sperm, so she made it clear she would be happy for the boys to generate as much as they could. They were supplied with condoms, and a miniature fridge for storage. She even suggested a small premium for each load. The result was, that Sam and Jasper were at it half the night, driving Mitch mad.
However, Meredith was definitely responding to treatment. The recordings he was forced to listen to had been replaced. Sam and Jasper didn’t know it, but each of them had a hidden microphone next to his bed, recording the intimacies of their nightly pastime. Yulya enjoyed explaining to Meredith, as he was imbibing his daily milkshake one evening, that the boys he had been listening to all day had been in the process of contributing to it! When he wasn’t strapped down, that is, during the night, he was dressed in panties and a short nightie, and given light makeup and a squirt of scent. His reluctance lessened daily, and Yulya was always careful to offer him a choice of panties, lipstick and perfume, until he got used to choosing his own.
After a couple more days of therapy, Yulya noticed his resistance to being milked was also diminishing. And soon, instead of fighting the machine, he rather seemed to relish its operation. One day, before Yulya fitted him with his sissifier, he asked if the speed could be reduced slightly. It seemed to her that he wanted to savour its sensations. And when he discovered the pump could be programmed to operate randomly, he chose that option, as being more exciting. He no longer objected to his evening bottle, but willingly turned his head for Yulya to connect him up. And he clearly liked it when she told him that Sam or Jasper had made the greater contribution. He even started asking for the addition of a little strawberry or banana syrup, and Yulya had to keep bottles to hand!
Then one night, Sam and Jasper were masturbating in unison, working each other up into a frenzy. Mitch hated it when they did that. He had to listen to every word of their obscene ramblings. On this occasion, Jasper was fantasizing about Yulya.
“You know what I want?” (gasp, moan) “I want to look up her skirt, to see if she wears rubber panties as well! Imagine…”
“Bet she does, mate,” (aah!) “Know what? Bet she wears…latex panties with a big dil-do inside her!”
“Two big dil-dos! With vibrators! That’s why she’s so….(ooh)…hot, all the time!”
“Imagine what a blow job from her would be like…”
“Know what?” (ah…ah…ah) “I’d rather have a blowjob from…Meredith!”
“Jasper, mate, you’re not serious…”
“No, it’s not…(gasp)…imagine that big idiot, down on his knees, begging to let him suc-k your prick…being your bitch…”
“He’s had plenty of practice, anyway. Yulya told me…(aaah)…that he swallows our spunk every night like he can’t get enough…”
“Yeah. I wanna see that. But most of all, I want to feed him straight from my…oh, god, I’m c-umming! Aaaah…..”
When this conversation was added to Meredith’s daily entertainment, Yulya sat by him to see what his reaction might be. She had turned the volume up full, so she could just hear the recordings. She wasn’t disappointed, and she was soon knocking at Shirley’s door.
“Miss Shirley! I just play Meredith the tape, yes? The one…”
“Yes, I know. And?”
“Eyes get big. Then big…”whooo”…and big, big orgasm! You think…?”
“Interesting. It's possible. We may have turned the corner. Tomorrow I think we’ll run a test. Let me work it out…”
The test had to be very carefully choreographed. First, Jasper was summoned to Shirley’s office.
“Jasper, have a seat. I have to thank you for all your considerable efforts so far in respect of Meredith’s training. I’m very grateful. But I need to ask for your assistance in the next stage.”
“Anything I can do to help, miss.”
“Right. Well, we have reached a point where we need to carry out an assessment of his progress. Tomorrow he will have a day off from his usual routine. He will go for lunch in the canteen at two – that’s a little later than usual – and we would like you to be there too. Strike up a conversation. He may do it himself. If he seems amenable, ask him if he’d like to come and see your new playroom. He may not agree. But in case he does, we’ll set up room twelve with a bed and some toys and teddy bears and things and some soft rugs. There’ll be a key in the door if you need to lock it. We’ll dress you attractively, of course. See if you can find out whether he’s beginning to get more interested in boys and less in girls. Do it subtly, of course. Sound him out, if you can. You probably won't get much out of him, but the smallest thing may be of significance. I trust you. You're an intelligent boy. You'd make a very good spy!”
“Do you think he’s changed then?”
“We just don’t know. It’ll be up to you to find out what you can. Will you do that for us? There’ll be a bonus, of course.”
“I’d do it without a bonus, miss. I think if you have…you know, adjusted his…er, interests, it would be so clever…”
“Good boy. See Mandy about one tomorrow. She’ll have everything ready.”
That evening, after Meredith had finished his milkshake, Yulya removed his sissifier and sat down beside him.
“Meredith. You been very good boy. Miss Shirley give you day off tomorrow.”
He looked at her, puzzled.
“Hear what I say? Day off! No milking, no milkshake. Walk around, see gardens and everything.”
“Oh, okay. But why…?”
“Reward for good behaviour.”
“Really, I’m fine. I haven’t done anything.”
“And she found pretty dress for you. I show you.”
She went to the changing room, and came back with a pink satin party dress – long sleeves with cuffs, round neck, sash and bow at the waist, short bouncy skirt.
“And you have matching panties, white stockings and black shiny Mary Janes! Do you like?”
Meredith stared. Apart from his night attire he had been deprived of any decent clothing for so long. And this dress…he had never worn a dress, but the idea of it…somehow exciting…
“I guess….”
“Feel it.”
“It’s so smooth and silky…it is nice…”
“Wear tomorrow. See if you like.”
The next day, Jasper was waiting outside Mandy’s office at one sharp. She summoned him in.
“Good afternoon, Jasper.”
“Good afternoon, miss.”
“You know your mission. I have your clothes here. I’m going to get a coffee. You can change here while I’m away.”
It was a simple outfit. White blouse with puffed sleeves and a lace collar. Long white socks and black patent leather shoes with silver buckles. Red spandex hot pants – with bib and straps and big white buttons – with a ring-pull zip on the front. No underclothes.
“Phew,” said Jasper to himself, once he had dressed. “I look like a cross between Little Lord Fauntleroy and Red Riding Hood! And these hot pants don’t exactly hide anything. Well, if he has changed, this will be a good test of it, I guess. Though I wish it were Mitch I was trying to seduce...”
-
Things really hotting up. Jasper seems very keen. Love the milking machine. Look forward to next chapters
-
54.
Mitch himself would probably have agreed. He would have given anything to escape from his ECD. He was tired, having not got a proper night’s sleep for days, frustrated, uncomfortable, and hence irritable. And on top of all that, he was expected to be polite and sweet to all the visitors and “potentials” – of which there were many. However much he liked his maid’s costume – and truth be told, he liked it quite a lot - he was tired of simpering, curtseying, “accidentally” flashing his ruffled panties, playing the shy little girl. Nevertheless he knew he was an important part of the operation, and that, partly due to his own efforts, Shirley’s small stable was likely to grow significantly in the future.
It was Wednesday. The hen party was in two days. After lunch he approached Shirley.
“Miss? You know I have the party on Friday? When do you think I’ll be able to have this…thing taken off?”
“Soon, Mitchy, soon.” Shirley had grown fond of Mitch, and sometimes called him “Mitchy” in this playful way.
“But it’s not fair. The others, they get to wank themselves off all night. It’s normal, isn’t it? It’s very difficult…”
“You’ll be free to do what you want on Friday. I mean, not on Friday in the day, oh no, but after the party. Then I promise you, you won’t have to wear it for the rest of the summer.”
“Does my mum know I’ve been locked up like this since last week.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have done it without her permission.”
“And I get to go home Saturday? I need Sunday to get ready for Devon. And I’d like to see my mum.”
“Oh, you’ll see her tomorrow. She’s dropping by to bring…something from home.”
“Something? What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just some clothes.”
“What clothes?”
“Well, actually, your Scout uniform. I thought it would be the ideal thing for the party.”
“Really? Cool. I can show them all my badges. Do you know how many I’ve got?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Twenty-two! That’s more than anyone else in my troop!”
“Goodness! That is a lot. How did you possibly get all those?”
“It’s cos I worked really hard…and I’m good at lots of things, I guess…”
You certainly are, young man, thought Shirley.
“But you don’t have a cap, do you?”
“No. Generally we don’t wear caps.”
“Well, I’ve ordered you one. Sort of finish off the uniform. And your mum’s bringing a spare Scout world badge I can sew on it. I hope it arrives in time.”
“Oh, thank you, miss. That’s really thoughtful of you. I’ll be able to wear it when I go to camp, too.”
“Good idea. Yes, I think you’re going to look very smart.”
“I hope so. But my Scout trousers are getting old. They’re too small for me now, really. My mum was supposed to buy me some new ones three weeks ago, but she forgot.”
“Oh, yes, she told me. But when I spoke to her on Monday she said she’d ordered some new ones. She’s hoping they arrive in time for the party.”
“Oh, good. Well I hope they do. My old ones are disgusting.”
“Never mind. I’m sure we’ll come up with a solution. I might have something here…”
“Okay. So what time does the party start?”
“One o’clock. You’ll have lunch there.”
“Where is it?”
“The Derby Hotel in Stretford.”
“That’s pretty posh, isn’t it?”
“Posh, yes. Teddy told me they’ll be waited on by uniformed maids. Sure you wouldn’t want to help out?”
“No thanks, miss,” Mitch laughed. “I’ll be glad to get out of this costume for a bit.”
-
55.
Whilst this conversation was going on, Jasper was in room twelve dressed in his hot pants outfit. He checked the Pinocchio clock. Pinocchio’s hand was on the two, and his nose had almost reached the twelve. Time to go.
Sure enough, there was Meredith in the canteen. When Jasper saw what he was wearing, he did a double-take. He could never have imagined Meredith in a dress! Let alone such a pretty one. He approached gingerly. White stockings, too! And he had been made up with peach lip gloss and mascara. He almost looked, well, attractive!
“Oh, hi, er, Meredith… Have I missed lunch?”
Meredith’s mouth dropped open. But he recovered himself quickly.
“Er, n-no…I think they’re still serving…”
“That’s a very pretty dress…”
“Oh, er, yeah. Your outfits pretty, er, cool, too.”
“I’m just going to get a sandwich.”
“Okay…”
As he returned from the counter, Jasper could see Meredith staring at his hot pants. He was conscious that his pen-is was horribly visible under the clinging spandex, lying horizontally to the right. The tightness of the fabric had aroused it slightly. He blushed at the realisation of how he must look, and Meredith’s obvious interest. He sat down opposite and began to eat, looking down at his plate. Meredith had just finished his lunch. Maybe he would leave now. But he didn’t.
“Er, so how are you getting on? I haven’t seen you for a bit.”
“Yeah, okay. Not doing much. You?”
“Yeah, fine. Been doin’ some work with Yulya, that’s all.”
“Right. She’s cute, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
There was an awkward pause.
“So…have you been, like, busy?” hazarded Meredith.
“Oh, so so. Have to do some shoots in the playroom. Stayin’ there at the moment.”
“Playroom? Which room is that?”
“You know, room twelve. Down the main corridor, turn left.”
“Oh. Right. Never seen that one.”
Jasper knew he should invite Meredith to see it, but he was getting nervous now.
“Haven’t you?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Maybe…you could show me?”
“Er, well…”
“I’d really like to see it…”
I bet you would, thought Jasper, wryly. But seriously, there was no getting out of this now. If he blew it – oh, shit, the puns! – If he blew it now, Shirley wouldn’t forgive him.
“Okay. I’ll show you. Let’s go, then.”
They walked down the corridor together. Jasper had the sense that Meredith would like to have held his hand. He opened the door and showed him in. The room was brightly lit. The bed was along the right-hand wall. Next to the head a giant teddy sat on top of a chest of drawers.
“Wow, it’s nice. So many toys and things!”
It didn’t sound anything like the Meredith he had met a few days ago.
“Yeah… Just props, that’s all.”
Another silence.
“I really do like your outfit.” He touched Jasper’s flank. “Shirley?”
“Mandy.”
“Are they spandex?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“They’re cute. Love those big buttons…” He moistened his lips. “Y-you know what they did to me?”
“I heard something…”
“Is it true…you and Sam…?”
Jasper turned bright red. “We had to. We didn’t have no choice.”
“I didn’t mind. And did you really say that thing…about me?”
“W-well, I-I may have said…I was, you know…you know how it is…”
“I don’t mind you called me an idiot,” he grinned. Then he became serious again. “I would do that, you know…what you said. If you wanted…”
“You would…?”
“Of course. You’re very…attractive…”
Jasper was standing with the backs of his legs against the side of the bed. By now he was fully erect. His pen-is was straining at the spandex, and at its tip a little bead of clear fluid was oozing through the fabric. Meredith dropped on one knee, as if he were about to propose. Jasper held his ground. There was no more pretence. Though he felt too embarrassed to look at the kneeling youth, he reached down, pulled the ring of his zip down to the bottom, and eased his stiff boyhood out. It was quivering, and a drop of juice descended lazily on a string from its tip. Meredith leaned forward and caught it on his tongue. Then he ran his tongue around the swollen head, and pushed his lips over it.
Jasper gave a gasp of pleasure, and moved forward a few inches, allowing Meredith to sit back on his haunches. Meredith knew just what to do – after all, he had been practising for days. He began to explore the younger boy’s twitching member, holding the shaft gently between his teeth and investigating the underside of the glans with the tip of his tongue. His own pen-is was hard, stretching his new panties. Soon Jasper’s juices were flowing freely into his mouth. It felt so good! He wanted to play it cool, but he was impatient to taste Jasper’s sperm. He began to suc-k and lick urgently. Jasper grabbed him by the ears. Meredith felt sharp fingernails pressing into his flesh. He worked his tongue frantically. Jasper gave a choking cry, and the next moment his hot sperm was pumping into Meredith’s mouth, almost faster than he could swallow. Some burst from his lips and plopped onto the front of his dress, but he gulped down the rest. And as he did so, he felt himself c-umming too, in waves of intense pleasure, flooding his new panties with hot stickiness.
As their orgasms subsided, Jasper felt his knees go weak. He sat down on the bed, and then lay back, exhausted. Meredith leant forward and rested his head on Jasper’s thighs, his friend’s slowly wilting prick in front of his eyes. Both boys were overwhelmed by sexual relief. They didn’t speak for some time. Then Jasper began to chuckle.
“Wow… Meredith… that was just…incredible. Though I wish you'd slowed down a bit.. It was over almost too quickly.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. It’s your fault – you’re too sexy for your pants.”
“How are you?”
“Oh, I’m great. When you came, I came too.”
“Really? I was about to reciprocate…”
“You can if you want.” He laughed. “But I need to rest for an hour or two first.”
Jasper sat up. “It was just as exciting as I imagined. I never thought it would really happen though.”
“Am I still an idiot?”
“Yes – but a very sexy idiot. No, course you’re not. At this stuff, you’re a genius.”
“Thanks to P & S.”
“No. A natural genius.”
“And you’re…”
“Yes?”
“So incredibly cute. I thought I was going to faint when you walked into the canteen. Those hot pants! I mean…”
“Yeah. You understand why I was feeling a bit self-conscious. Anyway, I thought you liked girls?”
“I thought I did. But I think maybe…”
“Yes?”
“Maybe I didn’t like them. Not in that way, anyway. Maybe I never liked them that much. That was why I was behaving like I was towards them.”
“So you don’t think you’ve changed?”
“I’m not sure. All I can say for certain is that I like you well enough.”
“Well, I’m a boy…”
“A boy and a half…”
-
56.
Jasper tucked his well-suc-ked sausage away and zipped up his hot pants. Any tinge of embarrassment he felt at what had just happened was quickly ousted by a glow of self-satisfaction at his romantic conquest. He had totally seduced Meredith, to the point where the older boy was happy, even honoured, to pay him the ultimate tribute! His pleasure had been made doubly sweet by the sight of him down on his knees before him, like his personal sex slave. His orgasm had been the most intense he had ever experienced, and he was determined Meredith was going to serve him again, and soon. But for now he needed to report to Shirley and Mandy. He left Meredith wiping his dress with a tissue, and headed back to the offices. The two of them were waiting in Shirley’s room.
“Jasper…”
“Miss… It worked. He really went for it. I think all that therapy… I think it’s made a real difference.”
“So what happened?”
Jasper gave them a blow-by-blow account.
“And he said that about girls?”
“Yes. In those very words.”
“It sounds as though he was in the grip of passion. I wouldn’t be surprised if he denies it now,” remarked Mandy.
“Well he can’t can he? His teacher’s going to be happy, if this is a permanent adjustment.”
“What will happen, miss? Will he leave now, or…”
“Leave? I hope not. He sounds as if he could be a very valuable addition to our staff,” said Shirley.
“Yes. A perfect example of what P & S can achieve,” said Mandy. “And we need to make sure he doesn’t revert to type…”
“Yes, Mandy. But not only that… I was thinking he could provide a useful distraction for our boys. Keep their minds off girls, and keep them satisfied. Do you agree, Jasper?”
“Oh, yes, miss. He can certainly provide satisfaction…”
“Good. Would you go and send him to me now, please? We might as well settle matters right away.”
“Yes, miss.”
As Jasper left, Shirley picked up the phone.
“Yulya? The party in room twelve has finished. Would you be so kind as to…? Yes. And bring it to me, please. Thank you.”
Five minutes later Meredith presented himself for interview.
“So, Meredith, I hear our training is producing results. Keep it up and you’ll be able to return to school next year without all those problems hanging over you.”
“So Jasper told you? What did he say?”
“Well, he said you treated him with great deference… He was very satisfied with your, er, performance… And it appears you confessed some modification of your attitude to girls…”
“He didn’t have no right to tell you that. Whatever he said, it wasn’t like that. Anyway, I’m done here.”
“Oh, are you? By the way, what’s that stain down the front of your lovely new dress?”
Meredith turned red, but didn’t answer directly. “I’m going now. Where are my things? I’m finished here.”
“Not so fast, Meredith. Look, here comes your nurse. I’m sorry she doesn’t have her latex dress on any more. But I think she has something else of interest to you…”
“Oh, yeah? What?”
Yulya entered and handed Shirley her camera. “The card’s in. It’s ready to play.”
“Let’s all watch it together, shall we? Here we go…”
The colour drained from Meredith’s face. “You…you…videoed me? How?”
“Remember the big teddy bear? He saw everything…”
“Why…you…b…”
“Shh, Meredith. I wouldn’t advise it. Now, I’m sure this video could be of great interest to some of your male friends. Don’t you? Are you sure you want to leave us…?”
“I…I…you wouldn’t…”
“We need you, darling. Please say you’ll stay. You won’t regret it… Don’t cry now. Yulya will look after you. And we’ve got some lovely new outfits for you…”
“Yulya, darling,” added Mandy. “Would you be a love and take Meredith and change his dress for him? There’s a gorgeous little girl’s smock in his wardrobe. Yes, Meredith, you have your very own wardrobe now, with all sorts of lovely dresses and panties and even…even sweet little baby clothes, for when you feel in need of mothering…”
“Yes, you lucky boy. But don’t worry. You’ll still get your evening bottle, if you’re good. Even though you’ve had a treat already today!”
-
57.
Shirley and Mandy could not have been more pleased with their success, and were already planning to install the milking machine in its own dedicated room, and refine the whole process. Jasper was equally jubilant about the experiment. In bed that night, he related the story of the day’s events to his friends. Relishing their astonished stares, he described Meredith’s seduction in such detail, they both became aroused – and even a little jealous. Mitch, being still in his ECD, was torn between listening and blocking his ears. “Only tonight and one more night,” he told himself. “Then I’ll have this thing off at last, and I can live a normal life again.” And he turned over and shut his eyes tight and tried to think of other things.
On the Thursday morning his mum called with his rucksack. To his annoyance, his new trousers hadn’t arrived yet. But she said she was sure they would come Friday morning and she’d bring them over.
“I hope so mum. Look at these old ones! But my shirt looks nice.”
“Yes, dear, I ironed it specially. And your scarf. And Lucy polished your belt and your purse and even your belt buckle! Wasn’t that nice?”
“Yeah. Thanks. I just hope my trousers arrive. It’s very important I look smart for the party…”
In the afternoon a large package arrived by courier. Shirley called Mandy into her office.
“They’ve come. Shall we have a look?”
“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to see what she’s come up with this time…”
Shirley opened the box. Inside there were three packages, two in plain paper, one in tissue. She opened the plain paper ones first. In one was a pair of trainers with mauve tops, yellow laces and yellow soles. In the other, a mauve baseball cap with a yellow peak, and a pair of green knee-socks. She had even thrown in a pair of Scout garters with double mauve tabs to keep them up.
“Oh, That Alison! What would I do without her? I have Scout badge for the cap. I’ll sew it on tonight. Then his uniform will be complete. I think he’ll be pleased, don’t you?”
“He should be. He’s going to look sensational!”
Finally, she took out the one wrapped in tissue and placed it on her desk.
“This is so exciting.” She unfolded the issue, until there, before their eyes, lay his new party shorts - and a typed letter.
They were beautifully crafted, and incredibly smart, hipster style with short, but not too short, legs, in bright mauve latex, with fine, tight little yellow latex frills at each leg, to match his Scout neckerchief, so they would look just like part of the uniform. They had belt loops, false side and back pockets, but no fly – just a plain front. The latex was textured on the outside to look like fabric, and smooth and polished on the inside.
Shirley read the letter.
“Dear Shirley –
I hope you will like these… I hope he will! I don’t know whether the modification will work as intended, and I hope the guide loops are in the correct places. I’d better explain the technicalities. The style is similar to the red ones we supplied before, with the addition of a built-in butt plug. Let me explain the function of the plug. You will see it has a stalk about the width of a pencil, and it swells into a smooth tapered end about the size of a large spring onion. We kept the overall length to less than ten centimetres – it is not intended to be uncomfortable, only to provide the vibrator effect – though it’s not normally a vibration, only a steady, gentle pulsing. It is powered by a single AAA rechargeable cell which is accessed by unscrewing the end. It is fully charged at present, and you will find a charger in one of the packages. But because the pulsing effect is very subtle, a single charge should last all day. Now, you will see that the seam, which runs from waist to waist via the crotch, becomes internally slightly raised between the base of the plug and the front of the waist. And you will see three small latex loops welded to it, one in the crotch, one a little higher, (each of these about two centimetres wide), and a third, like a hood, probably five centimetres wide and narrow towards the top, about half way up the tummy. These are designed to hold the pen-is firmly in a vertical orientation. The crotch loop should grip the base of the pen-is, behind the balls, so that they will present neatly to the front and lie symmetrically each side of the seam. The second should grip the middle of the shaft, and the third, tapering, one is designed to contain the head should it be inclined to thrust inappropriately high up the tummy.
But this is the clever bit. The front section of the seam is raised because it contains the finest capillary tube. This is filled with hydraulic fluid, which is connected to a small reservoir inside the plug. This means the pulse is carried through the seam to any parts immediately adjacent to it. If the loops work as intended, the raised seam should be in close contact with the underside of the pen-is, and lay firmly against the sensitive cleft of the glans, transmitting the pulse directly to it. There is also a little trick built in – what I call an emergency relief system. Should the pressure of the fluid in the seam increase past a certain point – and this will usually only happen if the pen-is is becoming over-stimulated – the plug contains a sensor that will initiate a series of rapid, powerful vibrations, designed to trigger orgasm.
Well, that’s the theory anyway, but you will appreciate this is a prototype, and until we run a few tests, we cannot be a hundred percent confident about its operation. I am of course grateful for your agreeing to allow your trainee Mitch to participate in this experiment – and to him for agreeing to take part” – (here Shirley gave Mandy a broad wink) – “and I hope that, after the test, he will be able to give us a detailed account of any sensations he experienced, pleasurable or otherwise. The pulse is activated as soon as the plug is inserted; you will see a steel ring between the two halves of the upper end, and a steel screw point at the tip for releasing the end to enable a charged cell to be fitted. When inserted, the body of the wearer itself acts as a connection between these two points, completes the circuit, and thus initiates the pulse.
I hope this is all reasonably clear. Do let me know how things go, won’t you darling? And of course, send me a photo of him once he’s all kitted out. Will Anna be attending with her video camera? I do hope so. Her film, quite apart from any entertainment value, may also help us to evaluate the results of our little experiment.
All my love, Shirley dear. And my grateful thanks to Mitch.”
“So she thinks Mitch is a willing volunteer,” smiled Mandy. “You sly old thing…”
“Well, she assumed and I didn’t disabuse her. In any case, he’ll protest, but in the end he will agree, just as he did with the red ones at the wedding.”
“You don’t think he may be a bit wary after that?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll sell him on it. He’s so proud of his badges. And I’m going to get him changed after we get to the hotel - so it’ll be too late to back out. In any case, Mandy, he’s our employee, and he has to do what we tell him to.”
-
58.
On the Friday morning Shirley departed for the hotel well ahead of Anna and Mitch. She was intent on avoiding him until the time came to get him changed, after which she’d return to the office. The first question Mitch asked that morning, as he was having his ECD removed by Mandy, was about his uniform.
“Miss? Do you know if my mum dropped off my new trousers?”
“I don’t, dear. There. Does that feel better?”
“Yeah. Yeah, at last. I wish I didn’t have to go straight off to the party…”
“Never mind. It’ll be fun.”
“But about my trousers…”
“Sorry, darling. You’ll have to ask Shirley.”
“Where is she? I haven’t seen her this morning.”
“She’s gone straight to the hotel. She’ll meet you there. Anna will drive you.”
“So she’s got my uniform, right?”
“That’s right. She has it.”
“But you don’t know if…”
“I’m afraid not. Now off you go. Anna’s waiting in reception.”
It was just before twelve when Anna pulled into the hotel car park. The Derby was quite an old-fashioned country establishment in terms of its decoration, etiquette and personnel. But it was used to hosting some pretty wild events, always conducted in absolute privacy using the most discreet members of staff. Two rather apparently straight-laced maids had been allocated to the party, one, Pippy, dark and rather young, the other, Susan, middle aged with greying hair. When they arrived, Susan showed them into the party room that Edwina had chosen. It was cosy, furnished with sofas, heavy curtains, and with a shaggy thick-pile carpet on the floor, which the manager had assured Edwina was quite waterproof and made of artificial fibres, and impervious to any foods or drinks which may be spilt on it. There was a long dining table at one side of the room, a small raised stage at the other, with tasselled side-curtains, set up with a microphone and music equipment for karaoke or any spontaneous performances. The ladies’ room door was in one corner, and it was here that Susan directed Mitch.
He found Shirley waiting for him in the spacious lobby. She was holding two paper carrier bags.
“In here, Mitch. Let’s get you dressed.”
“Did my mum…?”
“No questions right now. Off with your clothes, please. Put them on that chair. Now, shirt first…”
“But what am I wearing…?”
“You’ll see. I guarantee you’re going to be very pleased with all the nice stuff we’ve got you. Oh, they’re going to love all these badges! You’ll have to explain what each one is for. I still can’t believe you’ve earned so many…”
“But…”
“No more buts… Look at these socks! They’ve even got garter tabs!”
“Oh. I haven’t see any Scouts wearing those recently…”
“And what do you think of these?”
“Wow. I’ve never seen trainers like that… Wait a minute… They match my necker, don’t they…?”
“Exactly. Now,” she said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves, “off with your pants. You’re going to love these…”
She took the little mauve and yellow rubber shorts out of their carrier.
“What…? They’re not… Miss, please…”
“No arguments.” She had taken Mitch by surprise, and he had no time to think. She knelt down. “Step in. That’s right. Now the other foot. Now…”
The cool, glossy surface of the rubber slid easily up his legs. She had taken the precaution of smearing a little lube on the thin plug, and before he knew it, it was inside him.
“What? No… What’s that?”
“Nothing, dear. Now hold the front down, so I can fix these. Go on!”
He obediently held the waist down while she used both hands to open the bottom loop and snap it around the base of his pen-is. Then she took the waistband from him, and rolled it up a few inches so she could pull it through the second loop. That fitted firmly around the shaft, holding it vertical. Finally, she rolled it fully up, making sure the head of the pen-is nestled comfortably in the upper hood. She could just see the tip an inch or so beneath the small top opening. While he stood there, helpless and bemused, she fussed with his shirt, tucking it in neatly all round. Finally, she produced his tan leather Scout belt, threaded it through the belt loops, (not forgetting to attach his belt purse), and buckled the Scout buckle at the front.
She stood back. “You look very smart, Mitch. Now, you’d better put on your scarf. The woggle’s in your purse. Sit down here and I’ll put on your shoes.”
Slowly, Mitch rolled up his necker and secured it with his leather Scout woggle, while Shirley knelt and laced his trainers. He was aware of having had a fast one pulled on him, but he couldn’t see any way out now. She stood up.
“Here. The final touch. Your cap. And I sewed a Scout badge onto it myself. Well? Put it on, then. And stand up.”
She nodded with satisfaction.
“Miss…?”
“Yes?”
These shorts…they feel funny…”
“Funny?”
“Yeah, Like…I dunno, I can feel like a sort of ticking sensation, like there’s a clock ticking inside them…”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Now I need a quick piccy for the designer. Smile…” Mitch didn’t smile, but she took two or three snaps. “Great. Now I have to be off back to the office. I have a meeting at one.”
“But…”
“Anna will take care of you. Here.” She took his hand, and led him out into the party room. “Anna? I have to leave. Can you take things from here?”
“Of course, Madam.”
“Thank you. Bye, Mitch. Be a good boy, now. Teddy will look after you…”
And she was gone.
-
59.
The hen party had been organised by Edwina to celebrate the engagement of one of her friends, Sharon. It was no big deal – Sharon had been living with her partner for a good five years – and more than anything else it was just an excuse for the girls to get together somewhere posh and have a good piss-up. There were twelve of them, aged between about twenty-four and thirty-four. One of the younger ones was someone Mitch knew – but no-one had twigged that yet. Miss Moira Sullivan was, in her spare time, a section leader for the local Scouts – to be precise, Mitch’s Scout Leader! Whatever her private behaviour, in her Scout role she was a bit of a stickler for regulations, whilst allowing the kids more freedom than was usual. They respected her for this, and understood very well that, as long as they stayed within her boundaries, they could have plenty of fun. At camp, for example, she would let them roam freely in pairs, without supervision, provided they checked in with their precise grid location and status at regular intervals, using the walkie-talkies she had bought them out of her own pocket. And while she emphasized the importance of personal cleanliness and smartness, her likely reaction to Mitch’s outfit was…shall we say, unpredictable.
Anna was fiddling with her camera. Mitch looked around. There was nothing for it but to wait. He headed for an alcove behind the door, pulled over a velvet-seated dining chair and sat down on his hands. The “ticking” had turned into a definite faint, regular pulsing. He could feel it not only deep inside himself, but against the length of his member. He guessed it was not accidental. He fidgeted, and tried to focus his mind on other things. Fortunately his nervousness at finding himself, not in new trousers as he had hoped, but in short, frilled rubber shorts, precluded any tendency to arousal. He stood up and attempted ease them down a little, but they fitted so perfectly, and were held so neatly by his belt, that it was impossible. He was about to resume his seat when the door opened and in walked Edwina and a blonde woman. Edwina was wearing what seemed to be her favoured outfit of tight shiny leggings and ankle boots, though this time her shirt had been replaced with a black spandex gym top. She smiled a greeting to Anna. Then she caught sight of Mitch. There was the slightest momentary flash of astonishment, which he didn’t even notice, then she quickly resumed her natural demeanour. Shirley had warned her that the game depended on maintaining an atmosphere of normality, and she in turn had warned her friends that if they wanted to keep Mitch in play there mustn’t be the slightest hint of merriment at his expense.
“Hello, Mitch. Lovely to see you again!” She took his hand. “This is my best friend, Sharon.”
Mitch blushed at the recollection of their last meeting, but responded to Edwina’s relaxed and friendly welcome.
“Hello, er…Miss Brentford. Hello, Sharon. Nice to meet you, too.”
“Teddy, please, Mitch.”
Sharon took his hand. Whilst Edwina was slim with short, dark hair, her friend was the opposite – blonde and fluffy and cuddly.
“Great to meet you at last.” She smiled warmly. “I’ve heard so much about you from Teddy.”
Mitch turned a deeper shade of red..
“You’re much bigger than I was expecting,” she went on. “Are you sure you’re only fourteen?”
This pleased Mitch no end. The women’s friendliness had already relaxed him somewhat, and had almost forgotten about his unconventional uniform.
“Actually I’m thirteen…”
“No!” She peered at his left sleeve. “How have you managed to earn all those badges already…? You have an awful lot of them.”
“Because he’s clever, Sharon. Unlike you and me! Mitch, I want to ask you about them later. But I’ve got the menus for lunch here. I’m just going to put them round. By the way, you’re next to me. You’ll be at the head of the table.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You’re Sharon’s guest of honour. The only male person allowed at her party!”
“Oh…thanks.”
“Thank you, Mitch,” said Sharon. “By the way, I didn’t realise you were a Scout. Shirley said you’d be wearing a uniform, but she didn’t say what it was. Did you know one of the guests is a Scout leader?”
Mitch pricked up his ears. “No. Who?”
“A friend of mine, Moira – Moira Sullivan. She helps out at…second Beckleyford, I think it is…”
“Yes! That’s my troop. She’s my Scout Leader!”
“No! What a coincidence! Oh, she’s going to be so surprised!”
Mitch’s first reaction was excitement. Then anxiety. How would she react to his uniform? Those shorts…definitely not regulation. Would she be angry? Maybe she’d even report him to the Group Scout Leader…
He was soon to find out. Three more guests arrived. And Moira was among them. She caught sight of Mitch immediately.
“Mitch!” She looked him up and down questioningly.
“M-miss…I…didn’t realise…”
“No. I had no idea it was you…the guest of honour, I mean. All I knew was it was a boy recommended by a friend of Teddy. But you look…” She stared at his shorts. “Well…very smart…”
“I know my uniform is…you see, my trousers didn’t arrive in time and…”
“Are you familiar with the uniform regulations, young man?” she said, severely.
“I-I’m really sorry, miss. I…”
Moira burst out laughing. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell. In any case, if I remember correctly, the regulations actually say that “navy blue shorts may be worn” as an alternative to trousers. And those are virtually navy blue. I mean, no-one could possibly object. They look pretty cool. Where did you get them?”
“Oh, it was Miss Dearman – my employer. She had them specially made.”
“Shirley, eh? Of course. I might have guessed. I mean, she’s always just ahead of all the fashion trends. Maybe she could supply pairs for all the kids. They’re unisex, aren’t they? I’m sure the girls would be happy. The boys? Well some of them would object – the macho types. But I think it would be good for them. Do you like them? Are they comfortable?”
Directly appealed to, Mitch felt it impossible to say no. “Yes…I mean, they do give me lots of freedom…”
“Perfect for camp, in fact. Hmm. Maybe I’ll have a word with her... But here come more guests. Let me introduce you…” She grinned. “I’m so happy it was you…” And she brushed a speck off his shirt front, and adjusted his neckerchief, in a motherly way.
-
60.
Soon Mitch was acquainted with everyone, and it was time for lunch. Edwina seated him at the head of the table, and took her seat immediately on his left, with Sharon and then Moira on his right. The other guests, of which there were nine, were sitting on either side of the long table. He was assailed by her perfume, and he was finding it difficult not to keep glancing at her breasts when he conversed with her; there was something about that gym top – maybe the way it moulded itself accommodatingly to her nipples – that seemed to invite attention. And for her part, she was very attentive to him all through lunch, everything from helping him to vegetables and suggesting puddings, to stroking his arm and squeezing his thigh under the tablecloth.
By the time lunch was over, the combination of the gentle pulsing and Edwina’s friendliness was beginning to have the inevitable result. When she offered him a glass of champagne so he could share in the toast to Sharon’s engagement, he was happy to accept. And when she refilled his glass he felt too chilled to object. By this time there was a buzz of conversation around the table. Sharon had started asking him about his activity badges, trying to guess what each one signified. Some were easy, of course – cyclist, camper, and so on. Some less obvious.
“And what’s this one? Wait a minute, let me guess. Er…juggler, right?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not what it’s called…”
“Let me see.” Edwina stood up and, instead of asking him to show her, simply leant across him with one arm around his shoulders and took hold of his sleeve.
“What, Sharon, this one?”
Her scent overwhelmed him. Her left breast was inches from his face. He felt his pen-is rise and harden, the middle loop tightening around its girth. He took a slow breath.
“Performer? Is that it, Mitch?”
“Circus Skills. It’s called Circus Skills.”
She remained in the same position.
“Oh… How did you get that?”
“Juggling, yeah. And some gymnastics…”
“And this one?”
He tried to turn his head sideways. In doing so he brushed against her breast. The head of his pen-is was pressing against his tummy now.
“Er…yeah…fundraising. That’s a collecting box, see…?”
Mercifully, she resumed her seat.
“Door to door?”
“No. We’re not allowed. We set up somewhere. Shopping centres…”
“Really?” She laughed. “Next time wear this uniform. You’d double your take.”
Sharon sniggered. Now her hand was on his other thigh, just touching the frills of his shorts, uncomfortably close to his erect member. He was breathing faster now. If he could just sit here quietly for a few minutes, maybe…
“She’s right, darling,” said Sharon. “You’d have all the ladies after you. They’d be folding notes and slipping them under your belt! But seriously though, I think Scouts look so much nicer in shorts, like they used to wear. Don’t you agree, Moira?”
“Oh, absolutely. I told Mitch I’m going to see how much it would cost to outfit my whole troop with ones like that. They’d look so smart. But I guess it would be too expensive…”
“Let me know what it would cost,” said Edwina. “No, I’m serious. I bet Shirley could get a good price from her supplier. In fact, if they were allowed to put a small logo on the leg somewhere, they may even do it for free. But in any case, I’d be happy to sponsor you.”
“Truthfully, Teddy? Can you imagine? I bet it would catch on.”
Mitch stared at Moira. He was gobsmacked. He imagined tough kids like Danny…or Melvin. That would be such a laugh. They wouldn’t act so hard then…
“I’d need to come and view them, though,” said Edwina. “Or you could parade them through town. They’d be on the front page of the local paper.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll speak to Shirley tomorrow.”
“We’ll have to make do with you for now, though, grinned Sharon. How about showing us some of your “circus skills” then?”
“Oh, yes – you must!” said Edwina. “Moira? What’s he good at?”
“He can juggle, all right, Teddy. And for his badge he did an exhibition of exercises…he can even do quite a passable bridge, which none of the other boys can…”
“No,” protested Mitch. “Please…not here. I’m really full, and…”
“Of course,” said Edwina. “Just relax and let lunch go down. You can show us later. Here, let me top you up…”
“No, I’m fine…oh, okay…”
-
61.
When lunch had been cleared away by the maids, the party draped themselves about the room, chatting and drinking. After a while, someone suggested a karaoke competition, and soon the room was resounding to the strains of Abba and Sinatra, interspersed with hilariously bad singing. Mitch took the opportunity to use the toilet. He had some idea of allowing his overwrought member to soften up a bit. But try as he might, it refused to cooperate, and it was slimy with his juices, so he couldn’t even extract it from the central loop. He managed to aim it in roughly the right direction, however – quite an achievement, given his slightly intoxicated state – and to get it back in its little rubber hood. He tucked his shirt back in and did up his belt. He admired himself in the ladies’ room full-length mirror; for as well as inebriation, the champagne had had the complementary effect of dissipating most of his inhibitions.
He turned his left side to the glass. “They were definitely impressed,” he said to himself, viewing the two parallel lines of badges. “Yeah…Sharon particularly…she’s pretty cool…think she fancies me a bit…”
He pulled up his socks and adjusted the tabs. “These trainers…probably one of a kind….bet Danny would kill to get his hands on these…yeah, literally…better not let him see them…”
He swayed slightly. “I guess…guess these shorts…not bad, actually. Get me plenty of attention…women like that, don’t they…” He touched the vertical mound under its taut rubber skin, and groaned. “It’s so hard…dunno why it won’t…but then, it’s been a long time….wish I could…but not here. When I get home…” He stood back so the light fell full on him. “Look at it! So long…it’s right up in that hood now…and my balls! So big! Not surprising, though. Lucky it’s all neatly strapped up, or goodness knows…”
He hear someone approaching, and quickly turned and opened the door for them.
“Hello Mitch! Using the ladies now? Fine by me…”
He emerged into the room. Several heads turned and he felt eyes on him, but he’d lost all his self-consciousness now. He took his time returning to the guests, letting them have a good eyeful. And he went up to Edwina and started a conversation, standing in front of her so she had a clear view of his tumescent boyhood. She took full advantage of the opportunity.
“Well, Mitch, I’m so glad – we’re all glad – you could be here. You have something…something none of us possess…” She paused. He wondered what she was about to say. “Charisma,” she added, with a mischievous smile. “And I think it’s time you showed us some more of your talents…”
“Sure, Tabby… I’ll shtand up on the shtage…shall I…?”
“Great. Look, Milly’s just finished her song. Do some juggling for us. Do you have some balls?”
“What?”
“Juggling balls?”
“Oh, er, I don’t think so…”
“I’ve got some,” called out Sharon. “Susan found them for you. She and Pippy would like to watch, if you don’t mind…”
“Course not…”
He climbed the steps to the stage. The steady pulsing seemed stronger now, (though it was probably only the effect of the champagne), and his pen-is was achingly hard, and oozing prec-um freely. He didn’t care. In fact, when he saw all the smiling, expectant faces, and Anna diligently operating her video camera, he had an irresistible urge to show off all the more. So he took his time getting ready, making sure there was nothing in his way, turning his cap backwards so the peak couldn’t interfere with the trajectory of the balls, and adjusting the frills on his shorts, which, with the tops of his thighs, were already becoming slippery with his juices.
His first attempt was disastrous. The champagne had boosted his confidence to the point where he thought all he had to do was to throw the balls up and they’d fall naturally into his hands. The first part went okay, but the balls fell naturally, not into his hands, but into the audience, much to its amusement. After that, he concentrated. The alcohol did affect his coordination, but his exhibition was passably impressive. The round of applause that followed brought out the actor in him, and he threw the juggling balls aside and gave an emotional rendition of Juliet’s speech in scene two beginning,
“Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face…”
And truly in his state of heightened sensibilities this was impressive, and more than one of the women shed a tear.
He should have bowed out gracefully at that juncture, but vanity drove him on.
“I’ll finish with a little exbidition - I mean exhibition – of gymnashtics….”
He had had an idea. The stage curtains hung from a rail, to which were also attached tasselled cords. He drew one of these into the middle of the stage.
“Ladies! I will first demonstrate rope-climbing!”
Which he did, though with limited success. He followed up with star-jumps, which were rather erratic – he nearly fell more than once. His toe-touching was average, due to the stiff thing which dug into his tummy every time he bent forward. His hip twists, he discovered, were too arousing. So he decided to wind up with a bridge, which he thought would show off his boyhood to the best advantage. It was all going well until that last little push. A bridge too far, as it were. He could feel the glans straining against its rubber hood. He imagined how impressive it must look for his audience. But as he gave one final thrust of his hips, the unthinkable happened – something Alison could not have foreseen. The head of his pen-is, swollen and slick with juice, suddenly burst through the small opening at the top of the hood! The narrow lip snapped closed around the top of the shaft. With a cry, Mitch collapsed onto the floor, then sprang to his feet. He stood there for a second, thighs pressed together, bum stuck out, trying to understand what had happened. All he knew was, that the rubber loop had a firm stranglehold around the neck of his pen-is. When he tried to stand up straight in his tightly-belted shorts, the loop simply tightened, dilating the head even more, pulling it further up his tummy, and causing the raised seam to press hard into the cleft. He could see puzzled faces looking at him from below. He wanted to run away and try to release himself, but as a performer, he knew the show must go on. And go on it did, but not in quite the way he was intending.
Alison may not have foreseen the problem with the hood, but she needn’t have doubted the effectiveness of the emergency relief system built into the shorts. To Mitch’s surprise, the butt plug, which he had almost forgotten about, suddenly sprang into life. Not only did he feel the vibrations inside, but the seam itself began to buzz against his aching pen-is in strong, short bursts. There was no time to react. He was overtaken by a massive orgasm. At the first spasm he nearly blacked out, and only saved himself from sinking to his knees by grabbing onto his climbing-rope.
All those days of frustration were released in that one massive eruption. He gave a cry of surprise and dismay. Then wads of thick, hot sperm shot from his vertical pen-is, blasting their way out of the waistband of his shorts, spurting up his shirt even to his neckerchief, and bubbling out over his belt. It slid in big, slimy blobs down over the mauve rubber, down his thighs, and dripped from the tops of his socks onto his trainers. He would have turned away from the spectators, but it was all he could do to hang on to the cord without fainting. Sharon stared in disbelief as the c-um continued to pump from his shorts, Mitch himself emitting a series of pathetic little cries at each convulsion: “oh”… “oh”… “oh”… “no, please”… Of course, she had no idea of the deprivation he had suffered over the preceding days. Edwina was in raptures. Moira, who had been filming his whole act on her phone for the edification of the troop continued to do so, whilst making a mental resolution to contact Shirley as soon as possible.
It must have been nearly two minutes before his climax began to subside, leaving him a twitching, gasping mess. His lovely ironed shirt and his breast badges were smothered, the ends of his necker dripping. The last oozings were making their way slowly down the front of his shorts. Strings of sperm hung from the yellow frills. His socks and shoes were thoroughly slimed, and there were little blobs and pools around his feet. Edwina looked at Sharon.
“Wow!”
“That was some floor-show, Teddy! Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Moira? What badge is he going to get for that?”
Moira laughed. “Well he doesn’t have the ‘Entertainer’ one yet. But he’s certainly earned it now!”
Edwina turned to Susan and Pippy, watching open-mouthed from behind her chair. “Ladies? Is there a cleaner in the hotel?”
Susan was equal to the occasion.
“There is, Miss Brentford, but I think it would be better if we dealt with it.”
“Oh, I was only joking.”
“No. It’ll be a pleasure - won’t it Pippy?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“After all, it’s not often we get to see a show quite like that!” She advanced to the stage and made her way up the steps. She took Mitch gently by the hand. “Come on, young man. Hold onto me. Let’s go and get you cleaned up, shall we?”
-
62.
Ten minutes later Mitch was seated in a cosy private room, wrapped in a thick, soft hotel dressing gown six sizes too large for him, drinking a milky coffee. He was beginning to regain his composure.
“I don’t know what happens to me when I drink champagne,” he mused. “But it tastes so good…” He frowned. “That was a horrid trick Shirley played on me. Everything was going so well up to then. If I hadn’t tried to do that bridge, the show would have been a huge success!” His frown faded. “Anyway, everyone was really impressed with my badges…’specially Sharon. Even miss was clapping before… I hope she’s not angry my uniform got a bit messed up…”
In less that forty-five minutes Susan returned. His whole uniform had been washed and dried! Even his shoes had been sponged clean.
“Gosh, that was quick…”
“That’s what you can do in a good hotel,” smiled Susan. “Lightning service. Now get dressed. The ladies are waiting for you.” Seeing his brow pucker with anxiety, she added, “and don’t worry. They all thought you were great. And so did we! Your juggling…and that bridge!” (But especially the finale, she thought.) “Amazing. You’re obviously a very talented boy. No wonder there are so many badges on here…”
Nevertheless he was still a little nervous as Susan opened the door of the party room and ushered him in. But his anxiety was blown away but the applause and whistles from the ladies. He blushed slightly, but from pure modesty.
“Mitch! Come an join us. Goodness, you look smarter than before, if that’s possible…”
“Yes, Teddy, the hotel…hotels can do this sort of thing, you know…”
Sharon gave him a big hug. “That was one amazing firework display, young man! And we’ve only seen one of your talents so far. Now, let’s see…what else have we got here?” she said, running a finger over his sleeve.
“Sharon, leave him alone. Hasn’t he done enough for one day? You must be tired, Mitch, after all those gymnastics…”
Mitch was exhausted. But he wasn’t going to admit it. “No. But I don’t think I should…”
“Mitch!” It was Moira. He blushed again. “Great show. You’re a credit to the troop. Maybe you tried a little too hard, though. I know, I know. I understand. You’re never satisfied with just being good – you’ve got to be the best. That’s just how you are, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess. Miss, look, I’m really sorry about, you know, what happened, and the uniform and everything… It was an accident…”
“Well, I should hope it was,” she said archly. “Mitch, no harm done. Your uniform’s like new again.” She lowered her voice. “Between you and me, everyone thought the, er, climax was totally incredible. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Several people have asked me for the video.”
Mitch was hurt. “You filmed me?”
“Of course I did. I was intending to show the troop.” Mitch’s eyes widened. “But don’t worry. Of course I won’t. What happened is just between you and me. But I’m going to find you a special badge as a reward.”
“And everyone here! I think Shirley played a trick on me…”
“Actually, she didn’t. I’ve just spoken to her. It was the designer. Apparently she included some sort of pressure release trigger that Shirley hadn’t asked for. The shorts were only a prototype.”
“Oh.”
“So next time…”
“Miss! There won’t be a “next time”!”
Edwina intervened, putting her arm around Mitch’s shoulders. “Oh, come on, Mitch. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
He could feel the proximity of her breast to his cheek – whether intentional or accidental – and immediately he felt the central loop tighten around the shaft. Damn! Why was he so vulnerable to her?
“You know there’ll be loads of parties and informal get-togethers this summer. I’d be so grateful if you could honour us with your presence again… And not only me…”
“Well, you’d have to speak to Miss Dearman… But I think you’ll find she’ll be needing me at P & S…”
“Oh, I shall, darling boy. I shall…”
-
63.
It was a week later, Saturday morning. Mitch’s last day before the trip. He was in relaxed mood. The four boys were summoned to Shirley’s office. Mandy and Yulya and Anna were in attendance.
“Good morning, boys.”
“Good morning, miss.”
“I just wanted a quick chat with you all. I have to tell you that your efforts have been rewarded, and we have six new recruits starting next week. Our training regime will stay as before, with a few minor modifications, but Anna will be playing a more prominent role, helping us produce training films for sale to the public, via our new internet channel. There are so many desperate parents out there, and we have limited capacity, that we feel this is the right way to go. So how will this affect you? Let me explain.”
She took a deep breath. Mandy looked at each boy in turn, a knowing smirk on her face. Yulya winked at Anna.
“You will each have a part to play. The new arrivals will need to put at their ease. Mitch, I know you’ll be happy to hear that you will be our resident girl. We have ordered several new outfits for you, from the fresh and innocent to the decidedly sexy. We will be bringing in a professional hair stylist, and Yulya will take care of your makeup. Your role will be to welcome and to flirt and to flatter – to undermine suspicion and resistance. Jasper? Some of these boys may be wary of girls, and prefer the attentions of someone of their own sex. That’s where you will come in. Make friends, introduce them to the idea that boys can wear cute outfits, pretty fabrics, and so on – that effeminacy is something to experiment with, not to recoil from. It will require subtlety and persistence, but I have full confidence in you.
She turned to Sam. “Sam. I have decided you will be our resident baby.”
“No! Miss, that’s not fair…”
“Shush! Not another word. For you, thick nappies, plastic pants, a big pacifier permanently around your neck - or preferably in your mouth – and baby talk only, please. Initially, you will serve as the butt of laughter and jibes. But I want them getting used to the idea that a grown boy can make a lovely baby – ready for the time when they will be required to join you in your playpen.”
Finally, she turned to Meredith, and smiled. He was wearing a pink vinyl smock with puff sleeves, short lacy socks and pink Mary Janes. “You, Meredith, will keep the trainees…er, satisfied. You will be the last defence against rebellion. I know you’re going to be a success. We have seen great changes in you over the last few days, and I understand from Yulya you are now quite settled in your new position as, er…”
“Company c-um slut?” suggested Jasper, with a leer.
“Jasper! Quiet! Unless you’d like a little more attention from Mrs Buff-Hopkins? She’ll be in soon.”
“No, no. Sorry, miss.”
“Yes, miss Shirley,” put in Yulya. “Meredith good boy now. I give regular morning milking – by hand, quicker than machine, and he make so much milk…”
“You wear your nurse’s outfit, I hope?”
“Oh, yes. Meredith like it a lot. Don’t you, Meredith? And then he behave all day…”
In reply, Meredith just looked at her adoringly.
“Good. Excellent. And Meredith, I see you’re wearing one of your new wipe-clean dresses. Very fetching. There’ll be a few more arriving from Alison’s today, along with new outfits for you all. Oh, and a parcel of navy blue zip-front shorts for Beckleyford Scouts, I think? You know about that, I believe, Mitch?”
Mitch looked shocked. “Oh, really? She was serious then.”
“And you’ll be off to Devon for two weeks on Monday. I do hope you all have a nice time. I understand Miss Sullivan has a few treats planned.” She looked at Meredith. “Pity you’re not in the Scouts, Meredith. I’m sure you’d have fun. They get up to all sorts of things when they’re camping…”
Meredith’s eyes widened, and he stared at Mitch questioningly, and fidgeted in his seat.
“Oh, and she asked me to give you…this, Mitch. To sew on your shirt.”
She handed Mitch a small black badge.
“She said you’d understand. And Mitch?”
“Yes, miss?”
“As well as your duties here, I have agreed with Teddy Brentford that you will also periodically be seconded as entertainer for her friends’ parties.”
“No…but, miss…”
“No buts. They were all very impressed last week. Maybe next time you and Meredith could do a double act…”
The End
-
Oh, SandraB, The end? surely not. You cannot leave us all in suspension like this. Six new recruits for Mitch and the others to settle in to P ? S. The possibilities are endless. I hope you reconsider and continue the story. Thank you for your genius writing. Am now checking on your other stories for any updates.
-
BabyJay - I have to confess there will be more to come. I've only just started collating the various accounts of subsequent proceedings, and as at first sight it looks fairly torrid I thought I'd take a break and row back into calmer waters for a while...
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BabyJay - I have to confess there will be more to come. I've only just started collating the various accounts of subsequent proceedings, and as at first sight it looks fairly torrid I thought I'd take a break and row back into calmer waters for a while...
It is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it may be, the end of the beginning.
-
Mitch (contd.)
64.
Shirley’s motives in starting up P & S were complicated. She had inherited a large sum of money two years before, and in casting about for an investment – or at least an occupation – she had decided to be governed by her natural instincts. She had been encouraged by her best friend, Mandy, who shared her belief and interest in innovative methods of training and discipline, and together they had purchased the land and buildings (once, appropriately perhaps, a dairy farm) which, with modernisation and development, now constituted the headquarters of P & S. Of course there was an element of prurience – shared by her co-director Mandy – but she had believed that, in addition to the satisfaction of providing a useful service to both parents and children, there was a real business opportunity to be grasped. She had seen so many parents driven to despair by the behaviour of their children – nearly always boys, and nearly always worsening before and during puberty – for which available therapies were rarely effective, and in some cases could make the behaviour worse, as the child reacted against what it saw as unwarranted intrusion into its private feelings.
It was clear to her that sex was at the root of the problem – to be precise, the onset of heightened libido without a concurrent outlet for it. Frequently the parent or guardian of the child reacted to bad behaviour with increased restrictiveness of its freedoms, which simply made the problem worse. Shirley thought she could bring a fresh approach to the whole area, by relieving the sexual pressure in a variety of ways, some physical, some psychological. Her methods were influenced by a belief that an aggravating factor was the child’s distress and confusion caused by the changes it was undergoing. For some, there was a desire to return to a time in their lives when they were untroubled by sexual pressures – to babyhood - or for boys to aspire to a gender where life seemed more peaceful and simple – to girlhood. Most parents, blinded by what they expected or wanted their children to aspire to, would have been incapable either of sensing or indulging such tendencies. But Shirley reasoned that, in the absence of clear evidence, and on the basis only of her own instincts, boys should be offered the choice (or sometimes have it imposed upon them) of making such lifestyle changes. Now, whether this was a morally justifiable policy, either in the short or longer term, it was a central part of her creed, and the obvious delight she derived from putting it into action should not detract from the purity of her mission.
Her experiences with the four boys so far delivered into her care had only reinforced her convictions. The most remarkable changes had been wrought on Meredith – effectively by giving him an excess of what she believed he needed. Therefore she determined to expand the experiment, for which purpose one of the rooms, number thirteen, was being adapted.
The builders had been in for several days, but now everything was finished and ready. On the Monday, Shirley, Mandy, Yulya and Anna went to inspect the result.
The new apparatus was designed to cater for two boys at a time. In the middle of the room the builders had installed four vertical stainless steel poles, about the size of scaffold poles, bolted to the floor and to the ceiling. They were arranged as if at the four corners of a one metre square. Each pole was equipped with a series of steel rings, welded at intervals up its length, and from the bottom rings of opposing pairs a taut steel chain ran between the two poles. Next to each pair of poles was a blue metal box about a foot square, stencilled “MILKMAX III”. These were plugged into floor sockets.
“These are the latest model of milking machine,” explained Shirley. “They have a much bigger range of speed and suc-king power, all controlled by these dials on the side. And once the milk enters the reservoir inside, the machine is powerful enough to pump it upwards to a receiving bottle at head height or higher - or indeed, anywhere,” she added with a quick, enigmatic smile. “It uses the finest capillary tubing so that the movement of fluid is almost instantaneous. All the sheaths and tubes and reservoirs are stored in there” – she pointed to a full-length cupboard built into the wall – “as well as the automatic washing cabinet. You will see I have had good bright lighting installed, and cameras to record the whole process - but there are also chairs for anyone that would like to watch the operation at close quarters.”
“Very beautiful, simple design,” said Yulya. “You very clever woman, Miss Shirley.”
“You approve then, Yulya? After all, you’re going to be in charge of it. I believe there’s a manual in the cupboard, too. Yes, here we are.”
“I will read very carefully. So…one boy here…and other boy here…?”
“Yes. Facing each other. They’ll be able to watch each other being milked. I’m hoping they will act as a stimulus to each other.”
Mandy was fascinated. “So Shirley – They’ll be secured to the rings and the chain, right?”
“That’s right. They’ll be cuffed, then all we have to do is attach them with carabiners or screw-links. No padlocks needed.”
“But how…?”
“How do we get them in there in the first place? By force, or subterfuge, I guess. And we do have our new disciplinary assistant…”
“Mrs Buffy-Hopkins?” asked Yulya.
“Buff-Hopkins, yes. Though I believe she prefers to be addressed as Miss now, since her husband ran away.”
“He ran…?”
“Yes. A long way away, as I understand. But our boys will have nowhere to run, will they…?
-
65.
Shirley had arranged for the prospective trainees to be introduced over a period of weeks. From her interviews with the parents, she had so far ascertained that there were at least two ‘hard cases’, and one boy whose mother had referred to him, amongst other things, as “a bit of a wimp”. This boy interested her, partly because she didn’t much like the mother’s attitude, and she suspected his problems may stem from her parenting skills – or lack of them. So she had booked him in for the following Wednesday, the fourteenth, and pencilled the two in for the following week. Mitch was in Devon for two weeks, so the remainder could be saved until the Monday after his return, which would be the twenty-sixth of August, when he would be able to work his girlish wiles again.
While the new equipment was being inspected, at Second Beckleyford Scout Hut there was something of a sensation. Moira had decided to spring her surprise on the Scouts just as they were about to leave for camp. She knew all the parents would be there to see the children off, and she was banking on their support. She had ordered enough shorts in a range of sizes so that none of the boys should be disappointed, and with the help of the parents was matching each pair to a boy. She had been unable to resist the temptation to retain tight little frills at the legs, and though these now matched the navy blue latex of the rest of the garment, she had requested the leg openings be decorated with a thin band of yellow piping as well, just above the frilling, to finish them off. They had plain zip flies and belt loops just like ordinary shorts, though it had been impossible to incorporate real pockets. The parents were unanimous in their approval of the new look, especially as Moira had sweetened the pill with new troop T-shirts for everyone, mauve with yellow-bordered neck and sleeves, and “2nd. Beckleyford” in yellow letters across the chest, short mauve socks with yellow tops, and navy troop baseball caps with yellow peaks, so that everything matched the troop neckerchiefs. The girls were happy – the loved the new clothes – though they all opted to retain their trousers. But for the boys Moira made it clear the new look was compulsory, and in strict accordance with regulations. She explained her policy to the parents.
“In the past, I have been criticised for allowing a degree of untidiness in the boys when we’re on one of our trips. And I’m sure you’re aware that, rambling thorough the countryside, their old trousers tend to get torn and dirty. Unfortunately the boys lack the girls’ sense of order and discipline, and go galloping off the path into the bushes despite all instructions to the contrary.”
“That’s right,” piped up one mother. “And he hates it when I try to sew them up. He demands new ones. And I can’t afford to keep buying him new clothes…”
“Yes, I appreciate that. Now, these shorts fit snugly, so they don’t get snagged. If they get muddy, all they need is a quick rinse, and they’re like new again. And they look so smart for when the troop goes into town.”
“But miss, the pockets are fake!” piped up one of the troop. “Where we gonna put our things?”
“Things? What things? Do you mean your hands, Stephen?” she added, to the amusement of the parents.
“No. You know…like knives, an’ compass, an’ stuff…”
“Well, you’ve got your belt purses for money already, and these new shorts come with leather knife sheaths and compass holders.”
“Yeah…but they’re yellow…”
“And?”
“They look…sorta gay…”
“You have yellow on your scarves, on your socks and shirts and caps – even on your shorts.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Stop arguing, Stephen,” called his mother. Do what Miss Sullivan tells you, and that’s an end of it!”
There were still a few murmured complaints, but the adults won the day, delighted that their kids had a troop leader willing and able to take a firm hand with them. So at her insistence, the boys changed, leaving all other nether garments behind, and were soon filing into the coach in their nice new uniforms. The driver, a woman in her thirties, looked a little surprised.
“Is that a new uniform your boys are wearing?” she asked Moira.
“Yes. Do you like it? More practical than trousers for hiking through the countryside.”
“Oh, yes, I see… and very smart, I must say…” she added, thoughtfully.
Mitch was secretly pleased. He thought it was about time someone else tried them out – even if they weren’t quite like the ones he’d worn to Sharon’s party.
Because of the boys’ reluctance, the girls got to the front of the queue, and nabbed the back seats on the coach. All through the journey they whispered sly remarks which Moira, at the front, was unable to hear.
“Mmm… Daphne? What’s that smell? It’s like…”
“Oh, yes. Hot rubber. I wonder where that’s coming from?”
“Of course! I’d forgotten. The boys are all wearing little rubber shorts, aren’t they?”
“So they are! I wonder what it feels like?”
“I bet they like it. All soft and stretchy. Comfortable for their little…”
“Shut up!” Daniel had turned round, his face red with annoyance.
“Ooh! Daniel! You look very red in the face… Are your new shorts getting you overheated?”
He swore and turned back. The fact was it was warm in the coach, and the smooth latex was arousing. He held his rucksack on his lap to hide the bulge. He hoped he could get himself under control before they stopped for lunch…
When the coach stopped in a picnic area and the Scouts alighted, it became obvious it was a general problem. The girls had a good giggle, while the boys made a rush for the picnic tables by the trees to hide their embarrassment. Moira was happy because her plan was working even better than she could have hoped. Normally these trips left her frazzled and exhausted from trying to keep the boys in line. A coach stop would have been the excuse for them going berserk, running everywhere and screaming at the top of their lungs. Today, however, their wonted rowdiness had been silenced, Their only concern was not to attract attention to themselves. They sat quietly munching their sandwiches, not even looking at each other. She mentally patted herself on the back. “They can let rip when they’re out in the wilds, somewhere,” she thought. “The main thing is I’m not going to be embarrassed by them in public. I feel sure of that. In town they’re going to be as nice as pie and as quiet as mice! Thank you, Shirley, for the great idea!”
The Scout centre, on the eastern edge of Dartmoor, could accommodate several troops. Some were already installed, witness the little groups of tents dotted about the main field adjacent to the complex of buildings. It was early afternoon when their coach pulled into the car park. It was sunny and mild with a light breeze; perfect weather for putting up tents.
The girls were first out, dancing and running about with excitement.
“Where are we, miss? Look, I like that far corner of the field over there, next to the big hedge. Can we go there?”
“I don’t know, Janice. I’ll have to check which area we’ve been allocated. Come with me and we’ll find out. The rest of you wait here for a minute.” She went to walk away, but stopped after only a few yards. “Boys? Please come out of the coach. The driver needs to go. Make sure you’ve got all your things. Mitch? You’re responsible for checking that nothing’s been left behind.”
“Yes, miss.”
Daniel was hovering at the coach door.
“But, miss… There are loads of Scouts here already… They’re gonna laugh at our new shorts…”
“Nonsense! If anything, they’ll be jealous,” she replied, suppressing a smile. “Now come on. No more excuses. Come on Janice. Let’s go to the office.”
Reluctantly, the boys alighted. Mitch checked the coach, and when he was sure everything was out, he told the driver she could leave.
“Have a lovely time, kids!” she called, shutting the door and starting the engine. And soon she was gone, leaving a little knot of boys hovering in one corner of the car park.
“How long is she gonna be?” said Stephen. “Those kids over there on the path are staring at us.”
“What are you smirking at?” Daniel had suddenly noticed the only one of the group unfazed was Mitch.
“Nothing. Only you’re all making it worse, acting so self-conscious. Just bluff it out. You’ll be fine.”
“He may have a point,” said Michael. “I mean, they’re not too bad really. As long as you keep still and don’t think of anything…you know…”
“It’s not even that,” persisted Daniel. “Look at yourself. Little tiny rubber shorts with frills! And that yellow trim. And there’s nowhere to put your hands! I feel so…awkward…and exposed.!”
“Yeah,” added Stephen, “ and when you walk, they’re so slippery inside, and it won’t stay still…”
“Oh, stop complaining,” grinned Mitch. “Enjoy the freedom. And we all look so cute, what with our matching shirts and socks and scarves. Imagine the looks we’re gonna get when we go into town…”
“Shit. I forgot that,” said Michael. “Our favourite sweet shop. Last year – remember? – we were chatting up those girl assistants?”
“fuc-k. He’s right. We can’t go in there like this.”
“But we have to! It’s the best sweet shop in the world.”
“We could send one of the girls in…”
“It wouldn’t be the same. We need to be able to choose the sweets…”
“In any case, they’d refuse. They’d make us go in ourselves…”
“That’s right…”
A pause.
“We’re fuc-ked,” said Daniel, succinctly.
At this juncture Moira and Janice returned from the office, the latter obviously excited.
“We got that corner!”
“Great. Yay!” cried her friend Marcella. “Let’s go!”
Being in the farthest corner turned out to be both a blessing and a problem. They were nicely tucked away out of sight, but when they needed to visit the toilet or the canteen, they had to run the gauntlet of nearly every troop in the field. And in the main complex, there was nowhere to hide. After they had pitched camp, the boys went off two by two for moral support, and returned two by two with their cheeks burning. Daniel was outraged.
“Miss? Everyone was staring at us! Some of them were…giggling! One kid was laughing openly, so I said if he didn’t stop I’d punch him!”
“Really, Daniel? That’s definitely not very Scout-like, is it? So what happened?”
Daniel looked hurt. “He just collapsed on the floor, helpless with laughter. I was so angry, I had to walk away. It’s not fair…”
“Well that’s good. You didn’t take the bait. This will be a great test of your resilience and fortitude. If you all make it through camp without any bad behaviour, I’m going to arrange a treat for you afterwards. That’s a promise. So please, try to be good this year.”
-
66.
Shirley had had two phone conversations with an Alisia Denistoun, about her son Paul, who was, according to the mother, not only a wimp, but “impossible”. The use of that word made Shirley immediately suspicious, implying as it did a willingness to give up. No proper mother ever gave up on her child. Paul was “constantly sulking, rude and difficult. He won’t do this, won’t do that, he positively ignores my friends when they come round – it’s so embarrassing – his father’s never here – long hours in court – and how am I supposed to cope, with a baby to look after?”
“I’m sure it must be very difficult for you, but…”
“Impossible! I can’t go on like this. I…oh, I have to go. Jemimah’s crying…”
“Well bring him round. Next Wednesday morning? Shall we say ten?”
“I shall. Thank you so much. And will he be able to board…?”
“Of course. He’ll have his own room, and…”
“Perfect. See you Wednesday. Must go.”
Shirley was getting the picture. But it would take a face-to-face meeting to gather more evidence. It happened as scheduled the following Wednesday.
Paul’s mother was a brisk, impatient woman. She marched into the lobby behind a clearly expensive baby buggy with a heavy brown linen hood. Her son skulked behind her, carrying a little suitcase.
“Good morning. Mrs Denistoun, I presume? Very nice to meet you.”
Shirley greeted the woman with apparent interest, but her real attention was on the son, who now took up an unostentatious position in the recess behind the door. He seemed tired, he was frowning, and looking anywhere but at the reception committee, which consisted of Shirley herself, Yulya, neatly and demurely dressed for the occasion as a maid-of-all-work, and Jasper, attired in his football strip, for no other reason than to look sporty and perhaps put the new arrival at ease. His mother had mentioned an interest in sports.
“You must be Miss Dearman. Yes, well, here I am.” She turned the buggy so that Shirley could see inside. “And here is baby Jemimah. Isn’t she just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Shirley looked coldly at the baby. It’s face looked back from the midst of a halo of ruffles. The only thing that makes a baby cute is a smile, and this one didn’t have one. It was blowing bubbles and apparently trying to focus on the end of the smudge that would become its nose. She turned to the boy by the door.
“And this must be Oliver.” She smiled. “Hello Oliver. How are you today?”
Oliver didn’t answer, but simply frowned more darkly than ever.
“Oliver! Say hello to Miss Dearton.” (Shirley didn’t bother to correct her.) “Don’t be so rude! You know how to behave. It’s really…”
“Please. Mrs Denistoun. Please. Let Paul come and meet some of his new friends, and see his room, and have something to drink, if he’d like. We can take over now. We like to keep these partings as short and simple as possible. Less stress on both sides. So, please, feel free…”
She indicated the door. Mrs Denistoun did not seem at all averse to a quick departure.
“Oh, thank you. I do have an appointment at my hairdresser’s, as a matter of fact. Sherston’s, you know… They’re sticklers for time…” She glanced at Oliver. “Do be good, won’t you dear? Do whatever Mrs Dearchild tells you. And I’ll see you… soon…”
And she was gone.
Shirley and Yulya exchanged glances. Shirley gave Yulya a nod, meaning, “I think you’d be better than me at introductions,” and Yulya at once went over, knelt down, and gave Paul a hug.
“Come with Yulya, darling. Come on, hold my hand, and we go have look around, shall we? Shall I take case? You very big boy, no? Twelve or thirteen…?”
“Eleven,” said Oliver, looking up for the first time.
“Goodness, you look older. Very handsome, too. Maybe we go to canteen first, yes? See what buns are today? Or straight to room?”
For the first time, the frown seemed to have melted from Paul’s brow.
“Buns?”
“Yes, Miss Shirley make sure are always nice buns, with currants and icing. Other things, too, but buns are best. Look, Paul, this Jasper. He is going to be good friend to Oliver.”
“Hi Oliver. Your mum said you’re into sports. Do you play football?”
“Yes.”
“What position?”
“Forward.”
“Oh. I like to be a defender. Even goalie. Cos I’m tall for my age, see?”
“I could put a shot past you, easy.”
“Yeah? We’ll see. We’ve got a field out the back. Later on, if you’re not too busy, we can have a game…”
“Yeah! What, a football field?”
“No, just a field. But it’s big enough.”
“Okay…”
Yulya turned back and winked as she led Oliver out of reception. Shirley looked after them for a while, a thoughtful expression on her face. Mandy came out of her office.
“How’s the new recruit?”
“A little neglected, I would say. He’s rather out of our usual line. Once he’s settled in I want to have a long chat with him. I think, Mandy, he may be here for some time…”
-
67.
Oliver had decided he’d like to see where he was going to be staying, first of all. As Yulya led him along the corridor to his new room, his hand gripping hers tightly, a wave of motherly protectiveness swept over her. He was not the usual miscreant in need of discipline or retraining, but a rather sweet little boy who seemed perhaps to have been lacking proper love and attention. She had not realised this when she was preparing his room, but she had known he was a little younger than the rest of the new intake, so she had erred on the side of juvenility.
“Here is room, Oliver. See? We paint name on door. Go on. You can open.”
Oliver turned the handle and gingerly opened the door. His eyes widened. “Gosh! It’s amazing!”
The room was one of those on the outside of the building. It had a big long window overlooking the fields at the back of the establishment, and sunlight poured in. The walls were painted alternately pale pink and pale green, and reminded Oliver of Neapolitan ice-cream. The floor was wooden, painted green. It was furnished with a cream canvas-covered sofa, a desk and chair, a small white wardrobe with drawers down one side, and a bed with a green coverlet. The walls were decorated with framed art deco posters depicting various sports – football, skiing, archery, and so on. Sitting on the bed was a very woolly-looking teddy bear, and on the bedside cabinet, next to the light, sat a knitted doll in a pink smock, smiling happily.
“Well, I hope you like. Bathroom through here…” She opened a door in the corner of the room opposite the bed. “Everything there. Toothpaste, soap, everything.”
“Wow! It’s great! Better than my room at home. Mummy moved me from my nice bedroom to make way for Jemimah.” Here the frown returned for a moment. “Jemimah needs a special place, you see, cos she’s a baby.”
“I see. Jemimah sounds very important. But I hope you be happy here, Oliver. You have some clothes, yes? But we have lots here too. You can choose. Now, leave suitcase, and we go to canteen with Jasper, yes?”
Yulya spent the next hour or so with Oliver, and then left Jasper in charge. They seemed to get on really well, and Oliver already seemed much happier than when he had arrived. She went straight to Shirley’s office to report.
“Sit down, Yulya. What do you think, then?”
“I think we were right, Miss Shirley. Since baby arrived, mother has no time for him. He talks about baby a lot. She get all attention, nice pretty clothes, kisses and cuddles. He out in cold. Mother very stupid, I think.”
“That confirms the impression I got.”
“He get on very nice with our Jasper. Good friends already. I think Jasper will look after him like brother. Brother just what he need, I think.”
“Well, today he can relax and get used to his new surroundings, and be with Jasper. Tomorrow I’d like to have him in for a long chat. No, in fact, you know what? I’ll take him out for lunch – maybe even to that bird place – somewhere nice – and see if I can get him to open up. All right? Can you arrange that? Say we leave about eleven, then we can take our time. I want him to chill.”
“I fix it, Miss Shirley. This one we need look after.”
“Well, if we don’t, no-one else will…”
-
68.
So it was that the next day Shirley and Oliver headed off together further into the countryside. It was sunny and still. They pulled into a country inn with a big garden, and Shirley ordered burgers and chips, followed by ice-cream for Oliver. He seemed to be enjoying the novelty of his situation. When they had finished eating, and Oliver had had a run around with some other boys of his own age, Shirley began to draw him out.
“So Oliver, what do you think about staying with us for a little while? For a short holiday?”
“I’d like to very much, Miss Shirley,” he replied, mimicking Yulya’s favoured form of address.
“You’ll probably miss your mum and your sister, so if at any time…”
“No. I mean, no, I don’t think I will…not for a while. I mean, mum’s okay, and Jemimah…well, she’ll be nice when she’s a bit older. She smiles sometimes when I put my face right up close, but we can’t really have a proper relationship yet. And mum…she’s just obsessed. It’s all she talks about, and all her friends are the same.”
“I should explain…some of the boys we have at P & S have behavioural problems, and are there because they need therapy. Sometimes they don’t like the therapy, but we tend to get our way. Now you don’t come into that category…”
“But mum said I was being sent to you for therapy…”
“Well, I suppose a holiday can be therapy. But you’ll always be free to do what you want. No-one’s going to pressure you. Perhaps you just need a break. So you can live with us for a bit. Jasper will look after you…”
“I like Jasper. He’s funny, and clever.”
“I think he likes you too. And in a couple of weeks Mitch will be back. He’s Jasper’s friend, and he just as nice. He’s going to be so happy to meet you.”
“Do you think so? But he’s a bit older too, isn’t he?”
“Not much older. He’s only just turned thirteen. And he’s a sweet kid – like you.”
“I love my room, Miss Shirley. It’s beautiful. I slept properly last night. I haven’t slept that well for weeks…”
“Really? Why do you think that may be?”
The frown returned. “My mum ignores me, sometimes. And she gets short-tempered with me. But never with Jemimah. And Jemimah gets fed regularly, and bought nice little outfits, and gets made a fuss of. I need new jeans – I’ve needed them for months – and she won’t get me any. And sometimes she forgets to get breakfast, or there’s nothing for supper. I have to look after myself mostly. Sometimes I wish I could be Jemimah, and have nice clothes to wear, and get cuddled and fed…”
“Oh, dear, Oliver. That’s so…a shame.”
“The only time I feel good is when Sarah is babysitting me. Though that’s been quite often, lately.”
“Sarah?”
“Yeah. She’s my regular babysitter. She’s really nice.”
“What’s her last name?”
“Er…Dun something, I think”
“Dunworth?”
“That’s right! Sarah Dunworth! How did you know?”
“I know her! She’s Mitch’s babysitter too! She a close friend of mine. I’m not surprised you like her. She’s fun, isn’t she?”
“Yes! And she cuddles and tickles me till I nearly wet myself!”
“Oh, yes, that’s her all right. She good with kids. She’ll make a great mum one day.”
“I wish she…”
“Wish she…?”
“Nothing.”
Shirley took the plunge. “Perhaps you wish you were a baby, and Sarah was your mummy,” she said, jokingly.
“I wouldn’t mind…”
“Let’s just pretend for a minute. Suppose we dressed you up as a little tiny baby, and gave you a dummy to suc-k, and told Sarah she was babysitting a real baby…”
Oliver laughed. “That would be funny.”
“What do you think she would do?”
“Dunno…she’d laugh…”
“Knowing her, I think she’d play it completely straight. She’d treat you just as if you were a baby. Cuddles, and tickles, and kisses, and she’d probably even feed you from a bottle…”
Oliver’s eyes widened. “Do you think so?”
“I’d bet on it. We should do it. Just for a prank.”
“Seriously? But I wouldn’t fit in baby clothes…”
“Oh, we have baby clothes in all sizes. We could easily do it. But I suppose you’d chicken out…”
“No. Why should I?”
“Well, you’d have to play your part well, like you were a baby. And you might have to be a girl baby, depending what outfits we could find…”
“I wouldn’t care about that. But you’re not really serious…are you, miss?”
“Absolutely and completely, Master Oliver. Well, think about it. I’d love to see her face. But now, let’s get off and visit the birdies at Feathers-R-Us, shall we?”
During the short drive Oliver was very quiet and thoughtful. Shirley held her peace. He didn’t speak until they were driving into the car park.
“It would be nice to see Sarah. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a baby, but they get all the attention. And loads of different outfits.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“So…I mean, if you’re really serious…”
“You’d have to practise as well, you realise. You’d have to be a convincing baby, or the prank wouldn’t work. She’d need to be really gobsmacked.”
“I can do that. I can practice. I’ll wear baby clothes every day till she comes if you want!”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, Miss Shirley! I’ll be the best baby you’ve ever seen!”
“You’ll have to smile and chortle and wriggle just like a happy baby…”
“I know. I know just what to do. I’ll be just like Jemimah.”
“All right. We’ll do it, then. By the way, does Sarah know you’re here now?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Okay. Leave it all to me. Now…is that a peacoc-k? It is! Come on, let’s go.”
-
69.
They both seemed to enjoy their afternoon with the birds. Oliver got another ice-cream, and a heap of things from the gift shop. He was tired by the time they got back, but not too tired to say thank you, and give Shirley a hug.
“Thank you for taking me – oh, and for lunch, auntie Sh…”
He broke off when he realised what he had said.
“You can call me auntie, Oliver. In fact, I’d be proud if you would.”
He laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Okay…I don’t know why…”
“So it’s auntie from now on. Right? We’re all good, then. Now why don’t you go and show Jasper your stuff, and maybe have a little rest? You can have some supper later if you feel like it. You’ll have to excuse me. I have some work to do. Bye for now.”
She returned to her office. For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, she was feeling good. After all, why shouldn’t he call her auntie? Maybe they all should. After all, there were bad aunties as well as good ones. But she was no going to be a surrogate mother. She had deliberately left him quite abruptly in reception. He needed to find his own way, to learn to adapt to the unfamiliar, to build his confidence. He was going to need it in the coming years of adolescence.
Mandy knocked at the door and entered.
“Well? How did it go?”
“He’s a sweetie, all right. His mother’s gone baby gaga.”
“It happens.”
“It does. But we’ll sort him out. And he wants to play babies.”
“He does? He said so?”
“He said so. And I’m going to let him. Big time. Do you know he has the same babysitter as Mitch? Sarah. Sarah Dunworth. Yes, her. Coincidence. We’re going to prank her. But I may need to borrow your house, Mandy…”
Meanwhile, back in Devon, the Scouts were slowly adjusting to their new uniforms. Ignoring the stares and tittering from the other troops, the boys braved the canteen at suppertime, and demonstrated good appetites despite their long faces and red cheeks. The tables were turned, however, when, in the midst of the gathering, several other troop leaders were heard to approve the new outfits, and discuss introducing them for their own boys. This caused consternation amongst the other male Scouts – especially the older ones – and hilarity amongst the girls. And Mitch and his friends returned to their tents much happier, feeling more like pioneers than victims.
The first evening at camp was always a quiet one, so that the Scouts could settle in and relax after their journey. They took off their socks and trainers, their scarves, and their belts, with all the attachments. They went and collected firewood, and lit a fire. There was a special area, a circle of sandy ground, and a pile of bricks to contain the wood. Then they sat around it and toasted crumpets and marshmallows, and talked. It was impossible for the boys to forget what they were wearing. The heat of the flames warmed the latex and filled the air with its scent. One of the girls broached the subject.
“Mitch? I heard that it was you gave Miss Sullivan the idea for your new shorts. Is that true?”
“No, not me, Tracey” said Mitch, turning red. “It wasn’t me.”
“Who then?”
He thought he’d better divert any suspicion away from himself. “Oh, I think it was some friend of hers. I dunno. She runs some sort of clothing company or something.”
“Really. Interesting. That wouldn’t be Miss Dearman, would it?”
Mitch froze. “W-who?”
“Shirley Dearman. She owns P & S, right?”
“D-does she?”
“You know she does. You work for her.” She looked at Mitch spitefully.
“I-I really…you know, it’s nothing to do with…”
“My mum told me. She was at some hen party, right? You were a guest too. Something went on, but she wouldn’t tell me what. Just that you performed some amazing act in your rubber pants, and they all want you back. Shirley Dearman made you go, right, cos you’re her employee, and you have to do what she tells you.”
The others were now full of curiosity.
“Is that true, Mitch,” asked Stephen. “Is that what gave miss the idea?”
“What were you wearing? Shorts like these? Or…”
“Do you work for her? What does she do, then?”
“Tracey? What’s the name of that company again?”
“P & S. Look it up. You’ll be surprised.”
“No!” cried Mitch. But it was too late.
“fuc-k!” said Stephen. “Look at this! What? Pacification and Sissification? Oh my god, is that you, Mitch? Look guys, this girl – it’s Mitch! It is!”
The cat was out of the bag. Mitch looked daggers at Tracey, who just smiled complacently. Thank god there were only a few shots of him on the site, and all fairly respectable. Everyone was gawping at their phones. Stephen began reading the text.
“We aim to provide everything for the pacification and if necessary the sissification of naughty boys…?” He stared at Mitch open-mouthed. “Have you been sissified, then?”
“No! I work there, that’s all. Admin stuff. It’s a legitimate company, and…”
“Look at this stuff,” cried Marcia. “Gags, and plugs, and…all sorts of things. Wow, that’s cool! Do you have to use these, Mitch?”
“No! I told you. I’m just admin. The only reason I’m in some of the photos is cos I’m an actor. Remember Juliet? I do girl parts, that’s all…”
“That’s true,” said Daniel. “You look amazing in these pics, actually. I thought you were a girl when I first saw…”
“Ooh, do you fancy him, Danny?” taunted Tracey. “Shall we leave you two alone in the small tent tonight?”
“Shut up. He’s better looking than you any day.”
Silas wanted to hear all about P & S. “Please tell us what goes on there, Mitch. It sounds pretty extreme…”
“Well, I can’t give away company secrets, you know…”
“Oh, come on. Tell us something...please,” said Michael.
And soon they were all gathering round begging for the inside story. Realising he had somehow survived being outed by that bitch Tracey, he knew he had to give them something. So, lowering his voice and looking around secretively, he addressed his audience.
“First you all have to swear, Scouts’ honour, you will never breathe a word of what I’m going to tell you.”
A chorus of “yeah…yeah...no way…never…”
“No, I mean each one of you, with your hand on the badge, hope you die if you lie.”
And they all did it. Tracey didn’t want to, but she couldn’t resist the pressure of the mob.
“Right. Well…
-
70.
“See, the boys who end up there are usually the really hard cases. They’re out of control. They make life difficult for the other kids at school, bullying, and disrupting class, and unbearable for their parents – ‘specially if they’ve only got a mum. When all other forms of therapy have failed, that’s when P & S takes over.” He realised he was in danger of sounding like an advert for P & S, but the fact was that he was beginning to believe in Shirley’s mission himself.
“Okay, Mitch – but what actually goes on there?” asked Silas, impatiently.
“I’m not allowed to tell you that. If I told you, I’d have to kill myself.”
“Shut up and get to the point,” said Michael.
“Okay. But keep your voices down, all right?” He adopted a serious expression. He was thinking hard. He was the centre of attention. All the Scouts were hanging on his every word. So he decided to weave a tapestry of reality and fantasy. It couldn’t do any harm.
“There are several forms of “therapy”. For obvious reasons I can’t mention individual cases… But to give you an idea…” He lowered his voice even more. “I heard that once they had to deal with two really tough lads. Well, they may have been tough, but you should see the assistants at P & S. “Nurses” they call them. There’s three of them. Women in their early twenties. Athletic. Trained in martial arts. Tits like…” He gestured with his hands.
“Really, Mitch, that’s so sexist!” complained Penny.
“Well, but it’s true. Really beautiful, too.”
By now the boys in particular were all agog. He continued.
“So these nurses… They're dressed in white latex dresses, so tight that…well, you can’t look at them without getting…you know. And thigh-length boots. And they carry little whips. Those boys never had a chance. They had them shackled and chained to the wall within thirty minutes of their arriving. Then their training started…”
Some of the boys were fidgeting now, hands firmly in laps.
“Yeah, chained up. They put locking collars on them, see, and chained them to little rings on the wall, put there specially… Then, every day, they separate them for punishment and…milking.”
“Milking?”
“Yeah, Danny, milking! Get it? They get milked till all their aggression leaves them. And they get whipped till they learn absolute obedience.”
“Shit. Is that true? How long does that go on?”
“In this case, I’m told it took a week. But then comes the clever bit. When they were both totally cowed, they were made to dress up as girls, in pretty dresses and panties and stockings and everything! And they were trained to behave like girls, and speak in squeaky voices…”
“Our voices aren’t squeaky!” interrupted Marcia.
“Shut up, Marcia! Let him speak.”
“…and curtsey, and play with dolls, and sit on the toilet to wee…”
“Ugh!” remarked Michael.
“…and after that, you know what they had to do?”
“No. What?”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “They had to give each other blow-jobs. Take it in turn. Until they got used to it, and that was the only way they knew to have sex!”
There was a stunned silence. Someone at the back asked, falteringly, “What? Like…till they…came?”
“Course till they came, idiot! What would be the point otherwise? And they had to swallow all the other one’s spunk, or they got whipped… But I heard…”
“Yes?”
“I heard that they got to like it, and when they were discharged they went and lived together as a gay couple, and they never misbehaved ever again!”
“Wow!”
“They should do that to all boys,” said Marcella, much to the amusement of her friends. “It would be fun to watch, too.”
“But it’s good, isn’t it?” said Penny. “I mean, it’s only boys who have these behavioural problems. If they were all made to behave like girls, think how peaceful the world would be.”
“It’d be incredibly boring,” said Stephen, with a laugh. “But Mitch, tell us what they did, exactly. I’d really like to hear…”
“Miss is coming! Talk about something else!” hissed Tracey.
And so story-time was over for the night. Or so Mitch thought. But the boys wanted more.
The boys were divided into groups of four, each quartet sharing one tent. Mitch was in with Daniel, Stephen and Silas. They went for a shower, then laid out their sleeping bags on the groundsheet. Having been deprived of their underpants, they knew they were going to have to sleep in their shorts, and they were already a little aroused from Mitch’s story. Once they were all zipped in, there was a certain amount of tossing and turning, and it soon became obvious that no-one was going to get any sleep until his needs were satisfied.
“Mitch? Tell us a story,” said Silas.
“Story? What sort of story?”
“You know. Something…interesting.”
“Are you sure you want that…?”
“Yes!” came three voices I chorus.
“Please,” said Stephen. You’re so good at it, and you left us in suspense…”
Mitch sighed. He lay there silent for a minute, thinking.
“Okay. I’ll tell you a story. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin. And don’t interrupt!”
-
71.
“Tomorrow we’re going into town. And we’re going to go to our favourite sweet shop, right?”
“I’m not sure, now…”
“Shush! We’re going. This is the story of what happens…”
“Mitch and Danny and Steve and Silas made their way gingerly towards Super Sweets. They wanted those special gobstoppers so much…but they were not sure what the assistants would think of their new uniforms – especially their little rubber shorts. They hoped the girls wouldn’t laugh at them.
“No way!” said Danny. “They’re gonna be so impressed…by me, at least. I don’t know about you lot…”
“What you mean?” frowned Stephen. “We look just as good as you any day.”
“Well,” smirked Danny, “depends what you mean by good. As far as…size is concerned, I think I have an unfair advantage…”
“Shut up, idiot,” said Silas. “That pathetic little thing? It’s smaller than ours even when it’s erect!”
The argument continued until they reached the shop, when suddenly they were universally afflicted with nerves.
“Who’s going in first?” said Mitch.
“You should. It’s your fault we have to wear these things at all.”
“But…”
The others didn’t wait to argue. They pushed him through the doorway and followed in single file.
“G-good m-morning. We’re from the Scout camp. Do you mind if we…look around?”
The two girls stared at the four Scouts in surprise. But surprise quickly turned to delight.
“Of course, boys. Come in. Don’t I remember you from last year?”
“Y-yes, that’s right…”
“But you look different, somehow. Don’t they, Janice?”
“Yes, Roxie. I suppose they’ve grown a bit. But the uniform…”
“Oh, yes,” cried Roxie, pretending to have just noticed. “You’ve got new shorts, boys. Very smart. Are these part of the standard uniform now?”
“Not really,” replied Danny, blushing. “But they are regulation.”
Janice burst out laughing. “Regulation! Ooh, fancy that. Regulation shorts! May I see?”
Janice came out from behind the counter and approached the boys, standing in a little defensive knot just inside the door. She went straight up to Danny and took the frilling of his shorts between finger and thumb. She emitted a mock gasp.
“Ooh! They are rubber! Roxie, come and feel these!”
Soon both girls were tugging at the frills and running their hands over Danny’s flanks.
“They’re so smooth!”
“I love the way they fit so tightly. Roxie, feel his little butt!”
“And they’re quite taut at the front as well. You can see where his little willy is.”
“Oh, it’s so sweet! Like a little sausage in a rubber skin. Should I…?”
“Go on. Touch it. See if it’s getting firmer from all the attention.”
“All right…”
Danny stiffened. “Ahh…no…please don’t…”
“What’s your name?”
“Danny.”
“Well Danny, you’re a very naughty boy! Look, I’m hardly touching it, and its getting longer and harder every second! Feel that, Roxie!”
“Goodness, Janice. It’s quite stiff already! Danny, you’re such a rude boy, getting all excited like that in front of two innocent young girls! A little Scout like you shouldn’t have a big thing like this in his pants. So hot, too! What a show-off!”
“Massage it a little more, Roxie. See how big you can get it. Wait there – I’ll get a measuring tape and we can measure it.”
“Good idea, Janice. Hey, why don’t we have a competition? See who has the biggest one? Look, they’re all getting excited now. You – what’s your name?”
“Er, Silas…miss.”
“Silas? I saw you playing with it. No, don’t try to deny it. I know what you boys are like. One gets aroused, and he sets off the rest. Look at them, Janice, they’re all getting stiff now.”
“I think we’d better close the shop for an hour, don’t you think, Roxie?”
“Good idea. Put the blind down too. That’s right. Now, you lot, come over here to the chocolate counter. That’s right. Stand in line, like you’re on parade. That’s good. Yes. Now, see this giant chocolate bar? This is the winner’s prize. Me and Janice will be the judges. Now, let’s get these things out where we can see them…”
She unzipped their shorts one by one. As she did so, their pricks popped out of their own accord, stiff and quivering. The girls stood back to appraise them.
“There’s not much between all of them, is there? Boys, before we measure them, you are allowed to do whatever you need to get them to maximum size. Go ahead! Don’t be shy! Look at that huge chocolate bar!”
“My prick’s gonna be even bigger than that,” groaned Danny, masturbating furiously.
The boys worked away until none of them felt he could get his pen-is any bigger. Janice knelt down and got to work with the measuring tape.
“You are…?”
“Stephen.”
“Write this down, Roxie… Stephen…eight centimetres.”
“And you?”
“Mitch, miss.”
“Mitch…eight and a half!”
“Now, Danny…hmm, only eight, I’m afraid…sorry. But very juicy! Pass me a tissue, Roxie, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“No, that can’t be…” began Danny, but Roxie silenced him with a finger to her lips.
“Finally, Silas. Let’s see… Ooh! We have a winner! A full nine centimetres!”
“Yesss!!”
Roxie let off a couple of party poppers, and then Silas was ceremonially presented with his prize. Danny was till complaining.
“But the thing is, mine’s thicker than his. You should have measured the circ-umference, too. Then you would have seen…”
“Oh, Danny, Don’t be a sore loser. I’m sure Silas will share some of his prize with you.
“Yeah, course I will. I’d always share with someone less fortunate than myself…”
But now there remained the problem of four boys with erections.
“There’s no way we going to get those back into their shorts,” said Roxie.
“What are we going to do? We can’t send them out like that, can we?”
Roxie leant over and whispered in Janice’s ear. They both giggled.
“Now boys,” said Roxie, smiling, “you must promise on your Scout’s honour not to move. Stay standing in line just like you are. Pretend you’re on parade and have to stand to attention. If you can do that, Janice and I will help you to relieve your frustrations. Okay?”
The boys nodded eagerly. Are they really going to wank us off, thought Mitch.
But it was better than that. Janice was still on her knees, holding the tape. Now Roxie knelt down next to her.
“Okay. You’ve got Danny and Silas. I’ll deal with Stephen and Mitch. Let’s go.”
Janice started with Silas, on the principle that the larger sausage was probably the jucier. With her hands on her knees she simply leant forward and began to lick the end of his swollen member. And then, using her lips to push back his foreskin, took the whole of the glans in her mouth, and suc-ked it like a gobstopper. As she did so, she slowly raised her eyes till she was looking up at him looking down at her. She winked, and thrust the point of her tongue firmly against the cleft. He nearly came then, but managed to stave it off for a while longer. Meanwhile, Roxie was working on Mitch, having wrapped her fingers around Stephen’s coc-k so that she could masturbate him at the same time. But back to Janice. By now, Silas’s juices were flowing freely into her mouth. She could tell by his moaning, and the twitching of his pen-is, he was close to orgasm. She could feel her panties getting wet with her own juices. Danny was desperate for his turn. Watching his friend being gobbled with such painstaking expertise was driving him crazy. He started masturbating faster, pointing his prick towards Janice’s face in the hope she give him a turn. Though she was occupied with Silas she was mindful of his needs, so she gave Silas a little nibble to finish him off, which it did in spectacular fashion, wads of hot sperm filling her mouth and spurting out over her lower lip, while he clung gasping to her hair. Unfortunately it was too much for Danny, who, with a cry, shot his entire load over Janice, on her face, in her hair, and all over Silas’s hands!”
At this point, both Stephen and Silas, who had been giving both Mitch’s story and the bulges in their shorts their total attention, climaxed almost simultaneously – and quite violently – forcing Mitch to wait for them to recover themselves. But Danny had been disappointed by the turn of events in the sweet shop.
“Hey! Why didn’t I get to have a blow-job too? Not fair!”
“Danny! I said no interruptions!”
“But why? Why did you make me bring myself off?”
“It’s just a story for goodness’ sake! In any case, that’s probably exactly what would have happened.”
“And you gave me one of the smallest pen-ises. Which is just not true!”
And he went into a silent sulk.
“So, to continue…”
“No, Mitch. Enough. I’m exhausted. I want to sleep now,” said Silas.
“Me too,” said Stephen. “Save the rest for another time, yeah?”
“Okay. Fine. I’m tired too,” said Mitch.
“Wait! What about me? I haven’t come yet!” wailed Danny.
“Well wank off, like you did in the story,” suggested Silas. “You’re good at that, anyway.”
“Yeah,” said Stephen. “You should get a badge for wanking. I’ll ask miss tomorrow.”
As they were falling asleep, Stephen murmured to no-one in particular.
“It’s gonna feel funny going into that shop after hearing that story…
-
72.
When Oliver woke up the next day, he found Jasper sitting on the side of his bed.
“Hi Ollie. Sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you, Jasper.”
“Got a surprise for you. Baby practice.”
“Already?”
“Yup. I’ve brought you some clothes. On the chair. Hope you like them. When you’re dressed, report to Miss Dearman. See you later.”
Oliver sat on the bed and examined the heap of clothes. He was amazed Shirley had managed to find baby clothes to fit him so quickly. There was a little smock, pink with yellow polka dots and puff sleeves, all trimmed with white lace, together with a pair of matching elasticated pants, a pair of pink baby sock-shoes, a pull-up, and pink plastic pants. Without hesitation he dressed, admired himself in the wardrobe mirror, and made his way to Shirley’s office. He felt comfortable and relaxed. It felt right, somehow. And the plastic pants made a satisfying rustling sound as he walked.
“Oliver! Well, well! You look so pretty! Do those things fit you all right?”
“Perfectly, auntie Shirley. It feels so nice. I feel like a big Jemimah!”
“Mmm. Well, I can see you’re not going to be very difficult to train. How’s your baby talk?”
“Me want big dwinkies of milky-milks from my bottley-wottley.”
“Okay…well let’s not overdo it. Now, I had to give you a pull up this morning as you were going to dress yourself. But later on Yulya will change you into a proper nice thick cloth nappy. Would you like that?”
“Yeth pleath auntie Shirley.”
“Good girl, Olivia.”
“Oh…can I be Olivia? That’s a pretty name.”
“Of course. You’re a girl baby, so you need a girl name. Now come here and let me check you’ve got your plastic pants on the right way round…yes…and you’re dry. Yulya will change you when you’re wet.”
Oliver looked slightly startled.
“Of course. You’re a baby. You’ll wet your nappy. Then Yulya will wipe you and put cream on you and nice smelly talc, and a nice big nappy with a silver pin. And you’ll have your very own changing-bag, with all the equipment, which will go with you everywhere you go. And look – I’ve got you a little present. Baby’s first pacifier.”
“Oo, thank oo, auntie.”
“I’ve put it in a nice pink ribbon, and I’ll just pin it to your smock…so…and you’ll be able to suc-k it whenever you want.”
“It’s nice. It’s a big one.” He put it in his mouth.
“Because you’re a big girl. Oh, here comes auntie Mandy. Mandy, what do you think of Baby Olivia?”
“Oh, she such a darling. You’re so sweet, dear.”
“Why don’t you take her and show her to the boys? Actually, I think baby Sam was wet earlier. Maybe she could watch him being changed, if Yulya hasn’t done it already.”
“Oo. Is there another baby, auntie?”
“Yes. Baby Sam. He’s a boy baby, and bigger than you, Olivia. Oh, there’s Yulya now. Yulya?”
Yulya put her head inside the door. “Yes, Miss Shirley?” Then she saw Oliver. “Oh, Oliver! You beautiful! Perfect baby girl!”
“Fank oo, auntie Yulya.”
“You very quick learner Oliver!”
“She is. She’s Olivia now, Yulya. I just wanted to ask if you’ve changed Sam yet?”
“No – just on way now.”
“Could you possibly take Olivia with you and let her watch?”
“Yes, Miss Shirley. Though Sam very sulky at being always baby, and sometimes rude…”
“All the better. You’re authorised to smack his bottom if he misbehaves. You see, Olivia darling, you would never smack a little baby, but our big babies are big enough to be smacked. In fact, some of them need smacking every now and then, to remind them they’re not big horrible boys any more, but nice sweet little baby boys and girls.”
“I would never be naughty, auntie Shirley. Olivia is good baby.”
“I know, darling. Now run along with auntie Yulya. Show naughty Sam how a good baby behaves, yes? And if he has to be smacked, give him a hug to make him feel better.”
“Yes, auntie.” And he put his hand in Yulya’s and let her lead him out of the office. Mandy looked after them.
“What a darling! He seems so happy now – so different from when he arrived.”
“I know. He’s going to be an asset to the firm, Mandy. You know, I think we can do this thing as soon as we like. So it’s okay to use your place?”
“Any day you like.”
“Okay. I’m going to ring her.” She dialled a number. “Oh, Sarah? Hi, it’s Shirley Dearman. Fine. How are you? Look, a friend of mine has had a bit of an emergency. She’s been called away on business and she needs someone to babysit her baby tomorrow evening. I wouldn’t ask, but… You can? Oh, wonderful! About six months I think. Six o’clock all right? She should be back by ten. I’ll text you the address. Yes. Olivia. Yes, sweet name. Listen, thanks a million. Yes. Yes. Yes, very soon. Bye…bye.”
She put down the phone and burst out laughing. “She’s going to have the shock of her life! But I know she’ll play the game. Olivia’s going to be so happy!”
“Big babies are such fun.”
“Yes. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but I’m going to organise a big, beautiful baby competition - or maybe just a show – here, very soon. I hope we’ll have a few more by then, and I think we should open it to allcomers. There are so many potential babies out there just waiting to be put in nappies.”
“Great idea, Shirley. If it was a competition, and we offered a decent prize, I bet we’d get loads of entries – not all of them willing, of course.”
“Your right. That’s a very good point.”
“We could print flyers, and put the name of our supplier on it, so they wouldn’t have any problem finding big babywear.”
“Brilliant, Mandy. Joan will be so happy. Free advertising for her. I’m going to start making plans this very week.”
-
73.
The Scouts woke refreshed the next day. All except Danny, who, whilst his friends slumbered peacefully, had had a fitful night, and because of his mood had still not been able to relieve his frustration. He liked to sleep on his stomach, but that had proved impossible.
“I still say it wasn’t fair,” he grumbled. “Tonight I want a story all about me, with at least two girls. This is what’ll happen…”
“Nothing’s gonna happen if you don’t get ready for breakfast,” said Silas.
“You’ll have to do something about that,” grinned Stephen, nodding towards the bulge in Danny’s shorts, “if you want to come to the sweet shop with us, that is…”
“It’s not my fault! It’ll be okay when I get out in the air.”
“I certainly hope so. Or our visit to town’s gonna end up in the local paper!”
“Giant sausage discovered in south Devon…”
“Boy grows banana on his body…”
“Zeppelin sighted in Chagford…”
“Shut up, you lot!”
“Anyway, Danny, I owe you an apology,” said Mitch.
“Yeah, you do.”
“If that’s eight centimetres, I’m a foot tall…”
“That’s enough!”
After breakfast, they headed straight into town. At first they loitered by shop windows, or wandered in and looked around. But they soon discovered that they – or at least, their new shorts – were attracting quite a lot of unwanted attention. So they hurried down to the sweet shop. It was early, and it was just opening. There were the two girls they remembered from the previous year, and who had recently figured in Mitch’s bedtime story. The recollection caused them a little confusion and a few blushes, not helped by the stares of the girls themselves.
“Good morning, boys.”
“Good morning.”
“Weren’t you here last year? You look familiar. Don't they, Sue?”
“Er, yes, we were…”
“Back at camp?”
“Yes.”
“Well come and have a look around. We’ve got some new lines, and we do ice-cream now.”
“Oh, really? Wow. That looks nice. Look guys, look at all these flavours…”
“And sprinkles…”
“And sauces…”
They went around the displays methodically, collecting their own favourites. The assistants had given each of them a bag. They had exchanged surprised glances when the boys came in, and now they whispered and giggled to each other. Only Danny really took any notice, doing his best to keep his back turned to them, since the outside air had only partially cooled his ardour. And when he went to the counter to pay, he stood pressed up against it, to hide his arousal. Unfortunately, the front of the counter was glass, and the assistant called Sue “accidentally” dropped a pound coin, as an excuse to kneel down and get a really good look. She came up wide-eyed.
Then the boys decided they should sample the ice-cream. They each had double scoops, and were getting ready to leave, when Sue stopped them. Both she and her friend Alison were reluctant to let their entertainment disappear so soon.
“If you like, you can sit on the bench at the back of the shop and eat them,” suggested Alison. “You know what? We’ve got a new sauce just come in. We haven’t put it our yet. It’s called, er…summer fruits. Yes, that’s it, summer fruits. It’s in the back. I’ll get it, if you like. You can have free samples…”
How could they refuse? Alison hurried out the back, and simply mixed up some strawberry, raspberry and blueberry sauces, and decanted it into a new bottle. She was a quick thinker, and she hadn’t finished yet.
There they were, all in a line, torn between waiting for the sauce and licking the ice-cream as it was. Danny was at one end, and Alison started at the other, squirting a liberal quantity of sauce onto each cone. She arrived at Danny. He held the cone out in both hands for his squirt of sauce.
Maybe there was something stuck in the nozzle. At the first squeeze nothing came out. So Alison had to give it a harder squeeze. And this time a great spurt of sauce shot out, which coated the balls of ice-cream, but also overflowed down the side of the cone, and landed right in his lap! He emitted a little cry of dismay. His hands were covered with sauce, and it was still dripping onto the front of his shorts, and sliding down stickily between his legs.
Fortunately for him, Alison wasted no time apologising.
“Don’t move! I’ll get a cloth.”
Danny didn’t move. He couldn’t, really.
She dashed out the back again and emerged a few seconds later with a box of tissues and a packet of baby wipes.
“Here, I’ll hold that for you,” said Silas, smirking. And he took the cone out of Danny’s sticky fingers. The other boys had all stood up now, licking their ice-creams and watching with interest, like an audience waiting for a show to start. Alison dropped to her knees. She pulled out a couple of wipes and handed them to Danny.
“Here. Clean your hands. I’ll deal with this.”
The assumption must be that the “this” she was referring to was the sticky mess in his lap. She started by wiping off the worst with tissues, and handing them to Sue.
“Open your legs…what’s your name?”
“Danny. It’s all right, really…”
“That’s it. Now keep still. I’m so sorry about this, Danny. Sometimes those bottles do that.”
With deft strokes she scooped up the dribbles of sauce making their way between his thighs, and cleaned the latex and his skin thoroughly with wipes. Maybe a little too thoroughly, because the attention she was paying to his balls seemed to be having an arousing effect on the sausage-shaped mound pointing towards his left imitation pocket. Mitch could see it was almost imperceptibly swelling and pushing forward, and at every stroke stiffening a little more. Surely Alison must be able to see what was happening. But if she did, she showed no sign.
“Th-thank you, miss. I-it’s f-fine now. I can do it…”
“It’s no problem, young man. Sit still and I’ll have you all sorted out in no time.”
“She will, too…” whispered Silas in Mitch’s ear, without taking his eyes off Danny.
Alison removed most of the sauce with a couple of tissues, and then pulled out three wipes and placed them one on top of the other in her hand. Danny went as if to get up.
“Thanks. I can do it now…”
“Sit still, silly. I’ve got it.”
First, she wiped off the front of his shorts generally. Then she refreshed the wipes, and a firm, steady stroke up the entire length of his engorged member stifled any further resistance. Danny gasped loudly, and grabbed the edge of the bench seat. Sue and the boys watched fascinated.
“Aaahhh…oh…gosh…no…please…”
But Alison was getting into a rhythm now, wiping from the base to the tip in slow, gentle strokes. After each stroke, it twitched and quivered. She too was watching his face, his tightly-closed eyes and open mouth.
“Soon be nice and clean, Danny…”
After so many hours of frustration, the boys knew the climax wouldn’t be long coming. It must have been the fifth or sixth stroke did it. Danny stiffened suddenly, and let out a cry of distress. Then he was c-umming. They could see his pen-is pumping furiously under its taut rubber skin, jolting his body at every spasm. He gripped the bench with white fingers, and pressed his teeth into his lower lip. Meanwhile Alison simply affected not to notice, continuing to work on him with a smooth, regular motion, until he finally subsided into exhaustion. Then she smiled.
“There. See? I told you I’d make it all better, didn’t I?”
She knelt back on her haunches, a look of satisfaction on her face. She turned to the boys.
“Where else would you get service like that?”
Fortunately, they declined to reply. The three spectators now looked in some need of it, however, and they would probably have stayed longer, but now customers were arriving, so Alison and Sue left them to look after Danny why they went back to the counter. When he had recovered sufficiently, they gathered up their bags and said their goodbyes.
“Come again, boys. Any time,” said Sue.
“Yes, do,” added Alison. “And Danny?”
“Yes, miss?”
“Don’t get into that state again, will you? Come and see us, if you like. And…oh. I think I’m still needed.”
The boys were at the door. She grabbed the wipes and headed towards them. Danny took a step back.
“No, silly. Stand still. Look!”
Dribbles of sperm were oozing from the left leg of his shorts and trickling down his thigh.
“Here. Take a few of these. Have a shower when you get back to camp.”
“Oh…thanks.”
“Our pleasure. Bye bye, boys.”
They all said their goodbyes. Outside Danny, having wiped his leg, turned to the others with a grin.
“See? He who laughs last… Now look at the state of you lot. Who’s frustrated now?”
“He’s right,” said Mitch, feeling his erection. Wow. That Alison. I would never have expected…”
“Nor me,” added Silas. “Danny? You made Mitch’s dream scenario into reality. So tonight you’re telling the bedtime story!”
-
74.
Later that day Mandy rang her sister.
“Sis? What are you up to tomorrow evening? Good. Can you come over? I need a mother for a few hours. I’ll explain…”
So it was that, at five o’clock the next day, Mandy left her sister Carmen in her house with Oliver. Carmen had had three children of her own, so she didn’t have to act much. And Oliver was a natural. Shirley and Mandy had togged him up in the most delightful outfit. A little baby two-piece of puff-sleeved waist-length top and short loose bloomers in stripy pink cotton with white lace trim. At least, the bloomers would have been loose, if they had not first pinned him into a thick towelling nappy enclosed in elasticated pink rubber pants. He had little pink mitts of lace-trimmed vinyl, patent pink Mary Janes and lace-trimmed cotton socks. They had tied his hair into two bunches and secured them with pink ribbons. Wherever he went he carried with him a pink cotton dolly and a nice big pink-guarded pacifier.
“Olivia, you look smashing,” enthused Carmen. I almost want you for my own. But tonight your friend Sarah is going to babysit you. I mean, real babysit. I can’t wait to see her reaction, can you?”
“No, mummy,” said “Olivia” happily. “Me like Tharah and now me want Tharah to cuddle ‘Livia just like proper baby girlie.”
“Ooh, don’t you worry, darling. She won’t be able to resist you. Wait a minute. This may be her. Quick. Into the bedroom and get under the coverlet. Let’s give her the biggest surprise of her life!”
Sarah was in the habit of dressing up a little for any new client. Today she had put on a short, low-cut, figure-hugging dress of green brocade, with matching heels. She really could have been going to a party, or a wedding, instead of just baby-sitting. The last time she dressed up like this for a baby-sit was for Mitch. But that was in the hope of influencing him. This was just a baby, or so she thought.
“Come in. You must be Sarah. Hi. I’m Carmen.”
“Hi Carmen.”
“Thank you for agreeing to help out at the last minute. It was very kind. And I must say, I didn’t expect such a glamorous young woman.”
Sarah dropped her eyelids modestly.
“Come into the bedroom. She’s just having a little nap… There she is, under the coverlet.”
“Goodness. How old did you say she was?”
“Let me show you.” Carmen whipped off the coverlet. The “baby” sprang into life, jumping up and bouncing on the bed in front of Sarah. She nearly fell over with surprise.
“Me baby Olivia! My Sarah comin’ to sit me!”
Sarah, recovering, stared.
“What the…Oliver? Is that you?”
“No. Me Olivia!” He stuck his pacifier in his mouth to prove his credentials.
Sarah started laughing. “Why…wait a minute. Is this something to do with Shirley Dearman?”
“Yes! Me live at auntie Shirley house now. Me new baby.”
“Aha. Now I see.” She winked at Carmen. “So, Olivia, why don’t you bring dolly and sit on my lap, and I’ll tell you a story about a naughty baby I know? Then we can have supper, and lots of cuddles. Does that sound nice?”
“Yes, pleath, Tharah. Lotth of cuddleth pleath…”
“The changing bag is right here if you need it, darling. I’ve done my bit. I’m off. Good luck.”
Carmen had arranged to leave them together and go home. Mandy would come about ten to take Oliver back to P & S. So they had a whole four hours to themselves. First they sat on the sofa together and had a story, in which a big naughty baby kept playing pranks on his babysitters, till one day one of them sent him off to school in his baby clothes, and all the girls wanted to kiss him and cuddle him, and all the boys laughed at him, and he didn’t care, till one day a girl tickled him so much he wet his nappy and had to be changed in front of the whole class! Then they had supper, when Sarah was delighted to find that Shirley had thoughtfully provided a big high-chair for Olivia to sit in, and she processed all his food into mush and made him eat it, which he wasn’t very pleased about. Then he came and sat on her lap again, only this time she cradled him in her arm and fed him warm milk from a bottle, and he watched her with baby eyes the whole time, till she thought her heart was going to melt. Then she let him lie back with his cheek against her breast, and tried to rock him to sleep. But he seemed more interested in her breast than in sleep. His cheek was slightly sticky from supper, and he pressed it against the visible part of her breast, and chortled at the way it kept sticking. She had a plunge bra on with her low-cut dress, so she was wary in case anything started spilling out. She told him off a couple of times, but he kept nuzzling it until the very edge of the aureola was peeping out over the brocade.
“Olivia! Stop it! I’m not your mummy, and you can’t have my breast!”
“But baby is firsty…”
“Well I don’t have any milk, so it’s pointless.”
“Who does have milk, Tharah?”
“Who?” She laughed. “Well there’s a friend of mine, called Alice, who going to have a baby soon. Her milk is in.”
“What’s it in?”
“No, it’s not in anything. Well, it’s in her breasts. It means her breasts are making milk ready for the baby, that’s all.”
“So…what happens to it?”
“I’ll tell you. It builds up and she has to milk herself, or it gets uncomfortable.”
“Can I have it?”
“No, silly! Course not.”
“Why not?”
“Because…”
“Can you ask her?”
“No.”
“Pleath…”
Sarah was getting confused. She knew it was Oliver on her lap, but she knew she had to play along.
“All right. If I call her, will you be happy then, and stop pestering?”
“Yes.”
She picked up her phone and dialled Alice’s number.
“Alice darling. It’s Sarah. Well. You? I mean apart from that. Good. I’ll tell you. That Shirley Dearman. She pranked me. Asked me to babysit, and here I am now looking after an eleven year old boy…”
“No. I baby Olivia,” said Oliver, frowning.
“Sorry, baby Olivia, who is demanding to be fed. From a breast.” She laughed. “Interested?”
A long silence while Alice was talking.
“It’s that bad?”
“What does Alith thay?”
“Shh. Seriously? You’re joking, aren’t you? I don’t think… I appreciate you have all the motherly instincts, and nowhere for them to go, but… No, it wouldn’t do him any harm, but… Well, you’ll have to speak to Shirley, I’m afraid. Look, I’ve got to go. He’s got my nipple out. Bye!”
Oliver had succeeded in pushing Sarah’s left nipple over the edge of the brocade, and before she could stop him, had taken it in his mouth. She gasped, but for some reason she didn’t pull him off. Strange sensations welled up inside. So this was what it felt like to be a mother! She felt dizzy and a little intoxicated. He’d got her breast right out now, and was holding it in his mitt while he suc-kled. She looked down at him. His face was like a baby’s, the eyelids closing in contentment. She couldn’t bring herself to stop it. Worse, her other nipple was itching, demanding equal attention. And some deep primal yearning was filling her consciousness, bringing with it an irresistible pleasure…
He suc-kled for nearly an hour before he fell asleep, by which time Sarah, her head thrown back on the top of the sofa cushion, was in a chaotic state.
“She can have him. The sooner the better, They’ll both be happy. I couldn’t take any more of this, that’s for sure,” she murmured. “Just wait till I see Shirley.”
When he woke, he looked at her strangely, and she blushed. But it was nothing.
“Baby wet,” he said, shortly. “Tharah change baby.”
She adjusted her dress and led him into the bedroom. She put a plastic sheet on the bed, put on a pair of rubber gloves, and took off his bloomers and his baby pants. She washed and dried his rubber pants. The thick nappy was soaked. There was a fresh one in the bag, but Sarah chose the easy option and selected a pull-up. She wiped him and applied cream to his bottom, and when she turned him over his willy was sticking up like a little flagpole.
“I thought you were a girl baby?”
He thought for a moment.
“Olivia girl baby. Oliver boy baby. Oliver like Tharah’s titties…”
“Why you… you little fraud! Just for that you’re not having another nappy. You’ll go straight back in your rubber pants so everyone can see what you are! And I’ll rub so much cream into this thing” – and she suited the action to the word – “that it’ll stay like this for hours!”
Oliver smiled triumphantly.
“When does baby Olivia go to see Alith with her milk?”
“Be careful, Olivia, darling. Or one day soon you’ll find yourself going to school, just like that naughty baby I told you about!”
-
75.
Back in Devon, the boys of Second Beckleyford were struggling to control their natural impulses. They could cope with the nights. They slept in their shorts, so it was relatively easy for them, in the safety of their sleeping-bags, to relieve their frustrations as and when they needed to. And apart from the odd little gasp or moan, no-one else need know. But the days were getting warmer, and in the heat of the sun the latex became softer, stretchier, and almost caressing. Then the problems began. Unruly little members developed minds of their own, puffing themselves up and wandering about at will under the taut rubber. One or two looked as though they were trying to escape! Soon they were generating lubricant to ease their movements, and getting themselves all hard and itchy to encourage their owners to handle them, in the hope of relief. The troop was attracting attention, both in camp and abroad. Despite the entertainment value, Moira was beginning to think her idea had been a mistake.
“Your boys seem very…excited to be here,” smiled Fiona, her troop-leader friend, as they watched over breakfast one day.
“Oh, Fiona… It’s the weather… I’m sure if it wasn’t so warm they’d be much better behaved.”
“Well, let’s hope it stays sunny, shall we? I mean, camp’s not much fun in the rain, is it?”
“I feel such a fool…”
“What? It’s the best thing that ever happened. I’ve already contacted that supplier you told me about.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Can’t you see how quiet and modest your boys are this year? Look at my lot – out of control, as usual. Now look at yours. Standing quietly in line, holding their trays in front of them. They even blush when they speak to the cooks. And so polite! No, it was a brilliant idea.”
“It wasn’t even my idea, actually… But I suppose you’re right…”
“Of course I am. You know what else? I’ve written to headquarters asking if they’d vary the dress regulations to permit shorts matched with scarves. Mine have red and yellow. Imagine how cute that would look!”
Somewhat reassured, Moira watched her charges finish breakfast and head back to their tents. Today was orienteering. She had paired the Scouts up, and each pair had to navigate successfully to find one of a number of hidden items. They had been given map references and sent off at intervals. They had to report back by text when they found their objective, and then they could move on to another – which may or may not have already been discovered. She had made it into a competition, with a prize for the winners.
Mitch was paired with Silas, Stephen with Danny. Amongst the girls, Penny and Tracey had been paired, and Marcella and Marcia. Michael, who was not in the boys’ tent but who rather looked up to them, had been paired with Bobby, a little ginger-haired mischief-maker.
After Mitch and Silas had been despatched, they headed in the general direction of their goal, then paused to look at their maps. Mitch looked at Silas suspiciously.
“Silas?”
“Yes?”
“Did you tell anyone about the sweet-shop episode?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Would I do something like that?”
“Absolutely. That’s why I’m asking you.” Why are you blushing?”
“I may have mentioned something…”
“Right. That explains why it’s all round the troop, then. Not a good idea.”
“Sorry…”
“Okay. Let’s find this…thing, shall we?”
Meanwhile, Penny and Tracey had got themselves hopelessly lost.
“I hate this stuff,” cried Penny. “It’s like being in the army, or something…”
“Yeah, that’s right,” replied Tracey. “Male chauvinist stuff, left over from when they were the Boy Scouts.”
“Hey, Tracey – look! Who’s that?”
“That’s Bobby an’ Michael. I know. Let’s follow them. They probably know where they’re going.”
“Okay. Good idea. Keep low, though. Don’t want ‘em to see us!”
And the girls crept along a few hundred yards behind the two boys, hiding behind bushes or rocks every now and then, till the boys disappeared over a little mound. They waited for several minutes, but as they didn’t reappear, they made their may carefully to the mound, and crawled up the side. They could hear voices below, from a little hollow in the ground. They pushed their way through some bushes and peeped over.
Bobby and Michael were lying side by side, heads propped on hands.
“Bobby? That knife…”
“What about it?”
“I’ll give you ten of my vintage badges for it.”
“No way! It’s worth much more than that!”
“Any ten you like…”
“No.”
“All right. The whole lot. The whole lot – twenty-six badges, for one knife.”
“Well, I’ll think about it…”
Pause.
“Do you think that’s true, about the sweet shop?”
“Doubt it. One of Silas’s fantasies.”
“But they did go there, you know. They said they were going to. And David said, when they came back, Danny looked all flushed and happy.”
“Yeah? Just imagine, if it was true! We should go there later this week. Suss it out.”
Penny stifled a giggle.
“What was that?”
“Animal. Cow probably. There are enough of them round here.”
“Yeah. And cow pats.”
Pause.
“But…thinking about it…makes me want to…”
“I know. These shorts… I’m stiff half the time. And at night…”
“Yeah, me too. I came three times last night. And look at it again now. ”
“I know. It’s the rubber. You come once, and ten minutes later…”
“You’re hard again…”
“Yeah…”
Tracey and Penny couldn’t believe their luck. They both had their phones out now, recording the exchange.
“I wouldn’t mind…”
“Nor me. Let’s do it before we head off. It’ll be nice doing it together…”
“Okay… Slowly, though. It’s nicer like that…”
“They’re not going to…” murmured Tracey.
Penny made no reply. None was needed, because, to their glee, the two boys started massaging the bulges in their shorts, watching each other intently.
“Oh my god, Mike. It feels so good…”
“Yeah… Look how big mine is…”
“Look at mine!”
“Mine’s really hard. And so juicy…”
“Mine too. Feel it!”
The girls eyes opened even wider. Michael took his hand off his own member, and tentatively touched his friend’s. Bobby groaned.
“It’s so hot, Bobby...”
“I know. Feel the end…how hard it is…”
“Gosh…”
“Ahh…now squeeze it…gently…”
“No…I’m not doin’ that…”
“Why not? I’m fed up with jerking myself off…”
“No.”
“Please… It’s no big deal. Look, I’ll give you my knife…”
“You’ll give it me?”
“For the badges.”
“Do you swear?”
“I swear. Here – take it now.”
Mike looked at him, then slowly took the knife from his hand and put it in his back pocket.
“Okay… But you have to do me, too…”
“Yeah…course. No problem.”
“Slowly, though. Let’s make it last…”
And soon they were masturbating each other, and looking each other in the eye as they did so. They tried to restrain themselves, but they had got themselves into such an overwrought state, there was no way they could maintain self-control. They worked away steadily for a minute or so, stroking and squeezing, periodically uttering little ecstatic gasps and moans. Then all of a sudden….
Bobby was the first to crack. He gave a sort of whimper. “Oh, shit! Mike…I’m c-umming! Don’t stop…please…don’t stop!” And he grabbed his friend’s shoulder with his free hand. As he orgasmed, he started kneading Michael furiously, bringing him to an immediate climax.
They lay there, jerking and moaning and pawing each other until they were both spent. They had always been close friends, but this was a new departure. When they finally rolled onto their backs, exhausted but happy and at peace, Penny felt a little wave of affection for them.
“I think they’re in love,” she whispered to Tracey, with a mischievous smile.
“Wow!” Tracey mouthed in return – and added, “keep filming…”
Bobby started giggling. “What did we just do?”
“Dunno, Bobby… But it was amazing…”
“If anyone ever found out…”
“Yeah, but they’re not going to.”
“That’s the best one I’ve ever had!”
“Me too.”
Pause.
“I could sleep for a week.”
“Yeah. Let’s rest for ten minutes, then go on.”
“Do you have any tissues?”
“Side pocket of my rucksack.”
“Okay. Ten minutes.”
The girls made a silent, strategic retreat. When they were far enough away, Penny took out her phone.
“I can’t believe what we just saw,” said Tracey.
“Saw and filmed, Trace! I can’t wait to watch it all over again.”
“Me too. I thought it was sort of nice. They really took care of each other, didn’t they?”
“Yeah. They must like each other a lot.”
“So, Penny… We can’t show this to anyone. What are we going to do with it?”
“Maybe they’d like a souvenir. I dunno. We can think about that later. But first we better try an’ find one of these things we’re supposed to be looking for, or miss isn’t gonna be very happy.”
-
76.
Mandy came and rescued Sarah just after ten. Oliver was sitting on the sofa watching television and looking very smug.
“How did it go?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Baby Olivia got to suc-k…”
“Shush, Oliver! Or I’ll never babysit you again!”
“What did she get to suc-k?”
“Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”
When Mandy reported to Shirley the next day, she was rather taken aback. Not only by what had happened, but by the report of the conversation with Alice.
“He’s not as innocent as he looks, is he?”
“Seems not.”
“Hmm. I’m going to have to keep an eye on him. There may be a need for some control down the line. But I’d better ring Alice and see what’s going on.”
She dialled Alice’s number.
“Alice, darling. How are you?”
“Desperate, darling. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Oh, dear. I’m so sorry. But you’ve still got your sense of humour, I hear.”
“How so?”
“Sarah told me about her conversation with you yesterday… You know, about “Baby Olivia” and her demands.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t joking. I’m fed up with trying to pump milk out of my tits. They’re leaking all the time. My shirts and blouses don’t last a few minutes. Why me? I don’t know anyone else who’s milk has come in this early. If Baby Olivia wants to feed, I’d be so relieved…”
“But…he’s a grown boy. He has teeth. He used to suc-king lollipops. And he’ll probably suc-k too hard and make your nipples sore. And…you know, it may just stimulate more milk production.”
“Shirley – I don’t care. Nothing could be worse than how it is at present. Now is he coming to me or do I have to come to you?”
“Okay. It’s your decision. I’ll drop him off. About lunchtime okay?”
“The sooner the better.”
“See you then, darling.”
She made her way to Oliver’s room. He was still in bed, looking slightly flushed. Possibly he was remembering last night, thought Shirley.
“Olivia? Time to get up, sweetie. You’ve got a big day ahead. You need to look your best.”
Oliver looked startled. “Where me goin’, auntie Shirley?”
“Never mind. Just do as you’re told.”
“But auntie Shirley…?”
After the incident with Sarah, Shirley was no longer convinced of Oliver’s innocence. “Be quiet and do as I say! Or you’ll get a smacked bottom.”
She yanked off the bedclothes. Oliver was wearing nothing but his latex baby pants, stretched taut over his erect member. She stood back and folded her arms.
“I see. So that’s your idea of how a sweet little baby girl should behave, is it?”
“I…couldn’t help it, auntie…I…”
“Enough.”
She helped him out of bed – by one ear – led him to the bathroom, turned on the shower – on cold – and pushed him in. He squealed as the freezing water enveloped his body.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes. You will still be in here. That thing” – she pointed to it – “will be back to its normal diminutive dimensions. And don’t you dare touch that tap!”
She returned to her office, opened a drawer, and took out a small box.
“Yes, this should do. Size A. No, he’s very small there. Let’s say AA…”
She took the box and the ECD tool and returned to Oliver’s room. The cold water had done its job. She made him stand in the bathroom, whining and shivering and dripping, while she knelt and fitted it on.
“There. All done. Now get dried, please, while I find your clothes.”
When Oliver emerged from the bathroom, Shirley was ready with his outfit. She made him lie of the bed and prepared to put on a thick towelling nappy. His willy was neatly curled up no bigger than a rosebud in its pink plastic container, like a little shy snail. She gave it a playful flick with her finger, making him jump.
“You won’t have any more trouble from that for a while.”
After the nappy some very special transparent pink plastic pants, with horizontal ruching and plastic ruffles around the leg openings, and a big yellow plastic flower on the outside of each.
“Do you like them, Oliver? These are our best show-off baby pants, so you can show them off to everyone you meet. You’ll like that. And we have some pretty matching socks in just the same shade of pink, with lacy tops, so everyone will get to see what nice long legs you have for a baby. And now your shoes – yellow jellies – there. And now all we need is a top. And I have just the thing. It’ll go with your pretty pants and show off your cute little belly-button.”
She produced a short tunic with a tie waist and short sleeves with knotted fringes, and put it on him.
“Now, here are some matching shorts for when you’re a good girl, Olivia, but don’t you think, for the time being, it would be nice if everyone had the chance to admire your lovely pants?”
He looked alarmed, and the slight smirk on Shirley’s face didn’t allay his fears.
“Ready? Let’s go then, darling. Auntie Mandy will bring your buggy to reception, and auntie Yulya will take you for a nice outing…”
-
77.
Shirley had had a special buggy custom made for such occasions as this – a sturdy, four-wheeled design, boy-sized, easily adjustable from a sitting to a reclining mode, fitted with a lockable lap-belt, and including ankle straps on the leg-rest to prevent kicking, and side straps for the wrists. All this, and a softly-padded pink plastic base and matching ruffled canopy, with a storage compartment underneath where rested a pink changing-bag. What more could a baby want?
Well there was one thing this baby definitely needed. Because as soon as he saw it, he started protesting and struggling, trying to escape Shirley’s grip.
“Get off me! I ain’t going in that!”
“Mandy? Bring me a pacifier, would you? You know what I mean.”
Oliver had thought he had them all fooled, but Shirley had finally seen through the wide-eyed innocent act. Yulya quickly came to her aid, and soon had him subdued. Mandy returned with a large lockable pacifier, and his protests were soon silenced, except for a few muffled expressions of indignation. But he was still squirming.
“If you don’t behave yourself, young man, I’ll have Yulya take off your nappy and spank you. And then she’ll take you out wearing just your plastic pants. How would you like that?”
The threat had the desired effect, and Oliver reluctantly allowed himself to be strapped in. Yulya adjusted the buggy to recline, and pushed back the hood, leaving Oliver nicely exposed. She leant forward and patted his cheek patronisingly.
“We go see Alice, Oliver darling. But not by car. We go on bus, and through town. You like?”
Oliver started panicking. His eyes got big and he struggled against his bonds. But Yulya was already pushing him out of the door.
“Bye, bye, Olivia! Have fun,” called Mandy.
And then he was outside.
There was a ten-minute walk to the bus stop. Yulya took it in a leisurely fashion, allowing the passers-by a good long stare and the big helpless baby.
“Olivia have plenty of time,” smiled Yulya. “Alice not expect us till about one. Yulya have time for coffee in town, I think.”
Oliver shook his head vigorously, but Yulya just laughed.
“Yes. Nice day. Can drink outside. Olivia watch all people going by. Baby like that, yes?”
“Mmfff….”
“Oh, Olivia thirsty? Auntie Yulya feed on bus. Here bus stop. Next bus…only fifteen minutes. Not long!”
There were two women waiting at the stop, the younger one with a tiny baby in a tiny buggy. The older one looked like her mother. They stared at Oliver.
“I think he bigger than yours. Hold old?”
“S-six weeks…” said the young woman, absently, still in shock.
“And yours?” grinned the older one.
“Eleven…years…I think. But she still baby. She slow developer.”
“Are you his mother?”
“No, I his nanny.” And she looked like it, in her slim black skirt and rather severe while blouse.
Oliver was fuming. He glared at Yulya.
“She’s so pretty. And she looks so sweet in that little outfit. May I pet her a little?”
“Please. Olivia, nice lady want to say hello.”
Soon Oliver was being tickled and patted and prodded. He squirmed and made inarticulate protestations.
“She loves her dummy, doesn’t she,” smiled the younger one, now recovered from her surprise and wanting to get in on the joke. She drew Yulya aside. “Seriously, tell me why?” she whispered.
“He very naughty boy. Baby therapy teach him to behave. Very effective. Here, take card. Miss Shirley head of P & S. Specialise in naughty big boys.”
“Really? That’s so interesting. My friend has terrible trouble with her son. Though he’s a year or two older…”
“No problem. She can come visit. Very nice people.”
“I’ll pass this on. My mother seems to like him a lot.”
“Ah, it is your mother.”
“Yes. Mum? Come here. What’s your name?”
“Yulya.”
“I’m Teresa. This is my mum, Christine. Mum, Yulya tells me little Olivia there is having baby therapy at this place…” She showed her the card. “I’m thinking…Steffie? Isn’t something like this just what that son of hers needs?”
“It’s what he deserves, anyway! Yulya, I love the traditional nappy. And those plastic pants! Gorgeous!”
Christine helped Yulya onto the bus with the buggy. The wheel section unclipped and was put in the storage compartment. There was a long seat at the front with individual seats at right-angles, so Oliver went on the long seat and Yulya sat by his head. She got out his bottle, which she had filled with chilled juice, and offered it to him. He was clearly thirsty, and nodded.
“No noise, then, Olivia. Be good girl, or…”
But he understood. She removed the pacifier and fed him from the bottle. He drank almost all of it. Then, as they were coming into town, she packed it away and prepared to reassemble the buggy. She leant forward.
“If you good boy, I leave off pacifier. But no noise or back it go.”
Yulya said her goodbyes to Teresa and Christine, and soon she was pushing Oliver through the busy streets, towards her favourite coffee place. The pavement was wide there, allowing for a row of tables against the windows. She wheeled the buggy next to an empty table, with Oliver’s head next to the windows, so he could see the passers-by – and so they could see him. He begged to be turned around, but Yulya shushed him, sat down, and ordered a coffee. There was already a good deal of interest from the other tables, and the waitress just stood and stared until Yulya reminded her of her order. Then she scurried away to tell her friends.
People were stopping and staring , taking photos, and giggling. Yulya drank her coffee and read a book to deter questions. Nevertheless, she was still interrupted.
“Excuse me, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…”
“Her name Olivia. Play with her if you want.”
Once one woman started talking to him and petting him, it became a free-for-all. Yulya ignored them. Let them do what they wanted. Personally she didn’t find babies very interesting. Oliver, meanwhile, wished he had still got his pacifier in. Without it he was expected to answer questions.
“Are you a little girl…or a little boy?”
“Is it nice being a baby?”
“How old are you, darling?”
“Do you want your bottle, dear?”
“Does diddums like ticky-wicky on tummy-wummy?”
“Auntie Yulya! Please…tell them to go away!”
Yulya sighed. “All right, ladies. Baby had enough attention. Please…”
But she was interrupted by a scream from the pavement. She looked up. Two girls of about Oliver’s age were staring and pointing. They hurried over.
“It is! It’s Oliver! Oliver! Why are you all dressed up as a…”
“A little baby girl?” cried the other.
Yulya looked at Oliver. He was aghast with terror. She turned back to the girls.
“You know Olivia?”
“Olivia? It’s Oliver! He’s in our class!”
Her friend clarified. “I’m Marian. She’s Edith. Oliver’s in our class at school! Why is he…?”
Oliver was twisting from side to side, as if trying to escape their eager attention. But he was helpless in his bonds. Yulya smiled.
“Oliver been made into Olivia for a while. He was naughty boy. I taking him to lady for breastfeeding.”
“No!”
“Breastfeeding? He’s going to be breastfed? Like a real little baby?”
“Yes, Marian. He has to be proper baby.”
“Could we watch?” asked Edith, excitedly.
“Oh. I don’t know. I ask.”
“No! Don’t let them! Don’t you dare!”
“Yulya picked up her phone.
“Shirley. Hi. It me. We meet two little friends of Oliver – Olivia. Ask to come watch breastfeeding. What I say? Okay. Okay. She ring back. She must speak to Alice.”
Oliver’s eyes were full of tears. “She can’t…”
“Can we take some pics?” asked Edith.
“Help yourself.”
“No! Edith, you’d better not. You wait! No. I said no!”
Oliver started thrashing about wildly, shouting and pleading. Both the girls had their phones out filming him.
“He’s having a tantrum, isn’t he?” said Marian. “A real baby tantrum. Oh my god, he looks so stupid. Wait till I show this to Doug and the boys…”
“And Debbie! You like Debbie, don’t you Oliver…I mean Olivia. Just imagine when she sees this. And Vivian! She’ll…”
But Oliver wasn’t listening any more. He had a strange expression on his face, and was still and tense. All at once he started sobbing. The two girls stared at him, puzzled.
“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know. Oliver? Are you all right? Oliver?”
“Oh my god, Edith! He’s wetting himself. Look! You can see his nappy through his plastic pants! Keep filming!”
It was true. His nappy was wet, and the wet patch was growing. His transparent pants were steaming up and beginning to stick to the soaked towelling. Yulya stood up and bent over him. She gently patted his cheek.
“There, there, Olivia. Relax, darling. Let it all come out into nappy. When we get to Auntie Alice’s we can change baby and put on nice dry one.”
“Can we come and watch? Please,” begged Marian.
At that point Yulya’s phone rang.
“Hello? Hi, Alice. Yes, that right. Two friends from school. It is? Thank you. Oliver be very happy! Oh, about half an hour. See you. Bye!”
“Auntie Alice say yes, you come.”
“Yay!” the girls screamed in unison.
“That is nice, no, Olivia?”
But there was no reply.
-
78.
Penny and Tracey shared a tent with Marcia and Marcella. Penny and Tracey had talked about the day’s events as they hiked back to camp – indeed, they talked about nothing else – and had sworn faithfully that the matter would stay strictly between themselves. It would be their secret for evermore.
Marcia and Marcella were already back.
“Hi guys,” Marcella greeted them. “You’re late back. We’ve been here for half an hour. How was your day?”
Penny looked at Tracey. Tracey looked at Penny.
“You wouldn’t believe it if we told you.”
“And we’re not going to.”
“Okay. Please yourselves.”
“Seriously, guys, if we told you…you’d wet yourselves, I’m telling you.”
“Okay,” said Marcia. “Well as I don’t particularly want to wet myself right now, it’s just as well you’re not going to tell us.”
“Aren’t you even interested?”
“Nope.”
“Liar. If you knew…well, you’d scream.”
“True. You would. Both of you. You’d scream and go running round the tent like dervishes.”
“What’s a dervish?”
“I dunno – some sort of mad hyena thing, I think. From India or somewhere.”
“I see. Well, it’s almost supper time. You guys hungry?”
“Marcia! Quit pretending! We know you’re desperate to hear what we saw…”
“What we filmed…” added Tracey, enticingly.
“You filmed it?” said Marcella, sarcastically. “Ooh, I know what it was…was it a cow having a poo? Or maybe a sheep…”
“…having a sleep,” completed Marcia.
“Sod you! It was Michael – and Bobby – and they were…”
“…having…SEX!” finished Penny.
“What?”
“Damn. We weren’t supposed to tell you, but you had to wheedle it out of us, didn’t you? Yes. Doing it. Together. In the grass.”
“Doing what?”
“Wanking.”
“No. I don’t believe you. You’re making it up.”
“Yeah? Well get a load of this…”
She started the video and held it out for them to see. Marcia and Marcella were speechless. The film got to the bit where they started playing with each other. Marcia nearly choked.
“Oh…my…god!”
“Wait till you see them c-umming.”
“Tracey – turn the sound down, for god’s sake. That’s better. fuc-k… How did you get this?”
“We were following them. They went down into this little…”
“Oh, fuc-k! This is it! Both of them! At once! I don’t believe it. Run it again – go on.”
They missed supper. They must have watched the video ten times. Then Marcia got confidential.
“Right, guys, now listen. This is between us – just us. No-one else must know. Do you understand what we’ve got here?”
“We?”
“All right, you, but now we’ve all seen it…”
“What have we got?”
“We’ve got those two by the balls, that's what we've got. We can do whatever we want with them. We can make them do whatever we want.”
“I know what I want them to do…” said Marcella.
“What?”
Marcella gave a quick smile, and a wink.
-
Mitch should be in chastity and cloth diapers permanenly to stop him from constantly making terriable messes to clan up. He should be a fulltime baby girl think that would the discipine he desprately needs to thrive. He needs rules and routine doing the same thing every day. Happy babies are happy because have regular routine. Give Mitch the routine of a newborn where he knowns everything is pretedermined for the rest of his life knows when his feeedings, playtime, morning and afternoon naptimes, and bedtime in his crib are fixed he wont be stressed anymore and he just enjoy suc-king on his pacifier, being pretty for his mommy, and playing with newborn safe baby rattles in a safe routine. :)
-
Oliver, maybe, sarahpenguin... But I take this as a general declaration of belief applying to all boys...
-
Oliver, maybe, sarahpenguin... But I take this as a general declaration of belief applying to all boys...
Mitch has lots of pride about being an independent grown up who is capable. But those are lies he tells his family and friends. But deep down what he truely needs is to be pretty and utterly helpless to be reliant on his and friends who really see him as baby girl he really is deep inside. There might be tears and tantrums but I am convinced he is a baby girl his core.m :)
-
79.
The journey from the café to Alice’s house seemed to Oliver to take hours – not the forty-five minutes or so it actually was. Yulya took her time, stopping to look in windows, and on two occasions going into clothes shops to look around. The girls did their part in Oliver’s humiliation, by chanting “we’ve got a baby, we’ve got a baby” and “baby’s wetted his nappy, baby’s wetted his nappy”, thus generating interest from passers-by, several of whom stopped to pet him, to pinch his cheek or to take photos. Nearly everyone commented on his plastic pants.
“Such pretty pants! I love those yellow flowers…”
“And see his nappy? A proper old-fashioned one, not a horrible disposable.”
Oliver, firmly strapped down, helpless and exposed, vacillated between anger and terror, and was unable to contain the rest of the wee he had been trying desperately to hold in, just as they were turning up Alice’s front path.
Alice had been looking out for them, and greeted their appearance at last with a mixture of excitement and relief. She had the front door open before they had had the chance to ring the bell.
“Come in, come in! You must be Yulya. Lovely to meet you. And this is Oliver – I mean, Olivia! What a sweet baby! And you girls…”
“I’m Marian.”
“And I’m Edith. Thank you for letting us watch.”
“And Yulya? Can we help change Olivia?”
“Yes, darling. He need changing now, I’m think. He very wet. Miss Alice…?”
“Of course. Follow me.” She led them into the lounge. “Look, I’ve laid out some thick towels here on the carpet. Will that be okay, do you think?”
“Perfect, Miss Alice. Now, Olivia, I unstrap you. You behave and do what you’re told, yes? Be good baby, okay?”
All Oliver’s enthusiasm for babyhood seemed to have disappeared. He lay rigid while Yulya unstrapped his ankles and wrists and waist. Perhaps he was contemplating escape, but if he was he must have realised it was futile. Yulya spread a plastic sheet on top of the towels, then lifted him out of his buggy and laid him gently on it. He immediately turned onto his tummy. Alice took a seat on the sofa while the two girls knelt opposite Yulya, their eyes sparkling with anticipation.
She took the changing bag off the buggy, opened it, and took out a box of latex gloves. She put a pair on.
“Now, Olivia, I get wet nappy off…”
“No!” (rebelliously).
“Now, baby, not be naughty. First, pants…”
With a sudden tug, she had his pants round his ankles. He whined and curled up like a hedgehog. But Yulya was not so easily foiled, and she soon had the safety pin out of his nappy. Then it was easy to pull it out from under him, despite his efforts to hang onto it, and then there he was, his little wet bottom uppermost, squirming and protesting. Edith and Marian had started giggling, and threatened to become hysterical.
“Girls?” said Alice. “Calm down, now. If you’re going to help to change baby, you need to be nice and quiet and gentle. Yulya? Maybe they could wipe Olivia’s bottom.”
“Yes, please…. Let us wipe her, Yulya…”
“Okay. Put on gloves please. Here are wipes. Each take two or three, and wipe carefully…”
“No! Yulya…don’t let them!”
In reply she merely handed him his pacifier. “Olivia no shout, please. suc-k pacifier and lie still.”
The girls, having donned their rubber gloves, started on Oliver’s bottom. They methodically wiped his clenched buttocks, his flanks, and the backs of his thighs.
“Unclench, please, Olivia,” said Yulya. But receiving no response, she forcibly held his buttocks apart so the girls could wipe in between, making him shiver. Then she took a tub of cold cream out of the changing bag, unscrewed the lid, and set it down between the girls. They needed no instructions. They each scooped up a dollop, and began to smooth it into his bottom.
“I think we need do his front, now,” said Yulya.
“No way! Don’t you dare!”
“Turn over please, baby.”
“No!”
“Olivia…”
“No. Shan’t!”
“I will report to miss Shirley…”
“Don’t care. Do what you fuc-king like!”
“Tut, tut, Rude baby. All right. Girls? Baby need some cream in there” – she pointed – “you know where.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” he wailed, as he felt the girls hands pushing between his buttocks. But clenched cheeks were no defence against little inquisitive latex-sheathed fingers smeared with slippery cream. Edith’s were the first to locate their goal. Her face lit up with delight. She slid her index finger in.
Oliver reacted as if he had received an electric shock. He twisted violently sideways. Yulya took her opportunity. She grabbed his shoulders and turned him onto his back, and held him down. He kicked wildly and swore in a very unbabylike fashion. Alice slipped off the sofa and grabbed his ankles.
“Now keep still, sweetie,” she said. “Please. We just ned to clean you up, then you can have nice cuddles and lots of lovely milk. Please, be a good baby and let the girls do their job.”
He struggled for a few moments, but the ladies were stronger than he, and eventually he gave in, and lay still on his plastic sheet. He shut his eyes tight, turned his head to one side, and tried to think of nothing. The girls got to work, wiping every bit, and then gently massaging the cooling cream into his skin, from his tummy to his hips to his thighs, and finally….
He bit his lip, but it did no good. The girls were seized with another fit of giggles.
“Oh, dear,” said Alice. “I don’t think we can get a nappy over that.”
“No. But in bag are spare pants. Maybe rubber? Pink ones? Here, Alice. Perhaps you could…?”
“Of course. Come on Olivia. Nice soft rubber panties for you. Feet in… That’s right. Now ups they go! There, the girls are helping. That’s right. Under his bottom first…yes…now stretch them over… Super. Thank you, girls – you’ve been such a help.”
For Oliver, just to have his modesty partially restored was an immense relief, even if the rubber baby pants were stretched taut over his little tentpole. He saw Edith surreptitiously taking a photograph, but he was so exhausted by now, all he could think of was lying in Alice’s arms feeding on her full breasts. She was adjusting the cushions on the sofa. Then she sat down, leant back, and motioned to him.
“Come on then, darling.” She unbuttoned her blouse and lifted one breast out of her bra. It was already oozing milk. “Are you thirsty, little girl?”
Without hesitation, Oliver climbed up onto her and, resting his head on her arm, allowed her to guide the swollen, milky nipple into his lips…
-
80.
Bobby was surprised when, at breakfast the following day, Marcella and Penny sat down one each side of him. He suspected there was some more sarcasm on the way, so at first he ignored them, eating his cornflakes even more noisily than usual in an attempt to drive them away. But they remained, smirking and saying nothing, till at last he was forced to acknowledge their presence.
“Okay, so what is it now? What mindless piece of humour have you spent all night thinking up?”
Neither responded for a while.
“Enjoying your breakfast, Bobby?” said Penny, eventually.
“I was – till you two arrived.”
“We’re just trying to be friendly,” said Marcella.
“Really. Well if you want to be friendly, why don’t you sod off and be friendly with each other.”
“Ooh, Bobby! You can be so rude sometimes! And we’re trying to be nice to you.”
He threw down his spoon.
“Look. If you want something, spit it out. I just wanna eat my breakfast in peace, that’s all.”
“So where’s your friend?”
“My friend?”
“Yes. What’s his name…Michael. Where’s Michael?”
“How should I know? Probably still asleep.”
“Didn’t you take him a cup of coffee in bed?”
“What?”
“That’s what most boyfriends would do for their girlfriends.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This?” said Penny. She stuck her phone under his nose. He froze, choking on his cornflakes and spitting them back into the bowl. He turned white. There was nothing to be said.
“So you and your girlfriend…” went on Marcella. “You and your girlfriend better come to our tent tonight. Say nine o’clock. Or….” She gave him a sweet smile, and the girls rose and left without another word. Bobby covered his face with his hands.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit…”
-
81.
For the first few minutes, Alice’s overwhelming feeling was one of relief. She switched him from one breast to the other until the discomfort had faded into insignificance. Only then could she begin to enjoy the sensation of his eager mouth suc-king at her nipple. She looked down at him almost as a mother at her baby, her mouth faintly mimicking that of the boy's. She felt flooded with motherly tenderness. Marian and Edith sat opposite watching intently, and speculating on the reaction of their friends when they told them. They were too discreet to photograph Alice, but those they already had of baby Olivia in her sweet little rubber pants were going to be quite sufficient! Yulya was in the kitchen making coffee and preparing some food.
“Girls? Please you come help? Leave baby to feed.”
The girls, having seen everything they could possibly have hoped for, were happy to comply, especially as they were getting hungry. So they left Oliver to feed.
He was suc-king more slowly now, eyes closed. Possibly he was getting drowsy, just like a well-fed infant. But he had a much greater appetite than an infant, and the session went on past the point where Alice might have expected it to end. However, she was very comfortable on her soft cushions, despite the weight of the boy lying across her lap, and she felt she could have lain there all day. It was then she became aware of other feelings mingling with those of affection and tenderness. As with any nursing mother, the physicality of the bond stimulates a profound sense of closeness, a unity of bodies. But in this instance, she was feeding, not a baby, but a well-developed young boy – and a young boy with an erection! She began to feel almost drugged, swirling in a confused mist of motherly tenderness and sexual exhilaration. She stole a glance at Oliver’s pants, and experienced a sudden thrill of excitement at the sight of his still rigid pen-is stretching the rubber. He seemed to be sleeping now, his lips no longer suc-king, though still fastened to her nipple. It fascinated her that he could receive such stimulation from this simple act. She had an overwhelming desire to touch it – just to feel how hard it was. He would never notice. So she reached out very slowly and took the end gently between finger and thumb.
He reacted immediately. He gave a groan, his whole body tensed, his lips tightened on her breast, and to her horror he was convulsed with orgasm! She had quickly taken her hand away, but she could see spurts of sperm erupting against the translucent pink rubber. It only lasted for about a minute, but to Alice it seemed like five. He never once opened his eyes, and when it was over his head slipped down and he fell into a deep slumber. Alice was overwhelmed with guilt and shame. But perhaps…perhaps he had been asleep already – that’s how it had seemed – and would remember nothing.
The others were returning now, quite unaware of what had passed. Alice replaced her breast, buttoned her blouse, and with Yulya’s help lifted Oliver onto the sofa and covered him with a blanket.
“Let’s go into the kitchen so we don’t disturb him,” said Alice.
He slept for an hour and a half. He awoke all smiles. Alice was in agonies about what he might say. She decided to face the music.
“Hello, Olivia darling, Did oo have nice sleepies?”
“Yes, thank you, Alice…” He looked at her affectionately. “Alice…?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Can I stay being your baby?”
She felt a rush of relief. “Of course, darling! You can be my baby forever!”
“Even when you have your own baby?”
“Yes. I’ll get you twin cots. You’ll be able to play together.”
“But when your milk is all gone…”
“Then I’ll find you other ladies who have milk. I have lots of friends who have babies or are going to have babies. And lots of them have much too much milk…so much, they don’t know what to do with it…”
In reply he said nothing, but merely gave a seraphic smile…
When it was time to leave, he insisted he would lie quietly in his buggy and behave, without any need of restraint. He was as good as his word. On the way, he said very little. But then, while they were waiting at the bus stop, he suddenly looked up at Yulya.
“Yulya?”
“Yes, Olivia?”
“Do you think…”
“Yes?”
“Do you think Miss Shirley would let me be baby Olivia all the time?”
“All the time?”
“Yes. Be like a real baby, with nappies and pants and bibs and everything…”
“Baby Olivia must ask Miss Shirley herself. Miss Shirley decide. If baby good, then…maybe.”
“’Cos Alice said there are other ladies that need babies, too.”
But now the bus had arrived, and the conversation lapsed. As they went along, Yulya glanced over at the boy-baby on the opposite seat. She was puzzled, but pleased. And she was sure Shirley would be pleased too.
-
82.
It was Tracey came up with the idea.
“Do you remember what Mitch told us, about those two boys, and what they did to them at that place of his?”
“Can’t forget it,” grinned Penny.
Tracey looked at her friends with an evil, meaningful stare.
“You’re not suggesting…?”
“Why not?”
“Trace, that would be so cool!” cried Marcella.
“Yeah,” said Marcia. “And we can do it if we want. We can do whatever we want with them, right? In any case, I think they’re already in love. They’d have to be, to play with each other like that.”
“She’s right,” said Penny,. “It’s like, Bobby’s the boy, and Michael’s the girl, don’t you think?”
“If they’re gay, they’re both boys,” countered Tracey.
“Yes, true. But even in same-sex relationships there’s a dominant one and a submissive one, isn't there? It seems to me like Bobby’s the dominant one. Trace, remember when they were doing it? Bobby was the one who took the lead. Offered Michael his knife and all that.”
“Yes, you’re right. Like Michael was a girl and he was seducing her.”
“Right.”
“Hey, girls!” broke in Marcella. “We’re going into town this morning, right? Let’s see if we can find Michael a cheap dress!”
“fuc-k, Marcella, that’s brilliant! And maybe panties or something.”
“And we’ll give him some makeup!”
“Listen. Let’s tell Michael he has to be here at eight-thirty. Then we can get him ready. Then we can see Bobby’s reaction…”
They dissolved in screams of laughter…
-
83.
On the way into town they discussed what girl size Michael was. They settled on a twelve, depending on the style. Marcia suggested they have a look in the charity shops as well, as they had limited money. And that proved to be the answer.
It was the third charity shop they went into. Some teenager must have disposed of her tween wardrobe. Penny suggested the teenager’s mother, reluctant to accept her daughter growing up, had been encouraging her to hang onto her childish clothes, until the daughter finally rebelled. It was certainly old-fashioned, juvenile stuff. Some of the clothes would have been on the skimpy side for Michael, but the girls were certainly not going to worry about that. They simply looked at things that had a bit of give in them. They found a cute little cotton dress with short puff sleeves elasticated at the cuff, a broad elasticated waistband, and a short flared skirt. It had lots of busy flowers in every colour imaginable on a white background, with a narrow green hem.
“Perfect,” said Tracey. “I can just see Michael in that. He’s got nice legs, actually. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe. Anyway, we’ll get to see a lot of them in that,” replied Marcia. “And so will Bobby.”
“He’ll need panties,” said Marcella. “We can get him a pack.”
“And socks.”
“Look, let’s take some of these bangles as well,” said Tracey, picking up a little ring of elasticated pink plastic hearts. They’re very cheap. And there are bunches, too…”
“And look at these butterfly hairclips!” cried Penny. “And that choker! And there’s some really naff plastic clip-ons!”
They emerged with their loot in a second-hand carrier bag. Next they visited a department store, and bought the most juvenile panties they could find; a pack of five, different pastel colours – pink, blue, yellow, mauve and green, with contrasting trims and a different cartoon character on the front of each – Barbie, Snow White, Alice, and so on – and a pack of pastel ankle socks with lacy tops. Then they went for coffee, examined their purchases with much hilarity, and afterwards headed back to camp. Marcella went and sought out Michael. He had obviously had the bad news from Bobby, because he turned white when he saw her approaching..
“Oh, M-Marcella,” he gulped. “H-how are you…? I…”
“You’ve been told what to do, I presume. We want you there at eight-thirty. Understand?”
“E-eight-th…”
“Yes. Eight-thirty. And Bobby at nine. Get it right, or else. Oh, and bring your best trainers with you.” She waved her phone, turned, and walked away, leaving him standing there like a frightened rabbit.
All credit to him. He turned up punctual to the second. He found the girls sitting cross-legged around the edges of the tent. In the middle, laid out on a double sleeping bag, was his new ensemble, topped off with a pair of red-trimmed, mauve, Snow White panties and mauve socks.
Penny addressed him. “Right. You have five minutes. No longer. Get those clothes off – all of them - and get these on. Everything, understand? Panties, socks, everything. And put on your best trainers.” Then she added, with a mocking smile, “We’ll wait outside. We would hate to embarrass you in any way!”
He must have been scared to death. After only three minutes he called them.
“I-I’m changed…”
They went back in. The dress fitted quite nicely, in fact, though the skirt was a little short. He seemed to be aware of it, holding them hem down to cover his panties. Marcella gathered up his boy clothes, thrust them into a carrier, and put them outside. Penny and Tracey sat him down and helped him with his bangles, choker, earrings and hairclips, while Marcia knelt down and began to paint his nails.
“Keep your hands still, now, Michael. There, done. Wave them about a little to help them dry. Now I’m going to do your face. A little mascara – ooh, you look quite glamorous already – eye shadow to match your panties…yes…lovely…what about mauve lip gloss? Are you up for that? Let me see…oh, yes – it actually suits you quite well! Sit still. I’m nearly done. Just a touch of perfume and you’ll be ready…”
She stood up. “What do you think, girls?”
“He’s gorgeous!”
“Bobby’s going to fall head over heels for you, Michael.”
“He’ll have to call you Michaela. Here, look in the mirror.”
Poor Michael stared at himself in horror. He was sitting bolt upright on the sleeping bag, hands on thighs gripping the hem of his dress, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he tried to get used to the sensation of wearing lipstick.
“Please don’t tell anyone…”
“We won’t, provided you behave. But we’ll have a few photos, if you don’t mind. Outside.”
“What?”
“Outside,” repeated Marcella. “We’re next to the hedge. No-one’s going to see, if we’re quick. Come on.”
Desperate to get the photo session over, he posed nicely to order, and they got some lovely snaps, albeit the smile they demanded sometimes looked a bit forced. His relief at being ordered back inside the tent was palpable. The girls remained outside, to wait for Bobby. Penny bent down and whispered to Michael through the flap.
“He should be here any minute, Michael. What a lovely surprise he’s going to get! Cheer up, darling. Give him a nice welcoming smile, won’t you?”
-
84.
Oliver was asleep again by the time Yulya pushed his buggy into the offices of P & S. Shirley was waiting to welcome them back.
“I hear it was quite a success. Alice rang me just after you left.”
“He so good! And tell me he want be a baby all time!”
“Really?”
“Yes, Miss Shirley. Maybe later he change mind, but…”
“If he does, it’ll probably be too late,” she whispered. “His mother rang me today to ask if I’d take him on full-time. Apparently she has her hands full as it is. Would you take him and put him in his cot, please? Put a nappy on him and lock the lid. Then come back to my office. We have other matters to discuss.”
When she returned, Yulya found Shirley and Mandy waiting for her.
“As to Oliver, Yulya, we can start the full course straight away. Lock his willy up nice and tight, surround him with baby things, make sure he has a wardrobe full of baby clothes – with plenty of nice colourful plastic and rubber pants. Lots of warm milk, a selection of different-sized pacifiers, baby mobiles and music. Change him twice a day. I’ll arrange regular visits to nursing mothers – that’s the best thing to keep him docile – and wear your nurse’s costume to attend to him. He’ll like that. After a month or two he should be fully conditioned and we can start renting him out as a surrogate. But we have other matters to attend to. Tomorrow we have two new students. I haven’t met them yet, but I have the paperwork here. Mandy. You’ve read the notes. Remind me.”
“Yes, I have. Right. First, Luke. Full name, Luke Adam Peters. Age thirteen. Hobbies, according to him, and I quote, “hanging out, playing Manhunt” – whatever that is – “screwing bitches”. According to his mother, “most of the time he sits up in his room playing some awful loud computer game with his friend, or watching porn, swears at me and treats me like his slave”. Second – and this is the “friend” aforementioned – Max Alexander Dinsford, also age thirteen, whose interests include “chillin’, playing Manhunt” – no surprise there – and “bangin’ my gf”! According to his mother, he bullies the younger kids at school – for which she is always being called in – and beats on his kid sister. The mothers came in together. They said it was a last resort. They don’t care what we do even if it’s only to take them away and separate them for a while, why they try and get their lives back.”
Yulya had been listening open-mouthed.
“Miss Shirley? They need jail time, not P & S. They out of control.”
“They’ll be a challenge, to be sure.”
“How would we even get them here?” said Mandy.
“Oh, I’ve taken care of that. They’re coming in next Monday.”
“What?”
“Yes. They’re under the impression we’re some sort of luxury youth club slash hotel. I worked it all out with their mums. Supposedly we offer families a break from each other. We have rooms equipped with big plasma screens, gaming consoles, four hundred megabyte broadband, room service, and so on. We charge up to three hundred a day. There are rumours of soft drugs. “P & S” stands for “Play and Sleep”.
“But once they’re here – they’ll realise…” said Mandy, looking alarmed.
“Not straight away. Yulya, you will put on your sexiest outfit and conduct them to the games room, sit them on the sofa in front of our one big screen, show them the games controller, and bring them drinks. The drinks will be spiked. I’ll take it from there.
“Okay…” said Mandy, slowly. “So what’s the plan? Pacification can only be temporary. And when we eventually release them…”
“Let me worry about that. There are forms of permanent coercion, you know. These are exactly the hard cases we always talked about subduing. Now’s our chance to prove we can do it…”
-
85.
Back in Devon, Bobby was making his miserable way towards the girls’ tent, hugging the hedge in an attempt not to be noticed by any of the other boys. He had hinted to them he had an assignation with some “cool” girl from another troop, which was not a great idea as it turned out, because it just piqued their curiosity. So now he had to sneak along in the twilight bent double to avoid being recognised. Arriving at the girls tent, he dropped to he knees and crawled through the unzipped flap.
Inside there were two battery lanterns hanging from the two corners. Two girls sat cross-legged against each side of the tent, and in the middle sat Michael, obviously distressed, covered with an open sleeping bag which he was clutching to his throat, like a shy girl caught naked from the shower. Something gleamed in his mop of black hair, and on his ears, and his face looked weird, but for a moment Bobby didn’t register why. The air was filled with the smell of cheap perfume.
“Well done, Bobby,” smirked Marcella. “Right on time, just like Michael. I never had you two pegged for being punctual.”
“Yeah, well, I’m here. So what do you want with me?” he said impatiently, his freckly face colouring up with annoyance.
“Us?” said Penny, with mock surprise. “We don’t want nothing, Bobby. We’re just observers. But maybe your friend here would like some attention. Show him, Michaela.”
Hands trembling, Michael slowly pulled the sleeping bag to one side. Bobby’s mouth fell open. The dress, the panties peeping out, the eyelashes, the mauve lips, the bangles, choker…everything!
“Wha… W-why…?”
“Don’t you like your girlfriend’s new outfit, Bobby? She got all dolled up specially for you. She even put on her new scent. At least tell her how pretty she looks,” said Tracey, coaxingly.
“They made me, Bobby,” blurted Michael. “They’ve got my phone. They threatened to send that film to all my contacts!”
“Yes. And now we’ll have your phone too, Bobby,” said Marcia.
“No way!”
“Okay. We’ll go ahead and do what we said. I’m sure you’ve got loads of the same friends…”
“No! Don’t, all right? Just don’t. What do you want? Do you have a dress for me, too?”
“Dress for you…?” Penny laughed out load. “Don’t you get it? You’re the boy. Michael’s the girl. Michael – Michaela – is your girlfriend.”
“Aren’t you going to give her a kiss?” said Marcella, archly.
Bobby stared at them in horror.
“Go on,” said Marcella. “Can’t you see she’s gagging for it?”
“N-no…” he said, weakly.
“Oh, you are, little boy,” said Penny, firmly. “If your lips aren’t on his in ten seconds, I touch this.”
She held up Michael’s phone. She wasn’t joking. Her finger hovered over “send to all”. Bobby panicked.
“All right. Don’t, okay. I’ll do it.”
“But…” began Michael.
“Shut up, idiot. We don’t have no choice, do we?”
“Lie down, Michael,” instructed Marcia. “Bobby, lie by his side.”
The boys complied.
“That’s better. Much cosier. Come on, cuddle up. Now kiss him, for goodness’ sake. We’re not going to wait any longer.”
Bobby leant over, shut his eyes, and placed his lips on Michael’s chin.
“Is that how you kiss a girl, Bobby?” laughed Tracey. “No wonder you can’t keep your girlfriends.” Then she became serious. “Open your eyes, and kiss him on the lips. Not like that! Passionately! Get your tongue in his mouth. Go on. Michael, respond. I want to see those tongues delving deep. Deep, I said! That’s better. And hold each other. Closer!”
Marcella took over the role of instructress. “Bobby… No, don’t you dare stop smooching! Bobby. Get on top of him. No, right on top. Yes, like that. Now press your coc-k against his. Do it! Keep doing it. Keep doing it and keep kissing, just like that. You know what’ll happen if you stop. That’s right. She’s your girlfriend, Bobby. Michaela’s your girlfriend. You love her passionately. You can’t wait to… Now you’re getting the hang of it…”
They kept the boys at it for several minutes, until Marcella interrupted them.
“Right. Bobby? Off. Lie by her side again. Now…”
She leant forward and placed her hand on the front of Bobby’s shorts. “Aha!” Then she checked Michael’s panties. “Just as I thought. You’ve both got huge erections.”
“No, I…” began Bobby.
“Look at it! It’s almost bursting the rubber. Michaela? Unzip Bobby’s shorts, please.”
“What?”
“You heard,” she said wearily. “You’re going to do it, so stop prevaricating and just get on with it – unless you want us to post your cute video out of sheer frustration. So? What is it to be?”
“Sorry Bobby. I don’t have no choice, do I?”
He reached down and began to unzip. The zip was only half way down when Bobby’s tumescent boyhood sprang out, quivering, and glistening with his juices.
The girls looked at each other with delight.
“Bobby!” cried Penny. “You poor thing! Michaela? I think your boyfriend needs some relief. Please do your duty at once. Go on!”
Bobby’s cheeks were red with arousal. Penny calculated his lust was beginning to overcome his embarrassment. It seemed she may have been right.
“Yeah, Mike…I mean Michaela. Yeah…like, I’m sorry, mate, but if we don’t do what they say…we’re gonna be in trouble, aren’t we?”
Michael hesitated, but seeing Penny pick up his phone again, he gave a sigh, reached down, and took his friend’s stiff member in one hand.
“Not like that!” cried Penny, in disgust. “Properly! With your mouth!”
Michael recoiled. “No! I can't! Tell them, Bobby!”
But, oddly, Bobby didn’t seem quite so revolted by the idea.
“Mike… You know, we just have to do what they say. I’m really sorry, but… it looks like they’ve got us by the short and curlies…” (Possibly an unfortunate choice of phrase in the circ-umstances, which didn’t help to mollify his friend.)
Tracey winked at Marcia. “He’s right, Michael. You really don’t have a choice.”
“Obviously I’m not going to enjoy having you suc-king on…doing that, I mean,” added Bobby. He paused, and touched his pen-is, as if imagining what it was going to feel like in Michael’s mouth. “No, not at all… But there’s nothing we can do…”
His member didn’t seem to be suffering any qualms, however, being if anything even harder than before, and lubricating freely. And as Michael slid down the sleeping bag until his mouth was aligned with its head, Bobby placed a comforting hand in his friends hair, gently bit his lip, and drew in a deep breath of anticipation…
-
86.
The girls had made a pact that their little secret should be kept strictly between themselves. Apart from anything else, they wanted to retain total control of the boys, at least till they had collected some interesting footage or had achieved the ultimate goal of their experiment – to make them a genuine item. However, they were predictably unable to completely disguise that something was going on. One of their best friends, Janice, had originally been supposed to be in their tent. But Moira Sullivan had quashed this plan, and imposed a maximum of four girls per tent, since a couple of the tents had only three occupants. They had drawn lots, and Janice had lost. She often joined her friends for meals and activities, but found them strangely reticent and reserved in her company. So when Tracey had asked if she could borrow her phone for the evening – she had a brand new model about three upgrades ahead of any her friends had – she had - justifiably – taken umbrage.
“What do you want it for?”
“Er…nothing special – you know, we just wanted to, er, film, er, Marcia doing her yoga…”
“Why don’t you use your own phone? It would be fine for that.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess… Yeah, I’ll use my own…”
“Hang on a minute, Trace. I know there’s something going on. Why are you guys excluding me? Have I done something wrong, or what?”
“No, no, course not, Janice. It’s just…well, I’m sworn to secrecy…”
“On really? You’ve got secrets from me? Since when? Since when am I out in the cold? What’s up with you? I’ve been kicked out of the tent, and now you’re kicking me out of the group.”
“It’s…difficult…”
“It’s difficult for me, too. Either you tell me right now what’s going on, or we might as well say goodbye.”
Tracey sighed. “All right. But you mustn’t breathe a word to anyone.”
“As if I would. Well?”
“Okay. You know Michael?”
“Yes.”
“And you know Bobby?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Well…” And she unfolded the whole story, Janice’s eyes widening with each new revelation. “But when you see them you mustn’t let on you know – not even with a look or anything. Keep this just between us.”
“Don’t worry, Tracey. Now at last I understand. Thank you. Here, take my phone. Leave the film on it, all right? I’ll get a flash drive tomorrow and download it to that, then delete the original. We don’t want anyone finding it.”
“Agreed. I’ll tell the others you’re in on things now.”
“Yes, do.”
And that is how the boys’ first real date got recorded in high-definition video. Up to the point they were lying side by side, the phone was clipped to the inner corner of the tent above Michael’s feet. But when things started hotting up, Tracey retrieved it in order to get a more intimate record of proceedings.
Michael was still reluctant to take the plunge. Tracey zoomed onto his face, his frown of distaste. But Bobby made up his mind for him, pushing his fingers deeper into Michael’s hair and gently coaxing his mouth towards the glistening tip of his pen-is. Michael opened his mouth to object, but Bobby simply tightened his grip on his friend’s hair, and seized his chance, pushing his coc-k between his lips. Michael emitted a indignant squeak of protest, but no way was Bobby letting him off now – his warm, wet mouth felt much too good. He grunted with satisfaction, placed his other hand on the top of his friend’s head, and began a gentle rhythmic thrusting, controlling his movements and politely resisting the temptation to plunge his erection down Michael’s throat. The sensation of Michael’s tongue nuzzling the sensitive underside of the glans was so arousing that he had to slow his movements, and even pause now and then. But his solicitude was rewarded, for after a few minutes he perceived Michael responding, bobbing his head independently, emitting little muffled moans of pleasure, and using the tip of his tongue to explore the cleft beneath the head.
The girls watched in silence, with rapt attention, as the boys' sexual instincts slowly overcame their wonted shyness. After a while, Michael slid one hand under Bobby’s waist, and the other over his flank, gripping his belt. Bobby loosened his grip on his friend's hair, and instead began softly to stroke his head. Hanging on tight to the belt, Michael began to suc-k and pull on the swollen coc-k in an ecstasy of desire, rotating his lips so the head probed every part of his mouth, moaning and squirming. He could feel Bobby’s juices flowing freely into his mouth, and he swallowed them with relish. His own erect pen-is had escaped from his Snow White panties, and he was masturbating by thrusting it back and forth between Bobby’s ankles, now slippery with his juices. Tracey stood up to get a good shot of the climax which she knew couldn’t be far away.
The girls thought it remarkable that Michael, in his heighted state of arousal, seemed to have lost all his earlier reticence. But his arousal itself was at least in part due to his feelings for Bobby. As it dawned on him that, with his friend’s juicy prick in his mouth and at the mercy of his probing tongue and nibbling teeth, he could actually drive him half mad with pleasure, he forgot about himself entirely, and gave all his attention to Bobby's pleasure. The truth was, he loved Bobby more than he had ever admitted, and now he felt he had the opportunity to forge a powerful and lasting bond with him. To this end, he kept Bobby on the edge of orgasm for as long as he could, knowing that the final climax would be all the more intense as a result. But finally, feeling himself at the tipping point, and not wanting to pre-empt his friend, he closed his teeth gently about the throbbing shaft, and worked the tip of his tongue vigorously up and down the underside of the glans. Bobby’s reaction was immediate. One desperate little cry of surprise, and then next instant his hot sperm was pumping into Michael’s mouth. Michael held the spasming boy tightly by either side of his belt, determined the jerking pen-is should not escape him, and tried to continue his ministrations at the same time as gulping down the sweet, slimy wads of spunk. The feeling of it sliding down his throat triggered his own orgasm, and Bobby, in a haze of ecstasy, became vaguely aware of his ankles and calves being spattered with something warm and sticky.
Bobby had been somewhat frustrated since the expedition with Michael, lying in his sleeping bag thinking about the things they had done, and now all his pent-up secretions finally had the chance to escape. There was so much, in fact, that Michael was quite unable to swallow it all, and it burst from his lips, splashing the front of his dress, Bobby’s shorts, and the sleeping bag. It was the most intense orgasm Bobby had ever experienced – at one point he thought he was going to faint with pleasure - and as it slowly subsided he became overwhelmed with a such a wave of affection for his friend, that he slid down to where he lay, eyes closed, in a sticky patch of semen, took his face in his hands, and kissed him gratefully on the lips.
The girls were in shock, but they also shared an unspoken sense of pride, for they had not only been entertained, but they had proved that there was real affection between the two boys, which could perhaps now flourish without further unnecessary shyness or restraint. In short, they felt their little experiment had been a most successful exercise in emotional and sexual therapy, as well as just the first move in a game which they could prolong ad infinitum.
-
Hmmmm. The boys in camp should be in chastity, have catheters, and locked in massive cloth diapers thick enough to hold 24/7 long without leaking learning to not be constanly masterbating miscreants as though they were grownups. Should be how to behave like a good sissy baby infant. Look pretty and babble baby nonsense like you are, happily shaking your baby rattle and nurseing on your baby pacifier because every baby with both items is a happy baby so you muwst 6happy babbling through your pacifier of baby nonsense shaking it endlessly. :)
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I agree.
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87.
Back at P & S, plans were being made for the arrival of the two miscreants. They were due on the afternoon of Monday the twenty-sixth. Mitch would be returning from Devon the day before, so he would be around to assist in their initiation, together with Jasper, Sam and Meredith. A certain Deborah Buff-Hopkins had also been put on alert, and was already engaged in polishing her most formidable boots and waxing her range of riding whips. The Milkmax IIIs were being tested, the appropriate accessories readied. As for Oliver, Shirley had decided on a regime of total babification. There was Meredith, of course, the current working example of juvenile transformation, though, being on the large side, Shirley generally allocated him the role of female toddler. She would produce him for inspection whenever a parent asked her how far it was possible to go with a naughty boy.
“This is Meredith. Say hello to Mrs Smith, Meredith.”
“Pleased to meet oo. Mithith Thmith…”
“Good girl. This is her favourite outfit. She loves her petticoat, because it allows her to show off her sweet little baby pants whenever she wants. Doesn’t it. Meredith?”
“Yeth, mith.”
“Oh, I see. She is very cute, I must say. I like the idea of the pink vinyl. It’s pretty but very practical, I imagine…”
“Oh, very, Mrs Smith. Yes, little Meredith can get quite messy at times – you know what babies are – and all we need to do is give her a wipe, and she’s off again. And when we change her we can just rinse her pants – she has vinyl and rubber ones - and pop them back on over her nappy.”
“That’s so clever. My Tommy would look so pretty in something like that…”
“Well, we can discuss costumes if you decide to send him. There’s quite a large range, depending on which way we decide to go. Thank you, Meredith. You may go now. It’s time for your mid-morning feed. Go and find Jasper or Sam. They will…er, attend to you.”
Oliver, then, was destined for proper babyhood. He was small, and looked oh so cute in rompers and rubber pants. He was fed before bedtime, then kept locked in his cot all night so that by morning his nappy was absolutely soaked! He was fitted with locking mittens to prevent him messing with his outfit. Then he would be taken to be changed. If there were visitors, this would take place in front of them, usually undertaken either by Yulya or one of the boys dressed as his big sister. He would have been fitted with a locking pacifier or sissifier to make sure he could only make muffled sounds, and, of course, a tiny chastity device shaped like a tiny baby willy. Eventually, when he had learned to make proper baby noises and articulate a few baby words, and he had been totally conditioned to babyhood, he would be allowed to dispense with the gag. At present he was not encouraged to walk, but to stay in character as a six-month-old. Shirley had commissioned a special rubber harness to assist him when she deemed he had reached the stage of learning to walk by himself. It would be worn under his nappy, and include a short but effective butt plug, and a spacer in his crotch to hold his legs apart and thus simulate normal baby locomotion. He would be sent once or twice a week to Alice or another nursing mother or mother-to-be to learn to suc-kle properly. For these visits he was fitted with a pair of rubber tooth-guards to protect the nipples. (These made him look so baby-like, that Shirley was experimenting making him wear them all the time.) As well as all this, Shirley had arranged with the parents of his schoolfriends Marian and Edith that they would babysit him at least once a week in their own homes, for which they would be paid, with the requirement of at least one change of nappy and feeding in a high chair and from a bottle. Naturally, the news of Oliver’s transformation to Olivia had already spread all round his schoolmates, so on these occasions the girls might be accompanied by some of their friends. There was considerable speculation about what would happen after the holidays when it was time for him to resume school. Shirley and his mother were said to be making plans which included a sort of compromise between his baby clothes and the school uniform: white rompers or tops printed with an image of the school tie; heavy-duty grey or black elasticated rubber pants over his very thick nappy – designed to last him all day; a harness and reins so the teacher could keep him under control; and a large pacifier on a ribbon which he would be required to suc-k on unless it was necessary for him to answer a question in class, or be fed. The school would be provided with a high chair and plastic bib for lunchtimes, he would be allocated a special place in the canteen and would be provided with an appropriate baby diet, and there would be plenty of volunteers to feed him. He could also be useful for domestic education lessons. The school had already been approached, and the headmistress seemed quite enthusiastic about the experiment, and eager to see the new baby Olivia in the flesh. Shirley would have liked more time to prepare him, but on the other hand it would be amusing to see his reaction to being catapulted straight back into the midst of his schoolfriends in his present state of discomfiture - and Anna had been enlisted to film his progress.
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Lovely to see the continuation of the story. Look foward to next chapters.
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88.
At Scout camp, there was a buzz of rumour. The boys’ enforced lovemaking session, instead of driving them apart, as might have been expected, had initiated a breakthrough in their relationship, and though they said nothing, they saw each other in a different light now. Michael realised the degree of affection in which he had previously held his friend was much greater than he had admitted; while Bobby had been brought face-to-face with his physical attraction to Michael. As a result, all they wanted now was to be together, whether out on activities or back in their tents. And as it was impossible for them to express their feelings in their own tent, they had taken to going back to the girls, where they squeezed in a sleeping bag laid along the back of the tent, and cuddled each other all night long. The girls themselves were so charmed by this transformation, they were happy to accommodate them and to repel all enquiries about the arrangement. But when Moira Sullivan became apprised of the state of affairs, having received a report that they had been seen hand-in-hand during an orienteering exercise, she snatched eagerly at the idea that at last she had a gay couple in her troop.
It was something she had always fantasized about. Like the other troops, there was a lot of bold talk about “diversification” and “acceptance”, lots of rainbow scarves, badges and banners. But what did it mean? For most of the children, and most of the adults, it was just empty words, a parroting of principles from wider society. But if this were true… how cool would that be? Not quite cool, not very cool, no… Totally cool! She imagined how it would reflect on her own leadership, her principles, in fact, her…cool! If the rumours were true, it was an opportunity not to be missed. So she took immediate steps to verify the information. She called in Marcella. According to hearsay, Marcella was somehow involved. Moreover Marcella had a reputation of knowing everything that went on in the troop. So she approached her at breakfast.
“Marcella. Good morning. How are you today? It looks like being a lovely day for our visit to the farm, doesn’t it?”
Marcella guessed what she wanted, but didn’t let on. “Yes, miss,” she replied, innocently. “We’re leaving at nine-thirty, aren’t we? Don’t worry, we won’t be late.”
“No, of course not. No… I just wanted to ask your advice about the itinerary… Would you have a moment…? Perhaps pop over to my tent for a minute after breakfast?”
“Sure, miss.”
“Thank you.”
Moira waited eagerly for her arrival.
“Marcella, thank you for coming over. Now…actually this is about something else.”
“Really, miss?”
“Yes. I’ve been hearing rumours…”
“Yes?”
“About a certain two boys…”
Marcella was not going to help her. “Oh? Yes? What rumours…?”
Moira lowered her voice. “Michael. And Bobby. Have you heard them?”
“Michael…and Bobby? What have you heard?”
Moira was getting exasperated. “Look, Marcella. Someone told me that they’re gay!”
“Oh, that! Yes, of course. Didn’t you know?”
“They are gay, then?”
“Oh, yes, miss. They’re a couple. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. It’s so sweet, isn’t it?”
“Oh…yes…of course. Very sweet. I just wanted confirmation, you understand.”
“Is that all, miss? Cos I need to get ready…”
“Yes, yes, of course, Marcella. Off you go.”
As Marcella disappeared through the flap, Moira raised her fists in a gesture of delight. “Yes,” she hissed. “At last!”
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89.
She wasted no time. She had a friend back home who worked for the local newspaper. This would make a great story, and she would emerge from it as a model troop leader, someone of vision and tolerance with truly progressive views, perhaps someone ripe for promotion… She would get onto her straight away.
She was about to ring when she realised the story would be no good without photos. Photos were everything. She could have the whole troop lined up behind her, smiling and supportive. One arm round each of the boys, they looking up at her appreciatively…or the boys holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes, her behind with her hands on their shoulders…or…but there were so many possibilities. Now, she already had half a dozen Pride scarves, left over from the last parade. The boys could wear them, and she too… And the badges… Pity they only had the standard uniform, though… For a minute she speculated if she might be able to modify Michael and Bobby’s uniforms, to make them stand out…but she couldn’t see a way. Because she was only thinking about her own image and her own glorification, she never once considered what effect all this might have on the boys themselves. It never occurred to her they may want above all else to be left alone, to be treated the same as their friends, to enjoy their new-found love quietly and privately. If it hadn’t been against regulations, she would have liked to have had them wearing bright yellow T-shirts with the legend, “I’M GAY!” in rainbow letters across the chest! That was how myopic she was.
But then she had an idea almost as crass. She dialled a number.
“Alison? Hi. It’s Moira Sullivan…Shirley Dearman’s friend? That’s right, Beckleyford. The shorts? Perfect! Great! They look so smart. And well-behaved! You wouldn’t believe… Look, I just wanted to ask, on the off-chance… Pride shorts…you know, rainbow…I suppose you wouldn’t have any…? You have? I only need two pairs! That’s wonderful! Size…oh, I think they take the medium… You’ve only got small? No problem. I mean, they stretch, don’t they? Would you be able to get them to me in the next day or two? Tomorrow? Great, thank you so much. How shall I pay? Oh, okay, we’ll sort it out later. Never know, may be a few other things… Yes, quite…Yes. Thank you again. Let me give you the address…”
She exited her tent and headed towards those of the Beckleyford troop, to make sure everyone was ready to leave. She was congratulating herself on her cleverness. She was particularly looking out for a certain two boys…
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90.
Shirley was in a panic. She had received a telephone call early that morning from Mrs Peters, mother of Luke. Apparently their little deception had worked rather too well. Possibly the mothers, in their eagerness to get their sons to P & S, had overegged the pudding; because now the boys, realising there was only a week or so of the holidays left, were demanding immediate access to “Play & Sleep”! They wanted to come in that very day! Shirley had been relying on Mitch to be there to assist, and now she had either to put off Luke and Max, and risk losing them forever, or rely on such support as she had. The other boys weren’t going to be much use, she thought. After their conditioning they were hardly in a position to put on a sufficiently ‘laddish’ performance, and in any case she had no faith in their acting ability. She had Yulya, of course, and Anna, at a pinch. And of course Deborah – she could be relied upon to knock them into shape. But the problem was enticing them in, creating a false sense of security. Mitch could have done it. Yulya would assist, but Yulya was a grown-up, and therefore an object of suspicion. Maybe…if she looked tarty enough…but no, that could backfire. What was needed was some younger blood…a participant who would disarm any doubts or reservations….but who…?
She was sitting in her office pondering this question, when through the window she saw Yulya opening the front door to admit someone. For a split second she thought it might be them. She sprang to her feet in a panic, but immediately relaxed. It was only Marian and Edith, come to attend to Olivia. She watched them disappear down the corridor, with a thoughtful expression on her face. Could they…no, they looked too young. Though with a little makeup… No. It wouldn’t be fair on them. And she’d need to get permission from their parents.
She had just put the thought out of her mind, when the phone rang. Mrs Peters again. She and Mrs Dinsford had tried to dissuade them, but they were adamant they were coming in today. The best they could do was to delay them till the afternoon, by offering to drive them. She was sorry, but against the two big, swaggering boys, there was little they could do…
That decided Shirley. She got straight onto Edith’s mother and explained her dilemma. Edith’s mother rang Marian’s mother, and she rang back to tell Shirley she was doing a great job, and to go ahead, if the girls were up for it.
“Now we understand what you do, Shirley, we think your project is a great idea. There are too many of these out-of-control boys around. Marian’s been bullied several times at school. And we love having little Olivia round. She’s so sweet.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind. Unfortunately these two new trainees present a much sterner challenge. I wouldn’t have asked, but I don’t have the full complement of staff at the moment, and the most difficult bit of the operation is getting them inside and allaying any suspicions. All we need is for the girls to be sweet and welcoming, and to reinforce the narrative. Once we’ve got them inside and quite relaxed we’ll take over.”
“Well, good luck. Do what you need to. We’ve spoken to our daughters already. They seem quite excited to be in on the prank!”
After she’d put the phone down, Shirley sat there for a few minutes, with a strange half smile on her face. Then she called Mandy in.
“I think we have a solution to our problem. Mandy? What do we have in the wardrobe suitable for a couple of twelve-year-old girls?”
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91.
Luke and Max were dropped off outside the front door by their mothers at one-thirty. Shirley was watching from a side window. They came swaggering up the steps. They both had longish hair. Luke was a few inches shorter than Max, with lank blond hair, Max’s more of a mousey colour. Luke seemed particularly proud of his flowing locks, for he was continually rearranging them. They both wore jeans and T-shirts, Max carrying a leather jacket. They were pointing and laughing at Yulya’s old yellow Fiat 500. Typical, thought Shirley. You can’t even drive yet, but you’d mock someone else’s car. Just wait. Luke did a final check of his hair in the pane of glass on the door, and knocked.
She’d found the perfect introductory outfits for Edith and Marian; traditional maids’ costumes, with long black skirts, white aprons, white gloves, and lots of white ruffles. Their cheeks had been rouged and their lips painted scarlet. They looked like two little matching dolls. They were waiting for the boys, each holding a tray bearing an open bottle of beer, as Mandy let them in. They hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the bottles and took a swig.
“Hey, cool! That’s the sort of welcome I like!” said Max, loudly.
Edith looked at them seriously. “Welcome to P & S, Mr Luke and Mr Max. We are your maids for the day. While you play games and relax, we shall bring you whatever food and drink you ask for.”
“Yes,” continued Marian. “would you care to follow us to one of the gaming rooms? Everything is ready for you.”
“Please, boys,” added Mandy, gesturing for them to follow the girls. “We hope you enjoy your stay. We shall do everything we can to make it both comfortable, and we hope exciting, for you. You may take our name as our motto: play and sleep. Play when you like, sleep when you like. Our maids will look after your every need.
“My mum said it would be like this, but I didn’t believe her,” laughed Luke. “Come on, mate, lets go see what games there are.”
They set off behind the girls, holding their beer bottles. “Did you see that one I was playing yesterday? Like you can make the women do whatever you want. That bitch in a spacesuit got fuc-ked by about six guys at once.”
“Yeah? That’s nothin’. There’s this new one out, where all the girls are, like, masochists, an’…”
Their voices trailed away as they turned the corner. Shirley came out from the alcove she had been hiding in.
“How long have they got before the GHB takes effect?” asked Mandy.
“It’s a small dose. Probably half to an hour if they drink all their beer.”
“They're bound to. And there’s plenty more waiting for them in the fridge.”
“Yulya, you’d better go and keep an eye on them,” said Shirley. “Look after the girls. Try not to distract them too much, won’t you? If that’s possible.”
“Yes, Miss Shirley. I give them five minutes. Then I go.”
“Good idea, “ murmured Mandy, looking her up and down with a wry smile. Yulya was not going to brook any attempts at unwanted familiarity. She had dressed to impress, but also to intimidate.
A few minutes later she was making her way to the “gaming room”. She quietly let herself in. The boys were relaxing on a sumptuous sofa in front a huge screen, with their backs to her, fingering their controls and preparing to play. They had their feet on foot-rests. The girls were placing snacks and more drinks on two tables, one for each of them.
“Bring us an ashtray, darlin’,” said Max, taking out a packet of cigarettes. Then he looked closer at Marian. “Hey. Don’t I know you from school? Aren’t you that girl…?”
“That girl you pushed over in the playground last week? Yes, sir, I am. Would sir like another bottle of beer? I see that one’s empty.”
Yulya made her presence known. “No smoking in rooms,” she said, firmly, closing the door behind her. “Important rule.”
“What? ’Oo says…” began Max, swinging round. “We can…” His mouth kept moving, but no sound came out. His eyes bulged.
Yulya was wearing a thick black latex cat suit with heavily-textured knees, elbows, and breasts, and a blue collar, together with electric blue high-heeled ankle boots and blue leather gauntlets. She held a shiny blue motorbike helmet in one hand. The boys stared, their expressions a mixture of lust and alarm.
“I have bike as well as funny car – Honda 750. I come to check you behave. Be nice to maids, if you want we be nice to you.”
Luke rose from his seat…then sat down again. “It’s hot in here…I feel a bit dizzy…”
“Yeah…me too,” added Max. “Tired…busy day…”
And within a couple of minutes they were both fast asleep.
-
92.
Luke was the first to come round. He was alone, sitting by the wall in a small, bare, uncarpeted room. He felt cold. Instinctively, he raised his hand to his head. A shock ran through his body. His hair! Where was it? Was he dreaming? Instead of his beautiful yellow locks, there was…nothing! His head was quite bald! He went to get up, but something at his throat jerked him back. He found he was collared and chained to the wall. He yanked desperately at the chain, but it was quite firm, attached to a solid steel ring plate bolted about three feet up the wall, so that he couldn’t even stand. He looked down. He was wearing nothing but what looked like elasticated rubber baby pants, in a horrible shocking pink. His skin felt weird – tingly. Then he realised that his chest hair was gone, too – no, all his body hair. Anxiously, he pulled open the top of his pants. Yes. All his hair!
He looked around the room. Bare floorboards, a single window, through which he could see only the sky and a distant hill, a couple of cupboards, what looked like a CCTV camera in one corner, pointed straight at him. On the wall, two posters. One, Yulya in her motorbike gear, helmet on and visor closed – a gentle reminder, maybe? The other, a little boy dressed as a baby, sitting on a rug, wearing pants very similar to those he found himself in, with a big smile on his face and a big pink pacifier in his mouth. The face looked familiar. It took him a few minutes to place it.
“Yeah…it’s that kid in those girls’ class…what’s his name…”
Fear gripped him. He was in the hands of…he knew not who. He was helpless. Naked. The thoroughness of his captors was sufficient evidence that their intentions, whatever they were, were serious. He began to sob…then pulling himself together, started to shout – not threats – somehow he knew that would be unproductive – but pleas for help.
“Hey! Is anyone there? Please…I’m cold. Tell me what you want. Please, tell me what you want. My mum will be worried about me. And where’s Max?” A pause. No sound. No reply. “Hello? Please, help me. I’ll do what you want. Please…someone… I’m thirsty…hungry…”
In her office, Shirley, accompanied by Mandy and Yulya, were watching him on CCTV. On the other side of the screen Max could be seen, similarly attired, neatly attached to one pair of steel poles in the milking room.
“Let’s give him another hour,” said Shirley. “Make him realise he has no hope. Then he can join his friend.”
“Shall we give him a drink?” asked Mandy.
“Sure. Yulya? Could you take him some juice in a baby bottle? No, wait. Let the girls go. That will be much more humiliating.”
Luke felt a sudden surge of hope as he heard the door being unlocked. But it subsided immediately. In marched Marian and Edith, smirking with unconcealed delight. Their maids’ outfits had been replaced by riding gear – cream breeches, white shirt, blue and mauve striped tie, shiny boots. Their manner was no longer deprecating.
“Hello, sir,” grinned Edith, sarcastically. “We’ve brought you your bottle. Here.” She placed it on the floor in front of him.
“Drink it all up, like a good little boy,” said Marian, cheekily. “Or we may have to spank you!”
“Please…why have you done this? I never did nuthin’. My mum’s gonna be furious…”
At which the girls simply burst out laughing, turned, and headed for the door. “Love your haircut,” said Marian, as a parting shot. Then they were gone.
Time passed slowly in Luke’s cell. It seemed like two hours – though it was nearer one – when the door opened again. This time it was Shirley, Yulya and Deborah Buff-Hopkins, the latter swinging a dressage whip threateningly. Yulya carried a plastic bag.
“All right, Luke,” said Shirley. “Time to get to work. If you cooperate, things will be easy. If you fight us…”
But Luke wasn’t having any of that. He put his back to the wall, and kicked out.
“Don’t you dare come near me. I do karate at school, you know…”
Shirley adopted a weary look, and motioned to Deborah. She needed no second bidding. The first stroke of her whip raised a red weal across his thigh. He screamed, and tried to turn away, but that merely gave her the chance to deliver a second across his flank, the knotted tip connecting with his buttock.
That was the end of his resistance. He was uncollared, and stood obediently as they dressed him. He was fitted with the prettiest wig – a mass of tight little golden curls. It was glued to his head with some sort of special super wig glue, guaranteed, Mandy assured him, to be immoveable for at least a month. He actually cried as they fitted his chastity device, but they were implacable. It was tubular, with a base-plate and a little soft rubber sac for his balls. The tube was quite straight, pink plastic, with a little ridge on flange near the base. He was given a rather pretty puff-sleeved white blouse with ruffles at the neck, a red tartan mini-kilt with a big silver pin, pink satin split-crotch panties, white knee-socks, and shiny black lace-ups.
Shirley smiled and put her hand on his arm. “There. Doesn’t that feel better? Come and look at yourself in the mirror. Then you can be reunited with your friend. Tomorrow morning we have a lady coming to pierce your ears and your nose. Yes, you’re going to have a nose-ring! Won’t that be exciting? And then you won’t have to dress quite so prissy, will you? No, that will open up all sorts of possibilities…”
-
dressage whips are platypusses
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93.
Shirley was congratulating herself on the success of her strategy. Well, yes, drugging them was something of a blunt instrument, but the “Play and Sleep” motto had provided the initial enticement, together with the cooperation of the mothers. In fact, it was only a variation on a theme. Prospective clients of P & S with ‘difficult’ children would normally have a preliminary meeting with Shirley and Mandy with their children absent. Shirley had foreseen that the first problem would be getting the boys to come willingly to the offices, so parents could be advised to tell their sons that P & S stood for “Pamper and Sympathize”, and that the staff were trained to listen to their complaints and suggest remedies, including the modification of the parent’s or parents’ behaviour! This was designed to appeal to the most difficult cases, the attention-seekers, the arrogant and the belligerent. Of course, this merely altered the problem from physically getting the subjects into the trap, to keeping them there. But this transfer of responsibility was necessary to relieve the parents of an often impossible task. The idea was that they would be so grateful to Shirley and her staff for taking on this burden that they would be more than happy to pay a premium for P & S’s services, to sign over temporary guardianship, (subject to extension), and not to ask too many questions about the tactics employed.
Whatever device had been used in this case, the result was exactly what was needed. The boys were now completely under Shirley's control. And the first thing on the agenda was the Milkmax III. Luke was virtually frogmarched to the milking parlour, with Yulya one side and Anna the other, and Shirley and Mandy following behind. Edith and Marian were desperate to see where they were being taken, but Shirley had put Deborah in charge of keeping them well away. Goodness knows what their innocent little minds would have made of proceedings!
Max was there, still fastened between the poles, but now he too was appropriately dressed. His wig was also blonde, but his new hair was straight and the girls had enjoyed plaiting into two pigtails, secured with blue ribbons. He wore a pretty pale blue ballet outfit – a shiny spandex body over white tights, silver shoes, and to preserve his modesty somewhat a short matching tutu skirt. His feet were held slightly apart with a spreader bar, and each ankle was cuffed with a pink leather strap and chained to the base of the pole. Similar straps encircled his wrists, and they were linked directly to the third loops up the poles – so he was quite comfortable, but firmly secured. Soon Luke found himself in the same position, facing his friend. Their situation was so ridiculous, they couldn’t even bring themselves to look at each other – at least until Shirley lifted the front of Max’s tutu, and showed Luke that his friend was wearing a similar device to his own, projecting through an aperture in his underclothes.
“Shit, Max – how did we get into this mess?”
“Our mums were colluding, weren’t they? Wait till I see her!”
“Now, boys. Don’t waste your energy talking – or struggling, Luke. Relax and smile, while we take a few preliminary photos. Anna, they’re all yours.”
“fuc-k you!”
“Oh, dear Max. You can be so rude. Did you get that on video, Anna? Excellent. He looks so comical with his face all red and angry and his tutu bouncing up and down – not to mention what he’s trying to hide underneath it.”
“You…you…” he fumed, impotently.
“Well, time to get started, I think. Mandy? Yulya? You’re the experts. Off you go.”
Mandy decided the priority was to get their sissifiers fitted, to stifle their protests. It was a simple matter to position the rubber pen-is head against Max’s lips, then use the strap from behind to force it home. Yulya buckled it tightly in place, then did the same for Luke. These ones were slightly larger than they had used before, befitting the boys’ ages, and instead of containing a hollow bulb they were solid, with a narrow duct running through them, so that any fluids forced in would spurt straight into their mouths. Meanwhile Mandy was untangling the tubing. She selected two lengths, each a couple of metres long. Each tube was attached to a sissifier, plugged firmly in, and its other end to the back of the Milkmax next to the boy. Then she produced another two. These were slightly different, having a rubber sheath on one end. First of all she attended to Max. She slid the sheath onto his chastity device, pushing it home until it locked onto the ridge at the base. The boys were looking alarmed now. They were beginning to get the idea. Even so, the next move came as a surprise, for, instead of attaching the other end to his Milkmax, she ran it between the boys and attached it to Luke’s! She then repeated the process for Luke.
“Thank you, Mandy,” smiled Shirley. “This is our first real test of this equipment – at least, using it for mutual feeding. I hope you boys are thirsty.” She put her hands under their skirts and gently cupped two pairs of balls. “Hmm, yes, at least the udders seem nicely full. Let’s relieve the pressure a bit, shall we? Yulya? Power on darling, if you wouldn’t mind.”
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94.
The operation of the Milkmax III was surprisingly quiet. The machines purred into life, and Yulya adjusted the controls until they were pumping at ten percent suction and the frequency regulators were set to two seconds. At these settings, the suction was only discernible by a slight regular twitch of the capillary tubes. By a happy chance, the two machines were working virtually in sync. Yulya looked at the boys’ faces. Luke looked a little distressed, Max still angry. But as the minutes went by, both of them began to look more and more uneasy. She noticed Luke’s sheath, though of course it could not expand, was now almost horizontal, lifting the hem of his kilt, and quivering at each pulse of his machine.
As the fixed wall cameras were now operating, Shirley suggested they all retire to the lounge and watch the process on the big screen, over a few drinks. So they filed out, Yulya ruffling the boys’ hair – wigs, rather – as she left, and giving each of them a pat of encouragement on the cheek. By the time they were settled in the lounge and the gins were poured, things were hotting up in the milking parlour. It was so amusing to watch the expressions on the boys’ faces close up, the transitions from distress to determination to ecstasy, and back to distress. So far neither had cracked, though Max was squirming in an apparent effort to fend off a climax. Deborah appeared at the door.
“Can I watch too?”
“Of course, dear. Sorry to lumber you with the girls.”
“No problem, Shirley. But they can’t contain their curiosity. You’ll have to tell them something.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth when Edith was heard wailing from outside.
“What’s going on, Deborah? What are they doing to Max and Luke?”
Mandy quickly turned the sound off, silencing the boys’ muffled groans and moans. She looked at Shirley for instructions.
“Shall I turn it off?”
“Oh…no. Keep the sound off. Just show their faces, split screen. The girls won’t know what’s going on.” She raised her voice. “Come in, girls, come and watch the fun. We’ve put Max and Luke on a tickle machine! They can’t keep still. You should see their faces!”
The girls burst in and stared at the screen. They both burst out laughing.
“Look at Max! He’s going crazy!” screamed Marian.
“Miss, what are those things in their mouths?” asked Edith. “They look like big dummies with tubes on…”
“Oh, they’re just feeding tubes. They might be there for a while, and we have to make sure they get enough nutrients.”
“Oh, I see. What are you tickling?”
“Ribs, feet, you know. A perfect punishment, don’t you think?”
“Yes. They look really funny! Oh, look…! Max is going all silly!”
“He is! And look,” added Marian, “I think Luke’s getting fed. See that stuff going up the tube?”
“Oh, yes,” said Shirley. “You’re right, Marian. He is.”
“He doesn’t look as though he’s enjoying it very much,” said Edith.
“Well I didn’t say it tasted nice,” laughed Shirley. “What sort of punishment would it be if we fed them ice cream or chocolate sauce?”
“Oh, yes. Of course… So…what is it, then?”
“It’s liquified baby food,” said Mandy. “All gooey and tasteless. Yuk! Serves them right, though.”
“Yes, it does,” said Marian seriously. “Look! Now Max is getting a load.”
“He certainly is,” remarked Deborah with a wink.
“He’s the horrid boy that pushed me over in the playground,” she went on. “I hope it tastes really disgusting!”
The girls watched for a bit longer, then got bored and went off to play outside in the grounds.
“Nice explanation, Shirley,” said Mandy.
“They swallowed it.”
They all laughed.
“Max coming again,” said Yulya. “And machines only on ten percent. How long we leave them?”
“Till they’re exhausted,” said Shirley. “And full. Tonight they can sleep together. We’ll put them in room nine, in the double bed. It’s bugged. I’d like to hear what they say – though I imagine they won't stay awake very long. Tomorrow the woman from Patricia’s Piercings is coming. Then they’re going back into the parlour, and this time I'm going to be there, and watch them in the flesh!”
-
I love the forced "feedings", and the image of them distressed and angry but helpless to prevent it. I hope that's a regular event in their lives. Babies have to be kept well fed
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95.
The boys showed no resistance on being freed from their shackles and led to their bedroom. Before they were allowed to settle down, Mandy fitted each with a locking leather belt, and connected them to each other with a short chain, before giving them their shortie silk nighties and matching bloomers to put on. She also fitted them with new pink leather locking collars, each with a steel leash ring, and a little steel disc, engraved with the words, “Property of P&S”, and Shirley’s phone number. The linked belts were designed to keep them nicely intimate whilst complicating any plans for resistance or escape. In fact, to Shirley’s satisfaction, they ended up cuddling each other most of the night, Max curled up with his arms protectively around his friend like a mother with her child. As she had expected, there wasn’t much conversation.
“I could sleep for a week, Max.”
“Not surprised, given the amount of your stuff I was forced to swallow…”
“Sorry, mate. I tried to think of other things, but…you know, it was, like, relentless. Anyway, what about you? I drank gallons of your c-um. You can’t have had a wank for a fortnight!”
“I’m sorry, too, Luke. I hope it didn’t taste too awful…”
“I never got a chance to taste it. I was too busy trying to gulp it all down before I choked on it!”
They lay there in silence for a minute.
“How could we ‘ave been so stupid?”
“Dunno. It all seemed so promising at first…”
“That Yulya…”
“I know. She’s dangerous. But…pretty sexy…”
“Not ‘alf. You wouldn’t need that machine with ‘er around…”
“Ouch. Stop it. It hurts just thinking about her…”
“Know what I’d like to do? I’d like to…” His voice sank to a whisper.
“Ow! Shut up, Luke! Enough. You’re just making things worse. And god knows what they’ve got planned for tomorrow…”
Shirley took off her headphones with a wry smile of satisfaction. Considering what they had gone through, she thought they had borne up quite well. With a few days more training… And that was interesting about Yulya. Perhaps they should exploit her charms are little more…
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96.
The boys would have overslept the next day, had Yulya not woken them at nine. They gradually regained consciousness to find her unlocking their belts. As they opened their eyes they beheld an unexpected sight. From her wardrobe of outfits, thoughtfully provided by Shirley, she had chosen one of her favourites – though one she wore sparingly. Batgirl had been her favourite character in the original television series. Now she was attired in the same mauve catsuit – heavy latex with reinforced breast cups – with the same yellow bat emblem emblazoned across the chest. She had all the accessories: latex hood with ears and eye-mask, short paler mauve gloves and boots, yellow belt with accoutrements – even a short yellow latex cape! It was enough to achieve its object. Any thoughts of resistance the boys may have had were immediately banished. They were rendered obedient and malleable by surprise and lustfulness.
She ordered them to dress. Today they had new clothes – matching outfits consisting of a simple white cotton blouse with elasticated cuffs and waist, silver spandex hot pants with crotch zip, and over-the-knee white socks with patent black Mary Janes. She calmly attached a leash to each of their collars. Max, staring (accidentally, of course) at the crotch of her suit, noticed a slightly raised circular boss a couple of inches wide. He whispered something to Luke, who followed his gaze.
“Yes, it has dil-do. I turn on here.” She indicated a button on one of the packs attached to her belt. “When I watch Max and Luke in machine I get hot. Then turn on. I need c-um too, yes?”
That did it for the boys. The idea she was getting aroused just watching them...! Any ideas of resistance or protest evaporated.
She had them dress, then attached leashes to their collars, and led them from the room and along the corridor to another room where Mandy and another woman were waiting. Mandy introduced her.
“Boys, meet Patricia from Patricia’s Piercings. You’re honoured. She’s come herself to do the work. Now, if you sit quietly when she’s working, it’ll be a quick and relatively painless process. Okay? Here, Max first please. Hurry up. Sit here.”
Quick it was, painless it wasn’t. But it was soon done. They were left with little gold keepers with heart-shaped ends in their ears, and silver rings dangling from their noses. These may have been somewhat larger than normal, and lacked the usual spherical bosses, but the boys were so distracted by the mere idea of having their noses pierced, they didn’t notice the niceties. In fact, they seemed positively ungrateful, until Mandy started musing about nipple piercings, when they became suddenly happy with Patricia’s services, and anxious to get back to their daily occupation.
As Yulya herded them towards the milking parlour, they encountered Deborah with her two acolytes. The girls screamed with delight when they saw the nose-rings.
“They look like little piggies!” cried Edith.
“Let us see,” said Marian. “Can I touch one…?”
“Luke, kneel,” commanded Yulya. “Girls want to see new rings.”
They played with them for a minute – gently, as Yulya instructed them, and then the boys were allowed to move on.
“Are they going to the tickle machine?” asked Edith.
“Yes, Edith.”
“Can we watch?”
“Not today, darling. Olivia need attention. Maybe soon.”
“Okay. Soon, though. I'll ask Shirley.”
“And Yulya?” added Edith.
“Yes, dear?”
“We love your Batgirl outfit. I wish I had one like that…”
And they went skipping off towards Oliver’s room.
The boys allowed themselves to be attached to the poles without even a protest. Once secured, Yulya unzipped their hot pants and allowed their neatly-packaged members to spring out. Today, the idea that their ordeal may have an arousing effect on Yulya trumped all other considerations. As they were being prepared, they were both staring with anticipation at the object of their fantasies, watching her checking the machines, their coc-ks straining against their retaining sheaths. They were surprised when she put aside the feeding tubes, coiling them up and hanging them on hooks on the sides of the poles. She fitted their sissifiers, but left them plugged.
“Today I want to see which boy make most c-um,” she smiled. “Winner get nice prize.”
She went to the cupboard, took out a small box, and removed from it two little packets, which she brought back and proceeded to open. She took out two translucent condoms, one pink and one pastel blue. First she went to Luke. His pen-is was quivering in a vain attempt to burst its restraint. Yulya smiled.
“Luke – you very impatient today. Little coc-k nice and hard, yes? You show me what you can do, okay? I give you blue one.”
The condom was narrow, with a spherical teat at the end. It seemed slightly thicker than a normal one, with a tight neck. Squeezing the air out of the teat, she rolled it back up the length of his member, over his ball sac, and snapped it into place at the base. Then she did the same for Max, and stood back to admire her work.
“Good. Now vibrators.”
The Milkmax III had an attachment which Yulya was particularly eager to test. She went back to the cupboard, watched keenly by her prisoners, and returned with two fine cables, each two or three metres long, connected to two pink plastic devices. Each consisted of an adjustable collar mounted on a small transverse cylinder, from the end of which the cable emerged. She fixed the collars firmly to the boys taut members at the base of the shaft just in front of their balls, with the cylinders underneath. The other ends of the cables she plugged into the side of the Milkmaxes.
“Now we see if work. Don’t worry. Will not hurt!”
She turned on the Milkmaxes. Immediately the devices started humming, and the boys found their pen-ises vibrating gently but at a very high frequency, producing an irresistibly arousing tickling sensation. They fought against it, but Yulya played with the remote control, delivering a variety of speeds, intensities, and frequencies, and watching their reactions to each. Eventually she opted for a randomly variable setting, so they should not become bored. She stood to one side watching them closely as they struggled to contain their excitement, their shafts visibly twitching with the effort. They watched her with equal attention. Her nipples were clearly visible, stiff under the mauve latex. Her expression assumed the seriousness of intense sexual interest. She licked her lips, and her hand crept towards the control pack on her belt. She touched the button, and her eyelids drooped in ecstasy. At that, Luke was convulsed with his first orgasm, jerking and rattling his steel bonds, and his sperm pumped into the teat of his condom, swelling it to the size of a small plum. It hung there quivering, like a fruit on a stalk. A second later, Max followed suit. Yulya to a step forward and took hold of the two side poles, hanging onto them with a long sigh, while a series of tremors ran through her body. She doubted Shirley would have approved, but she had sexual feelings too, and a powerful though previously concealed streak of exhibitionism. It felt so good to be dressed like this, nipples erect and pussy oozing, watching the effect she could have on these two young men, who, if released, would gladly have dropped to their knees, buried their faces between her legs and…. At which thought, she came all over again.
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97.
But she had given them a kick-start, and now it was time to leave the Milkmaxes to do their work. She switched off her dil-do, and as she headed for the door, she smiled and gave them a little wave.
“Thank you boys. You make Yulya feel good. I come back later to see who give me most milk.”
The only reply was Max depositing a second load in his condom.
Outside she ran into Shirley.
“Yulya! Goodness, I haven't seen that outfit for ages! Don’t give the boys a heart attack, will you? Are you all right? You seem…slightly flushed.”
“I good, Miss Shirley. Boys like Batgirl very much. Make them very obedient.”
“I bet she does. Could you come to my office? I just want to discuss the schedule for next week, when Mitch gets back.”
“Of course.”
“And those girls are demanding to see the tickle machine. Any ideas?”
“There is way, Miss Shirley, I think. I tell you later…”
Back in Shirley’s office, she made them coffee and they sat down to discuss plans. But before they had had a chance to begin, the phone rang. She picked it up.
“Hello? Oh, Alison. Hello. How are you…? Oh. Good. I see. Wait a minute. Yulya’s with me. I’ll put you on speaker. There. So what can I do for you? What’s this proposition?”
Alison was Shirley’s major supplier of clothes and equipment. She had been instrumental in helping she and Mandy to start the business.
“Hi Yulya. Well, dear, we’re working on a new line. And I was wondering… I know you’ve got a few boys there at the moment… I was wondering whether you could help with testing.”
“If I can, of course. What is it, then?”
“You know we used to do some animal costumes. Yes, well, we’ve found a new source, and they’re so well-made, so beautiful. They’ve sent us some samples, and I was wondering whether you could sort of do a test run for us. You know, I’d like to know how robust they are, how they stand up to a few days use. They’ve sent us a medium size – probably fit mid-teens, something like that. Have you got any appropriate subjects in at the moment?”
Shirley looked at Yulya. “Have we, Yulya?” she said, archly.
Yulya laughed. “We have perfect pair, Miss Alison. Do you have two outfits?”
“It’s like Noah’s Ark here! We have two of each animal! We have two horses, two cows, and two pigs. Would any of those serve a purpose?”
“Ooh, I like the idea of horses,” said Shirley. “We have two little girls here who would love to ride them.”
“But Miss Shirley, have you seen boys today? Now have nose rings. Girls even called them piggies this morning.”
“Really? Hear that Alison? Maybe we should try the piggy costumes.”
“Perfect! So it’s definitely piggies then?”
“Yes. Though if it’s a successful trial, we can always use others. Would you be able to help fit them?”
“Of course. I can bring them over whenever you like. The sooner the better.”
“Well, tomorrow? We have nothing else on.”
“Great. I’ll see you in the morning. It should be fun!”
“It should be. See you then, darling. Bye!”
“Bye”
Shirley looked at Yulya. “Pigs, eh? Appropriate for those two, don’t you think?”
-
98.
Yulya called in on the boys that lunchtime. They were still giving generously. They stood there squirming in their shackles, their faces flushed, their eyes pleading, making cute little muffled whining noises through their sissifiers, against the quiet background hum of the machines. Yulya was very gratified to see their condoms were filling up nicely, the two teats now as big as golf balls.
“Good! Boys doing really well! Miss Shirley will be pleased. As special treat, after lunch I bring you visitors – Edith and Marian. Please, don’t frighten. I have screens. You will see. Relax and make milk.”
Using the remote, she adjusted the frequency of the vibrations. The vibrations slowed, and the hum dropped an octave. Max, who had been teetering on the edge for the last twenty minutes, made a noise somewhere a sob and a choke, and pumped another load into his condom. Yulya smiled with satisfaction. As she was closing the parlour door behind her, she met Mandy in the corridor.
“How are they doing, Yulya?”
“Very good, Miss Mandy. Quite big milk already.”
“Good. They’re going to have a very tasty sweet at supper tonight.”
“Soon they want milky treats every day!”
“That’s the idea.”
“At two-thirty girls will visit. I put up screen.”
“Shirley told me. We’ll be there. And Deborah. Should be a laugh!”
“Girls laugh, I’m sure!”
Yulya soon returned. She wedged the door open, and carried in three chrome rope pillars on heavy bases, like those used to funnel queues. The spaced them in front of the boys and attached the two ropes so they were taut. Then she hung lengths of opaque silk from the ropes, obscuring the boys lower halves. She then brought in six chairs one by one, and arranged them in a row on the other side of the room, facing the boys. Then she turned off the vibrators.
“Have break, boys. Audience be here in…” - she checked the Bat Watch - “…in about half hour. Remember girls think you tickle.”
She went to leave. “Oh! Almost forgot.”
She reached into one of her Bat Pouches and produced two tiny silver bells on rings. She approached the boys.
“You first, Max…”
She leant forward and attached the bell to his nose ring. Her perfume, mixed with the smell of warm latex, enveloped him. Her latex gloves lingered under his nose, and she deliberately allowed her breast to push against his shoulder, sending a shiver through his body, and, despite the fact he was almost drained of sperm, making his pen-is quiver with desire. Luke got the same treatment, and felt the point of her nipple against his neck. Yulya was having fun.
The boys were on tenterhooks, and theu were kept waiting forty-five minutes before the visitors arrived. Of course, the girls were first in, but Deborah skilfully kept them back, though they wanted to run and see the boys close up, and got them settled in the middle two chairs. Then Mandy and Shirley sat at one end, and Deborah and Yulya at the other, Yulya next to Edith.
“Are they being tickled?” asked Marian, in a slightly disappointed tone. “They don’t look like they are.”
“Not yet, dear,” said Shirley. We haven’t turned on the tickle machine yet. Yulya, you have the remote. Shall we start?”
“But where are they being tickled? Why can’t we see?”
“Well, their feet and their legs, but also their bottoms, so it wouldn’t be fair make them show us that.”
“Don’t they have any knickers on then?”
“I’m not sure, darling…”
“Aren’t they being fed today? They don’t have those feeding tubes like before?” remarked Edith.
“No,” said Mandy. “We’re going to feed them later. I’m making a special dessert for them as a reward for putting on a show for us.”
“But they still have those big dummies strapped on.”
“Yes. It helps them cope with the tickles. It’s comforting for them to have something to suc-k on.”
“No,” cried Marian. Don’t let them. Why should they have dummies? Take them off!”
Mandy looked at Shirley.
“Why not?” said Shirley. “Let them squeal. Yulya? Would you do the honours?”
Yulya went over and unstrapped the sissifiers.
“Please,” begged Luke, as his was removed. Yulya replied only with a wink. She returned to her seat and sat down, concealing them in her hands as best as she could. But Edith caught a glimpse.
“They’re big…” she gasped.
“Well, they’re for big boys,” remarked Mandy.
Yulya tucked them behind her, and picked up the remote. She started on the lowest settings. The boys, shifted uneasily, and looked very self-conscious. Slowly she increased the frequency, until they began to fidget and make little protesting noises, and their little bells began to tinkle.
“No…please…” moaned Luke.
The girls were happier now. Edith looked at the remote.
“What are those dials for, Yulya?”
“This one power of tickle, this one fast or slow tickle. This one at end type of tickle. Can be steady, off and on tickle, fast and slow, random tickle.”
“Can I have a go?”
“Yeah,” cried Marian. “Can we have a go?”
“Well, I don’t know…”
“Let Yulya do it for now, girls,” said Mandy. “In a few minutes we’ll let you try it out.”
“Yippee! We’re gonna tickle those stupid boys!”
“Look at Max! He’s going all funny. Look at his face!”
Max was groaning. Yulya turned the control back to a slow setting. She wanted to save them for the big climax.
After twenty minutes of squirming and bobbing, moaning and pleading, continuously accompanied by the pretty music of the silver bells, the girls got their turns.
“Don’t let them!” cried Max. “That’s not fair!”
“Yes it is!” shouted Edith. “You’re the ones who are not fair. You bully kids smaller than yourselves. You deserve all the tickling you get!”
Their strategy was predictable. After winding the dials up and down a few times, and laughing at the wild reactions of the helpless boys, they jointly decided they wanted to see what the tickle machine was really capable of. Holding the remote between them, they took it in turns to adjust the controls, until they were all on maximum.
The result was inevitable. Max held on for a few seconds, then gave a great shout, and began to jerk up and down like a marionette.
“Oh, god…ooh, I’m c-um…I mean, no more, please, I can’t stand it…please…”
The girls clapped their hands in delight. Mandy murmured something about having lots of cream for the boys sweet. Deborah looked triumphant, it being her firm philosophy that all boys over the age of eleven should be regularly milked to keep them in their places. Luke resisted longer, but eventually he too succ-umbed, moaning and gasping loudly, and twisting back and forth frantically, making the steel poles quiver.
Oh, fuc-k, no…not again…oh, god, no…you…you fuc-king bitches…”
Everyone was horrified. The girls were furious.
“Miss? Did you hear what he said? He’s horrid! He ought to be spanked!”
But Deborah Buff-Hopkins was already on the case. She stood up, withdrew the riding whip from her right boot, and strode over to the boys. Without a word she marched round behind them.
“Not another word!”
And with that, she proceeded to whip Luke’s bottom. Twelve blows, as hard as she could muster, ten across the buttocks and two across the tops of his thighs.
It was the work of seconds, but it left him sobbing and choking an pleading for mercy. Edith and Marian were ecstatic.
“I-I’m sorry…please…I didn’t mean it…”
“Quiet, boy, or you’ll have another twelve. And the pair of you will report to me at eight tomorrow morning, for boot-cleaning duties. Understand?”
“Y-yes, miss…”
“You?”
“Y-yes, m-miss,. Absolutely, miss…”
She resumed her seat. Shirley leant over.
“Thank you Deborah. And that’s a very good idea to have them cleaning your boots.”
“Thank you, Shirley. I just hope they have enough polish left for the job,” she added, with a meaningful wink.
After the others had filed out, the girls holding onto each other and giggling with delight, Yulya approached the subdued pair. She shook her head slowly.
“Naughty boys.”
She checked the condoms. Both teats were hanging down, heavy with sperm.
“Both very full. I check weight later to see who win.”
She slid them off, tied the necks off, and put them in a plastic bag for Mandy. Luke was still sniffling.
“I hope you learn lesson today. Tomorrow you both have nice surprise.” She smiled to herself when she thought what it was. “Winner today get surprise first, yes?”
-
99.
Having given their milk so generously that day, the boys were allowed a few hours to rest and relax and play computer games. They slouched on the sofa together, and Yulya brought them some drinks and snacks. She still wore her Batgirl costume, partly to keep them interested, but also because it made her feel so sexy, especially with the smooth shaft of the rubber dil-do buried in her pussy. After she had gone, Luke whispered to his friend.
“fuc-k, Max, at first I thought she was pretty straight, but she’s as big a pervert as the rest of them, isn't she? I almost don’t care what they do to us now, so long as she’s around. Do you think she’d ever… you know?
“No, mate. We’ve got no chance. Not unless we kidnap her, like in the series. You know, she always used to end up trapped by the villain…?”
“Yeah, in bondage…”
“Yeah… If I had her all tied up, know what I’d do?”
“What?”
“I’d wank myself off and c-um all over her tits! Her tits are incredible.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, yeah…I guess. Why, what would you do?”
“Er…well, she’s pretty scary, it’s true…I dunno…”
“Okay, you don’t have to be realistic. I mean, just, like, fantasize. Know what I mean? Say you could do anything. Say you weren’t scared of her.”
“Okay…” He frowned with concentration. “I know. I’d c-um all over her tits…and her face…and I’d make her suc-k my coc-k, and c-um in her mouth!”
“Woo…really?”
“No, not really! You said, fantasize, so I did. I mean, s’pose she got free?”
“You’re right. You’d have to run. But she’s something, isn’t she. When she turned on her dil-do…”
“Yeah, I know. She really did, too. I heard it buzzing…”
“I wanna c-um now, just thinking about her. I wish we didn’t have these things on. It almost hurts, doesn’t it?”
“I know. But I’m gonna masturbate in bed tonight. Would you describe her while I do it?”
“Okay…but you gotta do the same for me…”
“It’s a deal. Right. Let’s play.”
With these, and other similarly bold and daring ideas, the boys resumed their primary occupation of playing, not with themselves, but with their controllers.
In the kitchen, Mandy, assisted by Yulya, was preparing them a risotto. She was good at risotto. But today the dessert was the focus of attention.
The two full condoms lay on the counter. She weighed them.
“Luke’s is just the bigger. He gets the prize.”
“He get prize tonight, too.”
“Yes, he will. And so will Max. Yulya, darling, would you mix them together in that bowl and whisk them up? I’ll to put most of it in the little banana cheesecake, and save a tablespoonful for the sweet whipped cream. I doubt they’ll realise, what with the bananas and the sugar…”
At supper, the cheesecake and whipped cream were produced from the fridge. Mandy divided the cake into two equal portions (though this may have been a little unfair to Luke) and put them in bowls, serving the cream in a separate jug. To her delight the boys set to greedily, gobbling down the banana sperm cheesecake, and scooping out all the thick whipped c-um-cream to put on top. They even complimented her on it.
“Thanks Mandy. That cheesecake was the business…”
“And the cream…”
“It’s a pleasure, boys. I’ll make you another one soon.”
“Yes please!”
“I think they’re really getting a taste for it,” she remarked, after they had retired to their room to entertain the fantasies.
“Yes,” agreed Yulya. “And soon they get taste for each other, like all good sissies should!”
-
Utterly delightful forced milkings and feedings, endlessly. The little darlings reduced to sweet, pretty cream factories. I adore this story.
-
100.
“Did you know there were more than forty breeds of pig? And that’s just in the UK,” remarked Alison, as Mandy helped her in with two large holdalls.
“Really? So which breed…” She nodded towards the bags.
“Oh, well, I don’t think they’re that specific,” said Alison. “But they sent me one pink one and one pink with black markings. So you’ll be able to tell them apart. Because, believe me, once they’re all piggied up you won’t know the one from the other!”
“Sounds promising…”
“I do hope they fit. I hope the subjects aren’t too thin…”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t say so. They’re quite big, meaty sorts of guys. And we’ve been feeding them well,” she added, with an enigmatic smile.
Luke’s prize was to get fitted up first, and to have the more decorative piggy costume. Of course, he had no idea what was in store, but when Yulya arrived in the bedroom and told him to get up, he obeyed at once, and was ready to follow her anywhere. She had dressed in utilitarian style, conscious that she was going to have to play the part of farmgirl or pig-herder, in black latex leggings, black rubber boots, black cropped vest and short black leather jacket. She took a pair of short black latex gloves from her pocket, and pulled them on, slowly and carefully, watching the boys’ reactions out of the corner of her eye. She had noticed the mere action, its ambiguity and the hint of discipline to follow, not to mention the sound of the rubber as it encased her fingers, was enough to cause them some alarm and to quell any rebellious thoughts – not that they looked as if they had any, today.
“Luke. You win competition. Come with me for special treat, please.”
“Oh, no. I’m gonna have to clean that Deborah woman’s boots, right?”
“No. You have reprieve. Prize has arrived early. You both clean Miss Buffy-Hopkins’ boots later.”
She didn’t even bother with a leash, but simply took him by the hand and led him towards the door.
“What about me? Not fair!” cried Max. He sounded so much like a six-year-old that Yulya couldn’t conceal a smile.
“Don’t worry, Max. I return for you soon.”
Yulya led him to one of the dressing rooms, where Shirley, Mandy, Deborah and Alison were waiting. The bags lay unopened against the wall.
“Hello, Luke,” said Shirley. “I’d like you to meet our friend and business partner, Alison. Alison designs and produces and sells clothes and costumes of all sorts. Alison, this is Luke, one of our newest trainees.”
“Hello Luke. You’re a handsome fellow. Very pleased to meet you.”
“Er…yes, pleased to meet you, er…Alison…”
“I understand from Shirley you won some sort of award for outstanding performance. She won’t tell me exactly what it entailed, but she’s asked me to supply a special prize.”
“Prize…?”
“Yes. A modelling contract. Short-term, I’m afraid, unless you turn out to be some sort of wunderkind! Three days.”
“Oh, er…what do I have to…”
“Model? Well I have a couple of outfits in mind. Nothing too garish, don’t worry. In fact, something quite down-to-earth. And I suppose you want to know what you’ll be paid. Now, let me see…”
She took out a small notebook.
“Damn these accountants…ah, yes, here we are. Trainee models…fifty-five pounds per day. So a hundred and sixty-five pounds. Cash, of course. You’ll have to handle your own tax affairs.”
“Yeah? Really?”
“Yes. It’s pretty standard. Well, is it a deal?”
“Yeah. Sure. Max is gonna be really pissed, though.”
“Well, maybe we can find something for him… I’ll have a think.” She smiled. “So. Ready?”
“Now?”
“No time like the present. Get those nightclothes off and we’ll get started. Don’t be shy. You’ve got a nice body.”
As Luke was undressing, she opened one of the bags and took out some lengths of shiny black tape.
“Sit down here, please. Now, I want you to fold your arms up and touch your shoulders.”
“Why do I…?”
“Just do what Alison tells you,” said Deborah, curtly.
Luke saw her whip was in its usual place, pushed own the side of her boot, so he thought he’d better obey. Alison deftly wound the bondage tape round one doubled arm, then the other, rendering him defenceless. The women then lifted him out of the chair and placed him face down on the couch, where his legs received the same treatment.
“W-what are you doing? I don’t understand…” He struggled, but all he was able to do was to roll onto his side. He began to shout, so Mandy quickly pushed a sissifier into his mouth and buckled it up tightly behind his head.
“Right. Now, let’s get the suit,” said Alison.
The article that came out of the holdall was made of thick, heavy, moulded latex with a matt finish, a sort of dirty pink with big greyish-black patches.
“Shirley, could you put him on his back? We need to get the limbs in first. It’s dusted so it should go one without any fuss.”
They put his arms in first, then his legs. It’s amazing how helpless one becomes with no operable hands or feet. His pathetic struggles inconvenienced them not at all.
“Notice the hooves,” said Alison. “Solid rubber. The front ones are built up so he won’t be tilting forward. They’ve even moulded them to look like real pigs’ trotters!”
The belly of the suit sported two rows of little nipples. At Alison’s request, they turned him over onto his hooves and stood him on the floor. He had to spread his arms and legs or he would have toppled over. But it was just as Alison had planned; while he was focusing on keeping his balance he had no means of defending himself. He was totally vulnerable.
At the front of the suit there was a short tube or collar, three or four inches deep, which they forced over his head until it snapped into place around his neck. It fitted snugly under his chin at the front, and just over the sissifier buckle at the back. From the base of the collar, a heavy duty zip began ran all the way along his back to the end of his spine. The pull was slotted, and designed to fit over a steel staple welded into the body of the suit at the back end. With an effort, Alison zipped it up about three-quarters of the way, pulling the latex taut over his body. It fitted him snugly.
“That’s perfect, isn’t it,” said Alison, with obvious satisfaction.
“Fits him like a glove,” agreed Mandy.
“I haven’t zipped it right up yet, and I’ll show you why. See here?”
She indicated Luke’s bottom and crotch. The latex here was pierced with two apertures. The upper one, opposite the anus, consisted of a steel ring maybe an inch and a half in diameter. She stuck one finger into the hole so they could see the inside.
“This ring is double, with the latex sandwiched between it. Very strong. And it has a purpose, which I’ll demonstrate shortly.”
Luke was beginning to make muffled noises of protest, and trying to move forward.
“Luke! Keep still, please! Or we’ll have to tether you up by your nose ring. If you struggle, you’re going to fall over! You can start learning to walk piggy-style when we finished dressing you. Boys! Why are they always so impatient?”
The women had to smile at the seriousness with which Alison said this. But she had already moved on.
“This lower aperture – well you can guess what that’s for.”
This one was oval, and simply had a thickened latex lip.
“Let me get his little things through…” She stretched the hole open with her fingers, allowing Luke’s private parts to escape, then let is snap back so that the rubber lip was firmly gripping the base of the shaft behind his balls.
“Now, I presume you won’t want everything he has on permanent display. So the manufacturers have supplied this little pouch of soft latex which can be attached with these six little rubber press-studs…” She paused. “Shirley? Before I put this on…does he have to wear this…this device? There’s really no need. In this suit he’s quite incapable of touching himself, you know.”
“Oh, of course… Mandy? Do you have the key? Could you take it off?”
“Yes, I have it on me. One second…” Mandy unlocked the chastity device, and slid it off. “There. Gone.”
For Luke, it was almost worth the humiliation of the rubber piggy suit, just to get rid of that awful thing. Alison attached the pouch. After days of constriction it felt so soft and comfortable he could have smiled – had he not been firmly gagged. But his relief was short-lived.
“Now, the finishing touch.”
She produced from the bag a black rubber plug, maybe four inches long or so, shaped rather like one of those strange toadstools called a stinkhorn – a smooth shaft with an end like a small hen’s egg point first, and a tiny steel button at the tip. From the base projected a threaded steel tube no more than an inch long. “You know what this is, ladies. This has to be inserted underneath the suit, before the zip is locked, so that it cannot be removed. I’ll demonstrate.”
Luke guessed what she was about to do, but had no way of protecting himself. She lubricated the plug with a clear gel from a tube, and, pulling back the latex at the end of the open zip, slid it down between his buttocks and, without a moment’s hesitation, pushed it firmly home into his anus. Luke flinched, his eyes widened, and he emitted a dismayed squeak. Then she pushed the short steel tube through the steel ring, where it fitted exactly, and snapped the latex back into place. All that remained was to close the zip, push the hasp in place over the staple, and secure it with a tiny padlock.
“Now, we’re getting somewhere. Now, every piggy needs a tail. Here is Luke’s.”
She held up a little curly pink rubber tail on a circular base. She waggled it to demonstrate its flexibility, then showed them that inside was another threaded steel tube, designed to screw onto that projecting from Luke’s butt. Into that one she first slid a single double-A battery, then screwed the tail home, so that the rubber base fitted tightly against the latex skin. She flicked it a couple of time, then pulled it and let it go, making it dance like a spring.
The women giggled. “He looks so cute,” said Shirley.
“I’m not finished yet, darling.”
She rummaged in the bag. Out came a spherical pink latex piggy hood, with open face and floppy ears.
“Could someone give me a hand? Shame about his hair, but you don’t see many pigs with ringlets. Right out of fashion.”
Yulya volunteered to help stretch open the hood. With an effort, they finally got it on, and pulled and tugged it until it fitted smoothly. The neck opening overlapped the collar of the suit. The face opening was a lateral oblong with rounded corners, which just skimmed his eyebrows at the top, and covered his mouth and gag, so that all that could be seen of his face was his eyes and nose. Two floppy rubber ears hung down each side of his head. Alison gave one a friendly pull. The latex clung to the shape of the sissifier guard, against which rested Luke’s nose ring. As far as they could tell, his expression was not a happy one.
“You can talk freely, ladies. He can’t hear a thing in that. So what do you think?”
“It’s incredible, Alison,” said Mandy. “All he needs is a snout, and he would be a pig!”
“Funny you should say that. The manufacturers also make hoods complete with snouts. But when I heard your boys had nose-rings, I thought it would be a shame to hide them. However, I do have one other option to make him look more realistic. See this?”
She pulled at a little latex loop on the forehead of the hood.
“Yes…” said Shirley.
Alison reached into the bag. “And see these?”
Shirley gasped. “Nose-hooks!”
“Exactly. On elastic. So we thread it through the loop…so…then, attach the hooks…voilà!
Luke’s nostrils were pulled up so they faced forwards, piggy-style. His ring dangled down. Now he looked like a real piggy.
“Yulya? Get Anna in here,” said Shirley. Before we do anything else, I want some photos. And a video. And find some thin ribbon. We’ll tie it to his ring, and you can walk him round the room a few times.”
“Alison? You’re a genius,” said Mandy.
“Not me. My suppliers.”
“I would say that’s a good morning’s work,” added Shirley, rubbing her hands and ignoring the tear which trickled down Luke’s cheek.
“It’s not over yet, dear,” said Deborah. “Don't forget Max.”
-
101.
Anna was delighted to have the opportunity to record Luke’s ultimate humiliation, including taking several close-ups of his face, which, despite the disfiguration of the nose-hooks, perfectly conveyed his profound annoyance and frustration. He was particularly unnerved by the fact that, as far as he could understand, no-one was expressing any interest in the question of when he should be released.
That inference was, sadly for him, quite correct. In fact, Shirley and Mandy were discussing the idea of creating a little pig pen in the field behind the offices.
“You know those two old loose-boxes where that girl from the farm used to keep her horses?” Shirley asked Mandy. “They’re still in good condition. We could easily get them cleaned out, put some clean straw in, and the boys – sorry, the piggies – could live there. Then they could come out and graze in the field in the daytime.”
“That a good idea,” said Mandy, enthusiastically. “We could scatter some little treats about for them to find. It would be such fun watching them foraging for food in the grass.”
“The girls would love having a couple of piggies to play with. I can just imagine them chasing them about.”
“Yes…and riding them, probably! Of course, they’d have to be properly looked after…I mean, fed and watered. Washed occasionally. They’d need a toilet, and someone to take out their plugs every morning…”
“Let me mind pigs,” offered Yulya. “When girl I work on farm. Know about animals.”
“Well, if you want to…”
“Very much.”
“Okay. That’s settled. Alison, how often do you think we would we need to take them out of their suits? Let them exercise their limbs?”
“Honestly, Shirley, I have no idea. See how they go. But if you do, make sure you can get them back in again. And I would suggest you never take off their hoods. If their heads feel like piggies’ heads they may start to believe they are piggies. As for feeding, you will need to fit them with leather collars – Mandy tells me they already have some. There’s a special device which comes with the suit – let me show you.”
She produced a slightly curved strip of moulded pink plastic, with a plastic hook at each end, and a fine chain in the middle.
“Now, all you have to do is to hook this over the bottom of the face panel, then pull it down below the mouth and attach the end of the chain to the collar. The latex there is thinner and quite stretchy. That will allow them to eat, or be fed, and you can release it when they’ve finished.”
“Perfect. They’ve really thought of everything, haven’t they?”
Luke had to stand there on his four stumps trying to lipread. The hood reduced speech to an unintelligible murmur. What he did know was that Max was going to be next – he could see a pink suit peeping out of the other bag – and to tell the truth he was not sorry. In fact, the sooner he had some piggy company the better, he thought.
Anna having taken sufficient photos, Yulya attached a ribbon to Luke’s nose ring and gave it a gentle tug. It was impossible for him to resist the command, especially as his nose was still sore from the piercing, so he began to move. The soft rubber hooves were kind to his elbows and knees, and the only real discomfort he felt came from the butt-plug, which moved inside him as his springy tail wagged and flicked to and fro. Although progress was slow, his confidence grew after a couple of circuits of the room, and he found he could easily keep up with Yulya, walking slowly ahead of him. Anna followed him around with the video camera, encouraging him, while the others looked on with approval.
“He’s really getting into it…”
“Look at his little legs go...!”
“Go on, Lukey-pig,” urged Anna. “You are clever piggy… How fast you trot! Miss Shirley very pleased with Lukey-pig…”
Luke could her nothing of this however, nor Mandy’s next suggestion.
“You know what, Shirley? When Max is all piggied up as well, we could race them in the field.”
“Good idea, Mandy. Winner gets a treat – something nice, so they really will compete to get it.”
“Like an ice-cream or something…”
“I was thinking more about a grooming from Yulya…”
“Oh! Now that they would fight for…”
-
102.
When they had had their fun with Luke, he was led into Shirley’s office and locked in, and Max was brought in. He proved even more naïve than his friend, and was soon in the same state, trussed up, plugged and hooded. Then, while Deborah put him through his paces – the swish of her whip was enough to get him moving - Yulya went to clean out the loose boxes, and Shirley got on the phone and arranged to have a quantity of clean straw delivered the next day. Then she followed Yulya across the field.
The loose boxes were stone-built with wooden roofs, and in quite good condition. They were in one corner of the field, backing onto a hedge and fence, and there was a tap on the outside wall of the right-hand box. The floor was concrete, and there were tethering rings on the walls. The split doors needed painting, but otherwise they were immediately habitable.
“These are perfect, Yulya. Don’t you think?”
“Perfect. Yes, Miss Shirley. When I arrived tap was running. Not much, but now corner of field very wet and muddy. Give me idea.”
“Yes…?”
“Put up pen there. Put piggies into pen when rainy. Piggies love mud. Roll about in it.”
“I think you have something there…”
“They have fun, we have fun.”
“And if we allowed people in to watch, they could have fun too!”
“Miss Shirley!” cried Yulya, pretending to be shocked. “Next thing you put up sign and charge pound to see silly piggies! Poor boys!”
They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Anyway, the straw will be here tomorrow. Let them sleep indoors tonight, and tomorrow we’ll show them their new home. I'll arrange to get the doors painted - pink, I think - and I know a fencer who could easily make them a pen.”
“I looking forward to being pig-keeper.”
“They’ll be happy you’re the one that’s going to be looking after them.”
“Oh, yes. Yulya look after them, all right…”
-
I think I love Yuliyah. I love the little sissies being made into piggies and forced to wallow in filth. Yes, please
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103.
Moira Sullivan was excited. In the Scout world, she was about to become famous, as the young, dynamic troop leader prepared to go the extra mile in embracing the LGBT ethos, setting an example to her older peers. She had explained her plan to the boys the day before, and though their reaction had been unenthusiastic, to say the least, they were already so demoralized by the spread of their notoriety even to their troop leader that they were unable to defend themselves, and capitulated without a fight. As she made her way to the girls’ tent, where they were lodging, a squishy parcel whch had just arrived by courier under her arm, and two rainbow scarves in her hand, she fantasized about fame, promotion,… awards, even. At the last convention she had been rather looked down upon for her youth and inexperience. But now she was going to make a name for herself, and they would all see her in a different light. Which turned out to be a surprisingly accurate prediction…
In her excitement, she he rather anticipated the time the Scouts would be rising, and found a tent full of sleeping bodies when she arrived.
“Boys!” she hissed, nothing daunted. “Boys! Look what I’ve got for you!”
“W-wha..? Miss? What time is it…?” asked Bobby, sleepily.
“I don’t know, Bobby,” replied Moira, irritably. “Look. I’ve brought you new rainbow shorts, and your rainbow scarves. You’ll need to wear these today… For the photographer, remember? She’ll be here at one. You can change here…say at twelve. Then I’ll come and check you, make sure you’re both neat and tidy. It’s very exciting…”
But Bobby had already fallen back asleep.
Moira had it all worked out. The local paper had at first been reluctant to take the story, but she had pestered the editor until he agreed to hand it to one of his junior reporters. He didn’t promise he’d publish it in the print edition, but after a lot of cajoling from Moira agreed to do a splash online.
The reporter, one Sandy Simpson, sounded on the phone not much older than some of Moira’s charges. But at least she was enthusiastic, took down all the details, and asked intelligent questions – such as, “how did you find out the boys were gay?” and “do you anticipate any adverse effects from this publicity?” In short, she got the whole story, and all she then needed were some photos to back it up – and a video would be nice, since it was publishing online. So the appointment was made.
Penny and Tracey were the first to wake, disturbed by Moira’s premature arrival. They saw the Pride scarves, and decided they would do the boys a favour and open the parcel for them. As quietly as they could, they unwrapped the paper and took out a black plastic bag. Penny reached in and pulled out two pairs of shorts. They were undeniably pretty – bands of rainbow colours in the translucent latex merging into each other, the zip pull a large pink plastic ring, and a little pink rubber flower attached the left leg, just above the turn-up – one of Alison’s logos. They woke Marcia and Marcella, and all four of them were soon giggling over the boys’ new outfits. Marcella help a pair up.
“There a bit on the small side, aren’t they? Are they seriously going to get their pictures in the paper wearing these?”
“The rubber’s a lot thinner than their other shorts,” remarked Marcia.
“Well, at least they’ll stretch a bit more then,” said Penny. “But they’d better be careful they don’t burst them!”
Marcella pulled at the latex. “See that? When you do stretch it, it’s almost see-through! The colours aren’t solid like on their other ones. And what’s this?” Inside the parcel there was also a little carboard packet, with the name “Lubitex” on the outside. She opened it, and held up a what looked like a tiny toothpaste tube. With some difficulty she read out the instructions.
“The printing’s so tiny… Let me see… ‘Lubitex lubricant…specially designed for close-fitting latex clothing…assists dressing…’ Here we go… ‘Use sparingly. Squeeze small bead of lubricant inside clothing and spread over interior surface by rubbing garment from outside.’”
“They’re certainly going to need that,” grinned Marcia. She picked up one pair of shorts. “Here, squeeze some in here…”
“I’ll do these,” said Penny, eagerly. “Shh – don’t wake them up just yet…”
Once both pairs of shorts had been treated with lube, and folded up again, Tracey shook the boys by the shoulder.
“Wake up, guys! Time to get up. You’ve got a big day ahead of you!”
Bobby and Michael roused themselves. Bobby lifted himself up on his elbows and looked around sleepily.
“What’s going on? What do you want?”
“Come on, sleepy head,” said Tracey, gently. “You need to get ready for the photographer.”
Bobby frowned. Michael blinked.
“What’s the time? Nine? Not yet, idiots,” groaned Bobby. “We don’t have to change until twelve.”
“But look at your new Pride shorts,” said Penny, holding them up. “So pretty! Bet you can’t wait to slip into them.”
The boys didn’t get the joke, of course. But they looked at the shorts with some misgivings.
“They don’t look big enough,” remarked Michael, frowning.
“Oh, they’ll be fine,” said Penny, brightly. “They stretch. See?” She demonstrated.
“But you’re right. We’ll put them back in their wrapping till later. There,” she added, slipping the Lubitex tube quietly into her pocket.
Later that morning, Moira got the girls together.
“I want you four to stay behind when the troop goes out this morning.”
“Miss? But we were supposed to be going to the world of adventures place!”
“I’m sorry. I need you for the photoshoot. I’ve got it all planned. I’ll be in front with an arm around each of the boys. I want you four to stand behind us, two on each side, looking happy and excited. Make peace signs, or whatever. I want us to look like a big happy family. Understand?”
After she had gone, the girls looked at each other miserably.
“She’s totally ruined our day,” said Tracey.
“It’s all about her looking cool,” said Marcella. “That’s all. She doesn’t care about Bobby and Mike at all.”
“Or us,” added Penny.
There was a silence.
“I know,” said Marcia. “Let’s go put a bit more lube in their pants. Make sure they’re nice and slippery.”
“Good idea,” said Penny. Give them a treat.”
And they sneaked back to their tent, unfolded the rainbow sorts, and gave them a second treatment, paying special attention to the crotch.
The campsite was deserted now. The four girls and the two boys hung around in the games room playing table tennis and tabletop soccer. About twelve-fifteen Moira interrupted them.
“Girls, you look very nice. Boys? Ms Simpson will be here in less than an hour. You need to go and get changed now. I’ll come and inspect you shortly. It may be easier for you to change outside the tent – but go behind it, by the hedge, just in case. I don’t want any of the other admin staff seeing you. We’ll come out onto the grass for the photos and use the tents as a backdrop. Girls, you’d better wait by the driveway just in case the journalist arrives early. Tell her we’ll be ready shortly.”
“Yes, miss. What does she look like, miss?” asked Penny.
Moira looked at her with exasperation. “I don’t know, Penny! Like a journalist. A young woman. What do you think?”
Penny gave a bored shrug.
“And boys, roll your scarves neatly, understand? Not too tight. And tuck your shirts in. I’m going to check everything when I come over. Now I need to go and put on my best shirt and my award sash. We’ve all got to look our best.”
Bobby and Michael made their way reluctantly back to the tent. They collected the package and went round behind the tent in the shade of the hedge, where they removed their navy shorts and prepared to put on the rainbow ones.
“Bit small, aren’t they?”
“Shit, Mike, we’re gonna look right sissies in these…”
“Slide on easy, though…”
“Too easy…hold on, let me zip them up…”
“Well they’re on…but…”
“They’re so short, there’s no room for your willy…”
“If you’re not careful, it’s gonna come slipping out of the leg! Put it vertical, like this… See?”
“I can see, all right… I can see everything you’ve got! Seriously, I’m not having my picture taken like this!”
“You got no choice, mate… Try walking about…”
They walked up and down behind the tent a few times.
“Bobby? Are you feeling what I’m feeling…?”
“I’m getting a massive erection, if that what you mean. They’re so slippery! It just keeps sliding about. I’m gonna put my belt on, or it’ll be out of the waistband soon at this rate!”
“Yeah, when I walk it slides from one side to the other. I’m gonna hold it still, and keep my hands over it for the photos.”
“And what if she wants us to wave, or something? It’s gonna look a bit suspicious if you stand there holding it in one hand, isn’t it?”
“Why did she have to do this? She never asked us if we wanted to be in the paper. It’s all about her, as usual.”
“What’s she gonna say when she sees the state of us?”
“We’ll just have to pose in a way that it won’t show, that’s all…”
“Yeah, that’s good…kneeling, or sitting on the grass…that’ll work.”
“Shh! Here she comes.”
Moira appeared around the side of the tent. She was dressed in her best uniform, with a green skirt and a green sash across her chest smothered with award badges. She wore a beret on which she had sewn a Scout badge.
“Hello boys! All ready? She be here in about….” She stopped and stared at them in horror.
“How have you got yourselves in that state? I can’t be photographed with you looking like that! What have you been up to?”
“It’s not our fault, miss! It’s these shorts you got for us! They’re so small and tight, and inside they’re all slippery!” wailed Michael.
“Yeah,” added Bobby, “and the rubber’s so thin and stretchy it shows off everything we’ve got! What are we supposed to do?”
“Well you can’t have your photos taken like that! It’ll sabotage my big moment. Why do you boys always have to be so…” She looked at them indignantly. She thought for a moment. “Do you need to…you know?”
“What?”
“Masturbate! Would that help?”
“It might…”
“Well do it, then. I’ll go round the front of the tent. Just don’t take too long. Ms Simpson will be here in…let me see…about twenty-five minutes.”
She left them, and with sighs of relief they released their overheated members from their confinement and began to masturbate. But masturbating to order is not the same as simply relieving one’s excitement. They had been put in a rather uncomfortable position, and neither was relaxed enough to achieve the necessary result. After five minutes or so, Moira called to them.
“Well? Are you finished?”
“Sorry, miss,” replied Michael, working away conscientiously at the appointed task without really getting any nearer a satisfactory conclusion. “It’s difficult… I don’t think we’re really in the mood…”
“Not in the mood? Not in the mood? You’re joking, aren’t you? If that’s not being in the mood I’d like to see you when you are in the mood!”
She paced up and down with frustration. Then she made a decision. If she wanted this photoshoot to come off successfully, she had to act. She strode round the tent and confronted them. If she hadn’t been in such a state of nerves she would have laughed out loud. They stood there sheepishly, holding their stiff, oozing coc-ks, and looking at her apprehensively.
“Right. Stand side by side, backs to the hedge.” She took them by the shoulders and pushed them into place. “Okay. You can let go of them now. If you’re unable to perform a simple task, then I suppose I’ll have to show you how it’s done.”
It has to be said that Moira was quite adept at hand-jobs. All her boyfriends knew it was one of her specialities. These were mere boys, so she was confident she could achieve her end in short order. She knelt, took them in hand, (one in each hand, to be specific), and began to massage them with slow, regular strokes.
“Good boys…” she purred, “just relax and enjoy… Maybe I should have suggested you wank each other…but I hope this will be almost as good... Gosh, your coc-ks are so big and hard…and so juicy, too… Look, your juices are making my hands all slippery…” She began to alternate the movements of her hands. “Does that feel nice?”
The boys’ eyes were closed now, their heads back, and they were breathing deeply. Michael took his friend’s hand and held it tight. Bobby groaned. Moira really knew what she was doing. He wondered how long he’d be able to hold on.
Moira’s plan had been to bring them to orgasm simultaneously, then at the critical moment to bend their pricks up and outwards, generating a sort of sperm firework display. She thought it would be a fitting climax to her demonstration of sexual expertise. They were nearly there, when she caught sight of a slight movement out of the corner of her right eye. She glanced towards it – and froze. Peeping round the edge of the tent was the face of a young woman! A young woman holding her phone and quite obviously recording the proceedings. For an instant, she panicked, not knowing what to do. Possibly she inadvertently gripped the boys tighter for a moment. Whatever the reason, at that moment they both emitted cries of ecstasy, and climaxed. She let go of their pen-ises and went to rise from her knees. But as they started c-umming, both boys instinctively reached for something to steady themselves, and the only available support was Moira’s head. Her beret was knocked off, and she found herself held by her hair, while the boys unloaded their pent-up sperm all over her! She struggled to escape, but by the time she had disengaged herself, they were spent, and she was smothered from her eyebrows to her skirt!
She rose slowly to her feet. The woman – she was scarcely more than a girl – emerged from her place of concealment, smiled a triumphant smile, and spoke – without lowering her phone for a second.
“You must be Moira Sullivan. Pleased to meet you. I’m Sandy Simpson.”
Moira was virtually speechless. “I…I…I was just…”
“Just getting the boys ready? So I see. So nice to meet someone who really loves what they’re doing! Now, the girls are nearby. Shall we do the shoot? Just as long as the boys have tucked themselves away, of course…”
The boys, who had been standing and staring open-mouthed, quickly took the hint, pushed their softening boyhoods back into their shorts, and zipped them up.
“Are…are you videoing me?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I quite forgot! There. Off. Now, I was thinking I’d have you pose just there, with the camp and the hills in the background. What do you think?”
“I – I need to go and…”
“Get cleaned up? No time, I’m afraid. I need to get back. Come on.”
“No! I have to get…”
Sandy Simpson sighed. “I think you’d better do what I say. Otherwise all I’ll have is this video, and I don’t really want to have to put that on line… I mean, suppose the District Commissioner…”
Moira got the message. Her fate was in Sandy Simpson’s hands. She had nothing on her she could use to wipe herself – not even a tissue. So she put her beret on, wiped her face and chin with her hand as best she could, and decided not even to look at the state of her shirt. Ms Simpson called the girls over, who stared uncomprehendingly at the state of their troop leader, and whispered eagerly amongst themselves. Sandy Simpson ignored their puzzlement, and soon had them arranged as she wanted – Moira in front, on her knees – “That seems your natural position,” she remarked – the boys standing either side, holding hands, turned towards each other so that the little bulges in their shorts were directly opposite Moira’s cheeks, and the girls behind, waving or making peace signs. She snapped away from various angles. After a minute or two the boys, remembering what their troop leader had just done for them, began to get aroused once again. The fact was not lost on Ms Simpson.
“Boys? Lean in closer, please… Perfect!”
It was an invitation they were happy to accept, and they willingly pressed their warm, tumescent pen-ises against Moira’s cheeks. She could feel them, hot, firm and throbbing, against her face. She blushed with embarrassment and annoyance as she watched the journalist’s exultant expression. There was nothing she could do except endure the humiliation.
Finally Sandy Simpson had got everything she wanted, and made to depart.
“Don’t worry, Miss Sullivan. I’ll send you copies of everything. I don’t suppose we’ll use the video. But I won’t delete it. That would be such a shame.”
“Please…the pictures…”
“Oh, I think I’ll be able to find a suitable one amongst all that lot, don’t you?” she smirked. “You can say you spilt your milkshake, maybe…”
“You fuc-king bitch!” Moira was thinking. But she was unable to say a word, even when Ms Simpson went to speak to the boys. Yes, she was getting their numbers! She was going to send the stuff to them as well! No! She couldn’t!
But she did. She knew that she had, when later that evening Bobby came up to her.
“Thank you for doing that today, miss. It was really…amazing! We were just watching the video again. Sometimes we get like that, you see, and we just don’t know what to do. It would be so great if occasionally you could, you know, help us out.”
“I see, Bobby.”
“So…would you?”
“I…”
“We’d keep it all a secret, I promise. We’d be so careful not to leave our phones around, where someone could…”
“All right!”
“You will, then?”
“Yes. Yes, I will. Okay? But if anyone else ever…”
“Don’t worry, miss. We know how to keep a secret…”
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104.
By the time the straw had arrived, the pen was already well under way. A row of stout wooden stakes about two and a half feet high had been driven into the ground, running in a straight line from the right-hand corner of the loose boxes to the field fence. Stretched between them were five rows of taut wire with gaps of no more than six inches between them – so that the it would be impossible for a little piggy to escape. At the hedge end was a gate with a bolt and padlock, the keys to which were held by Shirley, Yulya, and Deborah. It was late afternoon by the time the workmen had finished, so it was decided the piggies would be allowed to run about the field and then go to bed in the straw. Yulya, in her farmgirl outfit, and Deborah, in her riding gear, herded them out of the main building, and Deborah, by the use of her favourite dressage whip, drove them across the field towards their sleeping quarters. They weren’t able to move very fast, but it helped that the field sloped down to that far corner. However, when first Max, then Luke, took a tumble, the ladies quickly discovered that their piggies were unable to get up without help. Watching them rolling about in frustration was rather amusing, and it occurred to Yulya that this would make their forays into the mud pool all the more entertaining. But that had to be for the morrow. The important thing now was to make sure that they understood their daily routine, and then to get them settled down for the night.
The solid rubber sissifiers had been dispensed with. Yulya had brought with her two new gags on pink leather straps. These were equipped with short pink rubber-lined steel cylinders, not more than an inch long, with small lips inside and out to prevent them being dislodged. The boys were soon fitted up, and when she stood back and saw them both staring at her indignantly, with their little round open pink mouths, their nose-rings, and their hooked-up nostrils, she couldn’t help exploding in laughter.
“Boys – you so cute piggies! Stick tongues out, please. Luke – go on. Thank you. Hope all comfortable. Now, see these?”
She took a pair of yellow latex gloves out of her belt-bag and held them up.
“Well?”
They nodded.
“These my milking gloves. When you see me wear these, you know milking time is come. Good? Right…”
She slipped of her jacket and pulled on the tightly-fitting gloves. They came to just below her elbows. She tugged at them until they fitted smoothly. Then she produced a steel spring-link, and, pulling Max and Luke face-to-face by their nose-rings, carefully linked the rings together so that the boys faces were only inches apart. Deborah helped her remove their pouches, then took a seat on a straw bale and sat there smiling.
Yulya knelt between them, and took a pen-is in each hand, stroking and teasing them until they began to swell and stiffen.
“Good piggies… Hope piggies have lots of piggy-milk for piggy-mistress, yes?”
“I’m sure they have,” said Deborah. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it boys? Considering you were c-umming every few minutes when you were being milked by the Milkmax machines. But you find Miss Yulya’s expert fingers much nicer, I think…”
To judge by how hard their coc-ks were, the boys thought so as well. In fact, they could hardly believe their luck. Not only had they been relieved of their chastity devices, but now the girl of their dreams (literally) had her hands wrapped around the most sensitive parts of their anatomies. They stared into each other’s eyes with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.
Once Yulya was satisfied they were fully erect, she produced two condoms and rolled them on. Then she began to milk, gently but firmly squeezing and pulling, milking alternately as if she were milking two udders of a cow. Soon the boys were making inarticulate sounds through their open gags, dribbling onto the straw, and squirming involuntarily. Yulya encouraged them in low, seductive whispers.
“Mmm, little piggy pen-ises nice and hard…juicy already…very nice…Yulya like very much…make Yulya juicy too…”
“Oh, Yulya, by the way,” interrupted Deborah, “are you wearing a dil-do like you said you were going to?”
“Of course, Miss Debbie. Leggings have nice smooth rubber dil-do built in. Making me all hot and…”
But this was too much for Luke, and with a groan and a sudden blast of dribble into his friend's face, he began to fill his condom. His orgasm set Max off, and then they were both c-umming violently, emitting strange animal yelps, whilst struggling to keep still and not to pull too hard at their nose-rings.
When their orgasms eventually subsided, Yulya weighed the filled ends of the condoms in her hand.
“Piggies do very well. Get reward. Maybe need milking again.”
The “reward” soon became apparent. Reaching into her belt-pack, Yulya drew out two short rubber sissifiers – just short pen-is-shaped rubber plugs, each with a little hole in the tip and a cap at the other end. She opened the caps, then detached Luke’s condom and carefully decanted the contents into one plug, closed the cap, and pushed it into Max’s gag until it clicked home. Then she filled the other with his c-um, and fitted that into Luke’s gag.
“There. Now piggies have nice milkies to drink. Will ooze out slowly, or piggy bite if thirsty. Now Miss Debbie, we leave piggies hooked up to sleep, yes? Tomorrow exciting day. Piggies play in pen, and girls come to see new piggies and give them treats, maybe.”
“Yes, and don’t forget my boots still need cleaning. You’re going to have a busy day, little ones. So get some rest.”
With which admonition, Yulya and Deborah left the box, bolting the lower half of the door behind them.
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105.
The piggy training lasted nearly four weeks, and only terminated when Shirley decided its purpose had been achieved. Every third day, one of the boys was taken inside, fitted with a chastity device, and released from his suit, which was then cleaned. He then spent two hours in the gym, took an hour for lunch, and another two hours in the gym in the afternoon, under the supervision of a physical therapist. Thus refreshed and restored, he was zipped back into his suit, and went to join his friend. Around these periods of respite a rigid routine was established. Yulya woke them at seven. In their previous lives they had been used to masturbating every evening. Now this pleasure was denied them, and by the time they woke their pen-ises were straining at their pouches and itching for attention, their little balls bursting with sperm. Ripe and ready for milking, in fact. So when Yulya pulled on her yellow milking gloves and stroked their cheeks, they were beside themselves, desperately nuzzling her boots and jostling each other for her attention. She would sit on a bale of hay and begin the milking, usually making them take it in turns. Sometimes she used condoms, sometimes a bowl or bucket. Normally she would bring them to a squeaking, shaking orgasm five or six times each. Occasionally she varied the routine, masturbating them simultaneously using both hands, once placing them bum to bum, cojoined with a double-ended butt plug! But whatever the technique, after their flaccid little coc-ks had been fastened back into their pouches, their sperm would be mixed in a big bowl with yoghurt or sweetened cream and fed to them for breakfast, either by itself or on cereal.
After breakfast their private teacher would visit, and they’d have lessons till ten. Then out into the field for a run about until their paying visitors started to arrive, when they would be put into the muddy pen and Deborah would drive them up and down with her riding whip, the audience screaming with laughter. The big joke was when they fell over. It was quite impossible for them to regain their feet without help, so they would roll about in the mud getting in a more and more filthy state. Then a couple of the visitors – usually young girls – would be provided with wellies and long rubber gloves and be allowed to enter the pen and help them up, so the performance could begin all over again. The audience grew every day – at a pound a head it was the best entertainment in town – and to their eternal chagrin inevitably included more and more children from their own school!
After the morning session in the pen Yulya would hose them down ready for lunch. After lunch there were more lessons, and at three they were back in the pen again. Another hosing, after which Deborah would wash the mud off her boots, then milk them and use their sperm to polish them up. Then supper, evening lessons, and bed.
The routine was designed to inculcate habitual behaviour, and to discipline and reward. So when, one morning in the third week, Yulya put on her milking gloves, smiled, stroked their faces, gently squeezed their bulging pouches, and then did nothing at all, they stared at her with disbelief and dismay, their little eyes pleading, making pathetic whining and squeaking noises. They had become completely dependent upon her for relief. And when none was forthcoming for the rest of the day, and it became obvious it was not going to be, they started to get desperate. Then, a couple of days later, when she put them down to sleep, Yulya unfastened their pouches and took out their quivering members, which she fondled gently. The boys looked at her with beseeching eyes, but any faint hopes they may have entertained were soon dashed.
“There, there… Poor little boy coc-ks…so hot and stiff…and juicy… Miss Shirley say Yulya not do milking any more…not until school work improve. Sorry boys… But here, I can take off gags - make you more comfortable. Perhaps it time for you to attend to selves...”
It took them a single day to succ-umb. Or suc-k-c-um. There was no alternative. Shirley Mandy and Yulya watched on CCTV as, after a short murmured conversation, they manoeuvred themselves into the sixty-nine position, and began to nurse on each other’s aching pricks. Violent orgasms came almost immediately, too prolific to swallow. But, ignoring the spunk dripping from their faces, they soldiered on for two hours, until, both utterly exhausted, they fell asleep.
They were still snoring when Yulya visited in the morning. They looked so sweet lying there, faces all sticky with each other’s sperm, she had to take a couple of snaps. And once they had experienced this intense mutual pleasure, there was no stopping them. After a week Shirley pronounced phase one of the sissification process a success. They had ceased to be two independent misbehaving louts, and become a truly unselfish couple, intent only on pleasing each other and receiving pleasure. “True love,” Mandy called it. Shirley visited them one morning towards the end of the fourth week.
“Boys? I was wondering if you would like to come back and live inside now.”
Their eyes widened with hope and they both nodded vigorously.
“Yes please, miss!” they chorused.
“You’d have to be very good, of course. No more naughtiness. You could have a double room, and nice clothes.”
“Please… Oh, please…we’d be so good,” whined Luke.
“Any misbehaviour, mind, and you’d be back out here. And this time your little coc-ks would be permanently locked away, and all the visitors would be free to do whatever they wanted with you.”
“No, really, we understand, miss…” said Max, adopting an expression of virtuous determination.
“All right then. We’ll give it a try. You’ll both have a full wardrobe of clothes – girls’ clothes, to remind you of your new more feminine personalities – and I’ll expect you to behave with girls’ decorum and sweetness. Your tight rubber suits will be replaced with light dresses and soft satin panties, your strapped-up legs will be sheathed in smooth stockings and tights. At night you can cuddle each other in silk nighties. What do you think of that?”
After their uncomfortable and humiliating confinement in heavy latex, the idea of light fabrics and a soft bed had immense appeal. So great an appeal, that they both felt themselves getting quite excited at the thought.
“Oh my god, miss… You’re so kind to us… We’ll do anything…”
“Good. I hope you will. I’ll ask Yulya to lead you in, and we’ll get you showered and changed. And I’ll have to find some replacement piggies, won’t I? Mustn’t disappoint the visitors…”
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Thank you for the latest updates. Love this story
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106.
“Mitch! Lovely to have you back! How was camp?” Shirley gave him a big hug.
“Oh, it was great, thanks. Actually, it was incredible. Not like any camp I’ve been to before.”
“Really? What…?”
“First of all, two of the boys were caught together…being more than usually friendly.”
“You’re joking!”
“No. But just before we came back there was something even better than that.”
“Yes?”
“Moira – our troop leader – well, let me show you the video. This is strictly secret, mind. A couple of the boys have copies, and I wheedled one for myself. But no-one else has seen it. Here. I’ve turned the sound off.”
He handed her his phone. Shirley stared, her mouth falling open as events unfolded.
“And here…here’s the photo they put in the local paper. You can see the state she’s in. See what it says underneath? “Moira Sullivan, troop leader at 2nd Beckleyford, with members of her troop and the two boys who have recently ‘come out’. (Unfortunately Ms Sullivan had just been pranked with an exploding bottle of vanilla milkshake. But she bravely agreed to go ahead with the shoot anyway!)””
“She bravely went ahead? What about those boys? Cute shorts!”
“Bobby and Michael. But they weren’t given any choice. Nice photo, don’t you think? It caused a bit of a sensation locally, I gather. Moira’s hoping things die down, and it’s never seen by headquarters. But what with that, and what with the video, the boys have her eating out of their hands at the moment.”
“I bet.” Shirley thought for a minute. “Maybe she’d like to help out here sometimes. She seems to have the right approach.”
“If you want I can ask her.” He laughed. “Or tell her!”
“But Mitch, I have some amazing news. Mainly as a result of having some satisfied parents on the education board, the local authority has been persuaded to confer upon us specialist private school status! We are now the P & S School. Starting next month, we shall begin taking in students with special behavioural needs – largely disruptive or aggressive boys – for one day each week. We’ll be paid by the local authority, who are also financing the enlargement and refurbishing of the premises. You’ll see work has already begun on one of the classrooms. I’ll be the official headmistress, Mandy school secretary, Yulya and Deborah will be teaching, and Anna will be doc-umenting our progress and dealing with PR.”
“Wow! That’s incredible!”
“And obviously you Mitch, if you agree, and maybe a couple of the others, will be helping out. You can be enrolled as part-time employees. What do you think?”
“Thanks, miss. I’d love to be involved. But…I mean, won’t it be difficult keeping order? And what will you be teaching them?”
“It’ll be a challenge, certainly. Deborah will be in charge of discipline. I think she’s well up to it. She will be the stick – or the whip. On the other side, Yulya has volunteered to be the carrot; Actually, I think she relishes the idea of using her natural charms to keep a bunch of adolescent boys in order. That girl! What would I do without her?”
“But lessons…?
“That’s why I was interested in what you were telling me. Mandy and I have discussed the matter, and we have concluded that there’s nothing better for subduing difficult boys than encouraging the development of a proper appreciation of their own gender. If you can achieve that, it can cancel out all the alpha male nonsense that causes the problem in the first place. Perhaps your friends…”
“Bobby and Michael?”
“Bobby and Michael, yes. Perhaps they could help to set a good example to our new students? From what I’ve just seen they’re just the sort of guys that could feel at home here. And just the sort I’d like to have around. We already have one couple – Luke and Max have come a long way since you went off to camp.”
“They have?”
“Oh, yes. The various therapies have worked a treat. So what do you think?”
“I’ll ask them. Maybe they could visit?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t ask them to get involved without visiting. Yulya could show them around. Do you think her presence would be of any interest to them?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that! They may like to experiment a bit, but it hasn’t affected their natural affection for girls like Yulya.”
-
107.
On that first day back Mitch discovered Room 1 – the first classroom – was well under way. It formed part of an extension at the back of the main building, which was still in the process of being built. The blackboard had already been installed, a wooden floor had been laid, and workmen were occupied in fitting skirting boards and painting the walls in a pale schoolroom green. If one stood facing the front, on the left there were big windows looking out onto the fields, on the right a blank wall so that no-one could look in from the corridor and the pupils would not be distracted by anyone walking along it. The door had a single small frosted window, and, Mitch noticed, brass bolts. In the corridor outside were piled up school desks, still in their polythene wrapping.
In the event, Room 1 was ready for use in less than three weeks, in the middle of September – perfect timing, allowing for decisions to be made about students who had returned to ordinary school at the beginning of the autumn term. The first intake, from several local schools, consisted of thirteen boys. Unexpectedly, there were few objections from the boys themselves. Some rather lurid rumours were circulating about the P & S School, possibly originating from a boy who had visited and encountered Yulya, and in any case being sent there attracted a certain amount of kudos, implying as it did that anyone who was must be the worst of the worst. Nevertheless, Shirley was still anxious about the issue of discipline, and in preparation for trouble had negotiated a charter with the local authority allowing for the application of “reasonable physical discipline” and “appropriate physical restraint” where the school authority deemed it necessary “for the protection of other students”. In other words, she pretty much had carte blanche to treat the boys as she thought fit. It was a concession the local officials decided they were prepared to make in view of the fact P & S appeared to be their last hope in the perpetual struggle with disruptive students.
The thirteen arrived from various directions, in various modes of transport, and in various states of mind. But by nine-thirty on that first Friday morning they were gathered in the main lobby, where Anna was acting as receptionist. The parents and guardians having been dismissed, the repartee began, the sexual comments and insinuations, the general abuse. However, it didn’t last long, being cut off by the entrance of Deborah Buff-Hopkins, in full riding outfit, swinging a thick plaited leather riding whip and clutching a sheet of paper.
“Silence! Stand up straight all of you. Names please. From the left. Yes, you, boy.”
“Er…Simon…”
“Simon what?”
“Simon Baker.”
“Simon Baker what?”
“What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me, boy! You call me Miss, or Miss Buff-Hopkins. Or you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of this crop. You will address all the staff here correctly. You will have been told that we have total freedom to apply whatever discipline we think fit, and we shall not hesitate where we think it necessary.”
Simon Baker, sensing the smirks of his colleagues, looked as if he might be ready to make a cheeky reply. Fortunately for him, he didn’t get the chance, for at that moment in walked Yulya.
She had dressed simply but impressively. There was a communal gasp, and the boys goggled helplessly. A skimpy cropped cotton vest, no bra, fingerless black leather gloves, skin-tight leather pants, and black vinyl thigh-length, high-heeled, dominatrix boots.
“Thank you, Miss Buffy. Yulya take boys to classroom. Follow, boys.”
They needed no second bidding, crowding behind her as she passed out of the door, vying for pole position in the wake of her swaying posterior.
“First I give you quick tour.”
She led the down the corridor. The first stop was the new gym, followed by the canteen, the common-room, and finally the games room.
The games room, with its big screen, sofa and controllers, had always been the clincher for uncertain guests. But now, courtesy of a local authority grant, it had been enlarged and fitted out with multiple games stations and high-end gaming PCs, and high-backed leather chairs. Four of these were occupied, two by Sam and Meredith, and two by Scouts in full uniform and little mauve and yellow rubber shorts.
“Wow! Cool!” cried one of the boys, while the others stared in disbelief.
“It was true about this place, then,” breathed Simon. “Guys, whatever we do, we gotta make sure we don’t get kicked out of this school!”
“Bobby and Michael. Please bring boxes to room 1, yes?”
“Yes miss,” they chorused, sliding off their chairs and heading for the door.
“Who are they?” asked a boy, looking askance at their shorts.
“They look so gay,” chimed in another.
Bobby gave him a glare, and pushed past into the corridor. The boys watched them retreating, much amused.
“Bobby and Michael are our new assistants,” said Yulya. “Here, gay is okay.”
They stared at her to see if she was serious.
“Now, follow me to classroom.” And she led them around the corner to Room 1.
“Sit, please. Occupy front desks, yes?”
The room was equipped with twenty-four desks, with attached chairs, arranged in six rows of four, and bolted to the floor. They almost fought to get in the front row. One boy, she noticed, the smallest, found himself relegated alone to the fourth row. He looked miserable, and Yulya made a mental note to investigate.
“Good. Now, I am Miss Yulya. I am principal teacher. Please obey me so we have good time together. Bad behaviour make punishment. You – boy there – take smile off face, please. And take eyes off my breasts. These are rules. In class, no talk, put hand up to speak, no phone, pay attention – and you, no masturbate in class, please.”
“I’m not, miss!” protested the boy at the end of the front row, quickly moving his hand and turning red.
There was a ripple of surprised laughter. Yulya was not like any teacher they had had before.
What’s “masturbate”, miss?” said another, cheekily.
“You not know? Then we have lesson later today. Ah, here is Miss Buffy with uniforms. When you here, you wear P & S uniform, okay?”
Debbie was followed in by Michael and Bobby, each carrying a cardboard box, which Debbie directed them to place on the teacher’s desk. Then they turned, took each other’s hands, and made for the door. Someone at the back gave a wolf whistle.
“Quiet please! Now, you will wear uniform all time when you are here. Even if you stay late to play in games room.”
“Can we?”
“If behaviour is good. Now, Miss Buffy will hand our parcels.”
“Right.” Said Debbie, severely. We have your measurements on file, and each uniform has been designed to fit its recipient. You may open your parcels when I say and not before. First, Simon Baker.”
When all the packages had been handed out, and the murmur of puzzled voices had grown into a hubbub, Debbie brought the conversations to an abrupt ending with one stroke of her whip on the nearest desk.
“You will take your parcels next door. There you will change. Then you will return here for the inspection.” She took a cloth bag from her pocket and dropped it onto the teacher’s desk with crash. “If you have any objections, you may leave now. You will never be readmitted.”
Now, she made this sound as if by leaving they were turning their backs on the greatest opportunity of their lives. That sense, on top of the dizzying visions of Yulya and the games room, convinced every one of them they’d rather go through hell than lose…well, whatever it was that was so desirable.
It took them some minutes to adjust to the idea of their new uniforms, but somehow they did. It wasn’t so much the pink vinyl zip-up tunics with the yellow satin trimming and the “P&S” logo, nor the yellow patent leather Mary Janes and the pink knee-socks. But pink latex zipped hot pants with yellow leather straps at the thigh and a yellow leather belt? Not cool.
Nevertheless their curiosity was such that they endured even this comprehensive humiliation, though they changed in silence, avoiding catching each other’s eyes, and returned much subdued to the classroom.
Debbie had emptied the bag onto the desk, and now there lay a pile of tiny brass padlocks. She called the boys up one by one. The thigh straps were tightened, buckled and padlocked. The zip was pulled up to the waist, (sharply, taking no account of the discomfort caused to their private parts), and the slotted zip-pull slipped over a hasp on the belt; then the belt was closed, and also padlocked. The boys were instructed to take their seats.
Yulya smiled and left, stopping briefly at the door to smile, and say, “I shall return for this afternoon’s lesson, on the subject of masturbation. Miss Buff-Hopkins will conduct morning school.” She was elated. The first stage had been completed successfully. She could feel herself vibrating with excitement at the thought of all those unruly boys firmly locked up in their rubber pants. It had been her idea. She had never warmed to conventional chastity devices. It restricted the possibilities. No, it was much more fun to watch them getting all hot and bothered, knowing they could not get at themselves properly without permission. She just loved to tease them into a state of abject desperation, to see them salivating over her, cheeks burning. And this way, she hoped to observe all the physical symptoms of their arousal. For her it was a real turn-on.
“You are awful pervert, Yulya,” she said to herself. “But in end it is for their own good.”
Debbie took a seat on the desk.
“This morning we are going to talk about sexuality. Do you know why? Why is this class composed only of boys? Well? Any suggestions?”
“Cos we’re the only ones what ‘ave the balls to say what we fink.”
“I see. Well. You’re certainly the only ones with balls. But remember, balls make you vulnerable. I could squeeze them, or flick the with my whip, and you’d be down on your knees in a moment.”
They fidgeted uncomfortably at the thought. One or two moved their hands into a protective position.
“I would like to suggest a different reason. You like to disrupt…because you are insecure. You have a need to obtrude yourselves upon the notice of others. You need reassurance that you are recognised…respected…feared. But in seeking it you merely show you are insignificant…despised…ridiculed. Everything you do is for show, because…that is all there is. Inside you are nothing.”
She paused, and looked into the distance. None of the boys spoke, or tried to object. She had spoken with such conviction, as if she knew them inside out. She continued.
“Because there is no substance, that is why you have no confidence, and have to supply the lack with pretence. But you are young, and all is not lost. Do you want to be whole? Do you want to be guided in your lives by certainty and conviction, or moan and bluster till you collapse like a pricked balloon? Just for a moment, imagine it. Imagine you are educated, knowledgeable, confident. You can mix with anyone without feeling inferior and needing to show off. I know you have not had the chances of your peers – that is why you, and not they, are here. But here we can begin the work of development. We have good teachers – better than those you are used to. Trust us, show you can endure minor humiliations without losing your cool, learn to understand and express your real selves. I – we – can help you do that.”
“But miss…why aren’t there girls here then? Some of them are the same as us.”
“Because girls deal with their sense of inferiority in a different way. They punish themselves internally, and make themselves believe the fault is theirs. We can do nothing for them. We are not therapists or psychiatrists. For the moment we can only help you. And the way we can do that begins with your sexuality, letting you express what you actually feel, without guilt or embarrassment. Tell me, do you like Miss Yulya?”
Murmurs of “fuc-k, yes”, and a few unrepeatable suggestions.
She smiled. “Then you should enjoy this afternoon’s lesson.”
-
108.
The rest of the morning was unpredictably profitable. The boys actually involved themselves in a serious discussion about people, ambitions, motives. They were not used to be spoken to like that – as equals. No longer being spoken down to, there was no longer need to puff themselves up.
At lunchtime they ate in the canteen, quickly, (checking out the other boys and being something between amused and shocked by their affectionate behaviour towards each other), so they could spend as much time as possible in the games room.
At a few minutes before two, Michael looked in, glared, and shouted, “you boys into classroom 1 – quick. If you’re late you’ll be in for it from Miss Buff-Hopkins.”
“Cheeky little sod. Piss off, dic-khead! We’ll go when we’re good an’ ready!”
Nevertheless, as soon as he disappeared they made haste to the classroom – only to find Michael standing outside smirking.
“Little wanker. I’ll get him…”
They took their seats. They were all looking forward to see Yulya again. Even so they weren’t prepared for her appearance.
She had changed into one of her nurse’s outfits. She had found these always had a salutary effect on boys, and besides, given the topic for the afternoon it seemed somehow appropriate.
This was a nurse’s uniform with a difference. A short, figure-hugging, short-sleeved, low-cut tube dress…in black latex – with a red cross just below the bust; the latex thinning at the bust to allow her nipples to protrude. Black latex stockings. Black leather ankle-boots with a row of silver buckles. Elbow length black latex gloves.
There were muffled gasps of surprise. She could feel thirteen pairs of eyes riveted on her as she went to the blackboard, picked up the chalk, and wrote the word “MASTURBATION” in big letters across the top. She allowed herself a smile of satisfaction, which she wiped off her face as she turned to face the class. Yulya was something of an exhibitionist. The calm exterior she presented to the class was at odds with her internal excitement. Male attention always turned her on – that was why she loved to dress sexy - and having a dozen boys (figuratively speaking) drooling over her was about as good as it got. She revelled in her power, certain she could have them down on their knees licking her boots any time she wanted. She sauntered over to the desk and sat down on it, with one foot on a chair, giving the boys a flash of black latex panties. Several of the boys were thinking they would have given anything to have had their phones with them. But they were strictly forbidden in the classroom, and had to be handed in to Debbie at the beginning of the school day. Simon, the closest to her, bit his lip. He would have bit it harder if he had known that they were a pair of Yulya’s special panties, for those occasions she was feeling particularly aroused.
She launched straight in.
“Who has permanent girlfriend? Hands up. Who has girlfriend?”
The boys looked at each other sheepishly. Simon, feeling it inc-umbent on him to uphold the prestige of the group, hesitantly raised his hand.
“Simon. What her name?”
“Er…Sharon… But she ain’t like what you’d call permanent…”
“No – you bin out wiv ‘er once! An’ then she dumped you!” came a voice from the second row – at which everyone laughed.
“Well when did you ever go out wiv a girl?” retorted Simon.
“I did…”
“All right boys. So not much girlfriends about. So… There is paper and pen in desks. I need to know names. Please write name on paper and put on desk. When you speak, hold up paper so I will learn names.”
She stood up and walked up and down the aisles. The boys’ eyes followed her wherever she went. She observed their pink shorts out of the corner of her eye, noting the tell-tale bulges with a thrill of satisfaction. One or two were covering their tumescence with their hands. The slight movement inside her made her heart beat a little faster. She resumed her seat on the desk.
“It not easy being with girl at your age. Not easy for girl either. But worse for boy, because pen-is won’t behave, though he supposed to pretend it does. So he need masturbate. How he do this? Alone in room, hoping mother will not come in. Watching shit porn on computer. Not fun. And sex should be fun, right?”
The boys were beginning to sit up and take notice, though none was about to confess to masturbating.
“So, today we talk about masturbation for boys. How make it better. Write down how you think you like to make better. Then we read suggestions.”
“What? You want us…”
“Yes…hold up paper, please…yes, Oscar. You tell me what you like. No blushes, please.”
“You’re ‘avin’ a laugh, miss.”
“I no laugh…Dylan. Boys laugh when embarrass. Is it embarrass for you?”
“No…”
“Then start. You have ten minutes.”
She sat at the desk and pretended to write in the register. After ten minutes she stood up.
“Simon – collect papers please.”
He collected them up, shuffling them so none could be identified. The pink rubber was taut over his swollen pen-is. He handed them over and sat down.
“Thank you. Now we see… Hmm. Blank. Blank. “Show us your…” Okay. “suc-k my…” Right.” She flicked through the rest. One caught her attention. She read it out.
“I would like someone else to wank me off and talk dirty to me at the same time. Maybe Alexandra Taylor.”
Everyone laughed and cheered. “Who wrote that?” cried Oscar. But there was no reply.
“Who is this…Alexandra Taylor?”
“She’s a girl in the upper sixth at my school,” said a ginger-haired boy, holding up a paper with “Tyler” written on it.
“Okay. I won’t ask who else is from your school….”
“It’s Ben,” replied Tyler. “I know he fancies her.”
“Shut your mouth, idiot!”
“Ah. You are Ben, yes? Thank you. You are the only one with balls to write suggestion. And it is very good suggestion.”
Ben looked around proudly. The others sniggered, but felt they had wasted an opportunity.
“It is true. Much nicer to have someone else help. Ben? Would you come to the front, please?”
Ben hesitated, then stood up and nervously made his way to the front. Yulya seated herself on the desk facing the class.
“Come up and sit beside me, Ben.”
Again he hesitated, but she took his hand and pulled him towards her, and helped him onto the desk. Ben was blushing to his ears, especially when Yulya put her left arm around him and gave him a squeeze. He found his cheek pressed against her shoulder, and was unable to stop his gaze straying to her cleavage.
“Relax, Ben. You like this girl a lot, yes?”
Ben took a deep breath. “Yes. I do.” Cheers from the class.
“Do you think of her when…?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what you said?”
“Yes.”
“Are you thinking of her now?” she asked, glancing down at his bulging shorts.
He paused. “No.”
“No? Are you sure?”
“No. Yes. I’m sure.”
“But…”
“I’m thinking of you,” he blurted.
Gasps from the class.
“Me?”
“I’m thinking I would like you to do…what I said.”
Yulya looked into his face. He looked back, bravely but nervously.
“I would like you to do it now.”
Whoops from the boys. “Do it, miss! Please! Do what he wants.”
She realised her teasing had been even more effective than she had thought. She hesitated, but a ripple of excitement ran through her.
“Right here…?” she whispered.
“Right here. Please, miss,” he whispered back.
She hadn’t expected anything quite like this, but Ben looked desperate. That was her fault. She had caused the problem, so, she decided, it was up to her to provide the remedy.
“I have to unlock zip.”
Cheers from the spectators.
She picked up a the tiny key from the desk, and delicately unlocked and took off the little padlock. She placed it on the desk, and began to slide down the pull. It was only half way down when all at once Ben’s swollen coc-k burst forth and stood quivering in the air, the smooth tip glistening with his juices. As she undid the zip to the bottom, he groaned, and a flow of clear fluid sprang from it and dripped onto her glove. The room was hushed now, the boys gaping at the two figures on the desk. The atmosphere was electric.
“Boy at end – bolt door please.”
He did as he was bid.
Softly, she closed her fingers round the shaft. She could feel the heat through her gloves. Ben whimpered faintly, so she moved her left hand from his shoulder and placed it over his mouth. She began to slide the foreskin slowly back and forth, but never allowing it to slip back behind the neck, while she whispered sweet nothings in his right ear.
“Is good, Ben? Relax, I hold you tight. You very hot boy. Nice juicy coc-k – I like very much. Relax and enjoy, no hurry. I stop for a while, yes?”
Ben shook his head.
“All right. Is this what you like?”
He nodded urgently. His eyes were closed, he breathed deeply, inhaling the scene of the warm latex gloves under his nose. Yulya looked at the class. She had to smile. Everyone one of them was fixated on Ben, while at the same time the movement of their upper arms suggested they were kneading something vigorously under their desks! After a few minutes her glove became so slippery it was becoming difficult to keep a grip. And she kept having to stop, sensing that Ben was on the edge of orgasm. But the boys weren’t stopping, and for one of them in the front row of desks the climax came sooner than he expected. He gave a little cry, his eyes widened, and jolted into a shuddering orgasm, making his desk jerk and rattle. That was too much for his neighbours, who helplessly followed suit, and soon the whole class was convulsed, groaning and grunting and filling their shorts. Not wanting Ben to be left out, Yulya slid his foreskin back behind the hood, and rubbed her finger on the cleft. He stiffened, gasped, and exploded, sending spurts of c-um all over his fellow pupils – who were too distracted by their own ecstasy to protect themselves.
When the hubbub had died down, Ben was lying back, and most of the boys were collapsed on their desks, or trying to wipe Ben’s c-um out of their hair. Yulya slid off the table. She was trembling slightly, but she needed to keep her cool. She looked around, smiled, and addressed them.
“Good work, boys. It enough for today. Next time we move onto second stage – mutual masturbation. That means you help your friend and he help you. As Ben said, best way is if someone else do it for you.”
Even in their state of exhaustion a couple of the boys stared at her anxiously. Had they heard right?
“Homework is to practise masturbation and report. Any two boys who do mutual masturbation will get special treat. Okay. Tomorrow you may come in if you wish and use games room. Boy at back? Name, please?”
“Marcus, miss.”
“Can you come tomorrow?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Please come see me. I have special job for you.”
“Miss? What about our shorts?”
“Ah. I will give Miss Buffy key to unlock. She will be in her room. Thank you for participation. Good evening.”
-
109.
Yulya was more than satisfied with the first day’s progress. It was partly that the environment was so alien to the boys that they were not too shocked when unusual things happened. Also, she had succeeded in largely neutralising any inhibitions they may have felt by providing, in the form of her physical self, something for them to focus on. In any case, she reminded herself, they were already essentially rebels, individuals who recoiled from or rejected the widely-accepted norms of academic society. The perfect material for P & S, in fact!
Moreover, on reflecting on the events of the afternoon, she realised an interesting fact. That the boys hadn’t been masturbating so enthusiastically over her, but over another boy! What had got them so excited was the sight of Ben in a state of maximum erection and acute ecstasy, and the desire to have a share in his pleasure.
After the boys had left, she made her way to Shirley’s office, where Shirley, Mandy and Debbie were waiting for her. They looked at her expectantly.
“Well? Tell us the worst,” said Shirley.
“Nothing was worst. I think boys just boys. I know everyone tell us bad, bad! Need discipline, lots discipline. But really quite sweet. I know bad boys. I grew up with proper bad boys. So no. No trouble. I think all want come back. I hope so. I have many ideas.”
“That’s quite a relief, Yulya. But you do have a way with young men, don’t you? Debbie? What did you think?”
“Madam, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. There’s a bit of bravado there, but that's all it is really. What impressed me most was their intelligence. If they’ve been doing badly academically, it’s not for lack of it. We had a discussion about school and the way things work there and in larger society. They really engaged and had a lot to say. It’s clear there’s a lot going on inside. It’s just that they have difficulty communicating with authority.”
“Yes…and vice versa. But it sounds as if they were able to connect with you all right,” she smiled. “ You know I’m interviewing specialist teachers over the next few weeks. The goal is to expand the school’s academic provision, and I hope ultimately to be able to offer more days to these boys.”
“Well, I think with the right teachers – patient, non-judgemental, non-authoritarian - these guys could blossom. It would be such a wonderful thing to aim for.”
“And in the meantime,” added Mandy with a wink, “Yulya could continue to work with their sexual education.”
“My pleasure, miss Mandy.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is, Yulya!”
The boys arrived early on Saturday. In fact, they were waiting outside when Mandy opened the door.
“Good morning, miss! We’ve come for the gaming.”
“Oh…well, off you go, then. You’ll find your teacher there, I believe.”
“Which one, miss? The strict one, or…”
“The sexy one?” someone murmured.
“If by the strict one you mean Miss Yulya, yes, she’s there…” quipped Mandy.
Being the weekend, Yulya had dressed casually in jeans and a loose T-shirt. Unlike the day before, when she had been on a sort of sexual high, now she was quite relaxed. She had hoped the boys would come, and was happy to see they had all turned up.
“Welcome boys! Come in. Power is on, computers are ready. Maybe I could learn all names today. I know you, Simon…Oscar…Marcus…Tyler…Dylan….oh, and, of course, Ben…”
Ben flushed slightly, and looked at the floor.
“I have name tags with all names. Let me see…so as well Jack, Sean, James, Ryan, Joshua, Isaac and Louis. Yes, thirteen. Good. Now I leave to do duties. Drinks in fridge, snacks on table, coffee machine there…toilets there…lunch in canteen at one. Have good time, boys.”
The boys stayed all day. For them it was their new – and exclusive – social club. A better club than was available to any of their more privileged peers. Before they left, Yulya took Marcus aside. She had noticed he seemed to be the odd one out, as well as being the smallest.
“Marcus – I just wanted to have word. You sit by self at back. Would you like I rearrange seating?”
“No, miss. It’s okay. See, all the others have mates from their own schools. I don’t know any of them. Anyway I’m used to it.”
“Used to it?”
“Yeah. See, I have only two proper friends where I am. I’m different from the rest. I think that’s why the school would like to get rid of me if it could.”
“Get rid…?”
“Yeah. It’s a church school, see? And the head’s like, so religious. Like traditional, get me? My teachers aren’t much better. And me…well, I’m gay, and I’m an atheist. And I refused to make a secret of either.”
“So for that they call you disruptive?”
“I guess. But this place is good. I wish I could come here every day.”
“Maybe one day that possible…”
“Yeah? Seriously?”
“Miss Shirley want to make P & S proper school.”
“I wish her all the luck…”
“Me too. But Marcus…now I understand better. Here you be yourself, yes? Tell me if need help.”
“There is one thing…”
“Yes?”
“At my regular school I used to be in the theatre group. I always worked it so I could play females. I really like dressing up in female clothes. Once I wore a dress to school, but they sent me straight home. Do you think, here…”
“Wear dress? Of course! Or whatever. We have many girls’ clothes here. And professional makeover service.”
“Thank you. That would be amazing. By the way, I really enjoyed your lesson yesterday. Your outfit was really cute.”
“Thank you. I like such things…”
“And I really enjoyed watching you and Ben…”
“Ah. Yes. I think he had great need…”
“I wish it could have been me…”
“Well, if you want…”
“No, I meant me instead of you…”
“Ah! Yes.” She paused. “Maybe you and he should do homework together…”
“That would be great. But he doesn’t even know who I am.”
“Let me think. I see you later, Marcus. Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Miss Yulya…”
-
110.
Yulya did think, just as she had promised. And she had an idea. Late that afternoon she returned to the games room, accompanied by Shirley.
“Boys. I hope you enjoy today. Miss Shirley say you can come tomorrow too if you wish, since you behave good.”
“Yes,” added Shirley. “Well done, boys. So far you have been exemplary students. As long as you continue to attend to your teachers and to your work, you will also have access to all the facilities on offer here offer seven days of the week. But there is one other condition.”
“Yes, miss?”
“You must do your homework regularly. I understand Miss Yulya has already set you some.”
“Don’t worry, miss. We will.”
“I already started mine,” said Dylan, with a laugh. “As soon as I got home last night.”
“Miss Shirley?” piped up Sean. “Would you mind if next week I take a couple of pictures of Miss Yulya in her nurse’s outfit? I would like to show my mum – and I think it would help my concentration!”
“Well, I don’t see why not. I’m glad you appreciate her natural dress sense. Maybe we could even come up with a poster for your wall. But as I said, because at present you’re only able to attend one day a week, homework is of paramount importance. Therefore Miss Yulya has decided she should pair you up for the tasks she set you, rather than leave it to you to arrange by yourselves.”
“You mean…” began Tyler, looking scared, “you mean you want us to…”
“To do what you were instructed by Miss Yulya. Yes. Now, as there are thirteen of you, that means there will be five pairs and one threesome. Here is a list of the groups. We have paired boys from different schools as much as possible, to help you get to know each other better. And to make sure the tasks are completed without any cheating” – here she looked around the semicircle of alarmed faces with a meaningful smile – “you will record all proceedings on video. I’m sure you know how to do that.”
“Yes, boys. And I want see faces as well, yes? Everything, please. Or no marks.”
“And no marks mean that we shall have to consider whether to keep you on,” added Shirley.
“So here is list. Pairs are Sean and Joshua, Tyler and Louis, Dylan and Ryan, Marcus and Ben, Jack and James. Threesome is Simon, Oscar and Isaac. Any questions? No? I pin list up on noticeboard in lobby. Bring in videos Friday or send to me. Number at foot of list.”
“Enjoy your evening, boys,” said Shirley. If you’re coming in tomorrow, we shall be opening the doors at nine o’clock. Miss Yulya, can I have a word please? In my office.”
And they turned and left, leaving the boys standing there in a state of shock.
Simon was the first to recover.
“They’re serious, guys. There’s no way out of it.”
“Simon’s right,” said Joshua. “No way, if we want to stay.”
“We said we’d do anything…” murmured Tyler.
A short silence.
“We’ll just have to grit our teeth…” said Ben.
“It’s all right for you, Ben. You had your fun yesterday. Why can’t it be her helping us?”
“fuc-k, yeah,” said Dylan.
“I know,” said Isaac. “All we have to do is imagine that it is her…”
“Maybe. Worth a try. Pity we don’t have any pictures…”
“Yeah. That rule about phones suc-ks.”
“Maybe they'll make us some posters, like she said….”
“That would be so cool… I’d put mine up over my bed.”
“I’d put mine at ground level,” said Sean. “And I’d need to cover it in plastic.”
“I’m the one who’ll need to be covered in plastic, I’m thinking,” said Joshua, “if we’re going to do our homework together…”
-
111.
The boys went their various ways that evening in very thoughtful moods. At ten o’clock Oscar had a call from Simon.
“Oscar. You know that we have only four days to do our homework. What we gonna do?”
“I don’t know. This evening I tried to get an erection, but the thought of…you know…kept coming into my head, and I couldn’t get anything going.”
“I had a similar experience, mate. I rang Isaac earlier, and he reminded me that cos there’s three of us, we each have to do it twice!”
“It’s not fair.” He paused. “We could leave…”
“Leave all that? We can’t. We just can’t.”
A silence.
“You know what I thought?”
“What, Oscar?”
“Viagra.”
“What?”
“It would do the trick. It’s an idea.”
“Yeah, I guess… But…I mean…”
“What?”
“It would be embarrassing. You know, getting an erection cos I was having sex with a bloke…”
“You wouldn’t be having sex. Doing…that… That’s not “having sex”. In any case, it’s gonna be embarrassing anyway. So what’s the difference? I can get some from my cousin. It’s the only way. Tell Isaac. Let’s do it tomorrow evening, here. I’m in by myself till eleven.”
“I don’t know…”
“Well you better decide. Cos I’m not leaving that place. And you’re not gonna fuc-k it up for me…”
They met at Oscar’s at eight. They were having trouble looking each other in the face.
“Let’s go up to my room.”
Isaac and Simon sat on the bed, as far apart from each other as they could get. Oscar went to the bedside cabinet and produced a little blue box. He showed them the pills.
“Do they really do anything?” asked Isaac. “They’re titchy.”
“I dunno. They’re supposed to. I never tried them. Tell you what, you and Simon take one each. If they work, I’ll do the filming, and…”
“Hold on, mate,” interrupted Simon. “This was your idea. You take the first pill.”
“If I do, you take one too.”
“No, we all take them. See what happens.”
They popped the pills and waited. Nothing happened.
“I wish Miss Yulya was here,” said Oscar. “Did you see the way her nipples were all stiff under the latex? Why did that Ben have to have all the fun? We should all demand the same.”
“I know,” said Isaac. “Did you see the way she was wanking him – so gentle and slow. No wonder he exploded like that.”
“She was enjoying it, you could see,” said Simon. Do you know she even had latex panties on? I got a glimpse of them when she sat on the desk.”
“Did you see the way she was wriggling about when she got Ben’s coc-k in her hand? I bet she would have liked to give him a blow-job right there.”
“You’re right, Oscar. And she got all flushed, like his coc-k was inside her, not just in her hand.”
“I bet she was imagining it was inside her. And I bet she went home and wanked herself off with a big fat dil-do,” said Isaac, warming to his subject. “fuc-k, I bet… Simon? What’s that bulge in your jeans?”
“Oh, man. Just thinking about it… About her…”
“Get it out. Let’s compare. I bet it ain’t as big as this!”
Oscar had unzipped his jeans and eased his stiffening member out.
“It was getting uncomfortable. Shit, it feels hard tonight!”
“Look at mine,” retorted Simon. “And I can see Isaac needs to release that thing as well!”
Soon three fully erect pen-ises were taking the evening air. Oscar was standing side on, admiring his in the dressing-table mirror.
“God, it’s hard. That stuff works, then.”
“That stuff and Miss Yulya.”
“If she was here now…”
“Yeah? What would you do?”
“I wouldn’t have to do anything. She drop to her knees and suc-k it, then she rip off her panties and beg me to fuc-k her silly.”
“You hope!”
“No, I’ll tell you what would happen,” said Isaac, eagerly. “She’d want all three of our pricks at once, one in her pussy, one in her butt, and one in her mouth. She’d demand we all came at the same time, and…”
“Enough!” cried Simon. Don’t make me c-um. Let’s do what we have to.”
“Okay. You and Oscar first. I’ll do the filming.”
“Whatever. Oscar, come and sit her. Now, here. Take it. And I’ll take yours…”
Gingerly, they took hold of each other's erect pen-is.
“Ahh... Yes… Slowly, Sim, please, mate. Mmm, yes. That’s nice. Is it okay for you?”
“Yes... Oh, god, I need it so badly… Gently, though... That stuff of your has got me all worked up.”
“Anyway, all we have to do is masturbate, right? I mean, we don’t need actually to c-um, do we?”
“No, that’s right, isn’t it. Hey, don’t stop… That’s better…”
“Oh…oh… Sim, you’re such a good masturbator…”
“I’ve had lots of practice, Oscar… Hey, Isaac. Leave your coc-k alone and concentrate on the filming. Thank you. Oooh…”
“Sim, I’ve just realised… She’s going to be watching this… “Marking our homework” she’ll call it. Right?”
“Yeah, I guess…”
“So. Miss? Are we doing it well. I hope you’re going to give us full marks. I wish you were here. I’d c-um all over your latex nurse’s costume. We all would! Imagine all that sticky spunk splattered all over you. That’s what the whole class would like to do, you know that, right?”
“Yes, Miss, Oscar’s right. The whole class would like to cover you with warm, slippery sperm. Even if Miss Buffy whatever you call her was whipping us and screaming at us to stop, we’d go on wanking till we’d unloaded every drop. That’s how much we fancy you…”
“Yes, and…”
“Oscar?”
“Yes, Sim?”
“Please make me c-um. You masturbate so well, but I want you to make me c-um, cos your my bestest buddy. And I’ll make you c-um too. The best c-um you’ve ever had. Is it a deal?”
“Oh, god, yes. Deal. Are you ready?”
“Ready. You?”
“Ready. Let’s do it!”
“Aahhh! Oscar! I’m c-umming. Keep wanking me, please…!”
“Me too! Yesss…! Look, I’m spurting all over you, Sim. I love you!….please…don’t stop...”
The boys, quite spent, collapsed in each other’s arms. Their clothes and the bed were slimy with sperm. Isaac filmed them until the bitter end, then sat down waiting for his turn. Neither of his friends seemed inclined to stir, so he started fiddling with his phone. It was full five minutes before Simon regained a sitting position.
“Oh, god. What did we do? Why was that so…incredible? It must be that stuff. I can’t remember half what I was burbling. And it won’t go down, even now. Oscar? Oscar! Wake up.”
“Simon? What happened? Look, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me…”
“I came over you. And you came over me. Shit. Isaac? Give me the phone. We can’t submit that. I’ll delete it and we’ll do something more controlled.”
“But Simon…”
“All right. You want your turn. I know. Just wait a minute. Oscar. Look at this! Shit, how embarrassing.”
“But Simon, I’ve already sent it!”
“What?”
“I sent it in. You were just lying there, so I thought I’d send it so you’d be the first to hand in your homework…”
Oscar and Simon looked at each other.
“We’re toast,” said Simon. “’Specially if anyone else sees it…”
-
read this last night, very good story, lots of baby stuff, more please
-
112.
Of course, they weren’t finished for the evening. It remained for each of them to pair up with Isaac. After the Viagra that was no problem. But of the three, Oscar was left-handed: which meant he could sit side-by-side with his partner. When the two right-handed boys were embarked upon their homework, they discovered they really needed to work face-to-face, making some degree of eye contact unavoidable. Though this felt slightly uncomfortable at first, as they warmed to their task they found it allowed them a more empathetic experience. Watching your partner’s facial reactions as you alternately milked and teased him, and as he did the same to you, proved to be not only fun, not only very exciting, but a unique bonding experience. Whether or not Yulya had fully appreciated the potential of the task she had set, the effect on the boys’ relationships was profound, and little different from that created by physical intimacy between a boy and a girl. Though for Ben and Marcus, it might be said that it was no different at all.
They had agreed to meet on Wednesday evening, at Marcus’s house. They knew nothing about each other. Ben had been so involved with the other boys, he had been hardly aware of the little guy sitting right at the back, with nothing to say. So it was a bit of a shock when, to all intents and purpose, Marcus’s front door was opened by a girl!
“Oh…sorry… I’m here to see Marcus?”
“You’re seeing him.”
“What? Is that you? What’s going on?”
Frowning, he retreated a pace.
“Come in. Yes, it’s me. I thought this might make you feel more comfortable?”
“Comfortable?”
“About the whole thing. Please come in.”
Ben hesitated, then, considering the fact that Marcus was about six inches shorter than he, decided it would be cowardice to refuse. Marcus closed the door, and stood there smiling.
“What are you grinning about? You look pretty natural in that stuff. Do you dress up like that often?”
“Yes, Ben. I do it for the theatre, and in any case I feel more comfortable like this. Do you object?”
“No, of course I don’t object… I mean, it’s no business of mine if you want to dress up. I was just a bit…surprised, that’s all… ’specially considering what we have to do…”
He looked Marcus up and down again, more searchingly this time. He was wearing a crisp light blue satin dress, with a bow at the waist, a knee-length flared skirt, a round neck, and puff sleeves. A sort of sophisticated Alice dress, with white tights and girls’ black school shoes. He had silver bangles around one wrist, a very fine silver necklace, the slightest touch of mascara and pink lip gloss, and two fabric flower hairclips in his curly blondish hair. He was wearing some very subtle perfume. Ben gulped, and a little frisson of something – excitement or danger – ran through him. Marcus had the faintest smile on his lips, wrinkling his little slightly turned-up nose. The whole ensemble made Ben suddenly realise this boy was actually disarmingly pretty. He almost panicked there and then and left. There was a moment of internal conflict, interrupted by Marcus himself.
“Would you like a drink? Why don’t we go into the kitchen?”
“Sure.”
They sat down with their cans on opposite sides of the kitchen table.
“This is quite difficult for me as well,” said Marcus, inferring Ben’s thoughts. “I’m really surprised we all seem to be going through with it.”
“I know. It’s cos we all want to stay. It’s an amazing place. It can be like our own personal exclusive youth club. There’s nothing like that round here.”
“It’s also because of Yulya.”
“Yeah! She’s so…”
“Not only that. I mean, she makes the whole thing seem normal. Like, all these people that try to pretend we shouldn’t have any sexual feelings, or shouldn’t talk about them. She’s just straightforward. I think I trust her. I trust her more than my teachers and my parents anyway. I’d pretty much do anything she asked me.”
“Yeah, me too, now you come to mention it. Yet we’ve only just met her. But she’s nice. You can just tell.”
“I think they really want to help us. They won’t judge us, and I think they’ll listen to us. That’s quite unusual.”
“I know. Though I heard some lurid stories about some of the boys who’ve been there. A girl at my school told me that two of them were turned into piggies and made to roll in the mud!”
“Really? I’m going to ask Yulya if that’s true. If it is, they must have deserved it.”
“So we’d better be careful.”
There was a silence.
“So… what about this homework, Ben? Are you up for it?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I guess…Simon did his on Monday. He’d been worrying about getting an erection. I asked him how it went. “Oh, yeah,” he goes, “no sweat…” Dead caj, like. But he wouldn’t say any more.”
“Okay. Shall we…? My room’s upstairs.”
Marcus had a little sofa in his room. They sat down self-consciously.
“Are you in the mood, Ben?”
“Not really. Maybe if we watched some porn…?”
“If you like. But I think you need to relax, first. By the way, what do you think of my dress?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. Like the tights. Are you wearing…like, everything?”
“Panties you mean? Sure. Have a look.”
Ben gingerly raised the hem of Marcus’s skirt.
“fuc-k, you are too. And they’re stockings! The panties look like silk…and they’ve got little ruffles! Do they feel nice?”
“Very smooth. Yeah. A lot nicer than what boys are s’posed to wear.”
“Have you got an erection already? It looks like it.”
“Maybe a bit. It’s the panties, see… What about you?”
“Not really. It’s so embarrassing…”
“Don’t be embarrassed. Close your eyes and imagine I’m some girl you fancy. Seriously, go on.”
“Okay. I’m imagining…”
“Who?”
“Guess.”
“I bet its our teacher…”
“Yeah…”
“Is it working?”
“Dunno.”
“So just imagine I’m Miss Yulya… Feel my hand on your leg…?”
“Marcus, stop it!”
“Look, Ben, we have to do this. Now close your eyes again. Right. Now, Miss Yulya puts her hand on your thigh…you can smell her perfume…now she’s whispering in your ear…”
“Marcus…”
“Shh. She’s beginning to unzip your jeans…”
“I can’t…”
“Ooh, Ben, she says, I can feel your coc-k getting big…let me take it out for you…”
“Marcus, no…”
“Gosh! There it is. It’s so hard!”
“Oh my god…”
“Let’s see if it likes being stroked… I think it does… I’ll do it so gently, you won’t even notice…”
“Marcus…please…”
“Mine is stiff now, too. Feel it…go on. It’s stretching my panties… Remember, I’m a girl…I’m going to let you put your hand up my skirt, and do whatever you want…”
“Are you?”
“Yes… I’m a little slut, didn’t you know… That’s right… Oh, Ben, please do it. Do whatever you want. I want it so bad… Oh, god, slow down, or I’ll c-um all over your hand… That’s it. Here, let me kiss you…just a soft kiss… Your juice is running down over my hand now… Am I doing it right…?”
“Yes…please don’t stop…kiss me more…on the mouth…mmm…”
“Your prick is so beautiful, Ben. So straight and juicy… It looks good enough to suc-k like a lollipop…”
“Oh, god…”
“Shall I…?”
“You musn’t…”
“I’ll just lick it, to see if you like it…”
“Marcus, I… Oh, god…”
A few moments’ silence, broken only by Ben’s breathing and faint succulent noises from Marcus.
“Did that feel okay?”
Ben was speechless, gasping.
“You taste so good… Here….”
“Marcus, please…if you don’t stop…I’ll c-um…in your mouth….I will…”
He wound his fingers in Marcus’s hair.
“I’m going to…ah! Ah! Marcus….Ahhhh!....”
As his orgasm subsided, Ben realised he must have been hurting Marcus.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to pull your hair like that…”
Marcus smiled. “It’s okay, Ben… Don’t worry. I hope it meant you were enjoying it.”
“Oh, god, I’ve never felt anything like that before, ever… Why did you…?”
“Cos I wanted to. Did you mind?”
“Did you swallow it all?”
“All. I could swallow more, if…”
Ben laughed weakly. “Oh, shut up… You’re bad…”
Marcus lay there, his head on Ben’s legs, contemplating his wilting pen-is.
“We forgot to film ourselves. Now we’ll have to do it all over again. Or something.”
“Sit up. Give me a hug. Let me do it to you.”
“I came too. Didn’t you realise?”
“No. When?”
“I came at the same time as you. It was incredible for me, too. Can we just cuddle for a bit. Maybe we can do our homework later – just with our hands.”
“Yes, course… I’m sorry I didn’t help. It was selfish. But it was so unexpected…”
“For me, too. I just suddenly wanted to. I really like you, Ben. I liked you right from when I first saw you in class.”
“I like you too, Marcus. Do you think I’m gay?”
“Maybe I wish you were – but you’re not. I saw you with Miss Yulya. A gay guy wouldn’t be like that.”
“But with you…”
“I think we like each other, that’s all. We can be good friends.”
“Definitely.”
“And if you want – when you want – I can do things for you…”
“Yes please. And I’ll do things for you.”
“Give me a kiss…”
-
113.
Somehow all the boys managed to complete their homework on time, and all – fearing that they might otherwise be required to produce their reports in class – submitted them by phone. The number supplied by the school was a private number of Shirley’s, so she got to review all the submissions before Yulya. In fact, she and Mandy reviewed them together, over drinks. It was a process that should have been conducted with the due seriousness and academic judgement, but sad to relate, the two women occasionally lapsed into fits of giggling.
On Thursday, Shirley mentioned to Yulya that all submissions were in, if she would care to review the results herself. She had downloaded the videos onto a flash drive, which Yulya plugged into Shirley’s PC. Shirley had arranged them in reverse order of receipt, so the Simon and Oscar episode would be last. Yulya began her task, making notes in the register against the boys’ names.
“So. Dylan and Ryan… Yes, very good. I give them eight. Slightly embarrassed, but they be more relax next time. Next…ah, yes. Sean and Joshua… very good, but maybe too quick…”
So it went on. Ben and Marcus had submitted a more conventional session than that they had originally indulged in.
“Marcus and Ben…ten marks! I surprise. Very relaxed, very empathetic…know how to please each other…”
“Yes, quite remarkable, I thought, Yulya. They’re the perfect couple. Now, just the threesome left.”
“Yes. I see. So far so good…now, last one is Simon and Oscar…”
“Simon and Oscar, yes. They had a good idea for getting themselves in the mood… I believe they actually had something to say to you, dear.”
Yulya watched the video with rising embarrassment. Her first reaction was not favourable. How dare they! Boys could be so rude!
“You should be flattered, Yulya. They clearly fancy you desperately. And, by the way,” she added with an arch smile, “didn’t you tell me you’d offered any boys who went through with mutual masturbation some sort of treat?”
Yulya blushed crimson, for her something unheard of. “Miss Shirley!” she cried indignantly, trying to hide her embarrassment.
Shirley drew back a little in her chair. “I’m sorry, darling – it was a joke. Goodness me, you didn’t think I was serious?”
“I -I – no, Miss Shirley, of course not… It was just that…boys shock me a little…”
But she knew she had given herself away. Her cheeks were still burning, and Shirley would know it was from excitement rather than embarrassment. Still flustered, she unplugged the flash drive and stood up to leave.
“Th-thank you, Miss Shirley. I have work now…before…tomorrow. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Yulya. And do think about that treat, won’t you. Something nice. You have to admit they all did so well, …”
Yulya’s hands were trembling as she made her way back to the classroom. It wasn’t going to be easy confronting the boys the next day, especially Simon and Oscar, knowing what was in their minds. It wasn’t quite what she had imagined. She had fantasized about being P & S’s latex goddess, worshipped by a small coterie of youthful admirers. Now it appeared that some of them at least regarded her as no more than wank-fodder!
Once inside, she bolted the door, and prepared to review that final tape one more time. Well, after all, she also had the delicate problem of what mark to award them…
Shirley also had a problem. Luke and Max, whom she thought had been suitably pacified and brought to heel, were playing up. They had started pushing some of the younger boys around, being rude to the staff, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. She had considered putting them back into their piggy costumes. Or better, she had recently received some cow costumes, complete with cow heads and udders. They had three udders in a row, the front and back made of solid rubber, the middle one a heavy rubber sheath. They would be perfect for aspiring farm-girls to practise their milking skills! But maybe some other time. The boys had heard about the planned expansion of the teaching regime, to which they’d been promised access. In fact, Shirley had arranged for two new specialist teachers to start at the beginning of October. But she didn’t like the idea of allowing them to join the new class. She believed they might make trouble, and upset the balance of the group. Yet there was no way she could have them taught separately. She consulted Mandy.
“Mandy dear, do you have any ideas how we could integrate them?”
“They won’t integrate as they are at present. They’re behaving like a couple of babies.”
“I’ve been too soft on them. Their own room and all that.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Shirley. We all thought their problems had been sorted out. I’d put them back outside again for a few weeks. That’ll soon have them promising to be good boys again.”
“Promising, yes. Till they got back in. No. I think something more permanent is called for.”
“Permanent?”
“You said they’re acting like babies. I’m thinking total babification. For as long as I think fit – for ever, if necessary.”
“And ECDs?”
“Definitely. Let’s do it now. Round up Yulya and Debbie. By the way, which one of them’s the boy and which the girl, in their current relationship?”
“Er…I can’t remember…”
“Never mind. I’ll plan on blue for Luke and pink for Max. It’ll remind them they were once a grown-up couple. Now they’ll just be two great big babies, incapable of any physical functions outside of drinking milk and wetting their nappies!”
-
114.
The two miscreants were in their room. Yulya stuck her head round the door.
“Luke. Miss Shirley like to see you – now please.”
“What about?”
“She not say.”
“Okay. I’ll be over shortly.”
“Now, please.”
He sighed, assuming boredom. But he knew enough to drag himself out of his chair and head for Shirley’s office. Yulya followed a few paces behind.
They didn’t stand on ceremony. Once inside, he found himself surrounded by Shirley, Mandy, Debbie and Yulya. At one side of the office, a few inches from the wall, and bolted to it, were a set of vertical steel bars, for situations just such as this. While Debbie held his feet, the other secured his wrists above his head with cable ties. He was firmly ball-gagged, then his ankles were secured. Ignoring his muffled protests, Shirley cut off his clothes with a pair of scissors, leaving him quite naked.
“Right, young man. We’ve had quite enough of your bad behaviour, so I’m afraid you’re going back to square one. Mandy? Can I have the erection control device, please? Though this is the mark two, more of an erection prevention device.”
There was a circular hinged backplate in plastic-coated aluminium, with a central aperture for the base of the pen-is and four screw or bolt holes round the edge. It closed with a sharp click behind his balls. The device itself had a matching plate, surmounted by a small dome-like structure which narrowed into a ribbed tube curved downwards through ninety degrees. Attached to the back of this plate was a thin leather gasket, from which dangled two narrow leather straps, one from the top and one from the bottom. Ignoring his struggles, she placed this against the base plate, tucked his balls into the dome, and wiggled it about until the tip of his member appeared at the end of the tube. The end curved in slightly, ensuring it could not escape. Luke was whimpering and making pleading noises, but Shirley ignored him.
“There. Size A. A small size, but it seems to fit you perfectly. Now…Mandy? The bolts, please. Thank you.” She held one up. “Threaded bolts. Tiny aren’t they? But they’ll do their job. Let me show you.”
She registered the holes on the two plates, and, using a miniature screwdriver, screwed the four bolts into the their holes, so the two plates were pulled tightly together, compressing the leather gasket.
“Now, I know you and your little friend are quite inventive, and if I leave it like this I'm worried you’ll find some way of getting the bolts out. Well, we can’t allow that, now can we? That’s what this is for.”
She held up what looked like a standard size screwdriver, but with a very fine tip.
“Do you know what this does? Well, do you?”
Luke shook his head.
“Let me show you.”
She applied the instrument to one of the bolt heads, and turned it sharply. There was a squeaking sound. She smiled, and performed the same operation on the other three.
“Do you know what I’ve done? That tool removed the slots from the heads of the bolts. Yes, that’s right. I can see by the expression on your face that the penny’s dropping. Now there’s no way of removing them – short of some fairly delicate engineering work. To all intents and purposes the device is on for keeps! So you'd better get used to it.”
Luke’s eyes were wide and he was shaking his head vigorously.
“Now I expect you’re wondering what these leather straps are for, these things buckled to the top and bottom of the baseplate. Well, my boy, these will be cut and pierced so that the other ends can be buckled to a locking leather belt around your waist. They will keep the plate firmly in position, and this lower strap will be fitted with a special loop designed to hold a range of butt plugs. As you can see, it’s narrow enough to fit neatly between your buttocks, so it will keep whatever we decide to attach to it firmly in place. That way whoever’s changing your nappy won’t have to deal with all that nasty smelly poo. Instead you can have the plug removed once a day so you can use the toilet, like a big boy.”
She stood back and gently patted his cheek. “You’re a lucky boy, to have all this attention lavished on you. But you look dismayed. If you’re feeling sorry for Max, don’t. I have another set just like this for him.”
“You must be wondering about your outfits, dear,” said Mandy. “We’ve really gone to town. We have two of the most darling baby outfits you’ve ever seen! Luke, you’re going to have the boys one, with lovely pale blue transparent plastic pants, a blue vest and cardigan – I know, the weather’s cooling down now, and you’re going to be spending some time outside – and lovely shiny blue wellies. Not to mention all the bottles and pacifiers and cute little baby toys you could ever hope for! And Max will have the same, but in the prettiest pink! What a cute pair you’ll be!”
“If that weren’t enough,” added Debbie, “you’re going to have the honour of welcoming our visitors on our open day next week. We haven’t quite finalised the plans yet, but you can rest assured you’ll have every opportunity to show yourselves and your beautiful outfits off to everyone! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Of course it is,” said Shirley. “But let’s get your clothes on so we can get Max ready. Then you can go back to your room and preen and admire each other. Oh – and now you’re going to be babies, I’m transferring you to Nursery 3. There’s such a lot of nice toys there, and all sorts of equipment for you to see. Some nice and some maybe not so nice. But that’s only for naughty babies, and I know you’re both going to be super-duper good, aren't you?”
-
115.
It was Friday morning. The boys had been in the games room since it opened. But they hadn’t been playing games. They were having a discussion.
“So your suggesting we should complain about our favourite teacher?” Sean was saying.
“No!” returned Oscar. “That’s not the point. Listen. I’ve read about this stuff in the papers.”
“You read the papers?” jeered Ryan. “Don’t make me laugh!”
“Well, maybe not the papers, but I’ve seen things about it online. Teachers get accused of gay propaganda an’ stuff.”
“Not in this country,” said James. “Here everyone’s delighted if a boy turns up in a skirt. A kid at my school did that and he became a sort of hero. The school had to change the uniform code till it was meaningless. It was great.”
“Well, anyway,” put in Simon, “look at it this way. Did we all like what she wore that first day?”
Chorus of “yeah…not ‘alf”.
“So. S’pose she never dresses up like that again.”
“Oh, she will. It was obvious it was a turn-on for her.”
“Yeah, well, it was a turn on for all of us, wasn’t it?” countered Simon. “But only Ben here” – he cast a sour glance towards the object of his envy - “only Ben got the benefit.”
“I dunno… We all enjoyed it, didn’t we?”
Simon sighed, exasperated. “Look, all I’m suggesting is that we use the homework she set us as an excuse to have a bit more fun. Real fun. I mean, getting close up and personal with her – and that hot black latex.”
“It’s true that’s the most turned-on I’ve ever felt in my life,” said Jack. “Fancy us ending up with a teacher like that!”
“I know,” added Joshua. “She was so hot – literally – that the whole room was filled with the smell of warm latex.”
This observation, and the memories it provoked, induced a thoughtful pause, and a degree of fidgeting in the ranks.
“All right,” said Sean. “You can try to persuade Miss, but you’d better not antagonise anyone, least of all our teacher. Understand?”
“Of course not. I’ll be incredibly polite, don’t worry.”
Shirley was sipping her eleven o’clock coffee. There was a gentle tap on the door.
“Come in. Mandy… What can I do for you?”
“The boys…”
“What about them?”
“They want to see you…”
“Oh? What about?”
“They won’t say.”
“Oh… Well, you’d better send them in. Is it all of them?”
“All except one.”
“Okay. Let’s see what they want. Please stay, Mandy.”
The boys crowded into the office. Could it be something to do with Luke and Max joining the class?
“Well boys, what can I do for you?”
Simon stepped forward.
“Miss, it’s like this. You probably don’t know, but Miss Yulya…”
“Yes? Go on.”
“Miss Yulya set us some homework this week.”
Shirley’s face showed no sign she knew about that homework.
“And?”
“Well, miss, see…it’s like this. We don’t want, you know, to cause any… What I’m saying is…”
“You’re not saying anything at the moment, Simon. Please come to the point.”
Tyler piped up from the back. “She set us homework to wan... I mean masturbate, miss. And to masturbate each other!”
“And she promised us a treat!” cried someone, suddenly remembering.
“So, did you do your homework? Or was it too difficult?”
“What? No, it wasn’t that…”
“The thing is, miss,” resumed Simon, “we did it all right – well, not all right – I mean, we had to force ourselves, like, course. But then, afterwards, we all started wondering…”
“Wondering?”
“Yeah. Like, were we gay? Or had doing it made us gay?”
“Really. So you enjoyed it, then.”
“No…no… I mean…”
“I didn’t mind,” said Ben, stepping forward. “I don’t think even if you enjoy it that makes you gay. You’re either gay or you’re not. Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, is there?”
“Thank you, Ben. I think you’ve answered Simon’s doubts better than I could. Is that all, Simon?”
Simon, temporarily thwarted, nevertheless decided to press on.
“But several of us, miss, we’re not sure. And now we’re a bit worried. We need to know whether we’re gay or…or…”
He intended to say “normal”, but stopped himself just in time.
“Heterosexual. Is that want you want to say?”
“Yes, miss… Het-het… That.”
“So what’s the problem? Go see if you’re still attracted to girls.”
“Yeah, but we don’t really know many girls, see? Apart from teacher.”
“Teacher? Miss Yulya?”
“Yeah…”
“So are you attracted to her?”
“We’re not sure,” said Oscar, who was standing next to Simon. “We wanted to find out. Like we were, when we first saw her in that nurse’s outfit, but we’re not sure we still are…”
“Don’t you know?”
“No. We’d need to see if…”
“See if what?”
“If seeing her still made us want to…you know…”
Now Shirley understood. She remembered that Simon and Oscar were the two who had talked about Yulya in the video. She suppressed a smile.
“See, miss,” Simon went on, “I need to be sure, cos if like I get confused, I’d have to maybe talk to my social worker or someone…”
Shirley recognised the pathetic attempt at blackmail. She was about to confront him with the possibility of making the tape of him and Oscar public, or the school being investigated and all of them having to go back to their previous institutions, but some streak of mischief told her to carry on playing the game.
“So what would make you sure? What would Miss Yulya need to do to put your minds at rest?”
She gave Mandy the slightest wink.
By the alacrity of their reply, it was clear Simon and Oscar had had it all worked out in advance.
“Well, miss,” said Oscar, “we’d need her to dress up in that nice rubber outfit again, and then we’d have to see what effect it had on us…”
“You mean if you got erections.”
“Er, well…”
“See, Ben got, like special treatment, and it don’t seem fair…”
“Ah. You’re jealous of Ben. I see. Well Ben, I understand, was the only one in the whole class that took the task she had set seriously. The rest of you just wrote nothing, or rudeness.”
“Yeah… We’re sorry about that. We were a bit shy…”
Shirley couldn’t suppress a laugh.
“Really. I see. Well I’m confident Miss Yulya will be wearing one of her usual creations this afternoon, so you’ll all be able to test your sexuality, won’t you?”
Simon was persistent. “The thing is, miss, it’s really difficult to know when you’re all locked up tight rubber shorts. Now if we could be unlocked… Just for today, like.”
“I see,” said Shirley, raising her eyebrows. “So what is it? You want to demonstrate to your teacher that the homework she set hasn’t made any permanent changes. Right?”
Yes, miss, that’s it!” said Oscar, eagerly. “We want to reassure her that we still fancy her! Er, I mean, that we’re still…”
“Heterosexual?”
“Yes, miss.”
“So that’s all you want. To have your zips unlocked for the lesson.”
“Er, maybe…” began Simon.
“Yes?”
“Maybe…you see, miss, sometimes when we get, like, aroused….”
“Yes? Go on.” Shirley was enjoying herself now.
“Sometimes…we, er, need to, you know, go the whole way. It can be really frustrating, see, otherwise…”
“So you want to be allowed to orgasm as well?”
Silence.
She remembered Simon and Oscar’s video. “And what happens if the sight of Miss Yulya makes you lose control completely? And you start spurting all over the place? Even on her, maybe? Why do you think the school uniform incorporates those highly restrictive shorts?”
No-one spoke. They were all staring at Shirley. One boy had turned bright red and was trying to hide his erection.
“So if I understand you correctly, you want Miss Yulya to make herself available for you lot to vent your frustrations. Right? At least, in the event it transpires your sexuality remains intact. Correct?”
A few of the braver ones nodded nervously, fearful of an explosion and subsequent punishment.
“I’ll discuss it with your teacher,” said Shirley in her most businesslike tone. “She will make an announcement at the start of the lesson. Dismiss.”
No-one moved.
“Dismiss!”
They ran for the door.
-
116.
After they had left, she turned to Mandy.
“What a nerve! I let them go on because I wanted to see what they were actually after. Honestly, talk about shameless.”
“And oversexed. We should fit them with ECDs – at least, Simon and Oscar. I’m surprised you gave them a hearing.”
“Oh, I was curious to see how far they’d go. And I’m curious to see what Yulya says.”
“She’ll be horrified.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“I bet they’re getting all steamy already, just thinking there’s even a possibility of you agreeing.”
“I’m sure they are. Is Yulya in, by the way?”
“She’s in reception.”
“Could you ask her to pop in?”
“Miss Shirley? You ask for me?”
“Come in, Yulya. Have a seat. I’ve just had a deputation of your students in here.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. Led by – guess who – Simon and Oscar. It seems the exercise you set them has cast doubt on their heterosexuality – made them uncertain.”
“Oh, dear. They think maybe they gay now?”
“So they claim. Marcus wasn’t there, I noticed. And Ben spoke up against the rest. But that leaves eleven of them.”
“So – what they want?”
“They want to test their sexuality on you to see if they’re still good heterosexuals.”
“What?”
“They want you in your best latex to see if the sight of you makes them want to masturbate.”
“Disgusting boys!”
“Well, yes… but you must admit, you lit the fuse.”
“Maybe. So they want me to wear latex again for them. No problem. I drive them crazy, if that what they want.”
“Well, I think they want more than that…”
“More…?”
“Maybe something like they said on the video?”
“What?”
“Obviously that’s not going to happen, but they asked to have their zips unlocked.”
“How they have cheek…? Let them – I don’t care whether they masturbate in shorts or out!”
“Simon made some veiled threat about talking to a social worker…”
Yulya looked shocked. “Really?”
“Obviously he wouldn’t dare. He'd be too worried they might lose their lovely new club. In any case, the sort of exercises you set are most definitely on our official curriculum. I’d have no difficulty defending them.”
“Even so…I feel responsible.”
“Don’t. I said you’d tell them the position at the start of the lesson. Make them as grumpy and frustrated as you like. It’ll teach them to be so presumptuous.”
Yulya flushed slightly.
“Maybe I should agree…”
“What? Darling, you have no reason. That would be going above and beyond…”
“But to keep peace…and protect P & S.”
“Yulya, you don’t have to…”
But Simon and Oscar’s words had been scratching and picking at her ever since she heard them. She must have watched their video fifty times, becoming more angry at every view. Her cheeks were burning now.
“I think I have moral duty.”
“Goodness, Yulya, I know you have high standards, but…”
Yulya didn’t reply. She seemed to be thinking about something. Shirley decided to clinch things.
“I really appreciate that. If I can’t persuade you against it, then of course…you’ll have my full support.”
“Thank you, Miss Shirley.”
“So what will you wear?” blurted Shirley, a touch too enthusiastically.
“I will need my cat suit…and hood.”
Shirley took a deep breath. “Gosh, Yulya. Well, I guess you’re right to be fully prepared…especially in that get-up.”
“They not be so cheeky when they see. I will go to change now.”
“Yes. Right. Pop in and see me when you’re…ready.”
Yulya turned to leave.
“Oh, Yulya. One more thing. We should probably ask Anna to record the lesson. To protect ourselves, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Miss Shirley. That good idea.”
On your way out, could you ask her to come in? Thank you.”
-
interesting to see what the 2 new sissy babies are doing and like to see what Yulya has in store for her class looks like it could be interesting
-
117.
Shirley leant back in her chair.
“I hope she’ll be all right,” she said to herself - though the truth was she was feeling quite excited at the prospect of Yulya and a dozen unruly teenagers going head to head.
A knock at the door.
“Come in!”
“You wanted me, madam?”
“Anna. Yes. I don’t know if you’ve heard…about Yulya?”
“Mandy said something, yes.”
“Well, the boys threw down the gauntlet, and she’s picked it up. So can you please go to classroom 1 at start of afternoon school? I need you to record what goes on.”
“Of course.”
“And Anna? I need a few stills, too. For a poster. Seems the boys want her as a pin-up. So something a bit sexy.”
“I understand, madam. That shouldn’t be difficult, considering it’s Yulya. What will she be wearing?”
“One of her cat suits, she says…”
“Oh…I see. Isn’t that a bit dangerous? I mean, amongst those new boys.”
“She seems to think she can handle them. I’m not so sure. But she insists upon rising to the challenge.”
“Ah, yes. Our Yulya. I know why.”
“Why?”
“Two motives. One, she want to dominate them. Cat suit makes her feel powerful, like Wonder Woman. Two, she knows boys fancy her like mad, make her feel sexy. But I think you know that. Don’t worry, I not miss any action.”
“Thank you Anna. Could you take Debbie with you? And ask her to take the keys. She’ll know what I mean.”
Yulya headed back to her room. She knew exactly what she was going to wear. And she was planning her strategy. She decided to forgo lunch – in any case, she felt far too excited.
“I need take down troublemakers – Simon and Oscar. Then rest will follow. That Oscar! I make him grovel. One day I put on my strap-on and fuc-k him like girl! Put him on lead and make him pet puppy! Simon too. I show them!”
She entered her room and locked the door behind her. She went to the wardrobe and flicked through a row of rustling latex garments. She lifted one out. Black latex, with a back zip running from the lower back to the top of the high, narrow collar, a tiny padlock dangling from the fastening. The crotch sealed, the breast cups firm, with fine, thin latex around the nipples. She had been saving this one for a special occasion. To go with it, she selected a plain all-over hood in soft black latex, and short latex gloves.
She showered, towelled herself dry, and applied a lubricating lotion to her whole body, so the suit would go on easily and move against her skin as she moved. She returned to the wardrobe and, biting her lower lip slightly, opened a drawer. She selected a solid rubber dil-do. It was an unusual shape, the ribbed shaft tapering slightly from the bulbous head to the base, so that its tendency was always to pull itself in deeper. It had a socket on the base which fitted onto a small rubber nub inside the crotch of the suit. Yulya snapped it in place. The advantage of having it attached to the suit was that, instead of being inert, it would move about inside her as she moved, and the suit moved against her body.
She stepped into the legs and pulled the bottom half of the suit up her body. She guided the dil-do into her pussy. She was already moist, and it slid in easily, making her gasp. She pulled up the waist and wriggled until it fitted smoothly over her hips and buttocks. Then she inserted her arms, pulling up each side until her shoulders were covered and her breasts neatly contained in their cups. Apart from the delicate, shaped nipples, the breast cups were moulded from thicker latex, conical and pointed, thrusting forward and slightly outwards. Yulya looked at herself in the wardrobe mirror with satisfaction.
She had attached a ribbon to the zip-pull, and zipped herself in by pulling it from above her head. She reached round behind her neck, and pulled the zip up the last few inches. A steel staple on one side of the collar slotted through a hasp on the other side, then Yulya slipped the slotted zip-pull on top, and secured everything with the padlock. She stood back and waved her arms around until all the wrinkles disappeared, and the latex looked like her skin. She loved the feeling of being contained thus - protected, and almost invulnerable.
She tied her hair back and prepared to put on her hood. It was a single piece of moulded black latex, with a small face opening and a longish narrow neck. She stated by fitting it on her chin, then stretching it over her head and gradually working it down until it snapped into place. She rolled down the neck so that it covered the neck of her suit smoothly, pushed a few strands of hair back under the forehead, and plucked and pulled at it until it felt comfortable. Her face from just above her eyebrows to just below her lips was all that could be seen. She could barely hear anything, but that was the price she paid for being totally enclosed.
She sat down, pulled on a pair of fine, short cotton socks, and put on her boots. She had thought very hard about which boots she should wear. She had been tempted to wear her best rubber riding boots, so that she would be sheathed totally in rubber. But finally she decided on something a little more – she hoped – scary. Her newest leather thigh boots has cost her two weeks’ salary. But it had been worth it. She had had them made to measure, so they fitted her legs to perfection, and she had specified they come two-thirds of the way up her thighs. From the crook of the knees to the top there were heavy-duty zips, the leather pulls attaching to studs just inside the top, so there was no chance of them coming open. When these zips were closed, the leather gripped her thighs, adding to her sense of power. The heels were moderately high, but not too narrow, so that she could walk anywhere with perfect balance, and the toes and heels were shod with steel, for maximum auditory effect.
All that remained was to pull on her gloves. She spent an unnecessary amount of time squeezing air out of the fingers and adjusting the cuffs, purely because she loved the tightness and the crinkly sound of the latex.
She applied a little makeup, and marched out of her room and along the corridor to Shirley’s office. As she approached Nursery 3, she encountered Debbie and the two malefactors.
“Yulya! You look magnificent! No-one without a perfect figure would have a chance of pulling that off.”
“Yulya smiled. “I hope boys like too. And what is this?”
She glanced at the two large babies, one all in blue, the other in pink, all togged up in their beautiful new heavy-duty outdoor plastic pants and their shiny matching bootees.
“Our new babies. I’m taking them for a little drive, and maybe a walk. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“They not happy? Smile, babies. Oh well.”
She knocked and entered Shirley’s office. Mandy was there. They both goggled.
“Yulya! That suit! It’s new, isn’t it?”
Yulya had pulled one side of her hood aside, so she could hear. “Yes, Miss Shirley.”
“Gosh,” exclaimed Mandy. “You look stunning. I feel I should kneel down and kiss your boots myself!”
“Mandy, no. Only boys have to do that,” she laughed. “By the way, I see our new babies. Very pretty couple. Going for drive, I hear.”
“Ah, yes. All the morning they’ve been complaining they want to leave. So Debbie thought up a nice little plan. After she’s unlocked your boys' zips, she’s going to handcuff them to each other, so they’ll have to hold hands, drive them to the next village, and leave them. They have no money or bus passes – babies don’t – so if they want to come back they’ll have to walk. And they’ll have to hurry to get past St. Mary’s girls’ school before the girls come out. Mandy’s taking bets on what time they arrive back.”
“Very cunning plan. I like.”
“Debbie’s full of good ideas. Now, Yulya, Debbie and Anna will go to classroom 1 at two exactly. The boys will be ready for you by ten past. I’m curious to how they’ll react to your outfit. But no doubt I’ll be able to see for myself later. Good luck!”
-
118.
Debbie had rather to rush her lunch, because she needed to collect Luke and Max from the nursery before going to the classroom. She marched briskly down the corridor the two of them in tow.
“You’d better come in for a minute. I have something to do before we leave.”
“Where we going, miss?”
“Just for a drive to the next village. There’s a pretty little park there. We can go to the playground if you like.”
“Miss…please…no.”
“In you go. Hello boys. Glad to see you’re all punctual.”
The boys stared at the visitors. Tyler’s face broke into a smile.
“’Oo are they?”
“This is Lukas and this is Max. They’ll be joining the class next week. Stand there and don’t move, you two.”
There was an explosion of laughter. Luke and Max looked very embarrassed and self-conscious, but had no choice but to stand there in front of the class, the butt of some very unkind remarks. Debbie, meanwhile, was attending to the unlocking process. She had unlocked Oscar and Simon when she suddenly exclaimed,
“”Damn. I’ve forgotten the handcuffs. Where’s Anna? Not here yet. You two? I need you to go and fetch something for me, quickly, while I’m unlocking the rest. Can you do that?”
“Sure Miss Buff-Hopkins, no problem,” said Simon, happy to have the opportunity to be free, if only for a few minutes.
“Here. This is the key to the equipment room. Get me one pair of locking cuffs – one pair, that’s all – box on the left by the door – pink. They’ll have the locks on already. That’s all. Don’t loiter and don’t touch anything else – or you’ll be in trouble. Understand?”
“Yes, miss. On our way.”
They slipped out and headed to the equipment room.
“Did you see those two? What a pair of pansies! Wait till we get them in class. We’ll have some fun with them!”
“Yeah, Sim. Poor sods. I wonder what they did? Makes you think, though. We ought to be a bit careful…”
“Here we are. That’s it. Let’s have a quick look round… Here’s the cuffs. Nice! Gay cuffs for little pansies. Hold these. Just wanna see what we have here…”
“Shit, Sim! Look at these things. A whole box full of them!”
“Let me see…’ECD’. Wonder what that stands for…whoa! Not cool! Put ‘em back!”
“Chain an’ straps an’ all sorts of shit…hey, what’s this? Duct tape?”
“No, mate. I know what that is. Bondage tape. Here, I’m gonna grab a reel. No-one’ll notice. Now lets get out of here…”
As they made their way back, Simon hid the reel of tape in his armpit. They re-entered the classroom.
“Here you are, miss.”
“Thank you. Yes, that’s what I wanted. Well, I’ve unlocked everyone. Frankly I’m not sure it’s a good idea. However, I have to get moving. Luke? Max? Stand together please while I lock these on… There. Now you might as well hold hands… Go on!”
“They’re very pretty little babies,” said Oscar with a grin. “Can’t wait for you to join the class, kids.”
“Ah, here’s Anna. Anna, you can keep an eye on them until Yulya turns up, can’t you. I have to get these two little cuties in the car. See you later!”
Anna was carrying a heavy leather bag. She commandeered a desk at the back of the classroom and began to unload her cameras.
“Is everyone here?”
“Marcus and Ben didn’t come in. They must be sick,” said Tyler.
“Or wanking,” someone murmured.
“Okay, well Miss Shirley has asked me to record the lesson, so that’s why I’m here. So I suggest you all be on your best behaviour and pay full attention to the teacher.”
“Oh, we will, miss, don’t worry,” said Oscar, with a leer. “She’s definitely going to get our full attention today…”
The classroom door was soundproofed – the idea had been muffle the cries of pupils being disciplined – so no-one heard the approaching click of Yulya’s heels, and her arrival was both abrupt and stunning. One moment the boys were relaxed, lolling carelessly at the desks laughing and chattering, the next they were sitting bolt upright staring open-mouthed at the latex-clad vision that was their teacher. Yulya noted their reaction with satisfaction - and perhaps a little exhibitionist thrill. She quashed the murmurs of admiration and lewdness at once.
“Quiet boys, please.” She looked around. “I see two students absent. Okay. Today I go over last week’s homework with boys individually. In general I pleased you all complete it. Well done. But first I write next topic on board. Please open books and write down first thoughts on subject. Then later we discuss, and at end of lesson I set this week’s homework.”
She turned to the blackboard, allowed herself a smile, and wrote the word “FELLATIO”.
The possible significance of the word for the next homework task gradually dawned on the class. Muffled sounds of protest or disbelief bubbled up.
“Quiet please. No talk in class. You see Anna record everything you do here today for headmistress. So take care how you behave.” She looked at Simon and Oscar with a triumphant gleam in her eye. But they were not looking at her face: they were staring helplessly at her jutting breasts and protruding nipples. She frowned, disguising the delight she felt at their obvious discomfort. “You two in front. Eyes on books please!” she commanded, secretly resolving to torment them further as the afternoon proceeded. She seated herself in the teacher’s chair, a rather old fashioned oak affair with arms - chosen by Shirley to, as she thought, add dignity to the position. “Now, first I see…Dylan and Ryan.”
The boys came up and stood one each side of her as she reviewed her notes.
“Very well done, boys. I award you eight out of ten. I like you took task seriously…”
As she talked to Dylan and Ryan, Simon moved his head slightly towards Oscar, sitting next to him.
“I’ve got an idea. Here, take this. Put it in your pocket.”
He pulled a couple of feet of tape from the reel which was now in his lap, and whispered urgently in Oscar’s ear. Oscar’s eyes widened, and then a broad grin spread over his face. Then he stuffed a similar length into his own pocket, and passed the reel to Isaac.
“Hold onto this, mate. Stick it inside your tunic, and give it to me when I ask you.”
-
119.
It was a short drive to Tinkerton village. Debbie parked in the one small car park. She got out of the car, and made the boys do the same. They held hands tightly, looking about them with trepidation lest they be seen. Fortunately for them, there weren’t many people about. They followed Debbie to the ticket machine.
“I don’t think we need long. Sixty pence for thirty minutes. That’ll be enough, don’t you think, boys?”
“Yes, miss, plenty,” said Luke, immensely relieved she wasn’t planning to make an afternoon of it.
She put the ticket in the windscreen.
“The park’s just round the corner. There’s a play area and a café. Follow me.”
They did as they were bid, keeping close to her to avoid being seen. Again, they were lucky. One woman and a little girl in the park, that was all.
“I could do with a coffee. Like a drink, boys? Cans? I’ll see what they have. Why don’t you go and play on the castle?”
They stood there self-consciously, terrified someone else would appear. The little girl was looking very interested.
“Mummy, why are those boys dressed as babies?”
“I don’t know, dear. Why don’t you ask them?”
She came over, and with childish seriousness, asked, “Why are you dressed as babies?”
“We, er…” began Max.
“Do you have nappies on? I used to wear nappies, but I’m big now. “ She paused. “Where’s your mummy?”
“She's at home, darling,” replied Debbie, returning with the drinks. “I’m just babysitting them.”
She winked at the woman, who covered her mouth and smiled.
“Oh. One of them’s a boy, and one’s a girl. Why are you a girl?”
The boys were getting seriously flustered now.
“Let’s go play in the castle,” said Max. “Look, there’s a turret up there where no-one can see us.”
“Don’t forget your drinks.”
“Thanks, miss.”
They hurried away. Debbie turned to the woman. “Is this your daughter?”
“Indeed it is. Bryony? Say hello to the lady.”
“Hello.”
Hello, dear.” She turned to the mother. “You must be wondering about those two. They’re very naughty boys. Their mothers sent them to a special school, where I work. It’s called P & S – near Beckleyford. We use various…therapies, to treat them. Let me give you a card. If you know anyone who might need our services, by all means pass it on.”
“Thank you. I just might. I’m Stephanie.”
“I’m Debbie – Debbie Buff-Hopkins. But I’m sorry. I have to go. They’ve disappeared, and that’s my cue to leave.”
“You’re going to leave them here?” She laughed.
Debbie winked. “All part of the therapy.”
“Mummy? Can I go play with the babies?”
“Of course, darling. But don’t be rough with them, will you?”
Soon Debbie was back in the car and on her way back to P & S. She smiled as she speculated on what adventures the boys might have on their way home…
-
120.
Yulya had dealt with all the boys except the three troublemakers – though she knew Isaac was merely hanging onto the coattails of his two mates. She thought to prolong their anxiety – though she was irritated to see they looked anything but anxious – so she took a stroll around the room, looking over shoulders to see what had been written, and also whether her outfit was having the desired effect. She was gratified to see an array of erections, manifested in impressive sausage-shaped bulges in every pair of rubber shorts – save one. Poor Louis, in the back row, had submitted to the temptation to unzip his, and was now struggling, red-faced, and without much success, to cajole his swollen member back inside. Yulya was both delighted and aroused by the class’s positive response to her new cat suit. She patted Louis on one burning cheek, then stroked it gently with the backs of her latex-sheathed fingers, making him tremble with excitement.
“Miss… I-I’m sorry, I…”
“Don’t worry, Louis. Leave it. I glad you approve.”
“Yes, miss. Very much, miss,” he replied, looking at her with relief.
She continued her perambulation for a few more minutes, enjoying the slight rotation of the dil-do deep inside her, then returned to her desk and sat down. She noticed Oscar and Simon in conversation, and guessed from their sly glances it was about her, but the latex hood prevented her from overhearing. She beckoned to Simon, Oscar and Isaac.
“You three – here, please.”
They jumped up and came up to the front with surprising alacrity. They must have known she would have seen the whole video. Did they think she was going to congratulate them for their impudence?
Isaac took up a position behind her chair, with Oscar and Simon on either side. Yulya placed her phone on the desk. She had uploaded the video and now, making sure the sound was turned down, she hit play.
“So, boys, masturbation technique good…but something not good. You two” – she glanced from side to side – “say such things to me? You think that” – she stopped the video at the point where they were addressing the camera – “that okay,yes?”
“Miss,” said Isaac, fearing reprisals, “I’m sorry. It was my fault. I sent the video before the others had told me to. You should never have seen that.”
“I believe that true, Isaac,” she replied, holding open one side of her hood so she could hear him. “I not blame you. But you, Simon, and you, Oscar… First, I want apology. Then I decide how we punish you.”
She allowed her hood to snap back into place, and, adopting a regal pose, rested her arms on the arms of the chair, awaiting their apology. But that was not what she got.
“Now!” cried Simon. And before she realised what was going on, the boys had wrapped bondage tape around both her wrists, binding them to the arms of the chair and immobilising them!
“What? Get this off at once. How dare you…!”
But Simon had already grabbed the reel of tape from Isaac, and he and Oscar were now down on their knees binding Yulya’s ankles to the legs. In a matter of a few seconds, she was quite helpless.
“Sean! Bolt the door, quick,” yelled Oscar.
Yulya screamed for help, but her cries would have been so muffled by the door it would have been unlikely she could have alerted anyone. In any case, Simon quickly would bondage tape over her mouth and around her neck, effectively gagging her. All she could do was to make angry noises, struggle, and glare at him. She was in turmoil, her arousal and her fury competing with each other for supremacy. It was as if Simon and Oscar knew what she was suffering, because their next actions only heightened the conflict.
“Well, well, Sim,” said Oscar. “Just look at our strict teacher. Not so superior now, is she? Can you all see her, you guys at the back? No? Okay. Sim? Help me carry her out from behind the desk so everyone can get a good view.”
They carried her out and put her down in front of the class. The air was electric with anticipation. The rest of the class were shocked by the boys' audacity, and unsure whether they dared to get involved.
Simon started to stroke her cheek.
“I love you in tight latex, miss. You look so good. And it fits you like a second skin.” He fondled her neck and shoulders. “So smooth…and I can feel the warmth of your body… Your breasts…” His hand moved down and cupped her right breast. He squeezed it gently. Yulya squirmed, but she was held fast. Oscar took the cue and started to stroke the left one. He bent down and looked into her eyes.
“Do you like that, miss. Are your breasts sensitive?” His fingers found their way to her nipples. “Gosh, your nipples are so stiff! Feel them, Sim. See?”
“You’re right, Oscar. She must be so horny. I know why, too.”
“Why?”
“Cos she’s thinking about what we said we would do… She’s probably been thinking about it all week.”
“Yea, that’s it… She wants us to show our…appreciation, like.”
They laughed. By now, the others, seeing which way things were moving, were drifting up to the front.
“Come on, lads! Don’t be shy. She can’t do nuffin’ to us,” said Simon, confidently.
“But we’re gonna get in terrible trouble,” said Dylan. “We’ll get expelled for sure.”
“What if we do? It’ll be worth it to have some fun.”
“We may not,” said Tyler, without much conviction. “I mean, the school needs us to get funding. And in any case. Miss Dearman had our shorts unlocked. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t expect we might…you know…”
Jack looked towards Anna, who had homed in on Yulya with her video camera.
“Miss Anna… What do you think?”
“I don’t think. All I do is film.”
“But is the head gonna be angry?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. She know Yulya, but I can’t say.”
“She wants to say something, guys,” said James. “Simon, take that gag off. No-one can hear her anyway.”
“All right. But miss? No screaming, agreed?”
Yulya nodded.
“Okay. There.”
Yulya took a deep breath. She realised she was in no position to threaten. She needed to reason with them.
“Boys. You think this joke, yes? But no joke. If you not let me free, then maybe Miss Shirley make you all leave. Maybe she sack me for being bad teacher, not keep order in classroom. We all in trouble.”
“But miss,” said Oscar, “we asked the head for permission, and she said she’d discuss it with you. So you must have agreed. So we can’t get in trouble.”
“Besides,” piped up Tyler, “ you promised us a treat if we did our homework, an’ we did it, an’ we still ain’t got our treat, so, like, I thought this was gonna be it…”
Chorus of “yeah, that’s right…”
“And you got all dressed up for us, miss…”
“And you look amazing…”
“And we want to prove we’re still het…het…”
“Yeah – that we ain’t gay…well, not all of us…”
Yulya was about to speak, when someone called out, “Hey. Look at Louis!”
Louis had eventually risen from his seat, and was still trying desperately to thrust his stiff pen-is back into his shorts. Everyone laughed.
“Come over here, Louis,” said Simon, beckoning him. “Don’t be shy. We’re all in the same state. It’s just that we haven’t unzipped our shorts…yet.”
“I can’t help it, Simon,” said Louis, approaching slowly. “Seeing miss in all that shiny rubber made me so hot, and I couldn’t help taking it out, and now I can’t get in back again…”
“It’s all right. You won’t be able to until you’ve been able to c-um. Now, who’s your wanking partner… You, isn’t it, Tyler?”
“I was…yeah…”
“So you must help Louis now. Come here Louis. Stand here in front of miss. Between her knees. As close as you can. That’s it.”
“Simon!” said Yulya. “What are you…?”
“Tyler? Come and do your job. Come on. You did it once. Now do it again.”
“But it might go on miss…”
“Exactly…”
“Simon!”
But now everyone had cottoned on. “Do it, Tyler!” “Go on, mate – he’s nearly there anyway.” “What you waitin’ for?”
Tyler’s frown slowly morphed into a grin. He stood behind Louis and put his left arm firmly around his friend's waist. With his right he reached down and took hold of Louis’ stiff coc-k.
“Now, Lou," he said, “put your hands on miss’s shoulders to steady yourself. Good. Now…”
“Tyler! Stop please - or I get very angry!”
“I hope so, miss... You’re even more sexy when you’re angry…”
-
Yulya has really put herself in a spot. I wonder how she is planning on getting those to troublemakers?
What's with Anna? I know the head wanted her to film it but shouldn't she be stepping in to stop what is happening?
Thank you Sandra for continuing this story, have a happy New Years
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Thank you, krystal. Happy New Year to you too.
I agree, Yulya does seem to be in a spot. As to Anna, I'm not sure why she's being so passive, though I suspect there may be an unconscious element of jealousy at work.
-
Hi Sandra, So nice to read your continuation of Mitch. Can't wait to see what happens to Yulya with Simon and Oscar and the boys. Also, how Luke and Max fare on their way back to P & S dressed as they are, a couple of very wet, sagging nappies i should imagine. Have a Happy and Prosperous New Year.
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Thanks, Baby Jay - the same to you. Is it possible they could all escape unscathed? I doubt it.
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SandraB!!!!!!! you wouldn't, would you? No, they can't all escape. Simon and Oscar are at the mercy of Yulya and her devious plans and Luke and Max destined to be totally babyfied and become the showpiece of what P & S can accomplish. Please, Pretty Please.
-
121.
Max and Luke felt a little safer in their wooden turret. They didn’t even mind when Bryony climbed up and asked them to play, especially as all she wanted was to have a pretend tea part right there in the little room, with her as the princess and the boys as visiting baby princes. They were happy to hide in there, knowing that very soon Debbie would call them down and they could get back in the car.
But when time passed and there was no summons from Debbie, they began to get concerned. Bryony was insisting they finish their meal, but eventually Luke stood up and stuck his head out of the window. The only person in the park seemed to Stephanie, watching the ducks on the pond.
“Hi! Miss? Have you seen our, er, mother?” He didn’t know what else to call her.
“Oh, she left some minutes ago. I thought you knew.”
“What? Max! She’s bloody gone! Quick! Let’s get back to the car park!”
Leaving Bryony calling them to return, the boys scrambled down and ran to the car park. But Debbie’s car had gone. The horrible truth began to dawn on them. They looked at each other aghast, then ran back to the park. Gasping for breath, they approached Stephanie, now with Bryony in tow.
“Miss…excuse me…did she say anything…about us...?”
“Not really…are you okay?”
“Yes. No. I think we have to go home by ourselves. Do you know which is the road to Beckleyford?”
Stephanie felt sorry for them. She almost offered them a lift. But then she remembered this was their therapy. And in any case, they must have been very bad boys to end up in this situation.
“It’s pretty much a straight road. Follow that avenue…” – she pointed – “and at the second crossroads turn left. Then just go straight.”
“Thank you. Er…how far is it?”
“Oh, only a few miles…five or six at the most.”
“Five or six? We have to go.”
“Bye bye, babies,” called Bryony as they left the park. “Please come back soon.”
It had been a short drive there, but it turned out to take a lot longer getting back. The schools were just coming out in Tinkerton, but somehow they managed to run out of the village without attracting too much attention. Probably people thought they were running for charity in fancy dress. Once on the lane back to P & S they slowed down.
“What a bitch! If we only had coats or something. I feel totally exposed like this. And I need a wee,” complained Luke.
“Me too. We’ll have to hold it. How long do you reckon…”
“A good hour, even if we hurry. At least this is a quiet lane, and there’s no houses along here I can see. And we could always climb over the fence and hide in the trees if…”
“Look! Someone’s coming!”
“Shit! Quick. Over here.”
They were over the fence and in the bushes in a trice. To their horror, the people who came into view turned out to be three girls, about sixteen or seventeen, in school uniform, chatting and laughing noisily. The boys grovelled in the undergrowth.
“Where have they come from?” whispered Max.
“No idea,” hissed Luke. But then he remembered something. “Wait a minute… Isn’t there supposed to be some private girls’ school along the road to P & S? Remember when we were piggies, a couple of them came to play with us?”
“Oh, shit, I think you’re right. Can’t remember the name. Posh place. How are we going to get past that?”
“We could hide till they’ve all gone.”
“I need a wee. I need to get that bitch to unlock my pants. Besides, that’s the sort of place where everyone hangs about after school, cos they love being there so much.”
“We’ll have to make a run for it then. No other way.”
The coast now being clear, they broke cover and headed on at a steady trot. Round the next corner they saw the impressive buildings of St. Mary’s Girls’ School looming up on their left. They were obliged to stay on that side, there being no pavement on the right. Any hopes they may have had of getting past unnoticed were soon dashed; both the playground and the pavement outside the school were crowded with girls in blue and red uniforms. They had already been noticed, so the option of retreat was no longer open to them. They increased their speed and moved into the road. But the girls who had seen them were now alerting the others, and as they approached the school gates, a phalanx of uniforms moved to block their progress.
“Shit! What the fuc-k do they think they’re doing?”
A line of girls had joined hands, completely blocking the road. The boys were forced to a halt.
“Hey! Let us through! What do you think you’re playing at?” shouted Max, adopting as confident tone as he could under the circ-umstances. However, his command was ignored.
“I knew it!” cried one girl, about sixteen. “They must be from that place!”
“They are! I recognise them!” replied another, younger one. “They were dressed in those piggy costumes the last time I saw them. That one” – she pointed at Luke – “I pushed over into the mud.”
She smirked and stuck out her tongue. “I liked you as piggies, but I think I like you even better as babies!”
“Come on, please… Let us through… We have to get back, else…”
“Else what? You’re not going anywhere, not till we’ve got a few snaps. Why are you holding hands like that?”
“They’re cuffed together, Marlene. Brilliant!”
“Let’s get them! Bring them over to the gates!”
The boys had no chance against a dozen girls. They were dragged onto the pavement and forced up against the school gates.
“Mmm, they smell nice – like real babies – all sweet and perfumy.”
“It’s baby powder – probably from when they were last changed.”
“Look at their pants! Feel them! I do love your baby pants, boys. Such pretty colours – and proper outdoor ones, too.”
“What a pair of show-offs! Let’s keep them here for a bit. Janice? Have you got your rucksack padlock on you? You have? We could padlock the chain on their cuffs to the wire on the gate.”
“No! Please! We need to…”
“Need to what? You need to stay with us. Babies shouldn’t be allowed out unattended. There. Now you can’t leave!”
The boys looked at each other in dismay. The chain on their cuffs was now neatly padlocked to the school gates, and more and more girls were arriving to point and laugh and take photos. Max began to pull desperately at his cuff.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked one girl.
“I think he needs the loo,” said another. “I recognise the symptoms.”
“Do you, baby?”
Max nodded, slowly and miserably.
“I think he’s going to cry.”
“Good. We can video him crying and then wetting himself. I’ll post it on Facebook. Bet it gets bundles of likes!”
“Shh. Miss is coming.”
The hubbub died own a little as “Miss” came up.
“What’s going on here? Why are you all hanging around… Goodness! Who…what are these…boys doing here?”
“They came to show off their new outfits, miss. Aren’t they cute?”
“But…where are they from…? Where are you from, boys? Why are you dressed as babies?”
Max was sobbing now.
“They’re from that special school, miss. I think that one’s about to wet himself…oh, yes, there he goes…”
The teacher was aghast. “But…why are they attached to the gate?”
“Well, miss… Oops, there goes the other one too. You can see his nappy getting all soggy. Lucky they have such good plastic pants.”
“Answer me! At once.”
“Well, see, they seemed to be lost, so we thought we should keep them here while we found their…I dunno, parents or whatever. But they were going to run off, so we thought it best…you know, to padlock them to the gate and get help.”
The teacher inspected the padlock. “Where’s the key?”
“Oh, it’s…er…it’s Janice’s…but I think her mum just picked her up… Yes, there they go now.”
“Oh, dear, dear. So now we have two little wet babies…”
“Big wet babies, miss…”
“Yes – even worse. Two big wet babies attached to our gates. I think I’d better ring that school. Anyone know the name?”
“P & S, miss.”
“Thank you, Patricia. Perhaps you could keep an eye on these two till I get back.”
“Course, miss.”
“Okay, She’s gone. Maisy? Take my picture with these guys, please.”
“And mine!”
“And mine!”
“So what are your names? Come on, spit it out. What? Luke, yeah... and you? Max. Right. And what school do you go to? No, apart from P & S. Really. I have some friends there. They’re going to be so happy to see what you guys are up to these days. You have piggy photos too, Violet? They’re going to be so impressed at how versatile you are! Oh, here’s miss back again.”
“Well, I’ve spoken to P & S, and they’re sending a lady over to collect them. And I’ve spoken to Janice’s mother. Janice has got the key – she doesn’t seem to be able to explain why she took it away in the first place – and her mother has sent her back to unlock them. What a muddle!”
“So, miss…?”
“Move along there, you girls! There’s nothing to see!”
Which, considering there were two youths dressed in contrasting baby costumes, each with soaked nappies, locked to the school gates, was not a remark of the highest veracity.
“So, miss...?”
“So Janice will be back shortly, and this woman – Deborah, I think her name was. And I need to get on with my work. You three are prefects, and so is Janice, so perhaps the four of you could keep an eye on these two until help arrives? And keep the girls moving?”
“Oh, yes, miss. Of course. Me and Marlene and Maisy will stay as long as necessary, and I’m sure Janice will be back soon.”
“Thank you, Patricia. Well, I have to go. If there are any more problems, I’ll be in my office.”
“Yes, miss!”
The three girls looked at each other with delight. Now they were officially in charge of the babies. They began taunting them and taking more pictures, and videos of them getting more and more annoyed. It was such fun.
“I hope Janice gets here first,” said Patricia.
“Look! There she is!”
Janice had hopped off the bus, and came running over.
“Brilliant move, Jan.”
“Yeah. I just totally forgot about the key, didn’t I?” She smiled innocently.
“Well, unlock us, then,” growled Luke, “an' we’ll be on our way.”
“No way,” cried Marlene. “We’re going to look after you till the lady from your school arrives. So get used to it.”
“Ooh,” interjected Janice. “I think that one’s pants are leaking. See? They’re dripping from the leg!”
Max turned an even brighter shade of red, and squeezed his thighs together. But his nappy was so wet that all that happened was a little rivulet of wee ran down his leg. And the girls all fell about laughing.
And as yet, no sign of Debbie.
-
I love it when they get the big babies back to P&S they should be put in cots (cribs) after a nappy change and a bottle. Maybe the next day a big playpen in the front yard so everyone can see them.
Keep up the great story
121.
Max and Luke felt a little safer in their wooden turret. They didn’t even mind when Bryony climbed up and asked them to play, especially as all she wanted was to have a pretend tea part right there in the little room, with her as the princess and the boys as visiting baby princes. They were happy to hide in there, knowing that very soon Debbie would call them down and they could get back in the car.
But when time passed and there was no summons from Debbie, they began to get concerned. Bryony was insisting they finish their meal, but eventually Luke stood up and stuck his head out of the window. The only person in the park seemed to Stephanie, watching the ducks on the pond.
“Hi! Miss? Have you seen our, er, mother?” He didn’t know what else to call her.
“Oh, she left some minutes ago. I thought you knew.”
“What? Max! She’s bloody gone! Quick! Let’s get back to the car park!”
Leaving Bryony calling them to return, the boys scrambled down and ran to the car park. But Debbie’s car had gone. The horrible truth began to dawn on them. They looked at each other aghast, then ran back to the park. Gasping for breath, they approached Stephanie, now with Bryony in tow.
“Miss…excuse me…did she say anything…about us...?”
“Not really…are you okay?”
“Yes. No. I think we have to go home by ourselves. Do you know which is the road to Beckleyford?”
Stephanie felt sorry for them. She almost offered them a lift. But then she remembered this was their therapy. And in any case, they must have been very bad boys to end up in this situation.
“It’s pretty much a straight road. Follow that avenue…” – she pointed – “and at the second crossroads turn left. Then just go straight.”
“Thank you. Er…how far is it?”
“Oh, only a few miles…five or six at the most.”
“Five or six? We have to go.”
“Bye bye, babies,” called Bryony as they left the park. “Please come back soon.”
It had been a short drive there, but it turned out to take a lot longer getting back. The schools were just coming out in Tinkerton, but somehow they managed to run out of the village without attracting too much attention. Probably people thought they were running for charity in fancy dress. Once on the lane back to P & S they slowed down.
“What a bitch! If we only had coats or something. I feel totally exposed like this. And I need a wee,” complained Luke.
“Me too. We’ll have to hold it. How long do you reckon…”
“A good hour, even if we hurry. At least this is a quiet lane, and there’s no houses along here I can see. And we could always climb over the fence and hide in the trees if…”
“Look! Someone’s coming!”
“Shit! Quick. Over here.”
They were over the fence and in the bushes in a trice. To their horror, the people who came into view turned out to be three girls, about sixteen or seventeen, in school uniform, chatting and laughing noisily. The boys grovelled in the undergrowth.
“Where have they come from?” whispered Max.
“No idea,” hissed Luke. But then he remembered something. “Wait a minute… Isn’t there supposed to be some private girls’ school along the road to P & S? Remember when we were piggies, a couple of them came to play with us?”
“Oh, shit, I think you’re right. Can’t remember the name. Posh place. How are we going to get past that?”
“We could hide till they’ve all gone.”
“I need a wee. I need to get that bitch to unlock my pants. Besides, that’s the sort of place where everyone hangs about after school, cos they love being there so much.”
“We’ll have to make a run for it then. No other way.”
The coast now being clear, they broke cover and headed on at a steady trot. Round the next corner they saw the impressive buildings of St. Mary’s Girls’ School looming up on their left. They were obliged to stay on that side, there being no pavement on the right. Any hopes they may have had of getting past unnoticed were soon dashed; both the playground and the pavement outside the school were crowded with girls in blue and red uniforms. They had already been noticed, so the option of retreat was no longer open to them. They increased their speed and moved into the road. But the girls who had seen them were now alerting the others, and as they approached the school gates, a phalanx of uniforms moved to block their progress.
“Shit! What the fuc-k do they think they’re doing?”
A line of girls had joined hands, completely blocking the road. The boys were forced to a halt.
“Hey! Let us through! What do you think you’re playing at?” shouted Max, adopting as confident tone as he could under the circ-umstances. However, his command was ignored.
“I knew it!” cried one girl, about sixteen. “They must be from that place!”
“They are! I recognise them!” replied another, younger one. “They were dressed in those piggy costumes the last time I saw them. That one” – she pointed at Luke – “I pushed over into the mud.”
She smirked and stuck out her tongue. “I liked you as piggies, but I think I like you even better as babies!”
“Come on, please… Let us through… We have to get back, else…”
“Else what? You’re not going anywhere, not till we’ve got a few snaps. Why are you holding hands like that?”
“They’re cuffed together, Marlene. Brilliant!”
“Let’s get them! Bring them over to the gates!”
The boys had no chance against a dozen girls. They were dragged onto the pavement and forced up against the school gates.
“Mmm, they smell nice – like real babies – all sweet and perfumy.”
“It’s baby powder – probably from when they were last changed.”
“Look at their pants! Feel them! I do love your baby pants, boys. Such pretty colours – and proper outdoor ones, too.”
“What a pair of show-offs! Let’s keep them here for a bit. Janice? Have you got your rucksack padlock on you? You have? We could padlock the chain on their cuffs to the wire on the gate.”
“No! Please! We need to…”
“Need to what? You need to stay with us. Babies shouldn’t be allowed out unattended. There. Now you can’t leave!”
The boys looked at each other in dismay. The chain on their cuffs was now neatly padlocked to the school gates, and more and more girls were arriving to point and laugh and take photos. Max began to pull desperately at his cuff.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked one girl.
“I think he needs the loo,” said another. “I recognise the symptoms.”
“Do you, baby?”
Max nodded, slowly and miserably.
“I think he’s going to cry.”
“Good. We can video him crying and then wetting himself. I’ll post it on Facebook. Bet it gets bundles of likes!”
“Shh. Miss is coming.”
The hubbub died own a little as “Miss” came up.
“What’s going on here? Why are you all hanging around… Goodness! Who…what are these…boys doing here?”
“They came to show off their new outfits, miss. Aren’t they cute?”
“But…where are they from…? Where are you from, boys? Why are you dressed as babies?”
Max was sobbing now.
“They’re from that special school, miss. I think that one’s about to wet himself…oh, yes, there he goes…”
The teacher was aghast. “But…why are they attached to the gate?”
“Well, miss… Oops, there goes the other one too. You can see his nappy getting all soggy. Lucky they have such good plastic pants.”
“Answer me! At once.”
“Well, see, they seemed to be lost, so we thought we should keep them here while we found their…I dunno, parents or whatever. But they were going to run off, so we thought it best…you know, to padlock them to the gate and get help.”
The teacher inspected the padlock. “Where’s the key?”
“Oh, it’s…er…it’s Janice’s…but I think her mum just picked her up… Yes, there they go now.”
“Oh, dear, dear. So now we have two little wet babies…”
“Big wet babies, miss…”
“Yes – even worse. Two big wet babies attached to our gates. I think I’d better ring that school. Anyone know the name?”
“P & S, miss.”
“Thank you, Patricia. Perhaps you could keep an eye on these two till I get back.”
“Course, miss.”
“Okay, She’s gone. Maisy? Take my picture with these guys, please.”
“And mine!”
“And mine!”
“So what are your names? Come on, spit it out. What? Luke, yeah... and you? Max. Right. And what school do you go to? No, apart from P & S. Really. I have some friends there. They’re going to be so happy to see what you guys are up to these days. You have piggy photos too, Violet? They’re going to be so impressed at how versatile you are! Oh, here’s miss back again.”
“Well, I’ve spoken to P & S, and they’re sending a lady over to collect them. And I’ve spoken to Janice’s mother. Janice has got the key – she doesn’t seem to be able to explain why she took it away in the first place – and her mother has sent her back to unlock them. What a muddle!”
“So, miss…?”
“Move along there, you girls! There’s nothing to see!”
Which, considering there were two youths dressed in contrasting baby costumes, each with soaked nappies, locked to the school gates, was not a remark of the highest veracity.
“So, miss...?”
“So Janice will be back shortly, and this woman – Deborah, I think her name was. And I need to get on with my work. You three are prefects, and so is Janice, so perhaps the four of you could keep an eye on these two until help arrives? And keep the girls moving?”
“Oh, yes, miss. Of course. Me and Marlene and Maisy will stay as long as necessary, and I’m sure Janice will be back soon.”
“Thank you, Patricia. Well, I have to go. If there are any more problems, I’ll be in my office.”
“Yes, miss!”
The three girls looked at each other with delight. Now they were officially in charge of the babies. They began taunting them and taking more pictures, and videos of them getting more and more annoyed. It was such fun.
“I hope Janice gets here first,” said Patricia.
“Look! There she is!”
Janice had hopped off the bus, and came running over.
“Brilliant move, Jan.”
“Yeah. I just totally forgot about the key, didn’t I?” She smiled innocently.
“Well, unlock us, then,” growled Luke, “an' we’ll be on our way.”
“No way,” cried Marlene. “We’re going to look after you till the lady from your school arrives. So get used to it.”
“Ooh,” interjected Janice. “I think that one’s pants are leaking. See? They’re dripping from the leg!”
Max turned an even brighter shade of red, and squeezed his thighs together. But his nappy was so wet that all that happened was a little rivulet of wee ran down his leg. And the girls all fell about laughing.
And as yet, no sign of Debbie.
-
Phew!!! thank goodness no-one escaped. Poor Luke and Max how humiliating to be surrounded by the girls, their soaked nappies leaking. Hope they get back to P & S O.K. Wonder how Simon and Oscar are getting on? ant not forgetting poor little Louis, has he become Yulya's little pet Puppy. Can't wait for next instalments.
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122.
As Tyler took his friend in hand, Louis sighed and closed his eyes. His hands dropped to his sides. Tyler, in the satisfying knowledge that Yulya was quite helpless, the classroom door was closed and bolted, and the lesson still had more than an hour and a half to run, decided to take his time. Louis’ coc-k was small but lively. Every now and then it would tauten, as if he were going to c-um, but then it would relax again. Giving it a gentle squeeze made him gasp, and resulted in a drop of clear juice oozing from the tip and dripping lazily into Yulya’s lap. When Tyler gently slid the foreskin back, Louis said “oh!” and squirmed. Yulya was glaring at him now.
“I remember this, Tyler.”
“Oh, you will, miss, you will. But it’s not my fault. You shouldn’t get your students in such a state. Look at him. Poor Louis. He’s going to have to c-um soon, and it’s only fair it should be - all over you!”
“Go, Tyler!” shouted Oscar.
Tyler, still smiling, and looking Yulya straight in the eyes, whispered in Louis’ ear.
“Want to c-um now, Lou?”
Louis hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, please, Tyler.”
“Okay. Where would you like to c-um?”
“Over miss,” he breathed, as if in a sort of trance.
“Open your eyes then, and I’ll do it.”
“Don’t you dare, Louis!” cried Yulya. “Tyler. You stop now. Understand?”
Anna, sensing a critical moment, took up a position to one side, in order to capture the entirety of the tableau.
“I’m sorry, miss…” sighed Louis, opening his eyes, as Tyler began to slide his foreskin gently back and forth, “I’m really sorry, but I need to c-um so mu.…aahhhh!”
Louis may have had a small pen-is, but what it lacked in size it made up for in muzzle velocity. The first spurt hit Yulya square in the midriff, the shiny black rubber suddenly splattered with sticky c-um. Tyler adjusted the elevation accordingly, aiming higher, and scoring direct hits on her left and then her right breast. He could feel Louis spasming in his arms, and his legs giving out under the ecstasy of his orgasm, so he held him tight and aimed high for maximum effect. Yulya was outraged.
“You little pigs!” she shouted, as another slimy load splashed her neck and shoulder. Anna moved in for a close-up. Seeing her approaching from her right, and desiring as much as possible to hide her face from the camera, Yulya turned her head sharply to the left – and to her horror found the gleaming tip of Oscar’s pen-is, recently freed from the confines of his shorts, pointing straight at her. With a cry of disgust, she twisted her head back; but that movement, and that cry, the emission of which necessitated the opening of her mouth, were her undoing. For on her left, Simon had taken advantage of her temporary inattention to unzip his shorts, allowing his tumescent member to spring forth. The slight sound was inaudible to Yulya through her hood, so it was a second surprise to find herself confronted by an equally unwanted sight on her right; perhaps that surprise delayed the closing of her lips by an instant. Be that as it may, Simon, taking immediate advantage, thrust quickly forward, forcing his bloated, slippery coc-k between them. She tried to push it out with her tongue, but Simon had placed his hands on her head, and held it in position, merely responding to her impotent struggles with a sigh of pleasure.
Even worse that the feeling of being so rudely violated by the boy she had most desired to humiliate, was the embarrassment at seeing Anna and her camera appear in front of her, and the delight on her face as she adjusted the focus and experimented with different angles. Simon smiled and turned towards the camera.
“Today miss is explaining all about fellatio,” he said, with mock seriousness. “Before the lesson we didn’t even know what it meant! But she’s such a good teacher and she believes in teaching by example!”
Yulya’s muffled protests were ignored. Simon held her firmly, the entire head of his pen-is inside her mouth. The rest of the class, hardly able to believe what they were seeing, gathered around. Tyler helped the drained Louis into a seat, and took his place amongst them. All eyes watched with fascination, every coc-k was out, and every boy masturbating expectantly. When he was certain he had everyone’s attention, Simon began to thrust in and out of Yulya’s mouth, maintaining a smooth, unhurried rhythm. She was enraged; if looks could kill, he would have suffered a thousand deaths. But in this case, not only could they not kill, but they merely enhanced his enjoyment. He had dreamt of this moment, but never believed his dreams could come true. But now it was really, undeniably, happening, in front of a dozen witnesses, and being recorded on video for evidential certitude.
As he continued to assault her face in this ungentlemanly manner, Yulya, to her intense consternation, and quite against all her inclinations, felt herself becoming more and more aroused. What might, under other circ-umstances, have been pleasurable, was utterly infuriating. It was not enough she should suffer this abuse, but the thought that her body was actually responding to it was for her the most demeaning aspect of the whole thing. It was at that moment that deep inside her a small but intense flame was ignited. It was the desire – the determination – for a dreadful revenge. Even as Simon and Oscar were smiling at their own audacity, Yulya was planning their downfall.
One of the boys – it may have been James – was finding the whole spectacle far too much for him. There was a little cry, almost a sob, and he exploded over Yulya’s right boot, splattering the expensive leather with blobs of creamy spunk. This set off the rest, and they quickly followed suit, discharging jet after jet all over her, crowding forward in an effort to leave no part of her unsullied. Apart from the universal intake of breath, the only sound that could be heard for some moments was the soft pattering of fresh sperm on taut latex. And in spite of her anger, Yulya could not resist what she saw as an expression of sexual idolization by so many virile boys. The dil-do inside her seemed to be vibrating, though in truth it was her body that was doing so. She stared at the row of faces contorted with pleasure, the jerking bodies, the spurting members, she seemed to feel the warmth of their ejaculate through the rubber – and she started to c-um herself, great spasms of pleasure jolting her body.
Oscar, seeing her eyes close in ecstasy and sensing what was happening, saw no reason to hold back any longer, and released load after load onto her cheek and nose, and onto her upper lip, whence it was carried into her mouth by Simon’s thrusting pen-is. Anna, trembling with excitement and struggling to hold the camera still, now homed in on Yulya’s dripping face. Her glossy red lips were sticky with a white froth of sperm, whipped up by Simon’s movements, and now he too was overtaken by a massive orgasm. With a groan of pleasure, he pumped wad after wad of thick, hot c-um into her mouth. Yulya, climaxing violently, intoxicated with lust, swallowed greedily as fast as he could ejaculate, and when he was quite spent, even suc-ked the pulsing head in hope of more.
After some time, he slowly withdrew, leaving her still twitching from the aftershocks of the most intense climax she had ever experienced. The boys, as if waking from a dream, returned to reality one by one, awed at the heights to which all of them had travelled, and unsure of what was to follow. Yulya remained in her chair, her head lolling on her breast, temporarily incapable of rising even had she not been restrained. She was smothered in sticky, milky semen: strings of it hung from her nose, her chin, from the tips of her breasts; it trickled lazily down her stomach and flanks, and clung to her boots. Anna broke the spell.
“I think, boys, you’d better release your teacher now, don’t you?”
The boys stared, then scrambled to unwind the bondage tape. Simon and Oscar drew back and exchanged anxious glances.
“And maybe an apology would be in order?”
Apologetic murmurs from the class.
“Oh, er, sorry, miss…”
“Yes, miss. Sorry. It just sort of…”
“Yeah…really sorry, miss…”
There was a universal struggling with zips. Yulya, still trembling slightly, pulled herself to her feet. She was breathing hard. Behind her, on the blackboard, Anna saw the words “MASTURBATION” and “FELLATIO”. Like a true photographer, she seized the opportunity.
“Smile, Yulya!”
Taken aback, Yulya looked up. The spontaneous expression of surprise on her face as Anna took the snap was later to be interpreted as a quiet, satisfied smile.
“Got it!” Anna said to herself. “That’ll make the best poster!”
-
123.
Debbie took her time getting ready to drive to St. Mary’s. The teacher who had rung her didn’t say so, but she was sure both the boys must be wet by this time, so she packed all the necessaries in a bag, threw it into the back of her car, and set off. As she approached the school she could see a little crowd of girls around the front gate, and as she pulled over she caught a glimpse of the two babies up against the gates, looking very distressed. She smiled.
“There they are. Being well looked-after, by the look of it. Dear me, they really don’t look very happy. They should be flattered by all the attention.”
She strode up to the knot of uniforms.
“Good afternoon, girls. I’m Deborah from P & S. I see you’ve been looking after the babies for us. Thank you. I hope they haven’t been too troublesome.”
“Oh, no,” said Marlene. “Not at all. They’ve been posing for pictures – well, till they both had little accidents, as you can see.”
Debbie sighed. “Oh, dear. Well never mind. I’ve got everything I need here. Is there somewhere I can change them before I take them back?”
The girls exchanged gleeful looks.
“Oh… You want to change them here? I’m sure miss can find…in fact, here she comes now. You can ask her for yourself.”
“Hello. Are you the lady that rang? I’m Deborah Buff-Hopkins from P & S. Sorry it’s taken longer than I thought…”
“Oh, don’t worry. My girls have enjoyed babysitting, I think. I’m Violet Canter, deputy head. I’m glad you could come. Goodness knows what they were doing right out here. Playing truant, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m afraid” – she glanced at their soggy nappies – “I’m afraid they require a little attention, though…”
“Nice to meet you. I have all the necessaries. I was wondering if… Would it be possible for me to change them here? They’re very wet indeed, and I don’t see how…”
“Oh, of course. There’s a large bathroom attached to the gym. If you have some sort of mat…”
“I have one in the car. Could a couple of the girls…?”
“Miss, we can help! We’d like to help, in fact… If that’s all right by you, of course…”
“There you are. Our girls – helpful and obliging as always. By all means. One of you show Miss…er…Deborah the way, and you can all help to carry the equipment.”
Marlene led the way, carrying a bag of nappies. Maisy and Patricia held the big changing mat between them, and Janice carried the big floral changing bag. The bathroom was large, with showers, toilets, lockers, and a tiled raised seat running along one side. The big padded plastic mat fitted perfectly on there. Debbie distributed latex gloves to everyone, and wasted no time unlocking the boys pants, removing them and their nappies, and dropping them in a plastic sack. In the most matter-of-fact way imaginable, she unbuckled the straps from the baseplate of their devices, removed their plugs, and sent them to the shower. The girls mouths dropped open.
“Wh-what are those things they’re wearing?” stammered Janice, unable to take her eyes off the little curled plastic tubes where the boys’ parts should have been.
“Oh, just restraining devices to keep them under control. Boys of that age can become very unruly if they’re not properly contained, you know.”
“B-but…do they always have to wear them?” asked Maisy, wide-eyed.
“Whilst they’re babies, always,” said Debbie. “It reminds them that to all intents and purposes they have not reached sexual maturity.”
“And the…other things?” said Marlene, indicating the butt plugs which Debbie was now cleaning with baby wipes.
“Just another reminder the school is in control their bodies for the time being, and they must adhere to its rules while they are there. They soon get used to it, and its amazing how it improves their behaviour.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” said Patricia enthusiastically, as the boys’ position began to dawn on her. And her friends’ eyes gleamed with delight at they began to comprehend the extent of the boys’ subjugation.
“So…are all the boys at P & S made into babies…?” asked Maisy, thoughtfully.
“Oh, no…Maisy, is it? No, dear. Some are babified, others turned into little girls in pretty dresses and ruffly panties. Recently, these two were piggies, living in the stables outside.”
“I heard!” cried Marlene. One of the juniors went to see them, and she said she pushed one of them into the mud! Oh, gosh. I really want to visit P & S now, and see how all the naughty boys are tamed.”
“Yeah…cool!”
“Well, you can, if you can make it over next Thursday. We’re having an open day, and they’ll all be on parade. These two will be showing people around and serving drinks. You should come.”
“We can ask permission from Mrs Canter. I’m sure she’d let us. I mean, it’s educational, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ask her,” said Debbie. “I’ll put in a good word for you. I can assure you you’ll enjoy yourselves.”
“Oh my god! Sorry, miss, but it sounds really cool. I hope we’re allowed.”
“I do too. Now, boys? Out of the shower, get dried and come here. The girls are going to help change you – aren’t you. girls?”
-
Further humiliation for the babies, and i wonder what Miss Yulya maybe thinking for the boys, i am sure she planning on getting them back and maybe Anna tooo for not stopping the boys
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124.
Yulya wasn’t very impressed by Anna’s behaviour. First she had taken delight in videoing every humiliation that had been heaped upon her, and then she had the temerity to catch her unawares for a still. She was about to say something devastating, both to Anna and the whole class. Fortunately she realised just in time that in her present state standing on her dignity would not only be difficult, but ridiculous. So she substituted an enigmatic remark.
“I think today you all make mistake. Biggest mistake by Simon and Oscar, yes?”
Then she turned on her heel, unbolted the door, and left.
Her first port of call was the shower room, where she spent a good twenty minutes washing the slime off her face and her suit. It was surprisingly sticky and tenacious, and it took her a while to rinse the taste of Simon out of her mouth. After that she made her way back to her own room and changed into old jeans and a sweater – something as far from her recent attire that she could find. For the moment at least she didn’t want to relive memories of the events of the afternoon. She hung around in her room till seven, when she was sure all the boys would have left. Then she went to see Shirley.
She found her, not in her office, but in the games room with Anna and Mandy. They appeared slightly flustered, and she realised they had been watching something on one of the big screens, which they had turned off when they heard her coming.
“Ah…Yulya…we were just talking about you,” said Shirley, awkwardly, looking slightly flushed.
“You see film, yes? Of course. Thank you Anna, for support. My good friend, yes darling?”
“Look, Yulya, I was just doing what I employed to do. I…”
“Save it. I see you enjoyed your work.”
Yulya had always suspected Anna was slightly jealous of her, of her looks and the effect she could have on males. It was true that, at times, she had played on that jealousy, and had found it amusing to watch Anna’s irritation. So she couldn’t really blame her for making the most of her humiliation.
“I’m sorry, but…”
“You made good film, Anna. It okay. Maybe one day they get you too. Then I will laugh.”
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“No, true. Only big smile…”
“Come on, you two,” chided Shirley, “stop bickering. She’s right, though. I would have been very annoyed if I had missed anything. But she got the lot. Just like you, Yulya,” she grinned.
“Miss Shirley, please. No more joking. Well? Don’t I get see it too?”
So they sat through the whole thing once again. It was beautifully filmed.
“Yes, a work of art,” said Mandy. “Don’t you think so, Yulya? No, sorry. But you didn’t look as though you were totally unhappy, I must say. Especially towards the end there.”
It was Yulya’s turn to blush.
“And you certainly don’t look angry in the still. Show her, Anna,” added Shirley.
“Oh…”
“Are you actually smiling?”
“No… I was surprise, that’s all.”
“Well, whatever, that’ll be our poster.”
“Our poster?”
“Well, I mean the boys’, of course.”
“The boys? You will reward them and make me – what they call it, “wank fodder”?”
“Well, darling, better they wank over your picture than over you, isn’t it?”
Anna sniggered. Yulya ignored her.
“So,” continued Shirley, “what are we going to do about them?”
“I don’t want boys punish. Only Simon and Oscar.”
“I agree. I’ve been discussing it with Mandy, and I think there’s no alternative.”
“No alternative?”
“Expulsion. Don’t you agree?”
Yulya frowned. That wasn’t revenge. Taking them out of her clutches was the last thing she wanted. But she pretended her motives were altruistic.
“Of course, Miss Shirley, if you decide…”
“You don’t want them expelled? After what they did to you?”
“I like correction better…”
“Correction?”
“We – I – punish them here. Make them sorry.”
“Oh. Well, that’s very tolerant of you. Really, I’ll leave it to you. I mean, you’re the injured party.”
“Did you have something particular in mind?” asked Mandy.
A faint smile spread over Yulya’s face. “Yes. I teach them more about fellatio.”
They all laughed. “What? You want more? You did enjoy it!”
“Not for me. For them!”
-
Looking forward to seeing how she works this out for those 2 boys
-
Wow!! wonder what Yulya has planned for Simon and Oscar? Humiliating punishment turning to pleasure for both of them?. Also like to know what is in store for Max and Luke when Deborah gets them back to P & S.
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125.
Earlier that afternoon, at St. Mary’s School, Luke and Max’s embarrassment was crowned by Debbie allowing the girls to change them into their new pants. First she handed out rubber gloves. She had brought two new pairs of elasticated baby pants with her, in fine, soft latex, Luke’s pastel blue, Max’s baby pink, both translucent, scattered with little bears (for Luke) and little dolls (for Max). Worst of all, she had brought new plugs for them. This style, in smooth pink rubber, was shaped like a small egg on a narrow stalk. Not so intrusive, but impossible to forget.
“Right, babies. On your tummies please. Max first, I think. Open your legs, Max. Right, girls, first of all make sure the lower end of the strap it firmly buckled to the plate, then slide on the plug – that’s right, Janice. Maisy, take the lubricant, put a little dollop on the plug, then use your fingers to make sure the whole thing is covered. Good…excellent. Max, please stop clenching your buttocks.”
“Sorry, miss…I can’t help it…”
“Marlene, Patricia. Can you help him, please? Kneel either side. That’s better. Now I’ll show you how it’s done. Very gently…turn it back and forth like so…and plop - in it goes.”
Once the process had been repeated with Luke, Debbie showed the girls how to fold and pin a nappy.
“We often use big pull-ups, but I thought you should know how to do this in case you have babies – or a wimpy boyfriend.”
Janice’s boyfriend is a wimp, miss. Maybe…”
“No he isn’t, Maisy. Shut up. You’re just jealous cos he’s cute.”
“Well, Janice, if you’re ever in any doubt, you can always send him to P & S for a few days and we’ll assess him.”
“You should, Janice,” persisted Maisy. “You could boss him about even more than you do already!”
Janice didn’t reply, but she looked thoughtful.
The nappies being secured, Debbie rummaged in the changing bag again.
“Now for their little pants.” She held them up.
“Oh, they’re so cute!” squealed Patricia. “Can I put Max’s on?”
“Go ahead.”
She pushed them over his feet. “Maxie, lift up your bum, darling. Good boy.”
She worked them up over the bulky nappy and pulled and picked at the pink latex till she was satisfied they were neat and tidy. Meanwhile the others were doing the same for Luke. Then it only remained to put on their bootees, vests and cardigans, and they were ready to go.
The girls were whispering amongst themselves.
“Miss?” piped up Patricia. “Instead of you driving them, could we possibly be allowed to walk them back? It’s only a mile. We’d look after them really nicely.”
“Oh. Well…I suppose. Promise to keep them safe, won’t you. I’ll drive back now, and I’ll see you there in what…half an hour?”
“No! Don’t let them, miss. You can’t trust them!”
“Oh, be quiet, Luke. They’ll take good care of you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of…”
“All right, girls. I’ll leave them in your capable hands. I just want a quick word with Mrs Canter, and then I’ll head back. See you later!”
The little party set off. Max was flanked by Marlene and Maisy, Luke by Janice and Patricia, their hands held tightly against any attempt at escape. The girls ran into a lot of friends on the way, and what with introductions, examinations, and photo-calls, the journey took well over an hour, during which time the boys were prodded, fingered, had their cheeks patted, and worst of all, the elasticated legs of their rubber pants stretched and allowed to snap back onto their bare thighs multiple times. Tales were told in whispers, generating many surprised gasps and much sniggering, and by the time the front gates of P & S appeared, Luke was red-faced with anger, Max on the verge of tears. They were actually eager to return to the place that was the source of their discomfort.
Debbie had got back some time earlier, and reported to Shirley. Mrs Canter, it seemed, had found the sort of therapy offered by P & S to naughty boys innovative and attractive. By the time Debbie went to see Shirley, Shirley had already had a phone call from her.
“Well, Miss Dearman, the head and I have been discussing the work your school does, and we had a look at your website, and we’re both very impressed. We were wondering…”
“Yes, Mrs Canter?”
“Suppose we were to sponsor some of your pupils. We could maybe stage events to raise money towards the cost of your equipment and facilities, or make contributions from school funds.”
“Well, that’s a very generous thought, of course. But what…?”
“In return, we were thinking we could arrange for selected boys to visit – perhaps for a day, to be the subjects of presentations by our sixth-form sociology students. It would very educational for them, and would make, I think, a significant contribution to the range of their studies. But the primary intention would be to benefit the boys themselves, to provide sympathetic or even empathetic female company and” – she was about to say “intercourse”, but after a moment’s hesitation substituted “cooperation”. We emphasize the virtues of kindness and helpfulness, and try to set a good example to others.”
“Well, Mrs Canter, Obviously such an arrangement would need to be very carefully managed – by both schools. But it seems an excellent and thoughtful idea. It is true that the therapy we offer our boys often has to be enforced by strict discipline. It would be a short relief and an insight for them which may produce beneficial results.”
“So, if you agree, maybe we could set up a meeting to discuss the idea, and, if we agree to go ahead, some of the detail.”
In short, the meeting was arranged, so that when the boys returned, Shirley was able to hint to their minders that it may not be the last time their services would be requested.
“But do come and visit us next week, won’t you? Miss Buff-Hopkins tells me Mrs Canter has kindly given you permission to spend the open day here.
“Yay! Cried Marlene.
“Great!” said Janice.
“And we’ll get to see some of the other boys?” asked Patricia.
“Of course.”
“Fantastic!” added Maisy.
Luke looked at Max. Max looked at Luke.
“fuc-k,” said Max.
“Shit,” said Luke.
-
OH OH naughty words out of those boys mouth, seems like they are really going to learn a lesson and behave.
-
Oh dear! what have our 2 baby boys let themselves in for. Perhaps they may like being pampered and changed by the girls, but, I doubt it. Look forward to next episode.
-
126.
It was Saturday morning. The first matter for Shirley to deal with concerned Simon and Oscar – and indeed, the whole of the class. Shirley had watched Anna’s video a couple more times now, and tut-tutted to Mandy about their behaviour.
“Boys! But there’s nothing you can do about it. Poor Yulya. What a state! She never had a chance. They were so quick with the bondage tape, and once that was on…well, they could do anything they wanted! And they did! Thank goodness Anna stuck to her job, or I would never have been able to see the climax” – she cleared her throat – “I mean to say, it’s important that I know exactly what went on, so…”
“Quite, Shirley. You need to have all the information, so you know what response is appropriate. So…what have you decided? Are they going to be expelled, or…?”
“Well, of course, that was my first thought. But Yulya, bless her, wants me to be lenient. Or at least, she wants to decide the punishment herself. She’ll be in soon, and we’ll have a meeting. We need to make a decision quickly. The boys will all be in today for their Saturday gaming session, and if we can get this sorted out I can talk to them this afternoon. Ah, I think that’s her now…”
The boys themselves were apprehensive about what action was going to be taken. They were having an impromptu meeting in the games room. Simon and Oscar were coming in for a fair amount of stick from the others.
“Well you didn’t seem to object!” protested Oscar.
“Maybe, but it was too late to go back then,” said Sean. “You’d done the damage and no matter what happened we were gonna get the blame.”
“And then he made it worse,” said James, pointing at Simon. “I mean, what a stupid thing to do, sticking it into teacher’s mouth like that!”
There was a thoughtful silence.
“You gotta admit, though, lads – it was fuc-king incredible. I’ll never forget when we all dumped our loads on her…” said Tyler.
“We sure messed up her new outfit…” added Ryan. “An’ when Simon made her swallow his! That was the best!”.
“And Anna never said a word!” laughed Dylan.
“Yeah, that’s right… Tell you what, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on that video,” said Joshua.
“We could watch it on the big screen,” grinned Isaac. “Have it playing over and over all day.”
“’Ave a special showing on open day,” someone murmured.
Back in Shirley’s office, it had been agreed that the boys, apart from the two ringleaders, should be given menial tasks for a week.
“Okay. I'll put them at the disposal of the head cleaner,” said Shirley. “She'll knock them into shape. And I think they’re getting off lightly. Now, Simon and Oscar.” She looked questioningly at Yulya.
“I have idea, Miss Shirley. Last year we work on punishment restraints, right?”
“I remember. We employed some of them too.”
“Remember frames? We never tried out.”
“Frames? Oh, those kneeling frames? Yes. We had two made, didn’t we? But that’s right, we never had occasion to try them. I think they’re still in that cupboard at the back of the stockroom.”
“They are. I check. I have idea for Simon and Oscar. We use frames and feminizing suits. And we need boys to disappear for while. I explain…”
Half an hour later, Shirley and Mandy strode into the games room.
“Boys? Pay attention please. You know what I’m here to talk about? Yes, of course you do. Abuse of a teacher is the most serious offence, for which all of you are going to be punished. If you don’t accept your punishment, you can leave any time you like.”
“No, miss! We’ll take our punishment! We don’t want to leave!” cried Ryan. And his sentiments were echoed by the others. The prospect of losing their amazing club and all the facilities scared them stiff.
“I’m glad to hear it. So… With the exception of Ben, Marcus, Simon and Oscar, the rest of you will be required to perform routine cleaning duties for one hour a day for one week, in addition to coming in all day on open day – next Thursday – and helping out. You will be cleaning the rooms, the equipment, and appropriately some of the clothing too – definitely Miss Buff-Hopkins’ boots,” she added with a mischievous smile. “I've spoken to Mrs Clarke, the head cleaner, and she will be responsible for organising you into teams and allocating work.. You must obey her unquestioningly. I have told her to report any boy who is slacking or impolite, and I will ban that boy from all privileges for a further week. Do you understand?”
Murmurs of “yes, miss,” no problem, miss.”
“Right. Ben and Marcus, you weren’t even present yesterday, so this does not apply to you. Simon and Oscar, please go and wait outside my office. Yes, now.”
As they left, there was an audible sigh of relief.
“That’s all right,” whispered Sean. “I thought it would be much worse. In fact, it was really worth it considering what fun it was…”
“What’s gonna happen to Simon and Oscar, miss?” asked Tyler.
“I won’t go into details. Suffice it to say you won’t be seeing them for a couple of weeks.”
She turned to go, and then turned back as if she had forgotten something.
“While I’m here I might as well tell you. There’ll be a couple of new students joining you shortly. I’m going to warn you now. No misbehaviour, or you’ll be out permanently. They’re girls.”
There was a collective gasp.
“Girls, miss?” said Dylan, wide-eyed.
“Yes. You know what they are, don't you Dylan? I regret to say their parents have had so much trouble with them they are at their wits’ end. So they are being sent to us for intensive therapy.”
“What ‘ave they bin up ter?” asked Tyler.
Shirley sighed. “They had all the advantages – nice families, privileged upbringings, a good school – and they decided to abuse it all.”
“So they’re like…posh, miss?”
“I suppose you would call them that.”
“An’ what did they do?”
“I’m afraid I’m not prepared to go into details, beyond the fact that it culminated in a celebration of their graduation from sixth form with such an exhibition of precocious licentiousness that…well, would make your little escapade look like a children’s tea party. But I have to go and deal with Simon and Oscar. So you understand what you have to do? Cleaning duty will start at five tomorrow and every day until next Saturday. No absences and no excuses.”
“Yes, miss! But those girls…”
“Enough!”
As Shirley and Mandy walked back to the office, the former allowed herself a quiet smile.
“Simon and Oscar’s mums were only too happy to endorse our – I mean Yulya’s – little scheme. It’ll give them a nice break, after all. And if anyone asks – their friends are bound to – they’ve been sent away to a stricter school up north for a couple of weeks.”
“I hope no-one discovers where they really are...”
“If we’re thorough, they won’t.”
-
127.
Simon and Oscar were waiting outside her door. She swept past them without a word. Yulya and Debbie were waiting inside.
“Okay. I sorted out the others. Now how are we going to do this?”
“Yulya and I have been discussing that,” said Debbie. “The first thing is to separate them. I’ll take Oscar and lock him in one of the holding rooms. Come to think of it, with your permission, ma’am, I’ll pop him into one of those little cages. Make him realise the seriousness of his position.”
“Good idea, Debbie.”
“Then I’ll go and get the things. We located the frames and the suits. I’ll take one of each to the other holding room, and when you bring Simon we can get started. We’ll only let him see the platform section at first, so he won’t get too suspicious. What are you going to tell them?”
“The truth. I’ll say we’re going to use him to test some new bondage equipment we’ve acquired. I’ll say it’ll be for a few days. Then they can either stay or leave, as they please. Of course they’ll agree to anything to be allowed to stay. We lock them up at night and bring them out during the day for our amusement.”
“How long do you think…?”
“Well, we have at least a couple of weeks. That should be enough punishment, don’t you think, Yulya?”
“Permanent better…but okay. I keep out of way till they locked in. Then I come in.”
“And gloat?”
“Yes. I…gloat.”
“Right. Bring them in.”
Simon and Oscar were shepherded in by Mandy. They stood in front of Shirley’s desk, eyes lowered.
“Well, what am I to do with you two? I’ve seen the video. How dare you behave like that towards a teacher? My instinct is to expel you.”
“Please miss…”
“We’re really sorry…”
“We got carried away…”
“We’ll do anything…”
“Anything… Don’t expel us. This is such a great school…”
“I see. You’re contrite now. So you should be. Well, I’m not going to expel you…”
“Thank you, miss…”
“Quiet, please. I’m not going to expel you – largely thanks to your teacher. I don’t know why she should have mercy on you, after what you did…”
She did enjoy it, thought Simon. And he gave Oscar a surreptitious nudge.
“…but she has. So we’re going to put you to work. Your friends will be cleaning the school every day for a week. Your job will be helping us test some new equipment. It may be uncomfortable – bondage is supposed to be – but fortunately you two are probably the fittest in the whole class.”
The boys exchanged self-congratulatory grins.
“We have some hard cases coming in. And we need to be sure our equipment is up to it. You can help us - if you think you are up to it – or you’re free to go, to leave P & S, and never return. What’s it to be?”
“We’ll help, of course, miss.”
“We’re very fit – like you said – and tough.”
“No problem, miss.”
“Right. Debbie, could you take Oscar, please? Simon, we’ll show you what’s required. Yulya, I think it’s best if you go back to work. Boys? Thank Miss Yulya for her kindness. If it weren’t for her, you’d be walking away from here at this very moment.”
Thank you, miss!”
“Yes…thank you so much. We’re really sorry…”
“You shouldn’t be so attractive…” added Simon, cheekily.
“That’s enough! shouted Shirley. “Let’s go!”
Oscar was marched away to be caged. Shirley and Mandy accompanied Simon to another room. It too had a rectangular cage, plus a chest of drawers against one wall, a bed against the other, and an en suite bathroom. There was also a strange platform on castors, about two feet square, upholstered in black padded vinyl. Simon glanced at it apprehensively.
“Go and get showered, put all your clothes out, and come back when you’re clean,” commanded Shirley.
He disappeared into the bathroom, and a minute later tossed his clothes out of the door. Mandy collected them up and put them in a black bag. He took his time showering, but eventually emerged sheepishly wrapped in a towel, by which time Debbie had arrived. She went to the cage, made of substantial steel bars, with a padded leather base, and opened the top like a lid.
“Get in.”
“Why do I…?”
“Get – in!”
She drew her whip from her boot. Simon climbed in.
“This way round. Down on all fours. Put your head in there.”
At one end there was a semicircle of steel, and a corresponding one on the lid. Gingerly he did as he was told. Debbie closed and locked the lid, leaving his head sticking out of one end. Then she reached in and yanked the towel out through the bars.
“Good,” said Shirley.
Debbie went to the chest, opened the top drawer, and took out a hair trimmer. She knelt down next to Simon’s head.
“What are you going to do?” he wailed, fearfully.
She ignored him, adjusted the trimmer, and began to shave his head. In two minutes he was quite bald.
“Excellent. Might as well take off his eyebrows too, Debbie.”
“No!”
“Of course.” It took only a few seconds.
“Well done, young man. Have a comfortable night. We’ll see you in the morning. Sorry we can’t stay, but we have to attend to your friend.”
“No…please…”
“Next time, dear, think twice before you imprison and abuse your teacher.”
-
128.
Simon didn’t get much sleep that night. He was grateful his captors returned early in the morning. He was hauled out of his cage and made to stand in the middle of the room. Without clothes or hair he was utterly cowed, and ready to do anything he was instructed to. Mandy was holding a big black carrier bag, from which she produced a box of latex gloves and a canister of lubricant.
“What’s that…?”
Again he was ignored. Mandy pulled on a pair of gloves and began to anoint him all over with lubricant, paying no regard whatsoever to his modesty. When she had covered him from ankles to neck, she produced and held out a pair of natural latex pants.
“Step in.”
As she was pulling them up, he realised they had a slim, smooth dil-do built in. He noticed it had a shiny metal core – and immediately feared the worst. But before he could react, it slipped inside him, and Mandy was pulling the pants up tight. They seemed to be slightly thickened and shaped at the crotch, so his parts were completely effaced and replaced by a low mound with a shallow central cleft.
“Perfect. Now the suit.” She extracted a pile of bright pink latex from the bag. “You should like it. Just like Yulya’s, but pink, of course. Pink for a pansy.”
She shook it out, held out the legs, and knelt down.
“Come on – put your feet in.”
He looked around for a way of escape, but he was surrounded.
“Get a move on, Simon,” said Shirley, in a slightly threatening tone. And Debbie fingered the handle of her riding whip, tucked neatly into the side of her boot as usual. He slipped one foot in, then the other. The latex felt tight round his ankles. With Mandy on one side and Debbie on the other, they began to work the suit up his legs and over his butt. It was then he noticed it had little built-in breasts, which wobbled as they guided his arms into the sleeves. Soon they had it over his shoulders, and Shirley was zipping up the back. As the zip went up, he could feel the latex tightening around his chest, and he could see the little breasts settle in place, pointing proudly forward and quivering slightly as the women made the final adjustments.
The neck came right up under his chin. Shirley tugged at the zip, making sure it was zipped right to the top. Then there was a moment of pressure, some more fiddling, and a click, as some sort of flap was snapped in place over the pull.
The women fell back a pace to admire the effect.
“Without that ugly face, you’d swear it was a girl,” cried Mandy, holding up one hand to cover Simon’s dismayed expression.
“I think we can say that’s a success,” said Shirley, enthusiastically. “Right. What’s next?”
“Boots,” said Debbie, who was already rummaging in the bag. “Here we are.”
Not only boots, but ballet boots, with seven-inch heels, in black patent leather, with wide silver buckles and D-rings at the ankle. Shirley guided him to the bed, and made him sit on the side. While she knelt and pulled a pair of short, soft cotton socks onto his feet, Debbie unbuckled the boots. She passed one to Shirley, and knelt down beside her with the other. They slid on rather easily. Simon felt his feet forced to straighten, and, as they buckled the ankles, held firmly in position. Initially it was uncomfortable, but he soon got used to it.
“Try and walk,” grinned Mandy.
Walk? He couldn’t even stand without the ladies holding his hands!
“No matter,” said Shirley. “You won’t be doing much walking – not yet, anyway.” She grinned. “Mandy? Got the mitts?”
“Right here, Shirley.”
She held up a pair of pink leather bondage mitts, with straps at the wrists and little silver rings attached to the points. In went his hands, the wrists were buckled, and now his hands were as useless as his feet. Finally, they buckled pink leather straps a couple of inches wide around his legs between the calf and the knee. These had D-rings on the buckles, and they positioned these at the front.
The women had to carry him over to the strange platform. By now he was in such a state of bewilderment he didn’t even try to struggle. What would be the point, anyway?
Many pressed a pedal at the side of the mobile platform. This locked the castors so it would no longer move. Simon was able to get a proper look at the device for the first time. It consisted of a square of black padded vinyl, like the seat of a chair, about two feet square. It was shallow – perhaps a couple of inches deep – and appeared from the row of steel studs around the edges to be on some sort of rigid tray. It was connected to a tubular brushed steel frame, and supported on steel struts. The ends of two struts could just been seen under each edge, in the narrow gap between frame and platform. At two opposing edges, steel rings were welded to the struts, as if for some sort of attachments. This frame was itself supported on four castors, one at each corner. And rising from each corner were short open-ended steel tubes, each one pierced and fitted with a wing-nut bolt, as if they were intended to hold extensions.
They placed him in a kneeling position across it, facing one set of rings. Immediately he understood, and sure enough the D-rings on his boots and his knee-straps were connected to the rings using simple carabiners. Thus he found himself kneeling helplessly before his triumphant captors – wondering what was coming next.
He soon found out. Debbie left the room, and returned almost immediately with another contraption. It was also of tubular brushed steel, like two right-angled triangles connected together, with four short legs protruding from the corners of the shortest edges. She put it down next to him. Shirley and Mandy started taking out the wing-nut bolts. It was obvious it was going to be slotted onto the short tubes on the corners of the platform.
They lifted it on. It slotted in easily, and they reinserted and screwed up the wing-nuts. Simon now found himself within a steel frame. In front of him were two vertical pillars connected by one central transverse bar. The tops of these pillars were roughly level with his neck, and pierced, as if designed to accept further extensions. At each side diagonals ran from the back corner of the platform and connected with the verticals just below the tops. These diagonals also had a transverse connection about half-way up. He was about to find out its function.
Debbie and Mandy lifted his arms over the transverse bar behind him. Shirley attached the mitt rigs together with a carabiner, and slipped on one end of a short steel chain as well. The other end she attached to the back bar of the platform, between the struts and between his boots. He was now quite immobilised. He wanted to ask what it was all about, but refrained, mainly because he feared the worst.
The three women, with smiles of satisfaction, seated themselves in a row on the bed, and contemplated their creation. They seemed to find Simon’s worried little face, unprotected by even a hint of hair, rather amusing.
“Well, I think we’re ready,” said Shirley. She took out her phone.
“Yulya? We're done. He’s all yours.”
-
129.
A minute or so later the door opened, and in walked – not Yulya, but Anna!
“Anna’s here at Yulya’s special request,” smiled Shirley. “A little bit of tit for tat.”
Anna had her video camera and tripod. She released the castors on Simon’s frame and moved him nearer the window.
“Light better here.”
Then she put on the brake, and arranged the camera to one side. She checked the image.
“Smile, please, Simon. Don’t look worry. Teacher here soon.”
“Teacher” arrived a few minutes later. Simon’s had to turn his head to see her, and his eyes widened when he did so. Yulya was wearing another latex catsuit – red this time, with matching gloves and black patent leather ankle boots. Around her waist she wore a black leather belt, with a little belt purse on the right. She strolled over to the helpless, kneeling boy, and stroked his cheek.
“Hello Simon. I wear specially for you. I know you like catsuit. And now you have one of your own too.”
She played carelessly with his ears, and stroked his bald head,
“It suit you. You pretty. I think Miss Shirley keep you like this.” She squeezed one fake breast, and squatting down, ran her hand between his legs. “You make nice girl. Little titties and no nasty coc-k. Maybe we have it taken off, yes?”
She put her shiny red lips near his and looked into his eyes, allowing her breath to tickle his face, and all the while stroking the insides of his thighs. After a minute or so pressure began to build in his crotch. His erection, having nowhere else to go, pushed slowly back between his buttocks. He whimpered in his discomfort.
“Oh. Simon. You have problem? Never mind. We have solution.”
She opened her purse, and took out a small remote control. She smiled, pressed a button, and Simon received a sudden electric shock from the dil-do. He yelped. Another press, another yelp. His erection was wilting faster than it had grown.
“Useful dil-do, yes? Can give pleasure, too.”
She clicked a switch, and the dil-do began to hum softly inside him. She varied the intensity. The vibration came in waves, and once again his tortured member began to swell. After a while Yulya decided he had had enough fun, and made him yelp again.
He looked at her with pleading eyes, but she just responded with a short laugh.
“Now you know how it feel, yes? Have someone else in control. Anna? Did you get that?”
“Got it, Yulya.”
“Good. We can have laugh later. But better get on. Wait there, Simon.”
She went outside and returned with yet another steel pole. This one was different. About three feet long, with what looked like bicycle hand-grips on each end. Just inside these, two short pierced posts, about two feet apart, stuck out at ninety degrees. Between the posts was welded a small padded steel dish, like a cup cut in half vertically and tipped on its side. Opposite it, on the other side of the pole, a steel hoop, like a croquet hoop, about nine inches wide, with two slots in each side, and near the top a curved semi-circular padded steel band. Simon realised its function at once. These appendages were clearly intended to support a human head, the slots designed to accept retaining straps. Yulya was already slotting the posts into the tops of the two uprights. Debbie came over with the bolts, and did up the wing-nuts till they were nice and tight. Simon thought he could see what was coming, and tried to draw his head back. Yulya made no attempt to stop him. Instead she went to the carrier bag, and produced another heap of bright pink latex: a long, heavy, shaped hood, with no apparent openings except one circular hole with a slightly protruding red rim at the front, and a bunch of blonde hair hanging from the back. Simon shouted and squirmed and struggled, but Yulya and Debbie worked together to get it over his head. It was tight-fitting, and even with the help of the lubricant the two women had to struggle to get the thick latex over his head. But once it was down to his eyes it slid on quite easily, moulding itself to the contours of his face. Yulya adjusted the nostrils, which were supplied with two shorts internal tubes to facilitate breathing, and smoothed down the neck, which covered the neck of his suit.
“There. Nicely sealed in,” said Debbie. “Who could guess that was our Simon, if they didn’t know?”
Apart from the nostrils, there were two small holes at the ears, so he could hear. He could hear, that is to say, unless Yulya inserted the two little pink plugs which she had in her purse – which she did now, so they could talk freely.
“Not only could they not guess it was Simon, but they would bet anything it was a girl,” said Mandy. “Especially with that fake ponytail sticking out of the back.”
“Real hair, too, Mandy,” said Shirley. “Brilliant idea, Yulya. Anna, keep filming. We need the whole session in one take.”
“Yes, Miss Shirley.”
“Let’s finish off, girls, shall we?” said Shirley, standing up. “We have Oscar to attend to yet, and the boys will be arriving soon. Yulya, why don’t you go put on your thing, and we’ll finish off here.”
Yulya left the room. Shirley went over to Simon. She lifted the ponytail to reveal the end of a leather strap. Anna had left the camera running so she could have a closer look at Simon’s outfit.
“What is that, Miss Shirley?”
“Ah. These straps are connected to the sides of a special ring-gag which is moulded into the front of the hood, where that circular lip is. First I need to get it in place. Simon? Open your mouth, please. Wide – as wide as you can.”
“Miss…please…” came a muffled voice from behind the circular mouthpiece.
Shirley picked up the remote. Two stabs at the button was all it took.
“Thank you. Now…this mouthpiece is like a little car wheel without the tyre. The rims fit neatly each side of his teeth. Wider, please. Like…so. There. Done. It’s covered in rubber so it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Now, I make sure it stays in place by buckling the strap – not too tight – like so. Then the ponytail hides the buckle. Not that it matters if it’s seen, but the whole outfit is so smooth and neat…”
“Ooh. Clever idea. Yulya?”
“Yes, Yulya. She’s a stickler for details. Look at this. Each boy had a pretty leather collar. This one says “c-um slut SUSAN” – that’s Simon’s girl name, the other – here – “c-um slut OLIVIA” – that’s Oscar. Now we’ll just put Simon’s on, like so… Oh please stop trying to speak, Simon. You sound ridiculous. Yulya even anticipated that. See this? A little pink bath plug on a chain. We attach it to his collar…so…pop it in the mouth hole…so…and then - perfect silence!”
“He look so funny with just plugged mouth and nothing else!”
“He does. So all that remains is to get his head in place… Oh, dear. He’s resisting again. Where’s that zapper?”
“Can I, Miss Shirley?”
“Of course Anna. That red button there.”
Simon bucked and whinnied.
“Oh, just once is enough, Anna. See? He’s all compliant now.”
Indeed he was. He allowed Shirley to place his head in the head-rest. She look two heavy black rubber straps from the bag, threaded them through the slots each side of the hoop, and buckled them so that his head was held firmly in place, the neatly-plugged round lip in the blank face easily accessible, his little breasts jutting invitingly.
“Perfect. It’s even better than we had hoped. Oh, here’s Yulya back.”
Yulya had returned. Anna gasped. She was dressed just as before, with one addition. She was wearing a purple strap-on on a black leather harness over her suit. The rubber pen-is bounced as she walked. It was not large, but obviously moulded from the life.
“Do you recognise it, Anna? You might. It’s made from a cast of Max’s, when he was a piggy and he used to get milked. I always thought it was quite an attractive one.”
“It is! Though I wouldn’t have remembered…”
“Anyway, we have to go and prepare Oscar. He’ll be Simon’s double. Oh, except for the collar, of course. When you’ve finished here, come and join us would you?”
“Of course, miss.”
“And send me the videos as soon as you can. Right, girls. Let’s go and perform another transformation.”
Yulya smiled at Anna. “Now it my turn, Anna. Make film as good as last one.” She patted Simon’s cheek, then pulled on the plug chain. It came out with a plop, and his drool dribbled from the bottom of the ring. She spent a couple of minutes spanking his cheeks with the head of her rubber coc-k, then opened her purse, took out a condom, removed it from its packet, and rolled it up her dil-do. She smiled, and slowly inserted it into his mouth. He jerked and made frantic noises, but he was quite powerless. Slowly, she began to thrust, making his cheeks bulge as the head filled his mouth. Soon he was salivating freely, strings of drool hanging from his chin.
“So…you dare fuc-k your teacher mouth, yes?” said Yulya, angrily, careless of the fact he couldn’t hear a word. “Now you will know what feels like, yes?”
She had been standing just to one side, to give Anna a good view. Now she positioned herself in front of him, and, holding onto the grips as if they were on handlebars, fuc-ked him straight in his mouth until he coughed and almost retched. It was while she was doing this that Anna saw her suddenly tense, and emit a loud moan of pleasure. Then her body was jolted with a series of spasms, and she knew her friend had equipped herself with one of her favourite aids. As her orgasm subsided, she stopped thrusting, then gently withdrew the dil-do, knelt down, pressed her own lips over the open hole, and gave Simon long kiss, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. Finally she stood up.
“There, Simon. Now we even. Now we can start punishment.”
-
This is really interesting the punishment is going to be really good.
-
You excel yourself. What punishment! can't wait for next chapters.
-
130.
She turned to Anna.
“Let’s go see other girl.”
Anna packed up her camera and tripod, Yulya unstrapped her dil-do, and they made their way to Oscar’s holding room. The ladies were half way through the process, just about to put on Oscar’s hood. This was a variation on the other; Olivia was going to be a brunette with twintails. The hood was equipped with two neatly-plaited black pigtails, each tied off with a yellow ribbon. They flailed about as he twisted his head, trying to elude the hood.
“No, miss! Please! I didn’t do nuffing more than the others! Simon’s the one you should punish!”
“Oh,” said Yulya, placing her hands on her hips. “You do “nuffing”? It your idea, Oscar. You told me so in video. Anyway, you make very pretty girl…”
By this time Mandy and Debbie had worked the hood down to his eyebrows – or where his eyebrows used to be – and they looked at Yulya for approval. She nodded.
“No!” he screamed. “I promise I’ll…” But this words were cut off as the hood slid down over his face, and replaced by muffled protestations.
The gag was soon fitted and buckled, and his head secured in the rest. He was still making inarticulate noises, so Shirley gave him a couple of mild shocks, and Mandy adjusted his “c-um slut OLIVIA” collar, and popped the plug into its hole. She had to retie one of the ribbons which his struggling had shaken loose.
“There. All done. What about the ear plugs?”
“Put them in for now,” said Shirley. “We’ll take them out when we introduce them. Mandy? Could you bring Simon – I mean Susan – here, and Yulya and Anna and I will go see if the boys are in yet.”
Anna picked up her equipment, and Yulya took a clipboard from a shelf. They strolled down the corridor to the games room. Shirley counted the boys, all intent on the glowing screens. Nine. Marcus and Ben missing. They seemed to have formed a little club of their own. They rarely mixed with the others, and never came in on Sundays.
“Yulya? Would you like to begin?”
Yulya stepped forward. Her latex suit gleamed in the bright lights. She could see the boys goggling, eyes raking her from head to foot. She thrust her breasts forward and pressed her thighs together, forcing the dil-do deeper into her pussy. She took a deep breath.
“Attention please, boys. Everyone stop what doing, and listen. Two announcements. First. I…forgot to set homework Friday. But you know what is. Fellatio practice, just like before, with videos please. Same partners.”
There was a startled silence.
“No excuses. Second stage of empathy training. Very important.”
“B-but, miss…”
Shirley took over.
“We don’t want to hear any arguments, and if the homework isn’t done properly – that means a mark of at least…” She looked at Yulya.
“Seven out of ten.”
“Seven, then you risk ejection from the school. You knew this when you accepted our terms. Sometimes the things which are good for you are the most difficult. But I know you will do your best.”
A couple of the boys opened their mouths to say something, but she held up her hand.
“However, I have something rather exciting to tell you. The two girls I mentioned – Susan and Olivia – arrived yesterday evening.”
The boys pricked up their ears. The homework was forgotten, for the moment at least.
“Yes, they’re here. Now let me explain. Because of their…really quite unacceptable conduct…an exceptional course of correction was decided upon, jointly with the school and their parents.”
“What did they do, miss?” piped up James.
“I’m afraid, as I said, I can’t go into details. Suffice it to say they, well, used their considerable charms to seduce several members of their school staff, including the deputy head teacher, a man of normally impeccable morals, over a period of several hours.”
“They had sex with their teachers, miss?”
“Well…” Shirley feigned embarrassment. “Let us say, not full sex…”
“Blow jobs, miss?” asked Tyler, with a smirk, looking at Yulya. She glared back at him.
“The correct term, Tyler, is oral sex. Well, yes, that, unfortunately, was the case.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Now, sometimes, as a last resort, the way to cure an addiction – something they are obviously suffering from – is to give the sufferer an excess of what they crave. Those addicted to sugar may be cured by forcing them to eat sweet things until they are sick.” She looked around, trying to ascertain whether she was getting through to them. “We were hoping you would be prepared to assist.” She turned to Anna. “You can set up the camera, Anna. Boys, remain as you are. I shall return in a couple of minutes.”
Anna walked briskly to one end of the room, and began to busy herself with the tripod. Yulya arranged a chair near the wall opposite her. The boys, puzzled, talked quietly among themselves.
Jack was standing slightly apart from the others. He approached Yulya.
“Miss?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“Where are Oscar and Simon? Will they be coming back?”
“Yes. As Miss Shirley say, she not expel them. They go to strict school far away for a bit. Don’t worry. They be back in while.”
“Oh. Okay. Not really fair that they get off that homework, though. Will you make them do it when they get back?”
Yulya smiled. “Definitely, Jack. No worry. I make sure they get special practice.”
A few minutes later, there came a sound like trolleys being pushed along the corridor. All eyes turned to the doorway. Shirley came in first, Mandy behind, pushing the mobile frames. They used the handlebars, so the two boys were facing backwards. The class stared, not understanding, at the gleaming rubberised backs of the totally encased figures. The women pushed them to the end of the room, parked them near the wall between Anna and Yulya, and applied the brakes. It was only then, as they stood to one side, that the boys were able clearly to see their new female colleagues, their small thrusting breasts, and their blank pink heads, with nothing but a circular red lip, neatly plugged, where the mouth should have been…
-
oh it going to be delightful at what the ladies have planned for the 2 leaders. Great story Sandra
-
131.
The immediate reaction was a stunned silence. Then Ryan spoke.
“Is that…them?” He hesitated. “The girls, I mean…”
“Those are they,” smiled Shirley. “Neatly trussed up, as you see, and no longer in a position to seduce anybody.”
Apart from staring open-mouthed, looking a little startled and uncertain, there was still no reaction.
“Well really,” said Mandy, in a slightly offended tone, “is that all you have to say? After all our hard work? For goodness’ sake, come and see at least. Tell us what you think.”
Thus encouraged, the boys advanced gingerly.
“I thought they’d be ecstatic,” murmured Mandy. “How disappointing.”
“They’re not very quick-witted,” replied Shirley, under her breath, with a wink. “They’ll fall in soon enough, though.”
Sean led the advance. He approached “Susan”, and walked slowly around her, frowning.
“Go on, touch her. You can feel her. In fact, you can do what you like to her. She can’t do anything about it,” urged Shirley.
He was like a cat, suspicious of some strange object. But eventually he plucked up courage, running his hands over the back and head, and finally gently squeezing a breast. The mute figure squirmed slightly under his examination. Tyler, Jack and Isaac had surrounded “Olivia”, and were now exploring her in the same way. A huge smile spread over Jack’s face.
“Miss! This is amazing. Who designed these cool frame things? The girls are totally helpless. Look – I can play with her titties and she can’t do a thing!”
“Can I take out her plug, miss?” asked Isaac, excitedly.
“You can do whatever you like, Isaac, as long as you’re gentle. Remember, you must always treat ladies with respect – a lesson I’m afraid Simon and Oscar didn’t learn,” she added, with a sidelong glance at Yulya.
“Those idiots,” smirked Tyler. “I wonder where they are now? They’re gonna be so pissed when they find out what they’re missing.”
Isaac took hold of Oscar’s plug chain and gave it a tug. It came out with a plop, followed by a flow of saliva. He gasped with delight, bent down, and peered into the hole.
“Ooh…her mouth’s wide open! Now, I wonder what would fit in there…?”
“I have no idea,” said Shirley innocently. “Anyway, Mandy and I have work to do. I’ll leave the girls in your care.”
They headed for the door.
“Miss?” Sean called after them.
“Yes, Sean?” said Shirley, pausing and looking back.
“Miss… How long are they going to be here?”
“Oh, we’ll bring them out every day for the next week, at least. I was thinking ten to one this morning, and two to four this afternoon, then four to seven for the next three evenings, and all day Thursday - that's open day, so we'll have to be careful - Friday, and the weekend. Don’t worry – we’ll make them available every hour we can. But don’t fight over them, will you? Behave in an orderly manner. If there’s any problems Yulya will report it to me, the culprits will be punished, and the girls will be sent home. Understood?”
“Yes, miss! Absolutely, miss!” they cried in chorus. Their initial shyness seemed to have evaporated completely. She turned again to go.
“Miss!” came a frantic cry.
“Yes, Ryan?”
He pointed at his belt buckle. “Our shorts…”
“Your shorts?” She feigned puzzlement.
“The locks, miss…”
“Ah. I see. You’d like them unlocked, is that it?”
“Er…yes, please…miss.”
“I’ll ask Miss Buff-Hopkins to come in. But I want everyone in the canteen at one sharp.”
“Yes, miss. We’ll be there, miss!”
Now the boys had lost all their inhibitions. They were all over their new playthings, stroking exploring their bodies, gently tugging their hair, playing with the plugs.
“I’m having first go,” said Sean, placing his hand on Simon’s smooth head, and massaging the bulge in his shorts.
“Fair enough, but I’m first with Olivia,” said Isaac. “I was the one what took out her plug.”
“Yeah – but I touched ‘er first,” said Tyler. “I should ‘ave first go!”
“Quiet, everyone!” said an imperious voice from behind them. Debbie had arrived. “All of you, back over here. At once! Now, line up in front of me. “No pushing or you’ll be out. You’ll all have a turn, don’t worry. Now listen. In these bags are eighteen tickets numbered S1 to S9 and O1 to O9. You will each take one ticket from each bag. This will tell you your place in each queue. You will hand your ticket to Yulya, and then you may proceed. I will unlock you as necessary. We shall repeat the procedure this afternoon. Any trouble from any of you, and you’ll be outside the head’s office before you know what’s hit you. Right. Form an orderly queue. Once you’ve got you tickets I’ll started unlocking you, S1 and O1 first.”
The tickets were handed out. There was a cry of “yes!” from Dylan. He had picked O1. And then another from Joshua, who had picked S1. Debbie unlocked them, they looked at each other and moved hesitantly towards the kneeling figures.
“Go Josh!” “Go Dylan!”
Yulya collected their tickets. She observed Joshua’s erection with satisfaction. It lay diagonally against his tummy, like a fat, firm sausage under the taut latex. Debbie allowed the rest of the boys to line up along the wall next to Anna to watch. When Joshua unzipped his shorts it fell out and stood there quivering. He took a deep breath. He took it between finger and thumb and slid the foreskin back and forth slowly until it had attained maximum stiffness, and a bead of clear juice was oozing from its tip. Then, frowning slightly, he removed Simon’s plug, presented the head to the round lip, and slid it in. He gasped, and stood still for a moment. Then, very slowly, he began to rock back and forth, allowing it to penetrate by about half its length. He steadied himself with the handgrips. He ignored his friends, concentrating on maintaining a nice regular rhythm. He looked at Yulya.
“Is this all right, miss?”
“Very nice, Joshua. You behave like real gentleman. I think Susan like very much.”
“Yes… I can feel her tongue… Oh god…”
His head fell back and his eyes closed.
“I’ve never felt anything like this…so warm…her tongue’s so…nice…”
“Take time, Joshua… No hurry… Enjoy…”
By now every boy was massaging the bulge in his rubber shorts. Debbie was conscious of the real risk of premature climax.
“Boys! Contain yourselves. Hands by sides, please. Yes, you too, Tyler. Save it for the girls.”
By now Dylan had got his pen-is in Oscar’s mouth. He was looking across at his friend, trying to emulate Joshua’s controlled movements. But he was far too aroused, too excited and too eager. He kept having to stop and bite his lip. He appealed to Yulya.
“Miss… It’s too much… I can’t do it like Joshua… I can’t help it… She keeps pressing her tongue against it… I’m afraid I’m going to…oh, shit…I’m c-umming!” He thrust forward, burying himself up the hilt in Oscar’s mouth. “Aaah!” His body was jolted by spasm after spasm, as he exploded down his classmate's throat.
Yulya allowed herself a quiet smile. The clipboard in her lap held a few sheets of paper. The top one had a list of the boys’ names down the left-hand side, and two ruled columns, one headed “S” and the other “O”. She put a little tick in the “O” column opposite Dylan’s name. “Revenge sweet,” she murmured under her breath.
At that moment, there was a faint cry from the line of boys. Ryan, unable to exercise sufficient self-restraint, had come in his shorts.
“Oh, dear. Ryan,” said Debbie. “How disappointing. I’m afraid you’ll have to miss one round. Let me see your tickets, please. What have you got? S2 – that’s definitely out…O8 – that might be okay, I suppose...”
“’Ard luck, mate,” grinned Tyler. “Look at Josh, though – ‘e’s an expert! You done this before, Josh mate, ‘aven’t yer!”
“Quiet, Tyler!” hissed Debbie.
But it was a deserved compliment. Joshua had a determined expression on his face. He was going to make this last as long as possible. Moreover he was going to make sure he came in “Susan’s” mouth, on her tongue, so she would get to taste and swallow his spunk herself. He had a vague idea that she might like it so much, that after all this was over she would maybe want to be his girlfriend. He started talking to her.
“Susan… I hope you like my coc-k. I love your mouth. I love making love to you this way…”
“Hold on, Joshua,” said Yulya. She stood up and popped out Simon’s earplugs. “Now she can hear you.”
“Ah, right. Susan, I was just saying how much I love doing this. Your mouth is so soft and warm. And you have a beautiful body, and lovely hair. In a minute I’m going to give you a mouthful of lovely thick c-um. I know you like c-um. I hope you like mine. I’ve got lots more if you want it. I promise I’ll keep it all for you from now on. I…oh, god! Here it is…”
He had talked himself in orgasm, but even in the throes of his pleasure he kept his word, gripping the handlebars tight and pumping wad after wad into Susan-Simon’s mouth. To judge by his violent spasms there was quite a lot of it, and when he finally subsided and withdrew he had the wit quickly to replace the plug, so none would be wasted. Yulya almost wanted to applaud. She was having so much fun. And that was only the first pair of boys; perhaps with the exception of Ryan, another eight before lunch!
As the morning progressed, it became clear that Joshua was by far the most disciplined of the participants. Most of the boys came within seconds of entry, some simply thrusting them in to the hilt and unloading - and a couple didn’t even get that far, fumbling the insertion and merely splattering the hoods with their c-um. It was amusing to see them convulsed with pleasure, and to hear their gasps and moans of ecstasy as they reached their climaxes, each of which sent a little thrill of gratification through her. But as Debbie said, given the febrile atmosphere in the room that morning, it wasn’t really surprising. “I bet they’ll be more coolheaded this afternoon,” she said to Yulya, in a reassuring tone. But Yulya didn’t care too much whether they were or not, just so long as Simon and Oscar were made to gobble up oodles of fresh, slimy spunk! She wondered vaguely how long it would be till the boys began to tire of their new pastime. Well, it didn’t matter: she intended to relax and enjoy it while it lasted, which would be several days at least. Revenge was indeed sweet - sweet and lingering!
-
132.
Debbie was right. After lunch the boys were much more focussed and orderly. They waited in line, watched proceedings with close attention but with commendable restraint, and performed their duties in a much more conscientious and respectful fashion, politely asking their subjects, even as they were humping their mouths, if they were providing satisfaction. Anna was kept busy. She had a fixed camera on a tripod, and a hand-held one for close-ups. Yulya paid close attention to proceedings, ticking off each climax on her clipboard. She also turned on their vibrating dil-dos, occasionally varying speed and intensity. She tried to turn them up to maximum before each climax. She wanted to increase their level of arousal every time a boy ejaculated, in the hope that as time went by they would start to associate giving head with their own sexual pleasure. This was a little idea of her own; she had no idea if it would be effective, but if nothing else it would mitigate any distaste they might feel, and relieve her of any tiny pangs of guilt she may be feeling at the harshness of their punishment.
With everything running smoothly, she was able to sit back and enjoy the show. Simon was only a couple of metres away from her, so she had a ringside seat, as boy after boy slid his stiff oozing pen-is into the mouth hole and face-fuc-ked him. Jack and Louis kicked off the afternoon, and by the time they had taken their pleasure, thrusting and moaning and finally climaxing with sobs of ecstasy, she was on the verge of orgasm. They were followed by Dylan, fully recovered from the morning's exertions. His pen-is was short and fat, so that his vigorous performance, accompanied by a steady rhythm of succulent ploppings, had soon generated a ring of sticky white cream around the circular lip, as his friends ejaculate mingled with his own juices and was whipped up by his rapid pumping. So enthusiastic was he, that little flecks of sticky froth flew about, spattering Simon, the floor, and even Yulya's suit. And when, with a gasp of joy, he finally came, he filled Simon's mouth in an instant, and his sperm erupted from around the swollen shaft and spurted out onto his shorts and his thighs. That, on top of the sounds emanating from Isaac on Oscar's side of the room, and the pervasive scent of semen, was too much for Yulya, and she capitulated too, joining Dylan in his climax, and almost fainting with pleasure.
Towards the end of the session Shirley and Mandy returned to observe proceedings. Shirley was very impressed by the boys’ regard for the objects of their attention. So much so, in fact, that she sent out for a two huge boxes of chocolates for them to share.
After the end of the session it was amusing to see the boys, having taken their pleasure and drained their reserves, turn their backs on the kneeling figures, and give their whole attention to the games consoles. Simon and Oscar, plugged again for the night, their blank faces spattered with sperm, strings of it hanging from their chins and dripping lazily onto the slimy floor, were left like wallflowers at a party. The chocolates were being passed around, when Louis suddenly remembered them.
“Hey. What about the girls?”
“What about them?”
“The chocolates.”
“How are they gonna eat chocolates? They can’t chew, can they?”
“No. But there are creams. They could suc-k on them.”
“He’s right. Give them a cream each. Wonder what flavour they’d like…”
“Strawberry. Everyone likes strawberry.”
Louis picked out two milk chocolate strawberry creams, and went over to the “girls”.
“Hope you like these, girls. You’d probably like something, er, sweet after…”
Yulya had to bite her lip to stop herself bursting out laughing as Louis unplugged their mouths and popped a chocolate into each, carefully re-plugging them afterwards.
“Er…they should melt quite easily. Enjoy.”
Anna shot her a glance which made her splutter and feign a fit of coughing.
“Let’s go, Anna. We’ll collect the girls later.”
As they walked away down the corridor she gave vent to her amusement. “They're so sweet, Anna. After what they do…”
“I know. Priceless. When this all over…”
“Won’t be for a while…”
“No… But when it is… Will they find out who Susan and Olivia really were?”
“No. That not plan. Our secret. But if Simon and Oscar get out of line…”
“Then we can blackmail them…”
“Yes. They going to be very obedient. I make them my little slave boys.”
“You evil, Yulya.”
“Thank you, Anna. I take as compliment.”
At five o’clock Yulya and Anna wheeled the prisoners back to their holding rooms. With the assistance of Mandy and Debbie they were unclipped, unbuckled, undressed, and sent to use the toilet and shower. Their suits were put aside for cleaning, and to have the dil-dos fitted with fresh batteries. The boys hardly said a word, aside from “yes, miss” or “no, miss”. They seemed completely cowed and submissive. Yulya was pleased. It was only the first day, and already the punishment seemed to have had an effect. They were fitted with erection control devices for the night – it was important they be fresh for the following day. They were watered and fed – mainly on liquid protein and energy drinks, it is true – they couldn’t stomach anything else yet – and put in separate cells, in warm, comfortable beds, and given a sissifier to suc-k while they pondered the events of the day.
“Good night, boys,” said Debbie. “Well done today. Did you notice how much mellower your friends were after the sessions? Boys are very simple really, aren’t they. Give them lots of really nice regular orgasms and they become much calmer, plesanter human beings. Louis was so sweet, thinking of you like that and sharing the chocolates.”
“But miss,” said Oscar, “promise you’ll never tell them…”
“Who Susan and Olivia really are? Don’t worry. As long as you keep them satisfied, your secret’s safe with us.”
“How long have we got to do this then, miss?” asked Simon, alarmed.
“Oh, it’s not up to me, dear. Nor Yulya. It’s a decision for Miss Shirley. Be good boys and I’m sure it won’t be for that long.”
“Yes,” said Yulya. “Be good boys. You have tongues. Tomorrow give friends pleasure, and we take that into account.”
“Miss?”
“Yes, Simon?”
“I’m sorry I…you know…did that to you…”
“Oh, not apologise, Simon. All forgotten now.” She smiled sweetly. “Hope you enjoy as much as I did…”
His eyes widened, and for a moment his boyhood stirred. But then the device came into play, and his pleasure was checked by a twinge of discomfort…
-
Actually for what the did to Yulya i hope they get exposed
-
133.
After the boys were safely locked away for the night, and the staff had had supper, Yulya visited Anna in her room.
“Anna dear? You get good footage today?”
“Very good Yulya – as always,” she replied, with a cheeky grin.
“You enjoy watching Friday film, yes?” said Yulya, sarcastically.
“Very much, Yulya. Expression on your face when Simon…”
“You proper bitch, Anna! You know that? Why you not stop them?”
“Just following Miss Shirley’s instructions, darling. Please don’t call Anna “bitch”. She might be so upset she lose copy of film – then who know who might find it…”
Yulya glared at her. “Anyway, I not come about that. I want copy of today film.”
“Ooh, want to relive it all, do you? I could see you enjoy very much, especially when…”
“Just let me have film as soon as ready, yes?” Yulya was getting really annoyed now.
“Of course, darling Yulya. I make special copy for you tomorrow. Oh, by the way, did you know you appear in film from fixed camera? I not know what reason, but when Dylan attending to Simon you very…restless…sort of squirmy…”
Yulya flushed bright red. She was about to say some bad words to Anna, but she thought it prudent to restrain herself.
“That not relevant. You can leave out.”
“Oh, I can’t. Miss Shirley very strict about it. She want to see everything I film. No exceptions. Anyway, she like watching you just as much as boys. She enjoy other film so much…”
“Just give me film, you…”
“Yes, darling?”
Angry and frustrated, Yulya turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her.
“Ooh, tantrums...” Anna said to herself, with a satisfied smile. “Hmm… Till you thew fit, dear, I not realise power I have over you… Maybe one day I have little fun at your expense…”
Yulya was still upset when she and Shirley and Mandy met for a drink in the local bar.
“You all right, Yulya? You look as though you have something on your mind.”
“No, Miss Shirley. I fine. Just thinking about Thursday.”
“Ah, yes. We’re basically all set, but we need to discuss a couple of things. First of all. Simon and Oscar. I want to make them available for the boys – I don’t see why they should have a day off – but we’re going to need to keep them under wraps. Any ideas, girls?”
“I was thinking of that storage room at the back of the building,” said Mandy. We could put them in there and put one of those “no entry – building works in progress” signs on the door. No-one will go in, but we can let the boys know where to find them.”
“Sounds good. But the boys can only be admitted two at a time, and they’ll need numbered tickets again which they’ll have produce to us before they go and hand in afterwards. That should make sure there’s no overlap. Okay. Can you organise that, Yulya?”
“Yes, Miss Shirley. All boys have now been given tasks as guides or waiters, and I have organised all outfits. Some boys will just be doing usual things, looking cute in pretty costumes.”
“Excellent! And we’ll have some guests, too. The girls from St. Mary’s are coming, and Violet Canter – she seems very excited about the whole thing. And on top of that, Mitch is bringing four of his friends from Scouts. That should help give the event an air of respectability.”
“That’s great, Shirley. Scouts are the embodiment of wholesomeness. Maybe we could have them standing in reception saluting the parents as they arrive.”
“Good idea. I want them to come in earlier in the week to get the lay of the land. Maybe they could even show some of the visiting groups around. And something else. I’ve even got their troop leader, Moira Sullivan, coming.”
“How did you manage that?”
“Oh, she didn’t take much persuasion,” said Shirley, with a sly wink. “Not at all. All I had to do was mention a certain video in which she features, presently in Mitch’s possession. No, you can’t see it. It’s strictly private. But Ms Sullivan is now very eager to please, and wants to be involved in all the preparations. So I’m sure you’ll be seeing plenty of her during the week.”
“And Luke and Max?” asked Yulya.
“Ah, yes. Luke and Max. What do you think?”
“I think they should be feature of day, Miss Shirley. In morning we should have them outside at foot of steps, one on each side…”
“In full babywear, of course…”
“Of course. And harness to railings. And after lunch…”
“Yes?”
“After lunch, exhibition of baby-changing by St. Mary girls in main hall.”
“That’s a brilliant idea, Yulya! That will make it a really memorable day…”
-
Looks like interesting times ahead looking forward to the 2 babies being on display
-
Looks like the boys are going to have a fun day at the open house day. Wonder how many nappy changes they will get
-
134.
Shirley and Mandy had thought that the novelty of the two “girls” would have worn off after a few days. But quite contrary to their expectations, they had been incorporated into the social life of the boys. They were no longer positioned at the end of the games room; the boys had wheeled them into the main gaming area and parked them in the spaces between the main line of consoles, where they were easier to access, and could be used by participants waiting their turn on the machines. It also seemed that the boys were growing fond of Susan and Olivia, whispering sweet nothings as they thrust gently and lovingly into their open mouths, and on climaxing, withdrawing to the lip and unloading onto their tongues.
It was on the Tuesday evening that Shirley addressed the boys.
“As you know, the Ladies’ Open Day is this Thursday. I would like you all here all day. You all have the relevant permissions. I expect you to be on your best behaviour - answer any questions politely and if you’re asked, help the Scouts show groups around.”
“Miss? Why do we have to help them? I don’t wanna be ordered about by no pansy Scouts. Why are they here, anyway?”
“Well, Tyler, they’re here because we can rely on them to be helpful and discreet. Everyone trusts Scouts, and they will be in full uniform, so they’ll be easily identifiable as guides. So please treat them with respect. Remember, Mitch is in the Scouts, and he is the one who invited them. Besides, I’m hoping some of them may join us in the future.”
She paused and looked around.
“Now…Susan and Olivia. Don’t look alarmed, Sean. But I’m afraid they must be kept out of sight on Thursday. Some of the ladies may not be accustomed to certain forms of therapy. So they will be temporarily transferred to an empty room at the back of the building. It will have no entry signs on the door, but you will be admitted. However, we will be reviving the ticket system for the day, and you will need to conduct yourselves with discretion. Mandy will be in charge of tickets, and you may apply to her at her office any time from ten tomorrow morning. Now, one last thing. Max and Luke are going to be in their baby clothes for the day – there’ll be a baby-changing display by four girls from St. Mary’s school in the afternoon…”
(Much laughter and shouts of derision from the audience.)
“… Shush, please. So they will be fully occupied. Therefore I need two volunteers to provide some help over at the stables. The other boys here I don’t feel are suitable – not tough enough, to be honest – so ideally I’d like two of you.”
The boys looked at each other.
“What sort of help, miss?”
“Well it will be physically taxing – but you will be paid…”
There was an immediate surge of interest.
“Me miss!”
“I’m the toughest, miss…”
Tyler and Sean pushed themselves to the front.
“Well… you two do look very enthusiastic… All right, then. Tyler and Sean.”
“’Ow much we gonna get paid, miss?”
“Well, that depends on your performance… But I would guess at least ten or twenty pounds…”
“Great! What’ll we ‘ave to do?”
“I’ll explain later. It won’t be anything too arduous. Be at my office at eight Thursday morning. Now, I’ll tell you the programme for the day…”
-
135.
On the Wednesday the final preparations were made. Changing tables and equipment were set up along one side of the main hall. The whole building was thoroughly cleaned – with the help of the boys in the evening. And during the day the helpers and participants arrived to be shown around and to get the feel of the place.
From St. Mary’s school Mrs Canter arrived with Marlene, Maisy, Jennifer and Patricia. Moira Sullivan came with the Scouts. There was Silas, Stephen and Danny from the boys and Marcia, Marcella, Tracey and Penny from the girls. Mitch undertook to show them the layout of the building, and to instruct them in their duties. The idea was to organise three groups of visitors, each led by one of the boys and one of the girls. The other girl had a special task. Shirley and Moira had decided that Bobby and Michael should join Marcus and Ben in the ranks of the students, as endearing examples of one of the aims of P & S – namely, to develop close and loving relationships between boys, and the possibilities of sissification. And Marcella should be in charge of Bobby and Michael, holding hands and with Michael in his girl’s clothes as boyfriend and girlfriend.
When the Scouts had all been familiarised with the various rooms and features – the boys had to be dragged away from the games rooms – and the St. Mary’s girls had approved the changing facilities, everyone retired to the canteen for lunch. The staff all sat together, with Violet Canter and Moira Sullivan.
“How many visitors are you expecting?” asked Violet.
“We’ve had lots of enquiries,” said Mandy, “and I’m certain of about two dozen. But we won’t really know till tomorrow. Fingers crossed most of them actually turn up.”
“And what about the babies? What will they be doing during the morning?”
“Not very much,” laughed Shirley. “I don’t know if you noticed, but at the top of the steps outside the main door there are a pair of old boot-scrapers, one each side. They’re the perfect thing to which to tether our big babies. They’ll be the first talking-point as the visitors arrive, and they’ll have no choice but to stand there and let everyone examine them and ask them questions. I’m sure they’ll be terribly embarrassed, but it’ll be a perfect first impression, don’t you think?”
“And by the time they get released their nappies should be soaked!” added Debbie. “All ready for your girls to take over.”
“And I saw some activity down by the loose-boxes in the field,” said Moira. “Will there be something happening down there?”
“Yulya smiled. “Before they babies, Luke and Max were piggies, and lived in field. Now we have plan for two other boys to be animals.”
Moira looked from Yulya to Shirley and back again. “Animals?”
“Well, it was going to be a surprise,” said Shirley. “Don’t mention this to anyone, but we’re hoping to get two of the newer boys into latex cow costumes. Needless to say, they don’t know anything about it yet.”
“Cow costumes?”
“They come with udders. Little udders with three teats. But there’s a trick. The front and back teats are solid rubber – but the middle teat… Well, use your imagination. We’re planning a little sideshow – “Milk the Cow” – fifty pence a go. Debbie’s worked on a farm, and she’ll give instruction, won’t you dear?”
“It’s simple,” smiled Debbie, “squeeze and pull, squeeze and pull, until the milk starts flowing.” She demonstrated with her hand. “Like this. We have little plastic seaside buckets in case they get lucky. I’m sure the ladies will soon get the idea…”
“Now that I need to see,” said Violet, eagerly.
“Violet! Really! I wouldn’t have expected it - a woman in your position…”
“Well, in my position I don’t get to see many boys, so I must take the opportunities when they’re presented…”
“You can have a go if you like.”
“I intend to, don’t worry.”
“Of course, we’ve got to get them into those suits first,” said Shirley. “I’ll need everyone’s help…”
-
136.
They made an early start of Thursday. Simon and Oscar were removed from their cells, dressed and put into their suits. As the days had passed they seemed to have become more and more docile. They still complained, but they no longer struggled against their bonds, nor resisted the gag. They liked to have their dil-dos turned on before they were fitted with their hoods. The gentle regular pulsing must have been comforting. The boys had been remarking that they were starting to use their tongues more. And Mandy noticed with approval that by the end of the day, when they were undressed, their tight little panties were now always slippery with c-um.
She was putting on Simon’s hood. He was complaining as usual.
“Miss…please…not again. They’re my friends… S’pose they find out it’s me suc-king their coc-ks…”
She hazarded a question.
“Which coc-k’s your favourite?” She must have caught him unawares.
“Oh, er Lou…” He quickly shut his mouth, cheeks reddening.
“Hmm. Interesting. Yes, I can see you might enjoy his. It’s sort of cute…”
With an effort she slid the hood into place, and rolled down the neck.
“Open wide. Good boy. Tell you what, I’ll give Louis an extra couple of tickets. Don’t tell anyone, though.”
She and Debbie trundled the boys down to the empty room, and hung the “NO ENTRY” notice on the door. Shirley and Yulya were attending to the cow-boys, whilst they had elected to prepare the babies.
They wanted them to look their very best, so they had sorted out two really pretty ensembles, one blue and the other pink. Starting at the top: a satin bonnet, framing the face, with frilling all around the face opening, and loose at the back of the head, secured with ribbon under the chin. A satin pinafore dress, with short frilled puff sleeves and a plain round neck, elasticated at the chest and lined with stiff netting so that it flared out in a pretty bell shape trimmed with more frills around the hem, which at rest would barely to hide their panties, and when they moved, would bounce and swirl coquettishly. The pinafore itself was of the finest transparent white nylon, with a flower-pattern hem laying just short of the dress frills, and frilled shoulder-straps.
The pants. The cutest pants you can imagine, full enough to lay comfortably over the puffiest or thickest diaper. Shirley had gone for fine transparent latex, one pink pair and one blue, with a simple broad, tight waistband to support them against the pull of the wettest nappy, and the prettiest little frills around the leg bands, equally tight and waterproof. Each pair had tiny groups of multicoloured flowers sprinkled in the latex, and a yellow daisy-chain pattern at the hips, running from the waist to the leg bands. The outfits were finished off with short white lacy socks and little leather bootees, matching the colours and secured by yellow ribbons threaded around the ankles.
The pants had a built in wetness alarm in a slightly raised rubber section built into the back of the waistband, equipped with a speaker and a fine cable which could be dropped into the nappy. When activated, a tinkling bell would sound, followed by a programmable recorded message in a baby voice. For the purposes of the open day, a distressed baby voice would squeal, “Mummy, mummy! [sob] I’ve done a big wee! I need changing now! [sob]” Shirley was sure that would get a laugh.
Luke and Max knew vaguely what was required of them. They knew they were in no position to protest. In fact, until the day – of it ever came – they were freed of their chastity devices, they had no alternative but complete submission. But the previous evening they had made a secret pact.
“Max? Know what? There’s no way I’m giving those girls an excuse to change me, especially in front of all the visitors.”
“Nor me. So from now on we don’t drink anything, and tomorrow we refuse all drinks, right?”
“Right. It would be too blatant for them to allow us to be changed if we stay dry. I don’t think they’d dare, especially in front of that Mrs Canter. She’s strict, and she wouldn’t be okay with us being needlessly humiliated. We’re gonna be thirsty, but it’ll be worth it. We only have to hold out till four. That when the open day ends.”
“We can do that, no probs.”
Even so, they were pretty gobsmacked to see their outfits. It was hardly significant that Luke was in his boy persona in blue and Max the girl in pink – both looked equally effeminate. Mandy and Debbie dressed them carefully, leaving their bonnets till last, and once they were satisfied with their appearance they fitted them with soft leather mitts to stop them messing with their clothes. These were buckled tightly around the wrists; then their hands were pulled behind them and the D rings on the buckled fastened together with tiny padlocks.
“That should keep you out of mischief, darlings,” said Mandy, with a motherly smile, as she applied a little rouge to their cheeks to make them look extra sweet and innocent. “Now, one final thing, before we put on your bonnets…”
All boys hate pacifiers, so you can imagine how very much more they would hate Shirley’s sissifiers. There was a blue one for Luke and a pink one for Max. They had large, strong plastic guards, with matching leather straps attached to slots in the sides, and the natural glans-teat was neat and compact to encourage comfort suc-king. There was no ring on the guard, but a largish boss right in the middle. The ladies popped them in and buckled them up firmly at the back, before tying on their bonnets. Mandy stood back to admire them.
“Perfect! Two gorgeous little sweeties! Now, boys, I noticed you didn’t drink your juice at breakfast. You must be thirsty. Never mind.” She reached out, hooked a nail under the edge of the boss on Max’s dummy, and flipped it open. Inside was a plastic nipple-type connector. “With these, we can feed you any time we want. In fact, I think we should try them out right away.” From a cupboard she produced a plastic baby bottle full of pale purple juice fitted with a long rubber tube. While Debbie held Max, she pushed the end of the tube over the nipple. He shook his head frantically, but the tube was firmly attached, and he only succeeded in shaking it about. She squeezed the bottle. A moment later Max felt the teat swell as it filled with juice. She began to squeeze rhythmically, and soon it was pumping into his mouth in little spurts, which he was forced to swallow.
“There. Nice? Don’t worry, boys. We’ll make sure to give you regular drinks during the day, so you’ll be ready for this afternoon.”
A tear was forming in Max’s eye. Why did these women always get the upper hand of them?
-
137.
A couple of rooms away, Shirley and Yulya had persuaded Tyler and Sean to strip down to their undies. They were puzzled about what their task was to be, and no amount of interrogation yielded any meaningful responses from the ladies, beyond the assurance that they would surely enjoy themselves. However, they were too curious and too avaricious to back out at this stage, so when they were fitted with belts and collars and wrist and ankle cuffs, they allowed themselves to be convinced they needed a harness for some sort of trial of strength. They were not very bright!
Padlocks were not required for the next stage of their preparation – simple steel carabiners sufficed to clip their wrists to their collars, and cable ties to link their ankles to their belts. The ladies performed these operations swiftly and efficiently, allowing them no time to think or protest, and leaving them helpless on the floor.
“Miss?” asked Tyler, frowning. “What are you doin’? What’s the idea? Tell us now, or we’re out.”
“Yeah,” added Sean. “I don’t understand what we’re supposed to do all trussed up like this.”
Instead of replying, Shirley and Yulya retreated so they could get a better view of the two naked boys thrashing about at their feet, and doubled up laughing. It had been the work of a moment, and their victims were completely at their mercy. It was all they could do to squirm a few inches across the floorboards.
“Well, better get on, I suppose,” said Shirley, trying to recover from her mirth. “Let’s get them finished, Yulya.”
She produced a large roll of black bondage tape from a drawer, and they began to wind it on, converting their doubled-up arms and legs into smooth, neatly packaged limbs.
At this development, the boys’ demeanour became suddenly aggressive.
“fuc-k this. Let us free, you two, or we’ll…” growled Sean.
“You'll what?” said Shirley, mildly. “What will you do? Butt us with your heads? Just be quiet or I’ll give you a slap.”
“You what?” bellowed Tyler. “You fuc-king…”
But Yulya delivered such a slap to his face, that he was temporarily struck dumb.
“I think it’s time for the silencers,” said Shirley. “They’re in the second drawer down.”
The “silencers” – red plastic ball-gags – were easily fitted and tightly buckled. Sean’s protests became inarticulate, and not unlike a cow’s “moo”. The balls were hollow, pierced inside and out with two small holes, and fitted inside with a pierced disc on a spindle, which converted the passage of air into a sort of low moan. Now the boys were looking really worried. Had they been able to speak they would probably have pleaded to be released. But it was too late for that. Their eyes widened when Shirley opened a big cardboard box and took out the cow suits. She unrolled them and lay them side by side on the floor.
“Boys will be boy-cows soon,” smiled Yulya, “for P and S farm.”
One suit was brown, the other black and white. After a little debate, it was decided the brown one would best suit Sean. The ladies used scissors to remove the boys’ underpants, then, one by one, pulled the cow legs up over their limbs. Each leg was fitted with a thick rubber hoof, thicker at the front to compensate for the difference in length. Then came the important matter of the udders. They were relatively small, moulded from solid rubber, with a small compartment to hold the balls and a hollow central teat between two solid ones. Each teat had a little hole in the tip, so that they all looked the same. Before inserting the boys’ pen-ises, they fitted them with snug rubber collars that would ensure that, once they were erect, they would stay that way. Then it only remained to zip their suits up along the backbone, fit and secure pulsing cow-tail butt-plugs, and put on their open-face rubber hoods with cow ears.
“There,” said Shirley. “All ready for the milking parlour. Now, let me see, what’s the time? Ah. Nearly eight. Yulya, could you and Anna please take the cows down to the stables, and tether them outside? You’ll find a riding whip by the front door in case they need encouragement. I still have a lot to do. Mandy will deal with the babies, but I have to deploy the Scouts and get my new toy ready.”
“New toy, Miss Shirley?”
“Yes. I’ll show you later, before we open the doors. I’ve set it up in room six. I think you’ll like it. Mitch has offered – er, I mean, Mitch is going to help demonstrate it. I’ll go check that he’s ready.”
And with a cheeky wink, she hurried out of the room.
-
138.
As she and Anna drove the boys across the field, Yulya wondered what the “new toy” could be. No matter how many innovations they had introduced, Shirley’s lurid imagination was continually giving birth to more – many of them too extreme to be consistent with her “therapist” status.
“Go, little boy-cow!” she snapped at Tyler, giving him a cut across his rear, making him buck and moan. “Soon time for morning milking.” Anna followed her example with Sean, and soon both were scurrying down towards the stables as fast as their little legs would carry them – which wasn’t very fast at all.
“You have lot of work today, Anna. How you keep up?”
“I follow Miss Shirley, I think. I see how it develop.”
Shirley returned to her office. Mitch was waiting outside, looking a little nervous.
“Ah, Mitch. Thank you for being punctual. You look very nice. Did everything fit okay? It should have – Violet gave you what? Three fittings?”
“Yes, three, miss. But why…?”
“Follow me and I’ll explain.”
Mitch did indeed look very nice. His natural soft feminine features were only enhanced by his St. Mary’s uniform, which Mrs Canter had offered to provide. So far, she and Mandy were the only others in on the secret. Mrs Canter had thought it a wonderful idea. A punishment for gropers. Over the years many of the girls had complained about boys groping them, usually on a first date. It really needed to be stamped out, or at least severely punished.
As they passed reception Shirley caught sight of the deputy head of St. Mary’s with her four girls. The girls stared.
“Who’s that? I’ve never see her before,” whispered Patricia.
“And what’s she doing here?” added Marlene.
“She won’t get away with wearing a skirt that short, anyway,” mused Janice. “You can almost see her panties!”
“Shirley!” Violet Canter left the girls and approached. “He looks absolutely amazing!”
“He?” gasped Maisy.
But he did. A crisp white long-sleeved school shirt, beautifully setting off his dark complexion, a red and blue school tie, a red and blue tartan skirt cut to mid-thigh, white knee-socks and shiny black school shoes. In his hand he held a straw boater with a St. Mary’s band, which the girls occasionally wore in summer for ceremonies. Red leather straps peeped out from under his shirt-cuffs.
“Violet. You came nice and early. Let’s go together. The girls will be all right here. They can play with the babies when they’re put outside.”
Violet Canter gave her girls a little wave. “See you shortly, girls. The babies will be out soon. Keep them amused, will you?”
“Miss?” cried Patricia.
“Yes, Patricia?”
“Can we quickly go visit the cows. We saw them down at the stables as we came in.”
“Well…”
“Fine with me, Violet,” smiled Shirley.
“All right. Go on. You can stroke them, but nothing else until later, understand?”
“Yes, miss! Thank you, miss!”
“Such sweet girls,” said Shirley.
“They are, dear. So polite, too.”
They walked along to room six. Shirley opened the door and ushered them in.
The room was large and light, with windows on two sides. The floorboards were polished, the walls white, decorated only with a large framed poster of Yulya in her black latex catsuit, standing next to a blackboard. The ends of two words, written in white chalk, could be seen on the board to her left: RBATION and TIO. Yulya herself had a surprised expression of her face, which, together with her catsuit, were dripping with…well, something white and slimy. Vertically up the right hand edge was the word “REVENGE”, printed in jagged red letters. Yulya had protested vigorously about Anna’s candid snap being used for a poster, but she had been, (to the delight of the boys), outvoted by Shirley, Mandy and Anna. The only concession she had been able to extract from Shirley was the addition of that word, a statement of her intent! There were only two pieces of furniture: a cabinet in one corner, and in the middle of the room a cage. By the door there was a wooden stool.
But it was not the sort of cage one would have expected to come across outside a dominatrix’s dungeon. It was over seven feet tall, shaped like an elongated bird-cage. That is to say, it culminated in a sort of dome. It was less than a metre in diameter, and constructed of thin, brushed stainless steel, vertical bars, spaced at intervals of about nine inches and strengthened with four horizontal rings. It had a steel floor, and one section was hinged and fitted with a lock to act as a door. On a little plaque attached to the cage at about chest height were the words “GROPE ME”.
Violet’s eyes sparkled. “What a wonderful idea! Retribution indeed.”
“Well, Violet, it needn’t be just for that, need it? It can be utilised for any variety of misbehaviour. I’m even thinking I may be able to market them, or rent them out. Imagine what a few days in there could achieve.”
“Yes, that’s right. You know what I would do? I’d put one in the middle of the senior playground, and have malefactors imprisoned there for a day.”
“Yes, well, dear, I’m not sure that’s even legal…but it’s a very nice thought. She turned to Mitch. “Thank you for volunteering…”
“I didn’t actually volunteer, miss,” said Mitch, alarmed.
“I suppose you didn’t specifically volunteer…but you said you were prepared to do anything to help…” She grinned, and opened the door. “In you go, then. Quickly.”
Reluctantly he went in. Shirley closed and locked the door. Then she fetched the stool, placed it next to the cage, and climbed up. She took the hat from his fingers, and hung it around her wrist by the chin-strap.
“Hands above your head. Come on, Mitch. Thank you.”
As he raised his hands, his skirt rode a couple of inches further up his thighs. She attached a short chain to one cuff, fed it through a small ring and the apex of the cage, and clipped the other end to the other cuff. Then she placed the straw boater on his head, and stretched the elastic under his chin. She stepped down, and replaced the stool by the door.
“Now, as for his feet, we can either attach them to opposite sides of the cage, if we want his legs apart, or simply keep them together. I’m going to be kind to Mitch, as he hasn’t actually committed the offence. So…”
She went to the cabinet and returned with a short strap. Kneeling down, she reached in and buckled it around his ankles.
“There. Now he has no way of resisting any inappropriate advances from the outside. Do you like it?”
“You’re a genius, Shirley.”
“Ah, well, I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say “ingenious”, shall we?”
“And Mitch is such a good boy for agreeing to demonstrate the new equipment.”
“He is, isn’t he. Of course, he’s one of my most important helpers. But I think it’s good that every now and then he’s reminded that he is also just a naughty little boy.” She reached through the bars and gave his cheek a gentle pinch.
“Now, Violet, shall we get back and finish the preparations? Mitch? Be good. I’ll see you later – with luck, you’ll have a few visitors too. I can’t wait to see their reaction…”
-
139.
By the time the girls had run down to the bottom of the field, the “cows” were already tethered to the stable wall, a few yards apart. This had been done by the simple expedient of tying ropes to their collars and attaching them to the tethering rings on the wall. The collars had been Yulya’s idea; board leather straps fitted with real cow-bells, which made a rather sad tinny sound when the boys moved. The girls actually jumped up and down with excitement when they got a close view of the animals for the first time.
“What are their names? What are their names?” screamed Marlene.
“This brown boy-cow Sean, this one Tyler. You can touch, but no milk yet.”
“Oh, they’re so cute!” squealed Maisy. “Look at their little sad faces.” She patted their heads. “Never mind, little boy-cows! Later on we’ll come down and milk you, shall we?” She reached underneath Sean and gave his udder a little squeeze. “Ooh, your udder’s so firm. I bet it’s absolutely bursting with milk.” Then she gave his tail a little tug, making Sean flinch. She did it a second time. He gave a little moo of discomfort. Maisy’s mouth fell open. She looked at Yulya. “Why is he doing that? It’s not…you know…?”
Yulya nodded. “Yes. Tail belong to Sean. Go inside him. Miss Shirley make sure won’t fall out.”
Patricia gasped, and covered her mouth.
“How awfully rude! Let me try.” She took the tail from Maisy, and gave it a slightly harder tug. Sean made a sort of squeak, pressed his back end closer to the wall, and looked around pleadingly, cheeks scarlet. Patricia’s face lit up.
“It’s true! He has a butt-plug! Oh, this is so fun!” She looked at the others, gaping with disbelief. “I know, let’s try the other boy’s. I bet we can…”
But at that moment, Janice piped up, “Look! The babies are being put out!”
They turned as one, and began to run back to the main entrance.
“Be back soon!” shouted Patricia over her shoulder. “Save some milk for us!”
They dashed up to the entrance, where Mandy and Debbie were attaching the babies’ ankle cuffs to the scrapers. They made a feeble attempt at resistance, which only served to offer more glimpses of their pretty rubber pants to the Scouts, who were gathered on the steps watching. Stephen, standing on the bottom step, was pointing and laughing.
“Ha ha! Look at their little rubber baby pants! Don’t they look sweet!”
“You can laugh,” grinned Patricia, arriving next to him, “considering what you’re wearing!”
“What do you mean?” Stephen, like the other boys in the troop, had by now become so used to their new look, that they often forgot how eye-catching they looked.
“Those! Those little tiny rainbow-coloured rubber shorts! Very sweet!”
“Aren’t they?” called Tracey from the top of the steps. “Miss Sullivan makes all the boys in our troop wear them now. You should see how people stare!”
“I don’t wonder,” returned Patricia, herself goggling at Stephen so intensely that he squirmed and folded his hands in front of him. “It wouldn’t take much for something to slip out, by the look of it. But don’t they have to be careful of dogs?”
“Dogs? Why dogs?”
“Well, you know how dogs love sausages!”
Everyone, except of course the three boy Scouts, fell about laughing.
“Anyway,” said Marlene, “let’s have a look at our babies.” She climbed the steps and confronted Max.
“Hello, my little baby girl.” She tickled him under his chin, then coolly lifted his dress and gently caressed his panties. “So soft! And so pretty! No wonder you like showing them off so much. I see you’ve got a nice thick nappy on. You’re going to need it. Please do a nice big wee for your auntie Marlene, won’t you? I’ve got some lovely scented baby powder and pots and pots of cold cream so you won’t get a rash. Well? Aren’t you going t say thank you? Oh. I suppose you can’t. with that big pacifier in your mouth.”
“Actually it’s a sissifier,” said Mandy, who was standing just inside the door.
“A what?”
“A sissifier. One of these,” she said, ignoring Max’s pleading eyes. And she took one out of her pocket and handed it to Marlene.
Marlene was speechless. Then a huge grin spread over her face. “Wow! Look at this, girls!”
She held in up, then tossed it down to Maisy to look at. The others gathered round, giggling hysterically.
“He’s got one of these in his mouth?” cried Patricia. “He’s actually suc-king on one of these?”
“That’s what they’re for,” said Mandy, matter-of-factly. “Actually boys seem to like them. They find them comforting, I think.”
The girls, including the girl Scouts, were ecstatic. They crowded round the babies to see if they could detect suc-king movements. The little circles of blusher had long ago been overtaken by real blushes, and their eyes were big with embarrassment. Janice commented on it.
“Well you’d have wide eyes if you had one of those in your mouth,” giggled Maisy. “But seriously, I never expected something as amazing as this! Janice? Could you hold up their little dresses while I get some snaps?”
The girls made the most of the quarter hour left before the official opening. The helpless babies were fingered, stroked, and pinched, with particular attention paid to their upper thighs. The girls took photos and videos to the hearts’ content. Then they turned their attention to the Scouts.
“Those Scouts look even stupider,” whispered Janice. “Let’s get some snaps to show the girls.”
“I know,” giggled Maisy. “Have you ever seen a Scout wearing actual rubber shorts before?”
“They might not like us taking photos,” murmured Marlene. “though they seem to think they’re pretty cool…”
“I know,” said Patricia. “That’s what make it even funnier! We’ll have to be subtle. Let me ask them.”
She approached the Scouts.
“Your uniforms are so neat, guys! Could we have a few snaps?” She did her best, but she couldn’t hide her amusement. And the boys were already feeling a bit self-conscious.
“No, you can’t!” snapped Danny. “Miss? I feel stupid in these gay rainbow shorts! Why did you insist we put these on today? It’s gonna be so embarrassing in front of all those ladies. And there’s definitely no way we’re gonna let these girls take photos of us in them. So there!”
“Really, Danny, they look very sweet.”
“Exactly! Why can’t we wear our normal ones?”
“Well…”
“No! Don’t let them, miss!” cried the girls in unison. “That would be so boring!”
“You’re boring!” retorted Stephen.
“I’m sorry girls. It’s true, these are not the standard Scout shorts. If they insist, I’ll have to let them change, I’m afraid. Boys? You all have your proper ones in your bags?”
“Yes, miss.”
“If I let you change, will you pose for the girls then?”
“Yeah, no problem. Thanks, miss.”
“You can change in my office. Right there across the corridor,” said Mandy.
The boys retired to change. The girls were most disappointed.
“Not fair!” said Maisy. “I’ve never seen a Scout in shorts like that before. I wanted to show my friends!”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll still find them worth a photo, girls,” smiled Moira. “Wait and see.”
The girls were about to wander off in search of something more amusing when the boys reappeared, swaggering in proudly in their “standard” shorts. But since Moira’s innovation, these were of course nothing but latex shorts adapted to Scout regulations with a nod to the troop colours – navy blue with yellow piping. Not only that, but they were correctly styled, with belt loops for their official Scout belts and simulated pockets, and only departed from standard in having pretty little tight frills around the legs in place of turn-ups. Silas walked straight up to the girls with a smug look on his face.
“See? These are our proper shorts. And guess what? We’re the only troop in the whole country what has them!”
It was paramount that the girls showed not even the slightest trace of mirth. Patricia played her part perfectly. She was some actor, the others agreed when they relived the moment later that morning; especially since the “official” shorts they were now wearing were made of the highest grade of latex, fine, soft and stretchy, that left very little to the imagination.
“Gosh!” she gasped. “They’re really neat! Is that true, that no other troop…”
“Absolutely,” interrupted Danny. “That’s right, isn’t it, miss?”
“It’s perfectly true, girls. They’re custom made by our supplier. No-one else has them.”
“And my mum reckons they’re all jealous of us, too,” added Stephen, proudly, sliding his thumbs into his waistband like the authentic dude he thought he was. Stephen was the biggest boy of the three, in every sense of the word.
“Wow, guys” said Marlene, with a hint of envy in her voice, “I’m not surprised. They’re so cool…”
“Super cool,” agreed Patricia. “So…would allow us to…?” She held up her phone.
“No problem. Where would you like us?”
A few groups of women were beginning to arrive, making their way up the drive towards the entrance. Cars were being parked on the other side of the forecourt.
“Maybe on the grass, with the field behind you?” suggested Maisy.
The Scouts willingly made their way onto the grass, the frills of their shorts rustling as they walked. The girls looked at each other with expressions of delight, which they quickly suppressed as the boys turned around.
“Could you stand in a line, please? That’s it.”
“Great. And maybe give the Scout salute? Perfect.”
The taut, glossy rubber gleamed in the sunlight, accentuating the three variously sized and oriented sausage-shaped bulges.
“Arms around each other. That’s nice. Point to your amazing shorts! Yeah, go! Hold the frills? Yes, like that. Super!”
“You getting this on video, Mais?” murmured Janice, under her breath.
“You bet.”
“Turn around and look back over your shoulders. Peace sign. Perfect. Smile!”
But it was nearly nine, and the group of ladies waiting at the foot of the steps – and enjoying the little tableau on the lawn – was steadily growing. One in particular seemed particularly fascinated. She wore a little angora jumper pulled taut by her pointed breasts, faux leather leggings, high-heeled calf-length boots, and little black leather fingerless gloves. Her sunglasses were pushed up into her blonde hair, and her scarlet lip-gloss matched her long nails. Mitch would have recognised her immediately – the glamorous Edwina Brentford of the Women’s Institute.
Moira had to call the Scouts in.
“Boys? Sorry to interrupt, but…”
“Coming, miss!”
The Scouts ran up the steps, and the girls were finally able to give vent to their feelings, collapsing in hysterics.
“Just wait till the girls see these!” cried Marlene. “We must find out when they have their next parade. Second Beckleyford, right? The whole school will turn out for that!”
Then Shirley appeared at the door.
“Ladies! Welcome to P and S, all of you! I’m so grateful you were able to come and see some of the work we do here. Please feel free to partake of the snacks and drinks on offer in reception. Then you may either follow one of our guides – the Scouts who have so generously offered to give their time to our cause – or, if you prefer, explore for yourselves. Lunch will be served between twelve and two in the canteen. At ten there will a demonstration of our latest innovation in room six, and this afternoon a display of baby-changing by our four young visitors from St. Mary’s School. Any questions may be directed to me, or to my colleagues Mandy and Debbie. We also welcome any enquiries for placements. Well, I see more guest are arriving every minute. So please, come in – and enjoy!”
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Sandra thank you for the big up date over the last few days. I like where you left off
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This is just one of the most amazingly creative stories and I'm loving every minute of it. I'm a suc-ker for humiliation, and the way you not only keep coming up with new outfits and such cute, adorable little ways of humiliating your charges continues to intrigue with every new chapter!
Thank you so much for sharing this with us.
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140.
Soon reception was packed full of chattering ladies. Shirley was overjoyed at the response, and concerned her helpers may not be able to cope. But apart from the Scouts and the St. Mary’s girls, there were the nine remaining boys from Yulya’s class, and some of the longer-standing members of P & S – namely Sam, Jasper, Meredith and Oliver. Her other worry was whether some of the less broad-minded visitors would be shocked by what they saw. She and Mandy had discussed the advisability of opening up the milking parlour, and the detention and punishment rooms, for inspection. But in the end they concluded that hiding these things behind closed doors would simply add to the rumours, which in the long run would be worse than complete openness. They hoped the enthusiasm of their boys would allay any fears of abuse.
Shirley, fearing a disappointing turnout, had taken the precaution of inviting a few of her old friends. Grace, Patty and Alice had promised to come, Rachel and the aforementioned Edwina (“Teddy”) Brentford, Sarah from the hen party, and Henrietta, at whose wedding Mitch and Sam had been pageboys. Lettie was coming, but Lottie and her friends were, to their immense chagrin, prohibited.
“It’s just for grown-ups,” Lettie had said. “If you want to see Mitch again, maybe I can persuade him to come round one day.” She had frowned. “Though he’s so busy these days he hardly ever bothers to ring me.”
“Not fair!” Lottie had responded. “Make him come! Didn’t you say the other day you could make him do anything?”
Lettie laughed. “I said I could blackmail him. And I could.”
“Do it then.”
Lettie was angry with Mitch; he had largely been ignoring her in favour of his other interests at school and at P & S. As retribution she had been fairly liberal with her amorous favours, though none of her boyfriends lasted very long. But she wanted to punish him for his inattention, and therefore decided to bring the current one along, a guy by the name of Cassidy – (his name tells you everything) - to see if she could ignite his jealousy. She had also invited her old friend, the supercilious Molly Caulker from Mitch’s school, who, thanks to Lettie, had him well under her thumb.
However, the bulk of the visitors was made up the mothers or aunts of recalcitrant adolescent boys, ladies with a professional interest in their treatment, and those who were simply curious whether the rumours about what went on behind those big doors were true – and hoping they were! Of course, few were true, and by opening P & S up to public scrutiny, Shirley was hoping to demonstrate that everything that happened inside her walls was ultimately – she stressed that word – ultimately for the benefits of “her” lads.
Shirley and the staff were beginning to organise the visitors into groups of about a dozen, allocating each one to a guide. First they had to virtually drag some of them away from the babies, who were getting a good pawing from a crowd of admirers, amongst whom Teddy Brentford was prominently placed. The sharp nails that had for the last few minutes been gently scratching the inside of Luke’s thigh were now exploring the soft latex of his pants, while all the time she looked him straight in the eye. However, instead of exhibiting the anticipated symptoms of arousal, his brow furrowed and his eyes started to water.
“Hmph,” she murmured. “What’s wrong with you, boy? I’ll be back later, don’t worry.”
She transferred her attention to the tour groups, and, having already made her choice of guide when the Scouts were lined up on the lawn, quickly attached herself to Stephen’s group.
The St. Mary’s girls wondered what they should do next. Then they heard Mandy call to Yulya.
“Yulya dear? Could you organise some milk for the babies? They should have a feed soon.”
“Yes, Miss Mandy.”
Janice gave a sudden gasp, and grabbed Marlene by the shoulder.
“What’s up, Jan?”
“Milk! The babies need milk!”
She pushed her way over to Yulya. “Miss Yulya. We’ll get the milk for the babies. We won’t be long.”
“Thank you. You very helpful girls.”
She made her way back to the others. “Come on! While everyone else is busy! Let’s go milk the cows!”
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Oh looks like the girls going to have fun with the babies love it
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141.
As the girls were hastening across the field in the direction of the stables, a slight figure was approaching up the gravel drive. It hesitated at the foot of the front steps and stared at the two babies tethered each side of the doorway, almost hidden in the two little knots of ladies cooing and petting them. It was a young woman in her early twenties, dressed in a three-quarter length grey skirt, a white blouse with a button-down collar, a long lightweight beige coat, and flat black shoes.. Her russet hair was cut in a bob level with her jaw line, and combed straight. She looked flustered, and half turned as if she was having second thoughts about proceeding. She had actually taken a step backwards when Violet Canter appeared in the centre of the top step and called to her.
“Miriam! Miriam – I’m here. Come up and meet Miss Dearman.”
She mounted the steps, glancing left and right at the babies in disbelief.
Violet greeted her warmly, took her by the arm, and ushered her into reception.
“I’m so glad you managed to get away. I know you must be very busy.”
“Well, it’s true I do have a lot of marking to do. But my next lesson’s not till one forty-five…”
“Come and meet Shirley. Shirley? This is the new English teacher I told you about, Miriam Mitchell. Miriam, this is Shirley Dearman, the brains behind P & S.”
“Lovely to meet you, Miriam. I’m so happy you were able to pop in and see us, though I’m afraid you’ll miss your girls’ display this afternoon.”
Miriam shot a nervous glance over her shoulder at the doorway.
“N-nice to meet you, Miss Dearman.”
“Shirley, please.”
“Those, er, babies on the steps…”
“Max and Luke. Yes?”
“They’re not…”
“Yes, they're the babies your girls will have to deal with. But I have full confidence in the girls.”
“But…they’re quite big… I mean, I don’t quite understand….”
“Oh, don’t worry. Come and meet them.”
She led the way outside. “Max…Luke...? This is Miss Mitchell. She’s the girls’ English teacher. The boys volunteered to be babies today as their contribution to our open day. Didn’t you boys?”
If the boys didn’t understand the correct answer to this question, the look in Shirley’s eye left no room for doubt, and they both nodded vigorously.
“Oh. They volunteered. That’s quite brave of them, isn't it?”
“They love being involved - don’t you guys?” Renewed nodding.
“How nice. I was just a bit taken aback by them being…you know…”
“Oh. Tied up, you mean? Just our little joke. Some people think we keep the boys here against their will. But they'll soon find out how much they all love P & S.”
“And the dummies…”
“They asked for them. They said they wanted to avoid being bombarded with questions all day long.” She winked. “Though I think it was because they just like suc-king on them!”
Miriam smiled, reassured. She took a closer look at Luke and Max. The little flared pinafore dresses…their sweet little faces framed in the pretty close hoods… She loved the vintage, almost Edwardian feel. And those cute rubber baby pants, peeping out underneath for everyone to see, through which their big white nappies were clearly visible. The big dummies, like gags, on their tight leather straps, flattening their flushed cheeks! She felt a strange, illicit thrill run through her. Such big boys in such juvenile outfits! Their long bare legs disappearing into little frilled leg bands. It was so cute, but also somehow…sexy. She felt and urge to caress the rubber, to stroke those bare thighs… She felt her own cheeks suddenly burning, and looked away, embarrassed. This was so unlike her!
Shirley noticed her awkwardness, and she wanted to ask Violet more about Miss Mitchell. Yulya was nearby, so she called to her.
“Yulya? Come and say hello to Miriam Mitchell. She’s the girls’ English teacher.”
Yulya was dressed demurely for the open day, in a rather formal black suit with a knee-length skirt – though her high-heeled boots did disappear under the hem and continue up her legs to some undiscernible height. She wanted to keep a low profile. She didn’t yet know her cover would soon be blown by the poster in the “groping” room. Shirley had been doubtful about putting it up, but Anna had persuaded her no-one would take it seriously.
“Good morning, Miss Mitchell.” Yulya’s curves contrasted noticeably with Miriam’s rather straighter lines. “Very nice meet you.”
“You too. I’ve heard something about you from Mrs Canter. I gather you’re a very important part of the management. She said you’re very “hands on” with the boys.”
“Yulya looked startled. She stared at Violet, who simply winked.
She turned back. “Er, yes…I like to make sure boys all happy…” But there was no hint of irony in Miriam’s innocent gaze, and it was clear any lewd implication had been entirely lost on her. It was at that moment that Yulya realised she was going to like Miss Mitchell, if for no other reason than that she was the polar opposite of herself.
“Please… I get you coffee, yes? Let me take your coat, and I introduce to some helpers.”
“Oh, thank you. Yes, I’d love a coffee, Yulya. Would you excuse me, ladies?”
“Of course, Miriam,” smiled Shirley. Please go and mingle…”
“So that’s Miriam, Violet. She seems a little – how can I put it – naïve?”
“I think that’s unfair, Shirley. It implies she hasn’t learnt from her experiences. But you see she came from a very sheltered background, and before arriving at St. Mary’s all she had done was to teach very young girls in a private school out in the sticks. She is innocent, yes – more innocent than the seniors she’s now teaching. But I wouldn't call her naïve.”
“I understand. I think we got away with the babies. But how is she going to react to some of the other things?”
“If she stays – and I’m not sure she will – it’ll certainly be an eye-opener for her.”
“I would say that’s an understatement, dear…”
-
142.
When Tyler saw the St Mary's uniforms approaching, he gave a long “mooooo” of annoyance. Sean followed his gaze, and would have tried to run off if his tether hadn’t prevented him. The girls came to a stop, for a moment too puffed to speak. Patricia was the first to recover.
“Debbie…we need milk…can we…have first go…?”
“First come, first served, dear. Fifty pence a milking.”
“Great! Here's five pounds.”
“I’m sorry, I haven’t got change…”
“No, we don't need change. That’s for five milkings for each cow. We need quite a bit of milk, you see.”
“How generous! Here – take your little buckets. If I may suggest... One of you should stand at the head and hold the collar, while the other does the milking.”
The girls got to work. First they shortened the tether ropes so the boy-cows couldn’t pull away or lie down. Janice stood at Sean’s head, holding his collar in one hand and patting him and pulling his cow-ears with the other, while Maisy sat on the little stool provided and began to explore the teats. Tyler was restrained by Patricia with Marlene at the milking end.
“Three teats,” said Maisy. “These end ones feel cold, and they bend, but the middle one is stiff and warm, so I thinks that's our best bet. Miss Debbie? How should I do the milking?”
“It’s easy, Maisy. Take the whole teat in one hand, close your fingers around it, squeeze gently, and pull – not too hard, just stretch it a little. Then, keeping a grip on it, let it go back, and then repeat.”
“I think I get it… Like this…?”
Sean made a noise which must have been a groan.
“That’s right. Try to maintain a nice regular rhythm. That’s right... Perfect. Remember, you’re just coaxing the milk out. That's very good, Marlene. May the best team win!”
Soon both girls were milking confidently, making the boys emit odd little humming noises through their gags. All at once Sean quivered and moaned, and a moment later Maisy gave a cry of triumph.
“It’s coming! Janice – we have milk!”
“Don’t stop – get as much as you can.”
“I am. There’s quite a lot – see?”
She tilted the little plastic bucket. Sean had done well.
“Gosh. He must have needed that!”
A few seconds later Tyler gave a moo and a shudder, and Marlene whooped with joy as his milk spurted into hers. But neither girl rested on her laurels, and soon the cows were yielding more of their precious c-um.
“My arms aching,” said Maisy, after a while. “Would you like to take over, Janice?”
“Yes please!”
They changed positions, and the milking resumed. For a few minutes the silence was broken only by soft moos and snorts. Then Maisy suddenly took a step back and gave Sean a slap on the cheek.
“Hey! Stop it! Miss? He keeps looking up my skirt!”
Indeed, it was almost inevitable, with Sean’s head being at knee level. Sean quickly looked at the ground. Debbie tried to hide a smile.
“Rude, disgusting boy-cow!” exclaimed Janice. “I’ll show you…”
With which threat she started to milk him more vigorously, while Maisy watched the expression on his face.
“Yes, he likes that, Jan. His cheeks are bright red! Ooh, now he’s starting to go cross-eyed! Keep going – I think he’s nearly there...”
The words were barely out of her mouth when a shudder ran through his body, and his thick milk was spurting into the bucket for a third time.
“Good work, Janice. Only two more to go.”
Sean turned his eyes pleadingly up to Maisy, but all the comfort he got was smile and a congratulatory pat on the cheek.
“We’re one ahead of you now,” cried Janice, triumphantly. And Maisy, suddenly realising that Sean’s indecency may actually have been an asset, allowed his head to resume its former position.
The last couple of milkings were the most difficult – probably more so for the cows than the milkers - but the girls persevered, and Tyler’s final, albeit rather diminished, offering signalled the completion of their task.
“Well done, boys!” cried Maisy, loosening their tethers. “You can rest for a bit now. Look at how much milk we got, miss!”
“You're true milkmaids,” said Debbie. “I think I’d better close the stall for half an hour to let them recover.”
“Sorry, Miss Debbie…”
“No, don’t apologise. That’s what they’re here for. So... What are you going to do with it?”
“Yulya needs it,” said Janice, shortly. “Let's pour them together, Pat. Is it okay if we borrow the bucket, Miss Debbie?”
“Well I don’t see how else you’re going to carry it,” laughed Debbie. But the girls were already on their way back up the field.
-
143.
They didn’t run this time, but walked as fast as they could, careful not to spill a drop. They climbed the front steps to where the babies were still tethered, and ran into Yulya, holding a big plastic feeding bottle half full of milk, and a length of transparent rubber tubing.
“Girls. I give up on you. Have to feed boys now…” She stared at the bucket. “What in bucket?”
“More milk, miss. Like we said,” explained Marlene.
Yulya looked from the bucket to their smirking faces and back again.
“Boy-cow milk!” cried Janice, jubilantly. “See? Lots of it, lovely and gloopy!”
Yulya’s eyes widened, but she quickly recovered herself.
“Yes…boy-cow milk. Very…very good. I have sweetened milk in bottle. If we mix together we make very nice baby milk, I think.”
“Yes! Yes, let’s do it!”
Yulya unscrewed the cap, which had a built-in nipple matching the ones of the boys’ sissifiers. The bottle had a wide neck, and Janice carefully tipped the bucket over it. The boy-cow milk began to flow in, then all at once the whole bucketful slid in with a satisfying plop. Yulya screwed the cap back on tight, and attached the rubber tube.
“Could you feed babies, girls? I have to help Miss Mandy.”
“Yes. We’ll do it, we’ll do it!” they cried.
She handed the bottle, now nearly full, to Maisy. “Make sure they finish all up, please.”
Maisy shook the bottle until the creamy, foaming milk was well mixed. The girls were very excited that not only were they getting to feed the babies as well as change them.
“Max first,” said Marlene.
“Mmm! Mmm!” Max protested, shaking his head violently in an attempt to prevent them attaching the tube. But Marlene had it covered.
“Hold his head still while I fix the tube, girls.” She flipped open the cap of his sissifier. “That’s it. Keep still, Max! You need to have your feed. You’re not getting out of it.”
She pushed the other end of the tube over the nipple.
“There. It’s on. It’s no good shaking your head now, baby. It’s on tight and it’s not going to come off. Maisy, go ahead.”
Maisy held the bottle up and gave it a squeeze. While Max struggled and whined, the milk flowed down the tube and into his sissifier. Maisy squeezed until his eyes widened and his cheeks bulged, then stopped to see what he would do next.
“He’s got a good mouthful there,” said Janice. “He’s going to have to swallow soon… Yes! There it goes! Yay!”
The girls jumped up and down in delight.
“Was that nice, Max?” asked Patricia in mock solicitude. “Not too sweet, I hope. We worked so hard to get that. So did Sean and Tyler for that matter. They gave their all, in fact,” she added, with a rather cruel laugh. “Would you like some more? There’s oodles. Plenty for both of you.”
The girls were in hysterics. Tears were forming in Max’s eyes, and Luke looked horrified.
“Let’s take our time,” said Janice. “Feed them slowly. Let them enjoy every mouthful.”
It took another ten minutes feed Max his half of the bottle. Several of the ladies watched with expressions of motherly tenderness. Miriam noticed the girls feeding the babies and came out to join them.
“That’s nice, girls. Giving the thirsty babies their milk. They certainly deserve a reward for volunteering to dress up like this.”
“Hello, miss. We didn’t realise you were here. Sorry, what did you say?” asked Marlene.
“I was just saying it must have taken some courage for the boys to agree to be the babies today.”
Marlene fell in. “Oh, er, yes, absolutely. Miss Dearman must have told you… It’s great, isn’t it? But they’re really nice guys… They'd do anything for Miss Shirley...”
Janice smothered a grin. “They really are. They were the first to put their hands up when miss asked. I think secretly they enjoy those cute dresses and little rubber pants… Don’t you, boys?”
The boys glared, but Miriam didn’t notice.
“What are you feeding them?”
“Ooh…what are we feeding them…” Maisy hesitated. “It’s, er, really special milk, with honey and, er, extra protein. It tastes really nice.”
“Yes, really nice, miss,” said Patricia. “Max has had his feed, now it’s Luke’s turn. I’ll just disconnect the tube…”
“That’s quite a clever system.”
“It is. It saves having to take out their pacifiers.”
“Yes. Miss Dearman told me they wanted to keep them in.”
“And now I can plug it into Luke’s one…”
Janice caught hold of Patricia’s arm.
“Before you feed Luke, Pat, why don’t you let miss taste the milk?”
“Oh, no… That’s all right… I wouldn’t want to deprive Luke of his feed…”
“Oh, no, there’s loads here,” cried Pat, excitedly. “Please do, miss. Tell us if you like it. We worked so hard to make it. Please. We’d love to have your opinion…”
Miriam hesitated. She found it difficult to say no to anyone, let alone these bossy senior girls she wasn’t used to.
“Please…” they begged in unison.
“Well, all right… How am I going to…? Shall I get a cup?”
“Oh, just suc-k on the tube. It’s quite clean. I’ll give the bottle a little squeeze,” said Patricia.
“Okay...,” said Miriam, doubtfully. “Just a tiny bit, though.”
She took the tube cautiously, and holding it a few inches from the end, placed it between her lips.
“Ready, miss?”
“Yes. Go ahead…”
Patricia smiled. She gave the bottle a squeeze.
“Mmmm…mmff!”
“Pat! Too much!”
Miss Mitchell spat out the tube. Her mouth was full, and the slightly sticky fluid was dripping from her chin onto her clean blouse.
“Miss… I’m so sorry. It came out with a rush…”
Miriam shook her head to indicate it was fine. It was probably her own fault, she thought. She hadn’t been ready…
Marlene handed her a tissue. She dabbed her lips, and gulped down the milk. It had an interesting flavour – she could taste honey, and something else – and it slid down easily. She tried to wipe it off her blouse, but it was rather sticky. It had an unfamiliar odour.
“We’re really sorry, Miss Mitchell,” said Maisy. She took a clean tissue and helped her clean her blouse.
“It’s fine, girls. Don’t worry.”
“It just came out so fast…”
“What do you think…” ventured Maisy. “Did you like it?”
“Yes…quite nice. I could taste the honey…and something else. I suppose that’s the protein.”
The girls exchanged ecstatic glances.
“Yes, miss, we used flavoured protein,” said Patricia. “Maisy wanted to add strawberry syrup too. What do you think?”
“Well, you could… But I think it’s very nice just as it is.”
“It’s very good for you, miss. Better than ordinary milk. We’ll make some specially for you, to put on your cereal.”
“No, really girls, that’s very kind, but…”
“It's no problem, miss,” said Marlene. “Would you like to feed Luke? We’re supposed to be helping out inside.”
“Well, I suppose…I mean, if that’s okay with you…”
“Course. Plug him in, Pat. Miss, all you have to do is to hold up the bottle and squeeze it gently, till he’s drunk it all.”
“All right, then.”
“There’s still ten minutes before the tours get started, so there’s plenty of time.”
The idea of feeding this big helpless baby somehow appealed to Miriam. Maybe it was the novelty, because he was the boy baby and she knew nothing about either boys or babies. She was normally rather shy, but the idea of being in charge of this big sissy boy and making him drink up his milk felt strangely exciting. The taste and texture of the baby milk – moreish and pleasingly glutinous – lingered in her mouth.
“You go and do what you have to do, girls. Leave him to me. I’ll see you later.”
“Er…will you be staying then miss?” asked Janice.
“I wasn’t going to… But it would be silly to leave without looking round. And Shirley seems so nice. So after I’ve fed little Luke here, I’ll probably join a tour.”
“Great! We’ll see you later, then.”
-
I hope the teacher from St. Mary's stays and sees some eye opening lessons. Boy those cow-boys were really drained hope others embarrass them as well
-
144.
The girls skipped out of reception, holding onto each other and squealing with delight.
“She had a whole mouthful!” whispered Marlene.
“And she really liked it!” added Janice.
“She loved it! You could see by her face!” giggled Maisy.
“I can’t believe it! Miss Mitchell – the demure Miss Mitchell!” laughed Patricia.
“I bet she’s never swallowed c-um in her life before,” said Janice.
“But now she’s got a taste for it…” began Maisy.
“…she’ll want more and more!” cried Marlene.
Janice looked at Patricia. “Were you serious when you said you make some more for her?”
“Why not?”
“Well, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. In any case, I don’t think we’ll get any more out of the boy-cows today.”
“Who cares? There’s plenty here, for one thing. And Maisy and me have boyfriends. Maisy? How many full condoms did you say Alexander left behind last Sunday?”
“Five.”
“Well there you are. And I could easily get five out of Brandon. This weekend let’s put them all in the freezer.”
“Okay…”
“Pat. You can’t. She’s bound to realise. Then we’ll all be in trouble,” said Marlene.
“Don’t worry. I have a plan. I’ll tell you later.”
Outside Miriam had finished feeding Luke. He had drunk every drop, and she had enjoyed every second, particularly the sensation of forcing him to finish it all up when he was clearly already full. She had never experienced anything quite like that sense of power before in all her self-effacing life, and she found it thrilling.
Everyone else had gone in. She stroked his cheek.
“Good baby. Was that nice?” She looked around to make sure no-one was looking, and added, “I’d better just check your nappy to make sure you’re not wet…”
Heart beating fast, she reached down and gently squeezed his thick nappy through the latex pants. It felt dry, but to make sure she pushed one finger up under the inside of his left leg band. Yes, quite dry. And even if he wet himself, the legs of his pants were nice and tight and waterproof. She withdrew her finger, but let her hand linger on his bare flesh for a moment. Her emotions were in turmoil. It was a totally unfamiliar feeling. And the realisation that he was quite helpless, that if she felt inclined she could touch and fondle him wherever and however she wished, made her tremble with excitement. Taking a deep breath, she regained control. She patted him on his bottom, smiled, and went inside. She was immediately confronted with a large Scout in a tiny pair of dark blue frilled latex shorts. She stared, speechless. What was going on in this place?
“We’re just about to leave miss. Are you coming?”
She attached herself to the little group, no longer knowing what to expect next. She found herself next to a tall, well-built woman wearing tight shiny leggings and a lot of perfume.
“Hi. This should be fun. I’m Teddy. You are…?”
“Oh. Yes…hi. I’m…Miriam.”
“Do you know what goes on here?”
Miriam was in a daze. “Goes on…?”
“I see you don’t. Well, you’re in for a treat. Stick with me and we’ll do the place together.”
“We will? Yes…okay. I’ll stick with you…Teddy…”
-
145.
Apart from the free spirits, who were mainly there in some sort of official capacity, there were three main tour groups, one led by Silas and Marcia, one by Stephen and Marcella, and one by Danny and Tracey. The plan was to allow them no more than fifteen minutes in any one location, and to end up at the stables immediately before lunch. The Scouts would have the responsibility of leading them round, and briefly announcing each new destination; but they would also be accompanied by Shirley, Yulya and Mandy respectively, who would explain something about the background and function of each place. In the first group were Lettie and the rest of Mitch’s old friends, in the second Teddy and Miriam. Violet Canter, having already had a private tour with Shirley, and having developed a mild fascination with the spectacle of Simon and Oscar being entertained by their friends in the private closed room, had decided to while away the morning in there, and was already making herself comfortable in an armchair with a big cappuccino.
“It’s so relaxing for me to see boys enjoying themselves,” she had said to Shirley. “I spend my life dealing with difficult adolescent girls, and they can be so bitchy you wouldn’t believe it. I find boys refreshingly natural, and, yes, even innocent. But I hope my presence won’t distract them from their fun.”
“I wouldn’t worry, Violet. I’ll warn them they may find an observer in the room, who’ll be reporting to me on how well they’re carrying out their therapeutic task. That should encourage them to perform well – not that they need much encouragement.”
“Thank you, Shirley. By the way, how long is their, er, therapy going to go on?”
“I’ve decided tomorrow will be their last day. I think they should have learned their lesson by then. Next week they’ll be back with their friends, and they’ll have to come up with a convincing account of their time at the “other” school we were supposed to have sent them to. That should prove an interesting test of their ingenuity.”
The first group arrived at the door of the groping room.
“This is a new room,” said Silas. It is called…” – he looked at his notes – the “groping” room.”
“You will see why when we go in,” added Marcia, cheerily.
Shirley led the way, took up a position under Yulya’s portrait, and waited for all the women to follow – which they did haltingly, because several stopped dead in the doorway when they saw the spectacle of Mitch in his schoolgirl uniform strung up in his cage. There was the occasional hysterical squeal, and cries of recognition from his old acquaintances.
“It’s Mitch!” whooped Grace. “Look!”
“And I see he’s a girl again, just like he was always meant to be!” added Patty.
“He does look pretty,” said Henrietta ruefully, “but I can never forget how sweet he and Sammy were as my pageboys.”
“You should ask Shirley for a repeat performance,” suggested Grace. “Any excuse will do.”
Once everyone was inside, and the door had been closed, Shirley prepared to address them. Several women were pointing at the poster and giggling. Silas was staring at it open-mouthed.
“Miss? Isn’t that…”
“Yulya. Yes, dear.”
“What happened to her…?”
“Oh, nothing really…she just made herself a little too popular with her students…”
She turned to the room.
“Ladies. Thank you all for coming. I hope you have an entertaining day. After the tour you are free to wander where you will, inside or outside. Bear in mind we are still in the early stages of development, still building our services and our expertise, so don’t judge us too harshly on what you see today… Now, as our guides Silas and Marcia announced, this is what, for want of a better title, we call the “groping” room. We have found that the unwanted groping of girls by adolescent boys is becoming more and more the norm. We can’t hope to halt that trend, but we can deal with the worst offenders by bringing home to them the trauma experienced by their victims. Yes, this is one of the non-voluntary forms of therapy offered by P & S. Mitch here has kindly offered to model our new groping cage, dressed, as we would dress real culprits, as a girl. I think its function is self-evident. Feel free to explore its possibilities if you wish, but remember Mitch’s personality is the polar opposite of those who need such therapy.”
The women crowded round, apparently unconstrained by Shirley’s caution. Shirley had had Mitch dressed in white satin spandex panties, which were now a prey to soft hands and sharp nails. His bottom was stroked a gently pinched, but when he lurched forward in an attempt to protect himself, fingers explored his private parts with brazen impropriety, caressing and fondling, squeezing and kneading. He thought things couldn't get much worse, but he was wrong. Imagine his horror when he found himself face to face with Molly Caulker! Taking hold of his school tie with her left hand, she wrapped the fingers of her right around his swelling boyhood, and began to masturbate him, slowly and deliberately.
“Hello, Mitch,” she hissed, pushing her face as close to his as the bars allowed. “When Lettie told me you would be here I just had to come and see for myself. My, my, you do seem pleased to see me, I must say. I’ve always wanted to have you by the balls, and now it looks like I’ve got you by the prick as well. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m going to stop in a minute. Apart from anything else, my fingers are getting sticky. But don’t be too disappointed - I think Lettie will want a word with you as well in a minute.”
She let go of him, dismissed his now fully erect member with a wicked little flick of her finger, and retreated smirking into the pack. Someone else then thoughtfully lifted his little skirt and tucked the hem into the waistband, revealing his tumescence for all to see, and providing the perfect photo opportunity. Shirley, deciding that Mitch had done his duty, called the group to move onto the next stop. But as they filed out of the door, Lettie, Molly and Cassidy lingered behind.
-
146.
“Guard the door, Molly,” said Lettie. She approached Mitch, and stood directly in front of him. She was dressed in a short-sleeved white jumper, a short black pleated skirt, and black boots.
“So this is what keeps you so busy? So busy you don’t have time even to ring me?”
“N-no, Lettie… Please… I’ve been so busy at school, and what with exams… And then there was camp…”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. Camp? From what I heard through the grapevine it was more of a Scout orgy. So who or what were you into? Well, I don’t even want to know. If you can’t give me what I want, there’s always Cassidy…”
Cassidy sidled over, smirking. Lettie thought nothing of him. He was an idiot, but a randy one, and for the time being he provided what Mitch didn’t. And today he was going to be the instrument of her resentment.
She looked disdainfully as his erection.
“You look as though you enjoyed Molly’s attention. You’ve had your fun, as usual. Now it’s time for me to have mine. Cassidy? Get to it, boy.”
Cassidy, leering at Mitch, calmly unzipped his jeans and took out his stiffening pen-is. Lettie looked over her shoulder at him and pouted, simultaneously flipping up the back of her skirt, exposing her bare bottom. He licked his lips, and in less than a minute his member was hard and twitching impatiently. He produced a condom and began to roll it on.
“I never bother with panties when I’m with Cassidy,” she said airily. “I never know when he might jump on me and fuc-k me silly.” She took hold of two of the bars of the cage on either side of Mitch.
“Lettie… Please don’t…”
“Why do you care? When was the last time… Aaahh!”
Cassidy had entered her in one firm thrust.
“fuc-k, Lets, you’re so wet…”
He started to pound her with steady, powerful strokes, jolting her body and making the cage rattle. Lettie looked Mitch straight in the eye.
“See? Ah! This is what I need. Oh god! Cass, don’t stop! fuc-k me till I come!”
Her eyes were closed now. Mitch was trembling all over. It was so painful, yet…
She held out for two or three minutes. During that time Mitch struggled furiously against his bonds, despite knowing it was hopeless. Yes he couldn’t take his eyes off his ex-girlfriend, impaled on Cassidy's rigid pen-is, and moaning and panting in ecstasy. Cassidy came first, with a groan of pleasure, and his orgasm triggered hers, sending shock waves through her body. Molly had drifted away from the door and was watching them with rapt attention. When Lettie's climax finally subsided, he withdrew, sliding the full condom off his softening member. Lettie, flushed and breathing hard, pulled herself upright.
“There,” she gasped. “I feel better now. That’s what happens when you abandon me. And if you ever want to come crawling back you’ll not only have to satisfy me, but whatever bloke I happen to be dating at the time.” She glanced at his panties. “You’re still hard. Did you enjoy that, then? You pervert! But then I knew that.”
“I’m a pervert?” wailed Mitch. “How could you…?”
“All right. So am I. I enjoyed that more because you and Molly were watching. But you knew that about me anyway. Which is why we should be together – maybe not all the time, but at least every now and then.” She became serious for a moment. “Mitch,” she whispered. “It’s not about the sex. It’s you I miss.”
“Guys,” hissed Molly. “I think the next group’s about to…”
Before she could finish her sentence the door opened and Stephen the Scout marched in. He stopped, startled.
Lettie laughed shortly. “One of your cute little friends, Mitch. Cass? Give me that condom.”
She took it, knotted it, quickly knelt down, and tucked it in the top of his knee sock.
“That should intrigue them,” she smiled.
-
147.
Lettie, Molly and Cassidy slipped out as the next group was coming in. When everyone was inside, and the door was closed, Stephen repeated the introduction Silas had spoken a few minutes earlier. Yulya stood to one side and waited for her turn to speak. Marcella added her bit, and then looked toward Yulya. As she did so, she caught sight of the poster. Her mouth fell open. She looked from one to the other, reassuring herself the girl in the sober dark suit who was about to address the group was the same as the one in the picture, clad in a skin-tight latex catsuit and dripping with – well, something slimy. Yulya herself hadn’t noticed the poster, and she commenced her spiel.
“Thank everyone for coming to P and S. I Yulya. I help Miss Shirley and Miss Mandy with look after boys, make sure all happy and well-behaved. But outside P and S, some boys very naughty, like to be rude with girls, and…”
She became aware that no-one in the room was paying attention to her, but staring at one wall, pointing and sniggering and stealing glances at her. She followed their gaze. She nearly choked with surprise and shock.
“Shirley you cow,” she cried, involuntarily. “I mean…” - she struggled to retrieve the situation - “I mean…er…Miss Shirley…has put cow…cows…in stables… You may visit before lunch. Er…and boys who grope must go in cage…” She trailed off, desperate to have done with the groping room. “So can grope if you please and then we move on…”
When everyone had taken pictures of the poster – and of the fuming Yulya – they turned their attention to Mitch. Teddy got herself at the head of the queue, pulling Miriam with her.
“Get a load of this, Miriam. Someone’s tucked his skirt up. Look at that…thing in his panties. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Mitch was indeed impressively aroused. The pressure of his stretchy little panties were keeping him achingly hard, and the tip of his pen-is, oozing juices through the material, looked in danger of escaping from the waistband. Miriam felt her cheeks burning. Her proximity to Mitch, and to that…well, that shockingly tumescent member, was making her dizzy. She didn’t know whether to flee or faint. But Teddy was having none of either.
“You can touch it, you know. That’s the whole point, you see.” She began to explain the exhibit as if she was talking to a child – which pretty much she was.
“Look. Watch me.”
She slipped one hand between the bars and squeezed the “thing” gently. Mitch groaned. A flow of clear juice issued from the tip and trickled down its length. Miriam was transfixed. Her heart was beating twenty to the dozen, but somehow she couldn’t take her eyes off it.
Teddy grabbed her wrist.
“It’s so hard! Here, feel it yourself.”
Miriam was in a sort of trance, and when Teddy grabbed her hand and thrust it against Mitch’s rigid prick, she was too dazed to realise what was happening. Before she knew it, Teddy had wrapped her – Miriam’s – fingers around it and given them a squeeze!
For Mitch that was the last straw. With a gasp of pleasure and relief he climaxed., wads of hot c-um spurting through the fine fabric of his panties all over the sleeve of Miriam’s blouse and down her skirt! For a moment she didn’t understand what was happening, and watched helplessly as his sperm landed on her in big, sticky blobs. Then, with a scream of fright, she sprang back, and would have fallen over if it weren’t for the women behind her and Teddy’s support.
Yulya was horrified. How had Mitch got himself into such a state? Was this form of therapy a big turn-on for him? He had always seemed so under control. Whatever the cause, the damage was done. P & S’s reputation was in shreds. And why was that Brentford woman smiling?
“Nice going, Miriam! Bravo! Ladies, this is my friend Miriam. I only met her just now, but I knew from the start she was no shrinking violet! I think she deserves a round of applause, don't you?”
And she got one! Whilst poor Mitch slumped exhausted from his wrist cuffs, c-um dripping from his panties, and Miriam, still in shock, hung trembling on Teddy’s arm, the entire room exploded in clapping, whistles and whooping!
“Did anyone get that on video?” piped up one woman.
“I did,” said another. I was right here at the side and I filmed the lot. If anyone wants I can share…”
The remainder of the session was largely devoted to laughter, gossip, and the exchanging of numbers. Yulya could hardly believe it, but no-one (apart from Miriam) appeared shocked or disgusted, as she had feared. An apparently straight-laced middle-aged woman addressed the group.
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m thinking I’d like to hire this young man and this cage for my hen do next month. I can really see its therapeutic value, but it would also make an amazing party piece, set up in the middle of the room. Miss, is that possible?”
“Well, I…you would need ask Miss Shirley…but she mention hirings…and sales…”
“And this handsome boy?”
“Well, again…”
“Is he an employee?”
“Er…yes…”
“Then I don’t see a problem. But I'll find out.”
“If you get him, invite me!” shouted a young woman from the back.
“And us too, please, madam,” laughed Teddy. “If it hadn’t been for my friend here, this session would have been a lot less interesting…”
-
The girls having fun and the boys are not. Well they getting what they deserve. Hope Mitch is rented out to the hen party
-
Oh boy, you excel yourself again. Poor mitch, looks like he will be high demand for parties. looking forward to seeing how Miream develops as she has now discovered her hidden desires I think the boys need to watch out
-
148.
There was little point in continuing. Mitch was exhausted and the women were more than content with their first insight into the work of P & S. So Yulya called time. Teddy, her arm still around the dazed Miriam, pushed her way to the front as the little group slowly exited, many of the ladies giving Mitch little waves of farewell and encouragement.
“What am I going to do? I can’t go and teach in this state. What will Mrs Canter say?”
“Don’t worry about that right now, dear. I’ll help you get cleaned up. But we don’t want to miss the next session.”
“The next…session. But…?”
“Shh. Might as well, now we’re here.”
Stephen led them a few yards along the corridor to another door, labelled “Milking Parlour”. He opened it and went in, followed by Yulya, then Teddy and the reluctant Miriam.
“Milking Parlour? What…?”
“I think I know, dear. But let's keep an open mind, shall we?”
There were three rows of seats on one side of the room, and a folding screen across the other end. Yulya invited the guests to sit down. Teddy pulled Miriam into the middle of the front row. One group of four thirty-something women kept checking their phones, glancing at Yulya, and giggling like schoolgirls. She frowned, still smarting from the trick that had been played on her. She had a suspicion that somehow her rival Anna had been involved.
And it was Anna that appeared from behind the screen, wearing a white belted dress, a blue apron, and short white rubber gloves.
“Good morning, ladies. I’m Anna. I have been instructed to introduce milking parlour. Congratulations. You are first group to visit here. Milking parlour is for big boys who make too much boy-milk inside. At P and S we think too much boy-milk make boys naughty and difficult to control. So first thing is need to reduce.”
“My son reduces it by himself,” piped up a lady at the back. “About six times a night!” Anna waited for the laughter to die down.
Miriam wasn’t laughing. She looked down at the state of her clothes and wished she had never walked up those front steps, that she had stayed in the classroom and finished the marking instead. Also, she was nervous about what this strange institution was going to come up with next. Teddy could sense her anxiety, and gave her arm a comforting squeeze.
“Relax, Miriam. Relax and enjoy. Nothing bad can happen. This time it looks like we’ll be well away from the main action.”
Anna continued. “So we invest in new machine, Milkmax III. I demonstrate.”
She took hold of one end of the screen and walked it across the room, folding it up against the wall. Behind it was another screen, but a lower one, no more than a metre high at most – a long curtain of red velvet stretched across the width of the room and supported on free-standing posts. Behind this screen appeared the upper halves of Ryan and Jack, each standing between a pair of steel poles. They wore crisp white shirts, little red bow ties, and red baseball caps. They looked scared to death, and appeared to be struggling to escape, though it was impossible to guess exactly what was holding them back.
“I grateful to our volunteers – this Ryan and this Jack…”
“We never volunteered,” complained Jack. “Miss tricked us!”
“Yeah,” said Ryan. “She blindfolded us and told us she was taking us for a special treat. Then she had us cuffed to these poles!”
“Whatever,” said Anna, wearily. “One more word and…”
“Yeah, it’s not fair! We’ve bin ‘ere since nine!”
Anna sighed. “Yulya? Could you give me a hand, please?”
She went to a cupboard behind the boys and took out two red ball-gags.
“No!” shouted Ryan, craning round. “Don’t you dare! If you do…umf!
Anna pushed the ball into his protesting mouth and buckled the strap, none too gently. Yulya took the other and did the same to Jack.
“Thank you, Yulya. Sometimes boys need seen and not heard. Now, ladies, as I was say, volunteers are cuffed to poles for safety purposes. Red screen will be remove after I connect machine, to save embarrassment.”
“Don’t worry about us,” said Teddy. “We won’t be embarrassed! Will we, Miriam?” she added in an undertone.
Murmurs of agreement from behind her. Miriam was already flushed, though whether with embarrassment or excitement it was impossible to say.
Anna bobbed down behind the screen. Her head could be seen in front of Ryan, and then Jack. Then she stood up, picked something up, and hung it on a hook on Ryan’s left, above his head. It was a narrow plastic bottle, attached to a fine clear tube. Then she repeated the exercise for Jack.
“It’s like being in hospital,” someone murmured.
The “volunteers” were getting more and more agitated, especially when Anna announced it was time to remove the screen. She and Yulya unhooked it from the posts and stashed everything away in a corner. At last it was possible to see what was going on. Each boy was cuffed hand and foot to his poles. Each wore red trainers and tight red latex shorts – with a difference. Their erect pen-ises, sheathed in opaque red condoms, projected at ninety degrees to their tummies, quivering slightly every time they tugged at their bonds. A murmur of surprise and approval went round the audience. Miriam, blinking and blushing violently, wrung her hands and looked down at her lap. Teddy, on the other hand, was taking it all in.
“Miriam, look! You have to look! Oh god, that’s so cute! Have you ever seen anything like that?” It was a rhetorical question.
Miriam raised her eyes and gasped. “But, Teddy… I mean, those poor boys! Their…things are sticking out for everyone to see!”
“They certainly are…and I think their pointing straight at you! No, just joking.… But look at it this way. It’s quite discreet, really, with them all neatly packaged up in those pretty red condom things.”
“Discreet…?”
“Absolutely. Discreet but sexy at the same time. If I had my way I’d have every boy in rubber pants with a sheath. It would be so useful.”
“Useful?”
“Yes. You’d always be able to tell what sort of mood they were in. It would make dating so much easier.”
Miriam stared at her, trying to work out if she were serious or not. She had never encountered anyone even remotely like Teddy, and she didn’t yet know whether she liked her or not.
“You have to admit they look pretty sweet in those outfits.”
Miriam took a deep breath. This sort of thing was really way outside her experience…outside her imagination. She looked more closely at Jack and Ryan. If you ignored their stiff little willies, she thought, yes, perhaps they were…well, quite smartly dressed. She looked for reassurance.
“But why do they have to be tied up like that?”
“Sometimes boys need to be restrained for their own good if they’re going to benefit from therapy,” Tabby said, seriously, adopting the tone of one who understood these things. Then she sat back and prepared to enjoy herself.
“This Miriam,” she said to herself. “So innocent. Perhaps Fate sent her to me to educate…”
-
149.
Anna resumed her lecture. She picked up a little pointer. She was going to do this properly. She pointed at the boys’ wrist and ankle cuffs.
“You see we have restrained boys here…and here. This is so they cannot interrupt process of milking.”
“See?” whispered Teddy, giving Miriam a nudge.
“Over here” – she pointed at the Milkmax III, positioned between the two captives – “is Milkmax milking machine. As you see, capillary tubes run from machine into bottles – here – which will collect sperm milk. Some call sperm milk simply “c-um”, but we prefer proper term.” She ran her eyes over her audience to make sure they were all following. “Now, you will see here” – she tapped her pointer on the base of Ryan’s shaft – “here there is little hole in rubber pants, with support lip here.” She tapped again about a third of the way up the shaft. “Shaft support lip keep pen-is nice and straight, and hole is narrow at base to keep pen-is fully erect during milking. At present, for sake of propriety, we have put on condoms. In moment I take off condoms, and attach these.” She held up two white rubber sheaths equipped with thin drain tubes. “Tubes attach to Milkmax. Sheath will fit firmly on support lip, so won’t come off. When I switch on Milkmax, it will start milking, and when boys’ sperm milk come out it will be pump along capillary tubes into bottles, which are graduated” – she tapped her pointer on a bottle, which had markings up one side – “so we can tell how much milk we collect.”
Teddy took a deep breath. “Great! Get it going, already,” she murmured.
“Milkmax has adjustable speed and suction, depending on requirement. Can be left on for pre-set time, or until operator switch off. Today I will put on medium speed and medium suction and set for six hours. If you wish you can come back and check how much sperm milk boys have produced.” She put down her pointer, and turned to face the audience.
“Are there any questions?”
A young woman put her hand up.
“I was wondering…wouldn’t it be better to allow the boys to…you know…self-milk?”
“Unfortunately boys not reliable. In fact, aggressive behaviour often linked to insufficient self-milking. Today this just demonstration. But normally we make process as pleasurable as possible. Show films on screen behind you, fit boys with headphones for sound.”
“Films…?”
“Depending on boys’ tastes.”
“I see…”
Someone else asked if it was ever used as a punishment.
“Only for very bad boys. Then eight, ten or twelve hours depending on offence. Very effective.”
“And what happens to all the sperm milk?” asked Teddy.
“Sperm milk very nutritious. Never wasted. Fed to boys. If two boys being punished, one boy sperm milk fed to other through sissifier.”
“Sissifier?”
Anna produced one from her apron pocket and gave it to the woman at the end of the first row.
“Please pass round. We use a lot at P and S.”
The sissifier was passed around, to the accompaniment of supressed giggles.
“If no further questions I begin milking process.”
She approached Ryan, knelt down, and unrolled and removed his condom. She picked up a sheath, and, ignoring his squirming and his muffled whining, slid in onto his coc-k, pushing home until it locked onto the support lip. She repeated the process with Jack, then attached the tubes to the Milkmax.
“There. Now we switch on.... so.”
The Milkmax started to hum smoothly, the soft sound broken only by the regular clicking of the pump. At each click the sheaths and the tubes twitched slightly. The boys stopped struggling now, but their eyes widened and they began to emit little panicky noises.
“That’s impressive,” said Teddy. “Er…how long before we see some results?”
“It depend on resistance of boys.”
Teddy glanced at her new friend. It seemed that Miriam’s initial embarrassment had been replaced by cautious fascination. She was leaning forward in her chair, eyes wide open, taking it all in: the boys dismayed faces, their flushed cheeks, the steady, rhythmic twitching of the sheaths as the Milkmax clicked away with relentless efficiency. Indeed, all eyes were now on Ryan and Jack, and the atmosphere in the room was one of barely contained excitement.
“Which one’s going to capitulate first, do you think?” a woman behind them whispered.
“I don’t know…” replied her friend. Maybe the one on the left – Ryan?”
“Could you take off their gags, now, miss?” someone called from the back.
Anna hesitated. Yulya shrugged.
“Okay then. Why not?”
She walked behind the boys and unbuckled and removed their ball-gags. Straight away Ryan started moaning.
“Please…Miss Anna. Please don’t do this. Not…not in front of all those ladies.”
His cheeks were burning and the stupid expression on his face as he tried to control his arousal was priceless. He tried to turn his head away so they couldn’t see.
“I can’t see him properly,” said Teddy. “Can’t we get a closer look? I feel out of it stuck back here.”
Anna looked uncertainly at Yulya. Yulya calculated that if anything went wrong Anna would get the blame.
“If Anna say so, fine. Anna in charge.”
“Well, I…”
She was obviously wavering, so Teddy thought she’d take that for a yes. She grabbed Miriam by the hand and led the way, the rest following in her wake. She pushed past Anna and leant against one of Ryan’s bars. She looked into his eyes.
“What does it feel like, Ryan? Is it better than doing it to yourself?”
Ryan turned an even deeper shade of red. Teddy looked down at his erect member, twitching in time with the pump.
“Miriam…look at that. Can you imagine what that must feel like?”
But Miriam was already staring at it, and imagining just that. How she wanted to touch it, to feel it jumping and quivering, to hold it and watch Ryan’s face as he orgasmed! She felt as if she was about to have a panic attack. She tried to get a grip on herself.
“What’s happening to me…?” she murmured.
“What?” said Teddy. “What did you say?”
Miriam had broken out in a cold sweat. She wanted to get away from the squirming, groaning boy, but at the same time she was seized with an overwhelming desire to witness the climax (or climaxes) at close quarters. She was gripping Teddy’s hand hard now, her gaze fixated on the pulsing phallus. Teddy shot her a sidelong glance. Well, well, she thought, turns out you’re not as disinterested as I thought you were. This is one interesting lady all right.
There was a sudden cry from her right, which made her jump. Miriam swung round. Jack’s head had fallen back, his mouth open, his eyes swimming. For a second her was still. Then his whole body was racked with violent spasms, and he cried out as if in pain.
“Oh god… I’m c-umming… Miss, I’m c-umming….Ah!… Ah!… Shit! Aaahh….”
Looking down, Miriam saw a thin thread of white sperm rushing down the tube. She followed its progress as it entered a little plastic reservoir on the side of the Milkmax, and then shot up and began spurting and dribbling into the bottle. She looked back at Jack’s face, his eyes tight shut, his forehead puckered with intense pleasure. A moment later Ryan followed suit. His orgasm was, if anything, even more violent, making him buck and shudder, and the steel pillars tremble. Miriam had to take a step back to avoid his thrashing. He moaned and cried inarticulately as pulse after pulse of sperm shot from the end of the quivering sheath and made its way up to his bottle. She had never witnessed anything so frenzied and passionate, and because of his proximity it was almost as if she was sharing his ecstasy – to such an extent she suddenly felt she was going to faint.
“Teddy…please… Help me…”
Teddy overcame the selfish desire to stay and watch to the bitter end. She put an arm round Miriam’s waist and helped her to the door.
“Are you all right, darling?”
“I don’t know… I feel…sort of trembly…”
“Come on. Let’s find somewhere quiet where you can sit down and recover. We’ll go down here to the back…”
She supported her friend and guided her down the corridor and around the corner. There on the left was a door with a “No Entry” sign, and a builder’s ladder leaning against the wall.
“They must still be working on this room. There’ll be no-one in here. Come on.”
The door wasn’t locked. The room was in semi darkness, though they could see light emanating from behind a partition at one end. There was a line of chairs along one wall just beyond the partition, and the light was filtering through from behind a long red curtain at the far end of the room. They made their way past the partition, and sank into two adjacent chairs. It was absolutely quiet. Then someone spoke.
“Miriam? What on earth are you doing here?”
-
love it the boys and the teacher in torment. My thinking is the lady teacher had an orgasm
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krystal - I actually hadn't realised but I think you're right!
-
150.
Miriam jumped, and peered into the gloom opposite.
“Mrs Canter? Is that you?”
Violet put down her coffee, rose from her armchair, and came to join them.
“What are you doing here, Miriam? How did you find out about this place? Did Shirley tell you?”
“Shirley…?”
“I just brought Miriam in here because she needed a bit of quiet,” said Teddy. “She’s had a bit of a shock…well, a couple of shocks, actually…”
Violet looked at Teddy. At first sight she didn’t seem the type of woman she would expect Miriam to be hanging out with.
“My name’s Edwina Brentford. We just met this morning,” said Teddy, by way of explanation.
“Oh, I see. I’m Violet Canter. I work at the same school as Miriam.”
Miriam had recovered from her initial shock. “Mrs Canter’s my deputy head at St. Mary’s, Teddy.”
Teddy looked at Miriam. “Oh. You’re a teacher. I should have guessed. I mean…you have that air of …” She was going to say “superiority” but she managed to change it to “authority” at the last moment.
Violet was looking Miriam up and down. “Goodness, girl. What happened to you? What’s all that…” She reached out and touched one of the sticky patches on her skirt.
Miriam blushed and shrank back, mortified. “It’s nothing…really… Er, I was helping feed the babies…”
Violet’s eyes widened. She looked from Miriam to Teddy – who gave an almost imperceptible nod – and back again.
“…but I feel a little unwell… I was wondering…”
Violet collected herself. “Of course. No question. You must take the rest of the day off, Miriam. I’ll let them know.” She glanced at Teddy again, questioningly. Teddy thought it best to change the subject.
“So what goes on here, then? They’re still working on this room, presumably.”
“Er…yes. Actually we should probably be going…”
But she was interrupted. The door opened and a moment later Louis and Joshua appeared from behind the partition. They hesitated for a moment when they saw the three women, but then Louis whispered “observers”, and they relaxed and smiled.
“Good morning, ladies,” said Louis. “I’m Louis and this is Joshua. I hope you’ll find our performance satisfactory. We’ll do our best.”
The women stared at the visitors, resplendent in full P & S school uniform of pink and yellow, their pink latex hot pants trimmed with yellow leather straps. Without further ado Louis drew back the curtain, flooding the room with light.
Violet panicked. She half rose.
“We should leave, ladies…”
But it was too late. Teddy and Miriam were staring at the two figures that had been concealed behind the curtain. Apparently female, clad from head to toe in close-fitting pink latex, restrained in shining steel frames, their heads encased in pink latex hoods pierced only by circular red-rimmed lips sealed with pink rubber plugs on chains, and thrust invitingly forward.
“What…the…fuc-k…?” gasped Teddy.
Miriam stared and blinked, uncomprehending. Violet knew she had to get her out of there, and quick. She took her arm and Miriam started to rise, but Teddy grabbed her other arm and pulled her back down.
“Hold on. I want to see just what’s going on here.”
“Miriam, please…” began Violet.
“Shush, you,” said Teddy shortly, holding on firmly to her friend.
Miriam felt paralysed. P & S was like one big chamber of depravity. Her blouse was still sticking to her skin where that boy…and then the Milking Parlour…and now…this!
The boys were eager to begin. They unzipped their bulging latex shorts, releasing their swollen pen-ises. A little gentle masturbation was all that was needed to coax their erections to perfect readiness.
Now it really was too late. Violet, defeated, could do nothing but stand and watch.
Miriam watched in a daze as the boys approached the frames and removed the plugs.
“Can we take out their ear-plugs too, miss?” asked Joshua.
“Why not,” said Violet, with a sigh of resignation. “Here, allow me.” And she popped out both pairs of rubber ear-plugs.
Miriam put a hand to her mouth. What offence could those poor girls have done to warrant this sort of treatment?
Violet held up a hand. “Wait! Boys, don’t start yet. There’s something I need to settle with my fellow observers.”
The boys held fire. Shirley had made it clear the observers were going to submit a full report, and they didn’t want any trouble.
“Please ladies, come outside for a moment.”
She led them to the other side of the partition. She put a finger to her lips, and her voice sunk to a whisper.
“Miriam, I didn’t want you to misunderstand what’s happening here. I need to explain. The captives are not girls – though the boys don’t know it. It’s two of the boys from their own class who abused their teacher, Yulya. Perhaps you noticed the poster. The easiest way to explain is to show you the video.”
She scrolled through the videos on her phone, all supplied by Shirley at her behest. She found the relevant one and pressed play. Miriam and Teddy watched open mouthed and Simon and Oscar took their pleasure on the helpless Yulya.
“What rude, naughty boys!” said Teddy, a grin spreading over her face.
“Susan is really Simon and Olivia’s Oscar,” explained Violet.
Miriam gasped. She was a firm believer that the first rule of the classroom was respect for the teacher.
“That’s…despicable!” she hissed. “How could they?” She was quiet for a moment. “Now I see. Thank you, Mrs Canter. What a just and appropriate punishment Miss Dearman has instituted. Let us witness its execution, shall we?”
And having delivered this judgement, she turned and led the way back behind the partition. Her demeanour had undergone a polar reversal. She spoke with calm authority.
“Right boys. Please proceed. And if you want us to submit a favourable report, don’t hold back. These er…girls clearly need a proper lesson. I want to hear those frames rattle!” She pushed three chairs forward a couple of yards. “Ladies, take a seat.” Teddy and Violet seated themselves at each end, and Miriam sat in between them. “I will be taking notes, boys,” she said, pulling out from her pocket a little notebook and pencil.
“And I shall make a video,” added Violet, resting her phone on her knee.
“And me... I’ll just sit back and enjoy,” murmured Teddy.
-
151.
Louis and Joshua took hold of the handlebars, and guided their erections towards the waiting mouths of the latex-encased figures. As soon as Simon and Oscar felt the coc-ks preparing to enter, they started vainly to squirm and strain at their bonds. With a sigh of pleasure, Joshua slid smoothly into Oliver’s mouth, revelling in its familiar, warm softness. Louis’ coc-k, slightly larger than his friend’s, needed a little push to get the swollen head through the lips. This session, all restraint was forgotten. They began to thrust, slowly at first, and then more vigorously. At the start the frames had been a couple of feet from the wall, but after a few minutes they had been jolted back until they were stopped by the skirting. Teddy felt Miriam’s hand close around her wrist. She stole a sidelong glance. Her friend had dropped her pencil and pad, and with her other hand was gripping the hem of her skirt, which seemed to have ridden up her thighs. She couldn’t see the ends of Miriam’s fingers, but she noticed she was biting her lower lip, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked back at the boys. For the next few minutes the atmosphere was electric. After a while, Louis started to emit low groans, and it was obvious his climax was near. A creamy froth, whipped up by his pounding, was oozing from around the lip on Simon’s hood, and a string of sticky fluid hung from the chin.
But Miriam wasn’t the only one spellbound. Violet, apparently determined to get a ringside position, had risen from her seat and advanced to Louis’ side. She was still holding up her phone, and panned from Louis’ face to his thrusting member and back again. She placed her other hand gently on his shoulder.
“Louis…Joshua…slow down, boys… Take your time. That’s right…that’s better… Make sure you enjoy your orgasms… And remember Shirley’s instructions – when you c-um, make sure to fill their mouths so they can enjoy the taste of your sperm…”
“Y-yes, miss…” gasped Louis and Joshua in chorus. “I’m gonna c-um soon…” added Joshua, desperately.
Violets hand slid down Louis’ back and over his taut buttocks.
“Good boys… I’ll make sure you get good feedback…” She turned to Miriam. “Miriam darling? Could you assist, please? When the boys are done, we need to put in the mouth plugs as quick as we can. Could you attend to Joshua’s?”
“Yes, Miss Canter – of course.” She jumped up and hurried to Joshua’s side, kneeling down ready to grab the plug. A grin spread over Teddy’s face. Little innocent Miriam. Who would have thought it an hour ago?
Joshua’s climax was sudden and initially silent. Miriam, forgivably, didn’t realise at first that he was coming. His head went back, his eyes closed tightly, but she thought it was mere pre-climactic pleasure. In any case, she hadn’t yet been able to get hold of the plug, which was swinging on its chain in time with Joshua’s movements. So when all at once he suddenly gave a loud groan, and almost immediately withdrew, she was quite taken by surprise. His coc-k came out with a plop, and sperm gushed from Oliver’s mouth while she fumbled ineffectually with the slippery plug. By the time she’d got a grip on it and pushed it into the mouth hole, the front of her bouse and skirt were smothered in warm, slimy semen. She knelt there helplessly, almost in tears, angry at her own incompetence. And as if to rub it in, she had a perfect view of Louis’ orgasm and Violet’s skilful handling of Simon’s plug, which left her with nothing more than sticky fingers.
Teddy gave them both a short round of applause. It was well-intentioned, and directed at all the participants, and in no way ironic, though Miriam flashed her a short frown. Meanwhile Joshua was apologising to her.
“I’m really sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s fine, Joshua. It was my own fault. But there’s so much…” She looked own at herself in despair.
“Oh, dear,” said Teddy, with ill-concealed amusement, “what is it about you, Miriam? You’re like some sort of sperm magnet!”
Violet gave an involuntary snort of laughter.
“Really, Miss Mitchell, what would your girls’ parents think if they saw you like this? I would probably have to dismiss you at once.”
“I-I’m sorry, Mrs Canter… I…it slipped out of my hand…”
“I’m joking, Miriam. But we’d better see about getting you cleaned up…oh, hello Shirley…”
Shirley and Anna had walked into the room.
“Hello, ladies…” She caught sight of Miriam. “Oh, my goodness… Miss Mitchell… What happened?”
Miriam was standing next to Oliver, hanging her head like a naughty schoolgirl, Joshua’s slimy juices dripping from her skirt and from Oliver’s chin, and decorating the floor. Nearby Joshua was hurriedly replacing his wilting member in his rubber shorts. Teddy gestured towards them.
“She was taken by surprise – we all were – and couldn’t get out of the way in time. That’s all.”
Shirley took a moment to enjoy the scene. She wished she could ask Anna to take a snap.
“We’d better get you sorted out, dear. Anna? You’re about Miriam’s size? Do you have some spare clothes…?
“Of course, miss. Miriam, put on coat. My room just along corridor. With luck no-one will see. You can have shower and I find you something to wear.” She looked her up and down. “You need everything, I think…”
Anna took good care of Miriam. She saw at once that the schoolteacher was a genuine innocent, but, more than that, she felt an empathy for her. Like herself, she wasn’t glamorous or attention-seeking, and she guessed she played second fiddle to some of her fellow teachers, just as she did to Yulya. She determined to help her and, if she could, to build her confidence.
While she was showering, Anna dumped everything she had been wearing – shoes, panties and all – in a big black bag. Then she went to her wardrobe, and after rummaging through her clothes for a minute, brought out a short, figure-hugging, glittery black dress. She laid it on her bed, and took out a pair of shiny grey tights and black panties from her drawer. A pair of block-heeled black leather over-the-knee boots completed the ensemble.
“I think she never wear outfit like this in her life,” she murmured.
Miriam emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
“Thank you so much, Anna. I really don’t know what I would have done…”
“My pleasure, miss Miriam. I think these will fit…”
Miriam gasped. “Really, it’s very kind, but…”
“But?”
“I’m not used to… I mean, for me, they’re very…well, sexy…”
“I think they suit you very well. Here, let me help you.”
Miriam allowed herself to be dressed in a sort of dream. Anna made her stand in front of her while she adjusted her dress and zipped up her boots. Then she added a black leather choker with a little silver flower at the throat, and a couple of silver bangles.
“Now sit, please. Let me do a bit of makeup.”
“Anna, I’m not sure…”
“Quiet, please. I tell you when you speak.”
She applied foundation, a little mascara, and some subtle peach lipstick.
“I use just a little. Make you pretty, not tarty. There. Look in mirror.”
Miriam rose and made her way nervously to the wardrobe. She stared. She could hardly believe she was looking at herself.
“You like, Miriam?”
“Gosh. Yes, Anna. I would never have thought of dressing up like this…”
“You should. You very attractive lady.”
“No. But you are very clever…”
“You are. Be confident. You have slim fashionable figure, and nice open face. What more could anyone want?”
“Could I really dress like this? Normally, I mean…”
Anna laughed. “You should build new wardrobe. I help if you want. We can be friends.”
“I’d like that…very much…”
“But one thing. You need haircut. I have friend who good hairdresser. If you like…”
“Yes, please give me her details. Thank you.”
“I know what she do. Cut short and style. Then you look million dollars. Real babe!”
Miriam laughed. She surveyed her new look again. She felt a thrill of excitement. She realised just how dowdy she had looked before. No wonder she had felt so shy and inferior amongst all those trendy schoolgirls. She had learned so much today, not only about P & S, but about herself.
-
152.
She found Teddy in reception, chatting to one of the girl Scouts. Teddy glanced at her as she entered, and did a double take.
“Miriam? What the fuc-k…?” She turned back to the Scout. “Sorry darling. I got a bit of a shock. Nice to talk to you.”
She grabbed Miriam by the shoulders and looked her up and down.
“You look a different woman! How…?”
“Anna. She took me in hand. What do you think?”
“Fantastic. I thought I was going to be the most glamorous one here. But you make me look like the tart I actually am!”
They collapsed in laughter.
“Let’s get some air before lunch.”
They walked out of the main door, pausing only to give the babies’ nappies a squeeze.
“Still dry, boys?” asked Teddy, innocently. “Never mind. Plenty of time. I’m sure you’ll both be soaked by this afternoon!”
They made their way out onto the lawn.
“What’s going on down there?” asked Miriam, squinting in the direction of the stables.
“Oh…yes, that’s the cows, I believe. Let’s go see what Shirley’s dreamt up for us there, shall we?”
They strolled down to the stables. Half way across the field they met two women coming up.
“You going to see the cows?” asked one, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“We are,” replied Teddy. “I hope you’ve left us some milk.”
“Oh, yes,” said the other. “My friend here spent ten minutes milking the wrong teat – silly girl – and my cow wouldn’t stand still, so all I managed to do was get the poor beast all hot and bothered. I’d love to have stayed and at least seen what he had to offer, but unfortunately we have to meet friends in town and we can’t be late. So you might be lucky.”
As they approached they saw the cows turn their heads to look at them. They seemed to like what they saw, because they appeared to be staring, but at the same time they moved closer to the stable walls.
“Welcome ladies,” called Debbie. “Fifty pence a milk – and I hope your more successful than the last two.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” smiled Teddy, dropping a few coins into Debbie’s tin. “This is something I can truly say I know a bit about. How about you, Miriam?”
“It may surprise you, Teddy, but my aunt and uncle had a farm, and when I was little I learnt how to milk a cow properly.”
Teddy gave her a doubtful look. “Really? But surely you never milked any like these.”
“It’s all the same,” smiled Miriam. “A firm hand and a sense of rhythm.”
Teddy looked at her as if to say, “Well, dear, you are coming out of your shell, aren’t you?”
And indeed she was. Anna’s clothes and the memory of the morning’s adventures were combining to make her feel sexy. Up to now she had been a passive or submissive observer. However, her new-found confidence had freed her submerged desires, and the thought of now being in a position of such dominance over an adolescent – and she hoped tumescent – male, was very exciting.
She picked up a stool and a bucket, selected the nearest boy-cow, which happened to be Sean, and thrust him sideways against the wall. Placing the stool at his side, she sat down and pressed her left knee against his ribcage, making it impossible for him to move. She took the rubber gloves out of the bucket, pulled them on, and reached under his belly. She gave each of the three teats a good firm squeeze in turn, to ascertain which was the important one. A flinch and a squeak identified the middle one. Without further ado, she took a grip of it, pulled it sideways towards her, and began to milk, holding the bucket by its side at an oblique angle underneath the tip.
Sean began to struggle and moo, but he was pinned firmly against the wall. He craned his head round. From squatting on the low stool Miriam’s little dress had ridden up to her hips, revealing her thighs. She returned his look with a smile, and began to milk harder. She was aware of Teddy and Debbie watching her, and that, together with the feeling of the plump, firm pen-is in her right hand, was getting her very turned on.
Poor Sean had no chance. It took no more than a minute before he tensed and came, with a loud boy-cow moo..
“Good boy…good boy...” cooed Miriam, as if she was talking to an infant. “Let’s have it all out, every drop…”
Sean’s sperm came in regular spurts. By squeezing the shaft tightly and only releasing her grip a little as she pulled, Miriam was able to be in total control of his orgasm. For someone who had hardly seen an erect pen-is before that day, it was a masterful exhibition of power. It seemed to have come to her instinctively. To say Teddy and Debbie were impressed would be an understatement. Sean himself knew at once that there could be no messing with this woman; total submission was his only choice.
“Goodness!” said Debbie. “That’s a record! I was timing you. Less than eighty seconds from a standing start!”
“Where did you learn that technique?” asked Teddy, suspiciously.
“I told you. On the farm. But it works quite as well here, I think.”
Teddy had been so fascinated by Miriam’s performance, she hadn’t even started milking Tyler.
“There,” said Miriam, holding up her little plastic bucket for them to see. There must have been a two tablespoons sloshing about inside.
“Not bad, eh?”
Teddy shook her head slowly. “You’re a natural, darling. Please… Show us again on Tyler?”
“Yes do, dear. I’ll hold him still,” added Debbie.
And so she did. And within another minute or two he too was shooting load after load on top of his friend’s, while Teddy videoed the spectacle for posterity.
At the end of her one-woman milking tutorial, it wasn’t only the boys that were out of breath. Debbie and Teddy were feeling distinctly aroused, and Miriam herself was tingling with pleasure and excitement. She stood up, peeled off her gloves, and adjusted her skirt.
“Well I never!” cried Debbie. “I’m amazed. I wouldn’t have thought they’d have so much left in them, after this morning.”
“This morning? What happened this morning?” said Teddy.
“Those four girls – I think they’re from St. Mary’s down the road. I thought they must have drained our little cows for the day.”
Miriam stared at her. “They did what?”
“Yes, they milked them both thoroughly. Said Yulya wanted milk for something…”
“They… Yulya? Wanted milk?”
“Oh, probably for the babies,” chortled Teddy.
Suddenly Miriam knew what she had been given to drink that morning. “Why, those little…”
“Yes. I probably shouldn’t have let them,” said Debbie, misunderstanding.
“I’ll get them,” Miriam said to herself. “See if I don’t.” She pondered. “But it tasted nice…nicer than ordinary milk, even… Oh, dear! What is happening to me? This place…!”
“It’s lunchtime, Miriam. You must be hungry. Let’s go back up. I can’t wait for the baby changing, can you?”
“No, Teddy, I can’t. Thank you, Debbie. The milk? Oh, I’ll take that, if you don’t mind lending me the bucket. Thank you. What for? Oh, er, I think there’s a prize for the most milk. I’ll ask Shirley to put it in her fridge, anyway.”
And they walked off up the field, Miriam deep in thought and Teddy smiling and casting little inquisitive glances at her friend. “I’m going to stay close to you, sweetie,” she thought. “I like your style.”
-
Oh boy! the Tigress has awoken. Look out boys and girls I think you are in for a big shock, especially the boys. I think little meek Miriam has realised what she has been missing and intends to make up for lost time. Look forward to nest chapters
-
Wonderful the shy teacher has been awaken. Will love to see what happens next.
152.
She found Teddy in reception, chatting to one of the girl Scouts. Teddy glanced at her as she entered, and did a double take.
“Miriam? What the fuc-k…?” She turned back to the Scout. “Sorry darling. I got a bit of a shock. Nice to talk to you.”
She grabbed Miriam by the shoulders and looked her up and down.
“You look a different woman! How…?”
“Anna. She took me in hand. What do you think?”
“Fantastic. I thought I was going to be the most glamorous one here. But you make me look like the tart I actually am!”
They collapsed in laughter.
“Let’s get some air before lunch.”
They walked out of the main door, pausing only to give the babies’ nappies a squeeze.
“Still dry, boys?” asked Teddy, innocently. “Never mind. Plenty of time. I’m sure you’ll both be soaked by this afternoon!”
They made their way out onto the lawn.
“What’s going on down there?” asked Miriam, squinting in the direction of the stables.
“Oh…yes, that’s the cows, I believe. Let’s go see what Shirley’s dreamt up for us there, shall we?”
They strolled down to the stables. Half way across the field they met two women coming up.
“You going to see the cows?” asked one, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“We are,” replied Teddy. “I hope you’ve left us some milk.”
“Oh, yes,” said the other. “My friend here spent ten minutes milking the wrong teat – silly girl – and my cow wouldn’t stand still, so all I managed to do was get the poor beast all hot and bothered. I’d love to have stayed and at least seen what he had to offer, but unfortunately we have to meet friends in town and we can’t be late. So you might be lucky.”
As they approached they saw the cows turn their heads to look at them. They seemed to like what they saw, because they appeared to be staring, but at the same time they moved closer to the stable walls.
“Welcome ladies,” called Debbie. “Fifty pence a milk – and I hope your more successful than the last two.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” smiled Teddy, dropping a few coins into Debbie’s tin. “This is something I can truly say I know a bit about. How about you, Miriam?”
“It may surprise you, Teddy, but my aunt and uncle had a farm, and when I was little I learnt how to milk a cow properly.”
Teddy gave her a doubtful look. “Really? But surely you never milked any like these.”
“It’s all the same,” smiled Miriam. “A firm hand and a sense of rhythm.”
Teddy looked at her as if to say, “Well, dear, you are coming out of your shell, aren’t you?”
And indeed she was. Anna’s clothes and the memory of the morning’s adventures were combining to make her feel sexy. Up to now she had been a passive or submissive observer. However, her new-found confidence had freed her submerged desires, and the thought of now being in a position of such dominance over an adolescent – and she hoped tumescent – male, was very exciting.
She picked up a stool and a bucket, selected the nearest boy-cow, which happened to be Sean, and thrust him sideways against the wall. Placing the stool at his side, she sat down and pressed her left knee against his ribcage, making it impossible for him to move. She took the rubber gloves out of the bucket, pulled them on, and reached under his belly. She gave each of the three teats a good firm squeeze in turn, to ascertain which was the important one. A flinch and a squeak identified the middle one. Without further ado, she took a grip of it, pulled it sideways towards her, and began to milk, holding the bucket by its side at an oblique angle underneath the tip.
Sean began to struggle and moo, but he was pinned firmly against the wall. He craned his head round. From squatting on the low stool Miriam’s little dress had ridden up to her hips, revealing her thighs. She returned his look with a smile, and began to milk harder. She was aware of Teddy and Debbie watching her, and that, together with the feeling of the plump, firm pen-is in her right hand, was getting her very turned on.
Poor Sean had no chance. It took no more than a minute before he tensed and came, with a loud boy-cow moo..
“Good boy…good boy...” cooed Miriam, as if she was talking to an infant. “Let’s have it all out, every drop…”
Sean’s sperm came in regular spurts. By squeezing the shaft tightly and only releasing her grip a little as she pulled, Miriam was able to be in total control of his orgasm. For someone who had hardly seen an erect pen-is before that day, it was a masterful exhibition of power. It seemed to have come to her instinctively. To say Teddy and Debbie were impressed would be an understatement. Sean himself knew at once that there could be no messing with this woman; total submission was his only choice.
“Goodness!” said Debbie. “That’s a record! I was timing you. Less than eighty seconds from a standing start!”
“Where did you learn that technique?” asked Teddy, suspiciously.
“I told you. On the farm. But it works quite as well here, I think.”
Teddy had been so fascinated by Miriam’s performance, she hadn’t even started milking Tyler.
“There,” said Miriam, holding up her little plastic bucket for them to see. There must have been a two tablespoons sloshing about inside.
“Not bad, eh?”
Teddy shook her head slowly. “You’re a natural, darling. Please… Show us again on Tyler?”
“Yes do, dear. I’ll hold him still,” added Debbie.
And so she did. And within another minute or two he too was shooting load after load on top of his friend’s, while Teddy videoed the spectacle for posterity.
At the end of her one-woman milking tutorial, it wasn’t only the boys that were out of breath. Debbie and Teddy were feeling distinctly aroused, and Miriam herself was tingling with pleasure and excitement. She stood up, peeled off her gloves, and adjusted her skirt.
“Well I never!” cried Debbie. “I’m amazed. I wouldn’t have thought they’d have so much left in them, after this morning.”
“This morning? What happened this morning?” said Teddy.
“Those four girls – I think they’re from St. Mary’s down the road. I thought they must have drained our little cows for the day.”
Miriam stared at her. “They did what?”
“Yes, they milked them both thoroughly. Said Yulya wanted milk for something…”
“They… Yulya? Wanted milk?”
“Oh, probably for the babies,” chortled Teddy.
Suddenly Miriam knew what she had been given to drink that morning. “Why, those little…”
“Yes. I probably shouldn’t have let them,” said Debbie, misunderstanding.
“I’ll get them,” Miriam said to herself. “See if I don’t.” She pondered. “But it tasted nice…nicer than ordinary milk, even… Oh, dear! What is happening to me? This place…!”
“It’s lunchtime, Miriam. You must be hungry. Let’s go back up. I can’t wait for the baby changing, can you?”
“No, Teddy, I can’t. Thank you, Debbie. The milk? Oh, I’ll take that, if you don’t mind lending me the bucket. Thank you. What for? Oh, er, I think there’s a prize for the most milk. I’ll ask Shirley to put it in her fridge, anyway.”
And they walked off up the field, Miriam deep in thought and Teddy smiling and casting little inquisitive glances at her friend. “I’m going to stay close to you, sweetie,” she thought. “I like your style.”
-
153.
The canteen was buzzing with excitement. Everyone was looking forward to the baby changing demonstration – not least the St. Mary’s girls, who were checking their equipment to make sure they had everything they needed. In anticipation of the task ahead, they had already tied back their hair and put on their white latex aprons and gloves. Shirley was happy – so far things had gone even better than she had dared to hope.
It was about ten to two when the first alarm went off. The little bell was drowned out by the hubbub in the canteen, but the recorded squeal of desperation came over quite clearly.
“Mummy, mummy! [sob] I’ve done a big wee! I need changing now! [sob]”
The buzz of conversation ceased abruptly. The ladies looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.
“Who was that?” asked someone.
One of the girl Scouts came rushing in.
“Max! It was Max! And I don’t think Luke is far behind…”
She had hardly spoken when the second alarm went off. A few of the women rose, intending to go and see for themselves. But Shirley stood and raised a hand.
“Ladies, please. Let them be. Let them enjoy the pleasure of standing there together in their soaking nappies. At the moment they’re warm, but as they cool down and get less comfortable they’ll be dying for someone to change them, so they’ll be much more cooperative. Besides, I need to talk to you all about something. A little idea I have.”
The ladies resumed their seats and looked at her expectantly, sipping their coffees.
“Now I don’t know if you know it, but these two boys – Max Dinsford and Luke Peters – were sent to us by their mothers” – here two ladies sitting together on the opposite side of the room gave her a little wave – “who are here today, because they were at the end of their tethers. That’s right, isn’t it ladies?”
The two nodded vigorously.
“Apart from their aggression and rudeness to anyone in authority, they were serial abusers of girls. What we have done here is to counter those tendencies by imposing a strict regime and removing any temptation to macho behaviour. As you see, such a thing is impossible for them in their present state. But eventually we shall have to release them. We are enforcing their submissiveness for the time being by the use of special chastity devices – we prefer to call them erection control devices – which only we are in a position to remove. In fact, as far as they are concerned, these are on for the duration. But there will come a day when they have to be removed, and we are concerned that then they may revert to their old ways.”
“Leave them on for ever, darling!” someone suggested.
“That may not be practicable. My aim would be to reform these boys without resort to mechanical restraints. Experience tells me there may be a way. What I am proposing is another six months of babification and erection control, possibly accompanied by some mild hormone therapy. It would be a valuable experiment. The goal would be to leave them unable to get an erection, and dependent for their welfare and peace of mind on remaining in a babified condition for the rest of their lives. Research tells me that there are plenty of women out there who would love to own a grown-up baby – even marry one – for the rewards of dependency and entertainment.”
A ripple of astonishment ran through her audience.
“However, for this experiment to be successful, I would need your help. What I am proposing is a period of twenty-six weeks in which each baby would spend one week with each of twenty-six families. He would need to be treated exactly as a baby: dressed as a baby, put to sleep in a special cot, made to suc-k a pacifier, and fed milk from a bottle and mush in a high-chair. This would reinforce the idea that, to all intents and purposes, he was a baby. We would potty-train them so they didn’t always have to use nappies. You could use babysitters, or let your daughters take charge of them. Make them playthings for the family. Take them out to the playground. Humiliate them in any way you please. My colleague Mandy suggests outings in transparent baby pants with no nappy, so everyone can see how neatly their little helpless willies are tucked safely away. They’re big boys so a little smack on the botty now and then wouldn’t be out of order.”
“So…would you separate them?”
“Definitely. They wouldn’t see each other for the whole six months – unless they met at the playground or in a playgroup.”
“Playgroup?”
“I can recommend two locally, both run by friends of mine, who are happy to accept er, larger babies.”
“And what about all the equipment?”
“We supply everything, all you will need, including special oversize cots and playpens with locking lids, and we will deliver and collect. If you have a spare room that is ideal, but not necessary. The baby can be contained anywhere.” She smiled. “If you wish you can lock him in his playpen in the living room for everyone to laugh at and play with.”
“Sounds like fun. I know my daughter would love to keep a big baby as a pet, and show him off to all her friends.”
“Yes. They can be very amusing – and, of course, make very good live dolls. They can be combed, and made up, and tickled, and scolded… They’ll soon get used to being the centre of attention, and I think they’ll respond by becoming more and more babylike every day. That’s my hope, anyway.”
She paused, and looked around. “Yulya? Would you hand out those sheets? Thank you. These list the terms of the agreement, our obligations and yours. You have pretty much a free hand. Just make sure you don’t lose them, that’s all,” she laughed. “If you would like to be involved, you can fill up the form at the bottom and hand it in to reception at the end of the day. I’ll speak to everyone who expresses interest, and if after due discussion and deliberation you decide to go ahead, we can book in an appropriate week. I was thinking of a changeover on Sunday mornings.”
“Would it be possible to host both babies on different weeks?”
“Of course. That may be something several of you would like to do. Now, if there are any more questions, I’ll be available in my office at the end of the day. But I think it’s time to get those babies changed, don’t you? If I could trouble you all to take your chairs with you to the edges of the room, our trusty Scouts will clear the tables away and lay down the special changing mats in the middle of the floor, so that everyone can get a good view…”
-
Once again you excel yourself. Looks like the boys are going to have plenty of attention for the next 6 months. Hope Miriam takes her turn, as they say, practice makes perfect.
-
Sandra B.,
I admire your ability to produce entertaining chapter after chapter. I'm more of a plodder. Enjoy your work and hope you keep it up!
I can honestly say that when I read the first few parts of "Mitch" I had no idea it would wind up here LOL! Kudos.
-
Haha. Thanks sissyboy - neither did I!
-
154.
Everyone settled down for the show. The girls Scouts were given the key to the babies’ ankle cuffs, so they could release the from their positions at the front door, and soon returned with the pair in tow, now hanging their heads in embarrassment and trembling with anxiety. They stood side by side, their pretty rubber pants under their little pinafore dresses now sticking to their wet nappies and clouded with moisture. Marlene seemed to have assumed command of the team. Of the four private school girls she had the poshest voice – and apparently the most confidence. She pointed at the babies.
“Scouts? Please hold them there while I do the introductions.” She turned to face her audience. “Ladies. Thank you all for coming today. I hope you’re enjoying your visit.” Murmurs of assent. “My name is Marlene, and this is my team, Janice, Patricia and Maisy. Today we are pleased to present a demonstration of baby care. You have all met boy baby Luke and girl baby Max here, but it seems that since this morning they have each had a little accident.”
She walked over and gave each of their nappies an exploratory squeeze, making the boys flinch.
“Yes. Very soggy, as I think you can see. Never mind. They’re wearing super-watertight rubber baby pants, so it’s no problem. But they will need to be thoroughly cleaned, treated, and dressed in new pants. However, there’s no need to change anything else, and I think we can safely leave their hands secured and their pacifiers – I mean sissifiers – firmly in their mouths. Babies after all should be seen and not heard.”
She puckered her forehead. “Hmm. Perhaps little Max first. His outfit’s so pretty, I’m sure you’ll agree. Pretty pink, like any sweet little baby girl. Luke, please kneel to one side. You can watch so you will know what’s in store for you. Girls? Shall we?”
Janice, Maisy and Patricia, looking so cute in their frilled white aprons and gloves, jumped up, grabbed Max, and frog-marched him to the big padded plastic changing mat. They pushed him face down, lifting his dress so it shouldn’t get in the way, and without further ado, and ignoring his muffled protests, began to pull and roll down his rubber pants. It was the work of moments to remove them and drop them into a bucket. His nappy was unpinned, unfolded, and followed the pants. Members of the audience looked at each other approvingly. These girls knew what they were doing all right. Miriam turned to Teddy.
“My girls,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of them.”
“They’re so proficient! You should put in for one of those weeks, darling. Couldn’t you share a baby amongst the whole class somehow?”
“That’s a great idea, Teddy! I’ll talk to Violet about it…”
Max lay there, belly pressed to the mat, buttocks clenched, eyes tight shut, praying this would be over soon, and that they wouldn’t need to turn him over. There was a pause in proceedings. He opened one eye. The girls had apparently decided he needed more than wiping, and Janice was returning from the kitchen with a bowl of water and a bottle of liquid soap.
“Shit!” He opened the other eye, on the side of the audience. Imagine his chagrin when he saw the line of phones recording his every flinch and blush, and Anna in close with a video camera! He groaned in despair. Surely things couldn’t get any worse…
But there was nowhere to hide. They bathed his bottom with warm, scented, soapy water, patting him dry with towels. And then, in a pre-arranged and coordinated movement, grabbed him by his shoulders and ankles and spun him onto his back!
The sudden appearance of the little curled erection control device, taut and quivering with compressed exuberance - that which contained, under severe restraint, his most precious possessions - drew gasps from the onlookers. But of those possessions little could be seen. The plastic-coated aluminium device consisted of a small circular backplate, a cup-shaped pouch for his balls, and a curved, pierced tube with a small opening at its tip for his pen-is. The whole thing was so neat and compact, so sleek and discreet, that no-one could possibly take offence at its appearance. The girls exchanged quick, satisfied smiles, and then, while the other three held him down, Janice occupied herself with washing both his body and its appendage, in the process of which she several times unintentionally batted it with her hand, making it vibrate like a coiled spring. Ripples of laughter ran round the audience, and several women scurried forward from their seats to take a quick close-up. Max’s hands being still secured behind his back, he was forced to arch his body slightly, as if he were flaunting it. Cheeks burning, he turned his head away from the row of ladies, and sobbed quietly in frustration.
Once the girls had dried him to their satisfaction, it was time for the cream. The cold cream had been made extra cold by being stored in the fridge since before lunch. Janice handed over the task to Maisy, who scooped a handful out of the pot and smeared it across Max’s tummy, making him squirm with the shock. She worked it in across his tummy and down his flanks, then took a second scoop and turned her attention to the insides of his thighs. She addressed the audience.
“It’s very important when applying cream to baby’s skin not to miss an inch. A rash can start from any untreated part. So although in this case we don’t have full access, we must do our best nevertheless.”
So saying, she picked up a bottle of baby lotion – also chilled – and coated the device with a series of squirts, whilst massaging it in with her other hand. Her intention had only been to prank Max by causing some slight discomfort, but to her surprise she also elicited a visible physical response. Having nowhere else to expand, his pen-is began to swell at the base of the shaft, elevating the device as if on a stalk, and wringing groans from poor Max.
“Well,” said Maisy, “perhaps its time to get this baby back in his pants before he gets too overwrought. Girls, help me to turn him over.”
To his immense relief, the girls helped him over. Lying flat was not an option until he calmed down a little, but this suited the next part of their plan well. Maisy shifted round to his head and calmly used her legs to put him in a headlock. Marlene and Janice pulled his legs apart and sat on his calves. He was stuck with his head on the ground and his bottom in the air. Now it was Patricia’s turn to do some work. The room was hushed. Max was fidgeting, trying to close his legs. Patricia gave him dozen quick smart slaps on the bottom, turning the cheeks red.
“Stop wriggling and behave,” she cried, angrily. “Unless you want a proper good spanking in front of everyone!”
He stopped struggling, and stifled a sob.
“That’s better.”
She reached into the changing bag and produced a slim black object with a slightly bulbous head. Those closest to the action recognised it as an inflatable butt-plug. A quick squirt of lotion and it slipped in easily. Max stiffened, but he was held tight and had no means of resistance. Patricia pushed it home until all that was showing was a black button an inch across with a valve in its centre. From the bag she brought out a hand-inflator and a tube, screwed the end of the tube into the valve, and began to pump.
“Ten pumps should be about right,” she murmured.
By the sixth Max was struggling again and moaning. But he couldn’t shift the girls.
“…eight…nine…ten… There. All done, baby Max. How does that feel?” She detached the hose and stood up. Max was whimpering quietly.
“You see, ladies… Sometimes when dealing with big unruly boy-babies, it is necessary to take special measures to make sure they don’t start playing up.”
“Quite right,” said Miriam, which remark drew a little ripple of applause.
“It is really in the interests of health and safety,” she continued. “We would recommend at least two of the three main aids – hand restraints, sissifiers, and butt-plugs – be applied at all times, to be sure of maintain full control. To be on the safe side, all three.” She smiled demurely. “Now, our baby needs some clean pants, and then she will be ready for you. I don’t think we need another nappy yet. Instead we have some very special very cute bunny pants for her to wear.”
She held up a pair of traditional elasticated pants, made of transparent pink latex, with a little white ball of fur attached to the seat.
“I'll just give him a dusting...”
She sprinkled a liberal amount of scented baby-powder over his bottom and thighs.
“Let’s get them on and you’ll see how they work. Stand up, please, Max.”
Max got to his feet. He didn’t know where to look.
“Step in. Good boy.”
He felt the soft latex being drawn up his legs, the waist and leg bands snapping into place. Then something else.
“Stand still!”
What was she doing? Why was she fiddling with his butt-plug?
“You see, ladies, the little bunny tail on the outside is attached to a threaded bolt on the inside, which we can screw into the butt-plug valve…so. Now we can check that the plug won’t come out simply by giving his tail a gentle tug…”
“Mmmff!”
“There. Nice and secure. Perhaps you’d like to try, ladies, while we deal with Luke? Maisy? Why don’t you pass Max over to the ladies for inspection?”
“Come on, Max. Playtime. Show our guests what a good baby you are. There you go.”
“All right, Luke. Sorry to keep you waiting. Come here, please. It’s your turn now…”
-
155.
Max was made to watch as his friend was changed, and dressed in his own little bunny pants. Then the boys were made to stand facing their audience. Shirley rose and took up a position between them, holding their hands.
“Ladies – I hope you enjoyed our little display, and I’m sure you’d all wish to thank the girls of St. Mary’s for their impressive performance of baby care. Take a bow, girls.”
The girls received an enthusiastic ovation, punctuated by whoops and whistles. Shirley continued.
“Please feel free to pass our nice freshly-scented babies around amongst yourselves. Examine them thoroughly. If you are thinking of subscribing to our adopt-a-baby scheme, try to visualise what it would be like to have one in your home for a week. Please don’t jump in if you think it might be too arduous or stressful, or you have too many other things to deal with. Oh, and by the way, those little bunny-tails. Please don’t squeeze them, will you? They are actually fur-covered rubber hand-pumps, so that we can control the pressure in their plugs…”
Mandy shot a sidelong glance at her boss. “You can be such a bitch, Shirley,” she said to herself. “That’s why I love you…”
Luke and Max got plenty of attention. Petted and caressed, sat on laps and cuddled, kissed and gently tickled, soon the pressure both behind and in front was becoming seriously distracting. Several women started asking them cute little questions.
“You’re so sweet, darling. Would you like to come and stay with me for a while? You could have your own special playroom.”
“Would you like to meet my daughter? I know she’d love you.”
“If you were restless in your cot, you could come and be cuddled in my bed. Would you like that?”
“My sister has a baby, but she’s got far too much milk for her. Would you like her to feed you too?”
Of course, the only replies they could make, with their mouths firmly gagged with sissifiers, were little whimpers and grunts. Luke in particular found himself sitting on the lap of a particularly affectionate and sexily-dressed young woman, who had taken to planting soft little kisses on his ear, one arm around his waist and the other hand caressing the inside of his right thigh. She was sitting next to a rather dashing-looking woman with bright red lipstick, who leant over and whispered, “Miriam? Looks like you’ve taken a shine to this one. Are you thinking of adoption?”
“Why not, Teddy? In fact, I’m going to ask Shirley whether St. Mary’s School may be able to adopt them officially. But yes, I like this one a lot. I think I could make his stay, well, quite exciting for both of us… Couldn’t I, darling…?”
Luke looked at her with big, tearful, frightened eyes. His poor little swollen coc-k was straining vainly against its unyielding confinement, unable to gain any satisfaction beyond oozing steady drops of pre-c-um (pre-no-c-um in his case) into his pants. Teddy reached over and took the latex between finger and thumb.
“Ooh, look at that, Miriam! He's made his nice clean pants all slippery already! What a bad baby! And just when you’re being so nice to him. I think if you do adopt him you’re going to need to discipline him quite firmly. You can’t have him being naughty like this at the slightest excuse.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Teddy… I will….”
Everyone having petted, examined or tortured the babies to their satisfaction, the ladies slowly dispersed to the other sideshows, into the other rooms or down to the stables to see if the cows had any milk left to give. (They hadn’t.) By a quarter to four a queue had already formed outside Shirley’s office, and she had to relinquish her duties to her deputies and return to her desk. She used a diary to take bookings. Of course, everyone wanted to book as soon as possible, but it was first come first served.
“Miss Dearman? Is week beginning Sunday thirteenth October still available? It’s my daughters twelfth birthday that Sunday, and it would be such a nice surprise for her and her friends if they could have a real baby to play with at the party.”
“You’re lucky, Mrs, er, Hardiman. We’re booked right up to the week before. And which one…?
“Oh, they’re both sweet. Maybe Max? And do you think I could book Luke for Christmas?”
“I’m sorry. Christmas is fully taken. Any other time… What about Halloween?”
And so it went on. Miriam arrived with Teddy.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed the day, girls. You look…well, quite amazing, Miriam, if I may say so. A changed woman!”
“Yes, thanks to Anna…and to you, of course. Today has really opened my eyes to…well, lots of things…”
“Did you want to book a baby?”
“Well, yes. I’ve just had a word with Violet, and she thinks it would be a great idea if we could book them for the school. Then we could share each baby between several girls. Once we did that thing where you give them each bag of flour to look after. But this will be the real thing!”
“Excellent idea. I’m going to reserve a few weeks during term time. We can work out the details later.”
“Thank you! But…there’s one other thing…”
“Yes?”
“I like what you do here so much. I think it’s a real service. Is there any way…any way I could be involved? I mean, do you need any part-time teachers, or anything like that? I know it’s a long shot…”
“Miriam! Not at all. I’d love it if you could join us. I'm sure you'd be a great asset. Just a few hours a week would be a tremendous help.”
“Really?”
“I want to take on more boys. There’s a waiting list, but we only really have Yulya at the moment. If you could…”
“I’d love to!”
“Excellent. We’ll work out the details. Maybe you could spare an hour after school tomorrow…?”
“Perfect!”
Teddy patted her new friend on the back.
“I have something to ask too.”
“Go ahead, Teddy.”
“You know I’m a party organiser, right? I mean, it’s not a business, but I do it for all my friends and anyone who asks.”
“Yes…”
“Well we had a great experience with Mitch that time…and then there was Henrietta’s wedding with him and Sam… How about if I could place some of your boys every now and then? The partygoers would love them. I’d make sure you’d get paid, and the boys could have a percentage. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a great idea, Teddy. I know we’d work together very well. We both have the same things at heart…”
“Right. Let’s give it a try. What about a few of those Scouts as well? They’re very cute and very disciplined – they’d make great waiters.”
“Or you could just use them for decoration! Leave it with me. I’ll have a word with Moira Sullivan. I know her boys often put on shows to raise money for the troop, or sometimes just to entertain at hospitals and places. She’s terribly proud of them. I’m sure she’d be delighted for their talents to be recognised and admired. And the boys themselves…they’re such nice guys. They just love being useful and doing things for others. I think it could be a brilliant arrangement…”
-
The outfits, the situation and that little scene between Luke & Miriam is the hottest thing I've read in... Wow.
-
Thanks for another exciting episode. looks like things are hotting up. Miriam has finally emerged from her shell and looks like Luke is going to get a lot of attention as she improves her skills.
-
156.
The next few days were busy ones for P & S. Mandy started organising the data for the babies bookings, finalising their schedules and talking to all the hosts about their equipment needs and concerns. One problem that had been foreseen, the need to maintain the boys’ education now that the school holidays had come to an end, was obviated by a video call from the head of St. Mary’s.
“Hello, Miss Dearman. Violet and Miriam and I have had a meeting about your little project. Based on what they’ve told me, I’m inclined to agree that having the babies – I mean the boys – here at St. Mary’s for lessons would be beneficial to everyone. It’s not as though they’re boys as such – that I wouldn’t allow – but Violet tells me you’ve done a wonderful job of regressing them so that now they identify more as toddlers. There are of course a few details we’d need to iron out – dress, for one thing. And you’d need to make all the arrangements for dropping off and collection. But the most important thing would be behaviour.”
“Absolutely, Miss Trevelyan. I quite understand your concerns, especially in the light of our function as an institution. Certainly for some of our recent intake I wouldn’t entertain the idea. But Luke and Max have been with us for some time, and I can assure you we have, er, ironed out any disruptive tendencies. Of course, if there are any problems…”
“No, I’ve heard about your methods – most interesting – and the various strategies of, ah, restraint you employ, and I’m content. I’m only sorry I missed your open day. It sounded most…entertaining. My deputy showed me a picture of one of your boys dressed in St. Mary’s uniform. He looked so pretty! He would fit in here perfectly, except that he would be a distraction for the girls. Can you imagine?”
“Oh, that would be Mitch. His skirt was probably a little short for your regulations.”
“For the regulations, maybe, but it looked delightful on him. I would love to bring him in one day just to see the girls’ reactions. I mean, he could pass for one of them, with his looks.”
“Maybe we can arrange something. Knowing him, he’d be quite happy surrounded by girls.”
“I would love to have seen him yesterday. Please let me know when you next have an open day, won’t you?”
“Certainly. But you’d be very welcome to visit us any day when you have some spare time.”
“I’ll take you up on that, Miss Dearman. As to behaviour, all I was thinking was that the boys should be tutored in the rules of the school – addressing teachers and prefects as “miss” or “madam”, holding open doors or standing aside for females – conventions every boy should respect anyway. But yes – I’d be happy to take them. They’ll start in year ten with girls of their own age, but our four sixth-formers will keep an eye on them. As to dress code, I’ll leave you to sort that out with Violet and Miriam. But please let’s keep in touch.”
“Thank you so much, Miss Trevelyan. Yes, let’s.”
“Cynthia, please, Shirley. Well, no doubt we’ll speak again soon. It’s all rather exciting, don’t you think?”
“I do. And I hope it will be educational for your girls as well as my boys.”
Shirley walked round to Mandy’s office.
“We’ve got the head’s approval. It’s all fixed.”
“Fantastic!”
“I’m hoping the families will be able to do the school run. A few have daughters at St. Mary’s. Could you discuss it with them? Those that aren’t able… Well, we’ll have to organise it ourselves. We’ll manage somehow. It’s only for six months, anyway.”
“Everything’s falling into place…”
“I know. With Miriam starting here a couple of days a week we’ll be able to take on more boys. And she hinted one of the science teachers wanted to be involved, too. Imagine – two new qualified teachers! I’ll be able to apply for funding, and maybe upgrade our status…”
“And have you spoken to Moira?”
“We had a long chat last night. She’s going to talk to the Scouts next week. She’s sure they’ll want to get involved. It’ll be so much more fun than most of the public services they perform – and they’ll get money for the troop funds which they can use to pay for trips abroad.”
“And you remember what we need to do tomorrow?”
“Simon and Oscar. How could I forget? It seems a shame to release them, somehow. The boys were so enjoying their new girlfriends. But we can’t keep them like that forever.”
“No, I suppose not. But we’ll still have the costumes and the frames. Maybe we could try them out on a couple of unsuspecting newbies…”
“Mandy, really!”
“I mean, if we get any really hard cases, it might be a good way of breaking them in quickly. By the way, when are they scheduled to make their reappearance?”
“I’ll give them Sunday off, so they can get their story sorted out. They’ll be back Monday. I can’t wait to see how they explain away their absence…”
At four o’clock Miriam, Violet and Teddy arrived for their meeting with Shirley.
“Hello, ladies. Welcome. Come in and have a seat. Coffee, everyone? Anna? Would you…? Thank you.”
Miriam and Teddy seated themselves on the sofa, Violet in the armchair.
“Well, Shirley,” began Violet, “Cynthia tells me you had a very productive call this morning. She was surprisingly enthusiastic about the whole project. I didn’t need to convince her, as I had expected.”
“No, Violet. She seems to be a woman after my own heart – our own hearts, I should say. Did she discuss dress code with you at all?”
“She did. She’s left it to us, but I think she’d like a nod to the school colours of red and blue. I showed her a photo of your Mitch, in his school uniform. She insisted I send it to her.”
“I heard. So what do you think? About the babies?”
“I’m not sure. We need to keep it simple.”
“I agree. We want something they can wear to school every day. Just baby clothes are not going to be practical. Also we don’t have time to come up with elaborate baby uniforms. Look. They’re baby status can be defined by their latex pants. I can arrange to have some slightly more robust, outdoor-style ones made by next week. Nice thick waistbands and frilled leg-cuffs in red, the pants in blue. Practical and warm. No nappies – the school can’t deal with changing them every day. They can have standard white school blouses tucked into their pants, school ties, and little white socks and school shoes. They’ll look sweet, but not out of place. Maybe little red and blue bomber jackets.”
“Great! I’ll get a couple of St. Mary’s badges to sew on.”
“Thanks, Violet. And I’ll get them a couple of kids’ rucksacks, also red and blue.”
“They’re going to get an excellent education there, you know. They’ll have an opportunity to learn and flourish I bet they’ve never had before. I wouldn’t be surprised if they start to enjoy it after a while.”
“That’s the idea. We can’t reform boys like this by punishment. I’m hoping they will begin to resign themselves their juvenile personas. They’ll get lots of attention and petting, they’ll be cosseted and loved, and they’ll be in a comfortable protected environment.”
“I remember you mentioned hormone treatment,” said Miriam.
“Well, that’s not for me to decide. But I was thinking that if everything goes to plan, in a few years’ time the boys might consider that they would like to bring out more of their feminine side. However, we won’t know if the present strategies have worked until we take off their devices at the end of this experiment. I hope they don’t revert to their old ways… But there’s no telling.”
She turned to Miriam.
“Miriam – so you’re joining us next week. Are you sure you’re up for this? You can still pull out if you’re not sure.”
“No, absolutely Miss Dearman – I feel I should call you that now you’re going to be my second headmistress. I’ve arranged to be here Tuesday and Friday afternoons at first, as we agreed. I hope I can do a good job.”
“Well you’ll be teaching the new intake. I’ve no idea what they’ll be like, but it’ll be a far cry from the girls of St. Mary’s…”
“Oh, I don’t know. Those girls you seem to think are so innocent can be the most evil and devious kids you’d ever meet. Anyway, I’m going to be prepared. Aren’t I, Teddy?”
“As much as you can, darling. Shirley, I’m taking Miriam out tomorrow for a complete makeover and to help her buy some power outfits. I’m going to do everything I can to give her a good start.”
“Excellent! It may encourage you to know that I’ve got all the parents of the new intake to sign permissions for us to use restraints and corporal punishment. So you should pretty much have a free hand. Now…what else?”
Teddy put her hand up like an excited schoolgirl.
“I’ve got a couple of parties coming up. My friend Henrietta’s planning a hen party on the twenty-first – that’s a Saturday – and she love to hire one of your special cages – and a couple of boys to go inside. Of course she’s thinking of Mitch and Sam. She told me every time she looks at her wedding snaps it makes her nostalgic!”
“I think we can arrange that…”
“Great. Then there’s a birthday party on the fourteenth – they need a few smartly-dressed boys to act as waiters and chaperones.”
“No problem.”
“And I don’t know if you remember my friend Sharon. Mitch entertained the guests at her engagement party. Well, now she’s getting married at the end of the month, and she wants to have a Halloween hen party a couple of days before. I was telling her about the Scouts, and now she says she has to have them. They’ll be able to dress up in Halloween costumes, which should appeal to them.”
“What does Moira say?”
“We haven’t fixed a date, but she’s already agreed in principle – so long as she gets an invite!”
“And will she?”
“Sharon says she’ll get an invite if she can come up with a sexy costume.”
“Knowing her that won’t be a problem.”
“Quite.”
“Right. Well, looks like we’re going to be busy. How about a little drink to seal the deals?”
All present concurring, the ladies retired to the nearest pub, and didn’t emerge until time was called…
-
157.
The next day Shirley visited Simon and Oscar in their room, well away from the busy hub of P & S.
“Well boys, as you know your punishment is played out. Now you can either go home, or stay here, but I don’t want to see you until Monday morning. Then you can re-join your class, and make whatever excuses you like for your absence. I’ll back you up. I think we agreed on a reform school up north somewhere? Let’s call it, I don’t know…the Angela Wood School. Can you remember that? Keep our stories straight. We’ll say it’s in Yorkshire. You don’t know quite where. I don’t suppose any of your friends will question it. They’ll be too busy telling you about Susan and Olivia.” She grinned. “You really had them fooled. I never imagined you had such hidden talents…”
The boys simultaneously turned red.
“But remember the suits and the frames are still here for you, any time you feel like…”
“No thank you miss,” interrupted Simon.
“No, Simon? I don’t know… I thought you were just beginning to enjoy yourself…you were giving great service…”
Simon was about to tell her to shut up, but he thought better of it.
“So you’d better behave from now on, or I might be tempted to spill the beans. We have you on video, of course.”
“We’ll be good, miss,” said Oliver, hurriedly.
“I’m sure you will. What you did to Yulya was…well, quite indecent. I’ll send you the video so you can reflect on your misbehaviour.”
Simon looked up in surprise. “You will?”
“Yes. And if you want, Mandy will give you a couple of posters.”
“Wow! Thanks miss!”
“Now run along, and I’ll see you Monday. I have a lot to organise this weekend…”
The first thing was the babies. They were booked in with two different families. Max was going to the Robertsons – mother (Delice) and fifteen-year-old daughter (Amora) – and Luke to a single middle-aged lady by the name Georgia Randall. Apparently her seventeen-year-old son had recently left home and gone to the States for his work, and she was feeling bereft. A big boy-baby to mother was just what she needed to soften the blow. Both households were going to need clothes and equipment, and Shirley was sitting at her desk making an inventory.
“We’ll get the van loaded up tonight, Mandy, and lay the boys outfits out ready for the morning. We should leave at nine. Yulya and Anna will go with you to assist.”
“Fine,” said Mandy, who was standing next to her. “By the way, what’s that booking there?”
She had noticed the two boys bracketed together on the week beginning the twenty-ninth of September, opposite the name “Ms Sadie”. “Are they going together?”
“Ah. That. Yes. Yes, I’m departing from our rule for one week, due to…er, special circ-umstances.”
“What are they? And who’s Ms Sadie?”
Shirley sighed. “Ms Sadie is a friend – an acquaintance of mine. She’s a professional dominatrix, if you must know. Yes, yes, I know it’s not strictly within the rules, but I couldn’t say no. I owed her a favour.”
“But why…? I mean, what does she want with the boys?”
“She’s been busy. She wants a week off. She wants to relax, but she also wants to keep her hand in. She thinks owning a couple of little wimps would be a perfect holiday for her, and provide a little harmless fun. Don’t worry, I’m not going to warn them. In any case, she’s entitled to her booking as much as anyone else. And there’s no worries about whether she’ll be able to cope with the pair of them. Whether they’ll be able to cope with her… Well, that’s another question…”
By nine o’clock on Sunday the van was loaded and they were ready to go. Mandy drove, with Anna and Yulya beside her. The boys were stashed in the back with the equipment. Shirley had chosen to dress them in pink elasticated latex pants, yellow fuzzy onesies which zipped up at the front, soft yellow bootees and stripy yellow bonnets with tiger cub ears, and there was a case full of other clothes for each of them. Her supplier was working on the school pants and had promised they’d be ready and delivered to the families by that evening.
Georgia Randall was waiting at her front door. She was a slight woman in her mid-forties with short grey hair and green eyes. Mandy parked the van, greeted her briefly, and went to get Luke. He climbed reluctantly out of the van. She shepherded him up the front path. The woman greeted him with a big hug.
“Luke. How lovely to meet you – I’ve been so looking forward to it, ever since I saw you at P and S last week. I’m Georgia. I’m going to look after you for the whole week, sweetie. I hope you enjoy your stay. I’ll do everything to make it as pleasant and comfortable as possible.”
Mandy gave Luke a nudge.
“Oh, er, thank you, er, miss… Er, yeah, I hope so too…”
“You must excuse him, Mrs Randall,” interjected Mandy, “he knows he should only be talking baby-talk, but, you know, it’s his first booking…”
“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t mind how he speaks…within reason. As long as he’s my little bobby-baby-boy I’ll be happy.”
Mandy stared at her. “Bobby-baby-boy”? Was she demented? Mrs Randall had taken Luke by the hand and was simpering. Oh, well, it takes all sorts…
“We’ll bring in the equipment, then.”
“Oh yes. Right through here. He’ll be in my boy’s old room…”
The room had pretty obviously been recently upgraded to baby standard. The bed had pink sheets and pillowcases, and a teddy bear quilt, and two dolls, a bear and a rabbit tucked in under it. The wall was covered with juvenile posters. The curtains were also new, yellow with frilled edges. There were soft pink and yellow mats on the floor. Yulya and Anna carried in the boy-sized cot, while Mandy took the outsize high-chair into the kitchen. Mandy fetched two suitcases.
“This one is clothes. And this evening you’ll receive a delivery of his school pants from our supplier. The rest of his uniform and his rucksack are in here. This other case is all baby equipment, bottles, dummies, changing things and other stuff. Here's a bag of extra-large pull-ups in case you want to go down that route. This sheet tells you everything you need to know, but you can ring us on that number there at any time if you need guidance. There are books and writing implements in his rucksack. Oh, and a dummy on a ribbon, which he must wear for school at all times. Please try and get him to school on time. If you don’t, he’ll be the one to get punished. But you have a free hand in all things. Good luck, and thank you for participating in our experiment!”
“Our pleasure, I assure you…”
“First one done,” said Mandy, as she started up the van. Now, where next?”
The Robertsons lived in quite a posh neighbourhood, not far from St. Mary’s School. The curtains were twitching as Mandy pulled in. A moment later, mother and daughter were at the door. Mandy gave them a cursory wave, and dragged Max out of the back. She led him up the path. The daughter, Amora, was virtually jumping up and down with excitement. She was a pretty, slim, brown-eyed girl, with long black hair. The mother was a young-looking thirty-something with a naughty glint in her eye. “I can see he’s going to have fun here,” Mandy murmured to herself.
Amora immediately took charge of him, putting her arm round his waist and pulling him inside.
“Come on, baby Max. You’re even sweeter than mummy said.” She explored his bottom through the fuzzy material of his onesie. “Ooh, good boy! You’re wearing your rubber pants! What colour are they? Well?”
“Er…pink,er…miss…”
“You can call me Amora. That means, like, love…” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I can see we’re going to get on, darling. Mummy booked you specially for me, did you know that? I get so bored in term time. Did you know I go to St. Mary’s? But I’ll be a year above you. Not fair! Never mind. I’ll have you to myself every evening. Me and my best friend, Elsa. You’ll like her. She’s Swedish. So beautiful I’m jealous! Blue eyes like ice and long blonde hair! Don’t get any ideas – you’re a baby, remember. Oops!” She sniggered. “You can’t can you? Mummy told me…”
Max sighed. Amora’s sharply-nailed fingers were exploring his ribs, half-tickling, half hurting. He registered that the cot was being carried into the living-room.
“It’ll be more fun to have you in here, Maxie. Mummy works late, so me and Elsa will be baby-sitting you most of the time. We’ll be able to keep an eye on you, and make sure you don’t get up to any mischief.” She gave him a smile of superiority. “Mummy? Can you find Max a dummy, please? I think he may need to go down for a nap.”
“Don’t be silly, darling. It’s early morning. I expect he only just woken up.”
Amora frowned and stamped her foot. “I don’t care! I want him suc-king his dummy anyway! And I want to see all his clothes so I can decide what he’s going to wear today.” Her frown vanished as quickly as it had come. “Ooh! And Maxie! Your uniform! I can’t wait to get you dressed for school! Do you really have rubber pants in the school colours? Oh my god. The girls are gonna love you! They’re gonna be so jealous…!”
-
158.
Delice worked in a club, and sometimes didn’t get home till one in the morning. As a result, Amora usually either had a friend to stay over, or went to a friend’s for the night. That friend was usually Elsa. This week, Elsa was going to live at Amora’s. They had been almost unable to believe it when Delice told them her plan.
“I was right at the front of the queue, girls. I just want to see your faces when you see what I’ve got for you.”
She’d already seen her daughter’s face, and at lunchtime Elsa arrived.
“Is he here?”
“He’s here!” squealed Amora. Come and see – quick!”
The girls hurried into the living room. Amora had changed Max’s outfit. The onesie was lying on the sofa, and Max himself was standing on a little low stool like a statue on a plinth. Delice sat on the sofa, waiting for Elsa’s reaction. Amora had found a little yellow spandex leotard, with a faux skirt at the waist, a round collar, and short sleeves. It wasn’t really babywear, but she thought it looked cute. Over that she had put on a pull-up, decorated with teddy-bears, and a pair of transparent yellow frilled latex pants. She lad left him in his tiger bonnet and yellow bootees. It was a bit of a mish-mash, but somehow it worked – in the sense that it made him look extremely silly and juvenile. His cheeks were already burning, and when Elsa gasped, and screamed with delight, he shut his eyes tight and his chin dropped onto his chest.
She approached slowly, taking in every detail.
“Oh my god, Am, I can’t believe… I mean, I didn’t think he would be anything like… He’s totally, you know, like amazing!” She reached out and touched his chest. “So pretty! And look at these little rubber pants! And that bonnet… So sweet!”
“There’s lots of other clothes in the bedroom. And his school pants are arriving this evening.”
“His school pants?”
“Miss Trevelyan insisted. School colours. I can’t wait to see the girls faces when we take him through the gates.”
“Oh my god, Am, I’m gonna wet myself! And, like, he’s all ours, for a whole week?”
“Totally.”
“And his name’s Max?”
“Maxie. Yeah. Little baby Maxie.” She pinched his cheek. “Aren’t you, you silly boy? Oh, what fun you’re going to have.”
Elsa lowered her voice. “And his thing…it’s all, you know…?”
“Packed up tight. Poor little baby can’t do anything. Can’t even play with his little winkie… Can you, Maxie? Never mind. You can dream.”
Max gave a quiet whimper.
“So… Do you like my friend Elsa? Is she as pretty as I said? If you’re lucky, she may give you a little kiss, later on, cos you’re a tiny baby, and tiny babies like having little kisses from big girls, don’t they?”
“I may…if you’re good,” smiled Elsa. “And Am may give you a kiss as well. Would you like that, Maxie? Both of us giving you soft, warm kisses…?”
Max gave a sigh.
“I think that’s a yes,” laughed Delice. “But baby looks sleepy. Have you seen his cot, Elsa? Yes, right there by the wall.”
“Gosh! So big… And it has a lid?”
“Yes,” said Amora, “and it locks so he can’t sneak out. Shall we put him down?”
“Why don’t you, girls? Maybe give him his bottle, and then a dummy to suc-k.”
“Oh yes! The dummies. Wait there Elsa!”
She returned in a moment carrying the smaller case. She put it down and opened the lid.
“Bottle. There.”
“Shall I fill it for you?” said Delice.
“Please mum. Look. This box is full of pacifiers…”
“They’re quite big…”
“Yes. Course. Wait a minute…. What’s this?”
“Oh my god! How rude! It’s shaped like a….”
Delice had returned with the filled bottle. “Oh, did they put one of those in? It’s called a sissifier – for obvious reasons. I don’t know… Do you think Maxie is a sissy baby?”
“We’ll soon see. Here Maxie, open wide. Come on! Now suc-k on this. Do it!”
“Ooh. He’s suc-ked one of these – or something – before,” said Elsa, fascinated.
“Right. Come and have your feed, then sissifier, and nap,” said Amora, firmly.
They took it in turns to feed him, and quite against his will he found himself becoming sleepy. All the excitement had been too much for him. They put him in his cot, popped in his sissifier, and covered him with a blanket. As they shut the lid, he was already falling asleep.
“What a perfect baby,” said Elsa. “It’s gonna be such fun…”
“Yes,” said Amora – and added in a whisper, “specially after mum’s gone to work…”
-
Love it the 2 sissy babies are in for a fun time
-
159.
Max wasn’t the only one who’d been transferred from the frying pan into the fire. Ms Randall put Luke on the carpet in front of the television, gave him a fluffy rabbit to cuddle and a dummy to suc-k, and made him watch children’s programmes the whole morning. Then, soon after twelve, the doorbell rang, and a few moments later she led another woman, perhaps fifteen years younger than her, into the room.
“Tessa, meet our new baby. Luke, this is my best friend” - here she took Tessa’s hand and planted a kiss on her lips – “my best friend, Tessa.”
Tessa’s face lit up. “Luke! Georgie said you were a sweetie, but…let me give you a cuddle.”
She dropped to her knees, threw her arms around him, and squeezed him until he almost choked. She drew in a deep breath.
“Oh, that love baby smell – sweet biscuits, baby powder, and rubber.” Her hand slid down to his bottom. “Good boy! You’ve got your little rubber baby pants on, haven’t you? I want to see those later. Are you enjoying your little baby programmes?” she added, glancing at the screen, where a cartoon fairy was turning various vegetables into little furry animals with a wave of her wand.
Luke took out his dummy. “No…” he said, sulkily, in a weak attempt at rebellion.
“Oh! Diddums not like nice fairy story? Never mind. After lunchies me and Georgie take baby to the park to play. Baby like that?”
Luke looked alarmed. “No… Baby Luke want watch more fairies…”
“Nonsense. Georgie has borrowed a buggy just for you. A big boy’s buggy. You should just fit in it.”
Indeed, Georgia had borrowed a big kid’s stroller from a friend. It had been used for an eight-year-old, and she reckoned, with a little squeeze, it would accommodate Luke. Just in case of objections, she had purchased four little straps, which would serve if necessary to attach his wrists and ankles to the tubular frame.
“Not go in buggy. No like buggy!” He kicked out his legs in childish fury, and his face wrinkled as if he were about to burst into tears. He was unconsciously responding to being treated as a baby by beginning to behave and talk as a baby.
“Ooh, no tantrums please!” scolded Georgia. “Baby will do what he’s told, or he’ll get a smack bottom and no lunch.”
Luke glared at her, his lower lip trembling, but he kept quiet. He could see she meant it.
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Now I’ll get lunch ready. Tessa? Maybe you’d like to see what outfits he has. He should be dressed up a bit to go to the playground. You never know, he might find a little baby girlfriend there….”
Luke felt sick, but he had no choice but to sit quietly and hope for the best. He was disappointed, however. Tessa disappeared into his bedroom.
“Oh, what a pretty room! It’s this big case, is it, Georgie? Oh yes. Now let me see…”
Within five minutes she was back.
“Georgia. Look at this! Isn’t it cute?”
“Darling – it’s sweet! That’s the one. Can you find some suitable accessories? I’m just mushing Lukie’s vegetables. Lukie? Come here, my love, so I can get you into your high chair. Then after lunch we’ll pop little Lukie in his nice new outfit and off to the park, so he can show off to all the little girls!”
The article that Tessa had produced, and that had made Luke shake his head in despair, was a delightful little romper suit in bright blue rubberised satin. It had a bib front with shoulder straps and big yellow buttons, with the legend “It’s a Boy!” in yellow script. It had a plain elasticated band at the waist, and below a pair of beautiful puffy pants, designed to accommodate the thickest nappy, and elasticated leg-bands, finished with two more big yellow buttons on the outsides of the thighs. Tessa soon found him a matching bonnet trimmed with yellow frilling which buttoned up under the chin, and a pair of shiny yellow rubber wellies. What more could a baby boy want?
He had the best part of an hour to contemplate that question, strapped firmly into the outsize high chair. Thoughtfully, Georgia had found a pair of leather wrist-cuffs in the accessories case, and attached his hands to the arms of the chair, exempting him entirely from partaking in the feeding process. Neither of the women were practised in the art of baby feeding, with the result that only about fifty percent of the various-coloured purées actually entered his mouth, the balance being smeared across his cheeks or ending up in the well of his plastic bib.
Feeling even worse from ingesting a combination of vegetables, fruits, and unidentified substances, he was then hauled off to the bathroom to use his potty and have his face washed; then back to the living room to be laid on a towel, baby-creamed and powdered, and pinned into a large towelling nappy. A pair of natural rubber pants kept the nappy nicely in place. Then on went the rompers and all the trimmings. This was when Luke discovered the rubberised hood had a useful appendage: on each side of his mouth were little Velcro flaps, which, when opened, revealed tiny steel loops. These corresponded with locking rings on either end of a blue leather dummy-retaining strap. Once the ring and boss of the dummy had been fed through aperture in the strap, and the strap locked home, it was impossible for it to be ejected. Not only did this ensure baby remained comforted, but it acted as an effective gag to save his carers having to respond to his demands.
Tessa helped him into his bootees, and both women shoved him into his buggy and strapped him in. The ladies put on their coats, and Tessa held open the door while Georgia pushed him outside.
It was a bright, crisp day. Luke pressed his bare legs together.
“My legs are cold,” he wailed.
“They’ll be fine when you’re running around in the park, dear. Please don’t fuss.”
“Don’t wanna go to the park…”
He was beginning to sound really like a baby.
“Nonsense. You’re going to enjoy yourself. We’ll get you a treat from the café. Would you like that, darling?”
“No! Don’t want treat! Wanna go home!”
Georgia sighed. “I think it’s time…”
“Looks like it.”
Tessa reached into the buggy bag and took out the pacifier strap. In went a large pacifier, and while Georgia held Luke’s head, Tessa pushed it into his mouth, opened the Velcro flaps, and locked on the retaining strap. Luke shook his head violently, like a dog, but he was firmly muzzled.
He was already attracting attention. People stopped, stared and pointed.
“Goodness. That’s the biggest baby I’ve ever seen!”
“Love the outfit!”
“Mummy? Why is that boy dressed as a baby?”
“I don’t know, dear. Maybe he’s been naughty – or maybe he just likes being a baby.”
“He doesn’t look as though he likes it. Do you think he’s going to the playground like us? I hope he is…”
“Excuse me? My daughter wondered whether you were taking your baby to the playground in the park?”
“We are, as a matter of fact.”
“There, Sarah. He is.”
“Yippee! Can I play with him? What’s his name?”
“It’s Luke,” replied Tessa. “He’d love it if you’d play with him. He doesn’t have any friends around here, yet. Shall we walk together?”
And so the little group entered the park and headed for the café and play area. They could see there were quite a lot of children there already, and because it was Sunday there were all ages, from toddlers to teens. Luke struggled vainly against his straps. Sarah, seeing his distress, took hold of his hand.
“It’s all right Luke. Don’t be shy. I come here all the time. I can see some of my friends, too. We can all play together. You’re big, so I bet you’ll be able to climb right to the top of the castle! And if we’re good, maybe our mummies will get us a treat…?”
She looked innocently up at her mother. Luke sighed internally, and his eyes filled with tears…
-
160.
Delice worked every weekday evening at the club, but she also did a short shift on Sundays helping out at the bar, when she left the house at five and got back about ten-thirty. As she was getting ready, Max was beginning to stir.
“It looks like Maxie’s waking up. He’ll need a feed, girls, and check him to make sure he’s not wet. Miss Dearman assured me that he’s potty-trained, so we shouldn’t have any problems that way.”
“Why’s he got all those pull-ups, then, mum?” asked Amora.
“They’re for when we take him out. Also, I think some people just like to keep their babies in nappies for ever. I don’t think we need to use them, do we? Anyway, I’m off. Take good care of him, won’t you? See you later.”
The girls were indeed intending to take good care of Max. They had explored the cases of clothes and equipment, and sorted out a few nice items.
“Now, let’s see…what would be most embarrassing…” Amora had mused.
“Look at these, Am. All these rubber pants. These, for instance.” She held up a pair in natural rubber with tight little yellow frilling around the legs and tiny yellow bananas sprinkled in the transparent rubber.
“Oh my god, Elsa. They’re the ones for today. Look, there’s a pair of yellow sock shoes which will go perfectly…and here’s a little stretchy T-shirt with a banana on the front… Look what it says – I heart bananas! Perfect. These must have been meant for a complete outfit.”
“I love this little shiny bomber jacket with all the badges too. I know it’s pink – it’s a girl’s one – but I still think it’d look cute on him.”
“Okay. I’ll go with that. Shall we…?”
They got him out of his cot and sent him to the toilet. When he had done, they let themselves into the bathroom, and, ignoring his objections, stripped off all his clothes, and put him under the shower, washing him with lovely peach-scented bodywash. To his great relief they gave him a warm towel to dry himself, and told him to report to the living room. After much longer than it should have taken to dry himself, he appeared reluctantly at the door.
“Are you dry? I should hope so, by now. Right. Come and get dressed.”
The clothes laid out on the sofa didn’t look that appealing, but he would have put on pretty much anything to conceal his nakedness. So he was disappointed when Amora handed him the see-through rubber pants.
“But…they’re transparent! I can’t…”
“You will, Max. No arguments. Besides, there’s nothing to see. Your willy’s virtually invisible inside its little shell. Come on. You’re going be our cute little baby this evening. Get dressed. We’re going to be extra nice to you – aren’t we Elsa?”
“Yes. Just wait and see. Now pop into your pants like a good boy. There. Now your vest… Your socks…. And look at this pretty jacket. Here, I’ll help you. There. Oh, you look good enough to eat!”
And Elsa threw her arms around him and kissed him. She held him tight for nearly a minute. Her scent enveloped him, and her long hair tickled his neck. Her thigh pressed against his little helpless pen-is, and despite himself he felt the pressure building. Elsa also, to her delight, felt the inert device twitch slightly. She winked to Amora over his shoulder.
When eventually she released him, Amora was at pains to help him relax. She wanted him to lower his defences.
“You’ve been such a good boy, Maxie, and mum won’t be back till later, so let’s just be friends this evening, shall we? We’re not going to feed you from a bottle, or give you that awful mushy baby food in the cupboard. Why don’t we send out for a pizza, and I’ll nick a bottle of mum’s wine? She had so many stashed away, she won’t miss one. What do you say?”
“R-really? Yes, okay, that would be great.”
Perhaps these girls are going to be all right, he thought. And they’re both really pretty, specially that Elsa…
“Elsa? Would you like to order the pizza? Make it two large ones. Here’s my card. I’m going to put the wine in the freezer for half an hour. Remind me to put the bottle outside in the recycling after, so mum doesn’t twig.”
“Sure. What sort of pizza do you like, Max?”
“Er, well, I like pepperoni…”
“Okay one pepperoni, and one…oh, one margherita. There’s other toppings in the kitchen, anyway.”
Half an hour later they were sitting on the sofa together, Max in the middle, Elsa on his right and Amora on his left, eating pizza and drinking wine out of tumblers. Amora had set up her laptop on the coffee table, and had put on a Korean drama. Max had forgotten about his rather juvenile outfit, and was enjoying having one pretty girl on each side, especially as they were playing about, pretending to fight with each other across him, and leaning on him. He was getting the distinct impression Elsa fancied him. She kept pressing against him, and making her hair tickle his ear. He was having to bite his lip to keep calm. Then Amora came up with an idea.
“I can't focus on the subtitles. Let’s watch some porno, Else. Yeah? D’you want to, Maxie?”
“Er…I…”
“Course he does. What do you like?”
“I know! What all blokes like best. Lezzies, yeah?”
“No, I…er…don’t normally watch any of that stuff…”
“Liar! Here. This is the best site. Else and I often watch this together. I won’t tell you what else we get up to…”
Max could feel his cheeks burning. The wine wasn’t helping. This was getting a bit out of hand. But Amora had found a video.
“I’ve seen this one before. This is a great one!”
“Is this where she, you know Am, where they, like, use those…oh! It is! Max, you’re gonna love this!”
“Yeah, Max. In a minute it’s really gonna hot up…”
Max began to fidget uncomfortably. He was torn between looking and pretending to look while blurring his vision. This was not what he had hoped for. He felt short of breath. He wanted to jump up and run out of the room.
“I need to go to the toilet…”
He went to rise, but the girls grabbed an arm each.
“No you don’t. You’re not…embarrassed, are you, Max?”
“No. Course not. I…”
Elsa put an arm around him.
“Cuddle me, Max, and relax. It’s just a film. Not like they’re really here in the room… Unless you’d like Am and I to….” She winked.
He turned to her, alarmed, trying to see whether she was serious. But she took the opportunity to plant a kiss on his cheek. She drew back a few inches to get a better view of his face.
“You’re so sweet. Look at you, all hot and bothered. Is it those girls? Goodness, look what they’re up to now! They’re very beautiful, don’t you think?”
“I…”
She put both arms around him. He had his face turned towards her, and she pressed her cheek against his, with her chin on his shoulder. He felt dizzy. The wine…her perfume… She started whispering in his ear.
“Would you like to do that to me? I mean, I know you can’t as you are at present. But in theory…?”
The pressure in his pants was becoming unbearable, but he felt paralysed, unable to resist. Then he felt Amora’s hand settle on his left thigh, and the fingers of her other hand pinching his ribs, gently but seductively. She leant over and started whispering too, while Elsa retreated a few inches and began to plant soft kisses on his cheeks. He groaned.
“Is that nice?” whispered Amora. “Watch the film if you like. We’ll take care of everything.”
Her hand moved up onto the front of his pants.
“Ooh… It’s so hard,” she giggled, tapping her nail playfully against the metal sheath. Then her eyes widened. “And…is it my imagination, or has it grown?”
And indeed, though the erection control device was doing its job, Max’s swelling member had pushed it upwards, so that it was making a little tent of his pants. Encouraged by this development, the girls redoubled their lovemaking. Elsa put her right hand against his cheek so that he couldn’t avert his face, and kissed him on the lips, letting her tongue flick mischievously between them. Amora, for her part, caressed his thigh and nibbled at his ear. And all the while, the girls in the film were thrusting ever more frantically. Things were clearly coming to a climax.
Both the girls were keeping an eye on Mitch’s pants. He was moaning quietly and trembling now, and his juices could be seen oozing from the tip of the device and sliding down the clear rubber. They had got so far, there was no way they were letting him off the hook. He whimpered and sobbed. He was in quite a lot of pain, but pain spiced with intense pleasure. This was not supposed to happen. Shirley had told him it would be impossible to have an orgasm – so how was it going to end?
“Please…I can’t…”
“Shh, Maxie… We’ve got you,” whispered Amora. “You’re okay, darling…go with it…”
“I can’t…oh, god…I have to…you have to stop…I… Aahhh!!”
It happened very suddenly. He nearly blacked out. Such a climax as he had never experienced before. He shouted again an again as the spasms racked his body. The girls could see his sperm spurting into his pants with such force that it made the device jerk and quiver. Jet after jet erupting into his pants and sliding down into his crotch. They held him tight, astounded by the intensity of his orgasm. When it finally subsided, he was left gasping and twitching, eyes tight shut, gripping his cushion with both hands.
“Wow!” said Amora. “They said that was impossible. It couldn't happen. But you’re so sexy, Max, not even that thing could contain you.”
“Yeah…some baby,” added Elsa.
When Max could get his breath, he had his own take.
“It’s not me that’s sexy…,” he said quietly. “It’s you two. I can’t tell you what that was like…pain and pleasure, in equal measure…”
“Ooh…you’re a poet, and you didn’t know it,” returned Amora, with a grin. “But that’s so naughty to c-um like that in your lovely new pants! Mummy's going to be so angry when we tell her. She'll probably put you over her knee and spank you! Unless you'd prefer us to do it...”
-
161.
That first Sunday was a turning-point for both boy babies. But while Max woke up to the possibilities of escape from his present condition, Luke moved in the opposite direction. As they neared the playground, two little girls came running towards them.
“Sarah! Come up the castle with us! We’ve got fairy cakes! We can have a picnic in the tower!”
“Great! Mummy? Can you get me one too, so I can have a picnic with Daphne and Bea? And can you get one for Luke, too?”
Luke’s heart sank. He was reminded of a similar scenario not so long ago in Tinkerton. But this time he wouldn’t be left behind – unfortunately.
“We’ll get him one,” smiled Georgia. “And perhaps they’d all like some drinks?”
The two girls’ excitement had subsided into astonishment as they beheld the figure in the buggy.
“This is my new friend, Luke,” said Sarah proudly. “He’s the biggest baby in the world! Do you like his romper suit?”
“Is he really a baby?” asked Bea, uncertainly. “Why’s he got that strap over his mouth?”
“It’s a dummy-holder,” said Tessa, matter-of-factly. “He’s liable to spit it out otherwise. But if he promises to be good, and play nicely with the girls, then I’ll take it off.”
“Say you’ll play, Luke,” begged Sarah. “You won’t be able to eat your fairy cake otherwise…”
Luke was feeling hungry anyway, and looking at the play area, and the older kids hanging out at ground level, he was thinking the turret of the tower might be the safest place to be. So he nodded his head. Tessa unlocked his dummy-holder, and tossed it into the buggy bag, but she pushed the dummy itself into the pocket of his jacket.
“Here. You might need this if you get sulky.”
She undid his straps, and helped him out of his buggy. The ladies made their way to the café and sat down. Georgia gave Sarah money for cakes and drinks, and Luke and the three girls went to the counter. There were maybe a dozen people in the café, and inevitably they all stared at Luke like a herd of curious cows. He blushed involuntarily, but he had already decided that his best option was actually to play the baby. If he could be convincing, perhaps people might assume he suffered from some sort of regressive disease, and treat him kindly instead of making fun. So he got in character straight away.
“Baby Luke have pink cakey, pleath?” he said to the lady behind the counter, to her surprise but much to the girls’ satisfaction.
“Er…yes, of course.” She picked one up with a pair of tongs and put it in a white paper bag.
“I want a blue one, please,” piped up Sarah. “That one with the yellow flower. We’ll help ourselves to drinks. Baby Lukie? What would you like?”
“Lukie want Lukizade,” grinned Luke.
“Lukie-zade”! Course!”
The plan was working. The onlookers, seeing no hint of embarrassment, found no reason to poke fun. Rather they felt the joke, if there was one, was on them. They looked puzzled, and resumed their conversations. Luke and the girls took their goodies and, ignoring the stares of the other children in the play area, began to climb the castle. However, outside Luke was aware he was being watched with undisguised hilarity by two girls of about fifteen or sixteen who seemed to be in charge of some of the younger children. It wasn’t until he heard one of them giggle, and say, “Isn’t that Luke Peters? I’m sure it is!” that he recognised them as pupils from his old school. A cold shudder ran through him. He climbed faster, and when he reached the little square turret and found two young boys inside pretending to be pirates, he told them to “hop it” in a most unbabylike tone of voice. Once inside with his new friends he felt safer, but every now and then he took a peek over the side to check whether they were still there.
They played and chatted happily for an hour or so, sitting cross-legged in a circle, eating their cakes and getting icing and cream on their cheeks and noses. The girls were fascinated by the idea of such a big boy wearing baby clothes, and they pressed him about it until he admitted, yes, he had a nappy, and yes, he did have rubber pants under his rompers, and no, he had no intention of wetting himself. As to why he was dressed like that, there was no way he was going to admit it was against his will, so the only alternative was to say he quite liked baby clothes, and he didn’t see any reason why anyone shouldn’t be allowed to wear baby clothes, and actually he enjoyed suc-king his dummy, too – in proof of which, he took it out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth.
The timing was unfortunate. His two old schoolmates, frustrated at his disappearance, had stealthily climbed the ladder to the turret. He saw something appear at the little doorway, turned to see what it was, and realised too late it was a hand holding a phone. His eyes widened just as the shutter clicked.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
But the girls, squealing with delight, were retreating down the ladder as fast as they could. Luke then compounded his error by deciding to chase after them, clambering clumsily down the little steps, and only realising when he reached the ground and confronted them that they had been videoing the whole thing! He felt a total idiot.
“We’ve got you now, Luke Peters,” said one of them, a cheeky red-faced girl with tousled hair and thick thighs. “Wait till we show this around!”
“No…please… What do you want?”
“Er…to humiliate you? Is this what you get up to in your spare time? Dressing up as a baby and hanging out with little girls?”
“No…I’m just…er, doing it for a bet, see?”
“Liar. It's obvious you love it! And we heard what you said to your little friends…”
“What I said…?”
“About your…” Here the girls almost collapsed with laughing. “About your…rubber panties!”
Luke stood helplessly, cheeks burning. What could he say?
“Lukie? Please come back up…” called Sarah, from above.
“You’d better go, baby. Your little girlfriend wants you!”
“Maybe she thinks you need changing!”
They were almost crying with laughter.
“P-please don’t show those pictures to anyone. Look… I’ll do anything…”
“No chance!”
“Please…”
“Hey, Sandy. Maybe we should give him a chance. Know what I’m thinking…?”
They whispered together for a minute. The other girl, slim and quite pretty, addressed him.
“Okay, Lukie. Here it is. Give us your number. We'll summon you when we're ready. We’d like to find out more about your…strange hobby. We promise we won’t show anyone this stuff until then. Well?”
Luke hesitated, but only for a second. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
“Okay. I’m Helen. Here’s my number.” She held up her phone. “Ring me now so I’ve got yours.”
He did as he was told. The boys had been allowed to keep their phones in case it was necessary for Shirley or their hosts to issue instructions, and a pocket had been provided in the bibs of their rompers.
“Good. I’ll be in touch. Now you can go back and play fairies, or whatever it is you’re doing up there. By the way, we love the rompers. Wear those when you come to see us, won’t you?”
They took their charges and departed, turning round every now and then to give him a wave.
“Oh, shit! Why did we have to come here? What have I got myself into?”
“Oh, I see you met some old friends,” grinned Georgia, coming over. “We have to go now, darling. Your new school pants are being delivered tonight, and we want to try them on you to make sure they fit. Say goodbye to the girls, and hop into your buggy, there’s a sweet.”
-
162.
More humiliation faced the boys that evening, when, true to their promise, Shirley’s latex suppliers delivered their new school pants. Five minutes before they called at Georgia’s, Violet Canter had arrived with the rest of Luke’s uniform – a little white spandex blouse with stiff collar and cuffs, a school tie, shoes and white socks, a shiny blue and red bomber jacket with the St. Mary’s badge sewn onto the breast, and a little matching rucksack. She was still chatting to the ladies when the doorbell rang. Georgia answered the door, took the little squishy package, and hastened back into the living-room.
“They’ve arrived! Let’s see how he looks!”
“Ooh, yes, let’s,” said Violet, excitedly.
“Come here, Luke,” said Tessa. “Let’s get you out of those baby clothes. Lucky boy, you’re going to be a proper private schoolboy tomorrow! With your own unique uniform!”
“Well, not quite unique,” laughed Violet. “Max will have the same. I bet you two will be competing to see which one looks the cutest – which one attracts the most girls!”
They set about dressing him. On went the blouse, shiny and tight-fitting, except the crisp collar and cuffs. Violet tied his tie, while Tessa knelt and helped him into his long socks. Then she held out his puffy blue and red bloomers, and he stepped in obediently, looking far from happy. She pulled them up, and snapped the waistband into place over his blouse. Shirley had added belt loops to the specifications, and had provided little red leather belts, fitted with matching belt-purses and phone-holders. He stepped into his shiny school shoes, and the ladies stood back to admire him.
“What a sweetie!” cried Georgia. “That’s a brilliant uniform! I can’t wait to see the girls’ reaction when we walk him into the playground tomorrow morning! We should put him in a pull-up to puff those panties out a bit, maybe...”
“Don’t look so dismayed, Luke,” said Violet, encouragingly. “Look, I’ve got something for you that I’m sure will cheer you up.”
She picked up her bag, and pulled out – a lovely straw boater, with a band of blue and red ribbon. He looked aghast.
“The girls only normally wear these on special occasions, but…well, if your first day isn’t a special occasion, I don’t know what is.”
“That’s sweet, Violet,” said Tessa. “Know what? I’m going to get the curling tongs out tonight, and give him some lovely ringlets!”
“No, it’s all right, I’m fine like this…” whined Luke. But he was immediately outvoted.
“Nonsense. You want to make a splash on your first day, don’t you?” said Georgia.
“Not really…”
“Goodness! What a sulk! Tessa? How about a little make-up, too. Just so he’ll fit in…”
“No! You’ll want me to wear a skirt, next!”
“A skirt? Certainly not! We wouldn’t want to hide those pretty pants now, would we?” She tugged at the leg frills and let them snap back onto his thigh.
“Ow!”
“Don’t be such a baby! Oh, you are a baby, aren’t you?” she added with a snigger. She turned to Violet. “Thank you so much, Violet, And please thank Miss Trevelyan for allowing him to attend St. Mary’s. It’s such a kind gesture, and I’m sure he’ll be on his best behaviour.” She looked at Luke. “Won’t you, Luke? You’d better had be, anyway.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure Luke knows his place. And the teachers are quite strict, so if he steps out of line…” She bestowed a cold smile on the unhappy boy, making him shiver.
Violet said her goodbyes, departed, and headed for Delice’s house. As she drove, she hummed a childish tune. It might have been “boys and girls come out to play”…
The girls were waiting eagerly for her arrival. They had held off on trying on his pants, preferring to wait until they could dress him in his entire uniform. Within ten minutes they had him standing in front of a full-length mirror, staring at himself in dismay, while they screamed and whooped with delight.
“He looks just a cute as Luke,” remarked Violet. “Is your mum going to drive you to school, Amora?”
“No! We’ve persuaded her to let us take him of the bus.”
“What?” cried Max. “On the bus?”
“Yes. It’ll be much more fun. And you can get used to being stared at. Most of our friends use the same route, so they’ll get a sneak preview.”
Max looked like he was about to cry. Elsa stroked his cheek.
“Don’t be a cry-baby, Max. If you’re a cry-baby at school they’ll never let you live it down. Be brave. Take it from me, those girls are going to fancy you rotten. Don’t be surprised if they’re all over you at break. I’ll do my best to defend you, of course, but you know what adolescent schoolgirls are like…”
“I don’t think he knows what St. Mary’s schoolgirls are like,” murmured Amora. “But he’ll soon find out. Better get used to having your photo taken, Maxie. You’re going to be a celebrity!”
-
163.
Simon and Oscar were told to make their reappearance in Yulya’s afternoon class. The boys cheered as they walked through the door – while the objects of their applause, Yulya noticed with a wry smile, looked distinctly nervous.
“Guys!” shouted James. “Welcome back! Where you bin?”
“Er…” Oscar struggled to remember the name they had agreed on.
“Oh, up norf,” explained Simon… “er, the Amanda…er… somfing school…”
But it didn’t matter. No-one was really interested. All they wanted to do was relate their own story.
“You ain’t got no idea what you missed, you jerks. We ‘ad two lovely girls ‘ere…”
“Two real little c-um sluts! Wait till you hear what we were doin’ while you were up there in prison or whatever…”
“They was there every day, mouths open, waitin’ for us…”
“All trussed up an’ gaggin’ for it!”
And so on. Simon and Oscar looked at each other miserably. They didn’t want to hear any more.
“Yeah, okay, anyway, we’re back, so…”
“Wait a mo – you ain’t heard anyfing yet…”
“Yeah, like on the first day, we like couldn’t believe what we were seein’, see? An’ then…”
“Just shut up, the lot of yer. Miss? Can we get on wiv the lesson, please?”
“Yes, Simon. That good idea. Quiet boys, please. Boast to Simon and Oscar after class, yes? Right. Before begin, Miss Shirley say to tell you, this week you may have two new teacher. Miss Mitchell teach you English – and maybe another lady science. Both from St. Mary School.”
“Haha. We’ll soon deal with them…” came a voice from the back.
“Really, Ryan?” returned Yulya with a knowing smile. “Perhaps you wait till you meet them before you say such thing.”
By this time, Luke and Max were already installed in their respective classes, Luke in 10B and Max in 10C. Luke had been the first to arrive. Georgia had driven him to make sure he wasn’t late on his first day. She had walked him into the playground twenty minutes before the start of lessons, kissed him on the cheek like a fond mother, and abandoned him.
Vague rumours had been going round since the end of the previous week that as an experiment boys were going to be allowed in school. Most of the girls were disgusted, some curious, but all were annoyed with the head for withholding any sort of explanation. Now at last they saw what sort of boy was involved. The initial reaction was shock. The gasps of surprise spread like a gust of wind through the playground at his first appearance.
“What the…?”
“It’s a boy dressed as a baby!”
“Look! He’s even…suc-king a dummy!”
As indeed, in his terror, Luke was. Suc-king a dummy, holding his boater in one hand and gripping the crotch of his pants tightly in the other, cheeks scarlet, ringlets trembling.
The shock quickly gave may to a sort of delighted fascination. In a moment he found himself surrounded by a circle of girls, chattering, giggling and squealing, more pressing in from the back as the whole playground converged on the new pupil. He was thankful Georgia had decided to put him in a pull-up, as he fought off the urge to empty his bladder in sheer fright. In another few seconds the circle had collapsed, and he found himself being explored by inquisitive hands, his pants tugged at, his thighs pinched and squeezed, his ears pulled. Excited faces pressed close to his, forcing him to shut his eyes. He whimpered, but whichever way he turned there was no escape. Just when he thought he was going to faint, or wet himself, an icy voice cut through the hubbub.
“Girls! Stand back, please! Let him breathe!”
Miss Trevelyan had arrived on the scene. The crowd opened up like the Red Sea, leaving a wide passage for the head, flanked by two very supercilious-looking prefects.
“Ah. Good morning…Luke, isn’t it? Yes, of course. Welcome to St. Mary’s, Luke. I hope you’re going to enjoy your stay.” She smiled maternally. “Do you like your uniform? I’m impressed. Miss Dearman certainly has a felicitous eye. I can’t imagine a more suitable outfit for a new boy. Smart but…er, modest.” She turned and addressed her flock. “Girls. Luke will be joining us for the foreseeable future, with his best friend Max. I want you all to treat them with respect, and help them to settle in.”
Whispers of “another one?” “Max? Where?” “What fun!”
“Ah, Luke, I see you even have a school boater. Why don’t you put it on, and then Felicity and Phillipa here will show you the ropes.” She turned to the two prefects, each of them a good few inches taller than Luke himself. “Girls? Would you stay with Luke until lunchtime, please? Make sure he understands the rules, and show him all the facilities.”
“Yes, Miss Trevelyan,” the two replied simultaneously, each with an almost imperceptible sneer.
“And Luke, I’m sure you’ll soon make friends. And I’ve asked your teacher to introduce you to your class immediately after registration. Now…where’s that Max?”
-
164.
Max, Amora and Elsa were still on the bus. Maybe it was because there was a light drizzle, but the traffic was heavy that morning, and the bus was crowded.
“I hope we’re not late,” said Elsa. “I hate being late. Having to go to that bitch’s office and register…”
“That bitch” was the school secretary, Miss Blackshear. The word was that she was related to royalty on her mother’s side. She certainly behaved like it, and it was impossible to get the better of her caustic sarcasm.
“Ah, Miss Robertson,” she’d said the last time Amora was late. “How nice of you to grace us with your presence. Let me see…ah, yes. The third time this month you’ve been late. What’s that you say? Couldn’t find your homework? You mean you actually did some? Well, I’m sure we’re all thankful for that. At least you remembered your head, even if you didn’t manage to comb your hair…” And so on.
“I don’t care. fuc-k her,” rejoined Amora. Anyway, it’s been worth it, eh?”
Indeed it had. When they caught the bus at the stop just down the road from the house, they found there was only one double seat unoccupied. Most of the other seats were crammed with St. Mary’s students of all ages, who were now staring at Max open-mouthed. The girls bundled in, ignoring him.
“You’ll have to stand,” said Amora. “Hold on tight. The roads round here can be a bit bumpy.”
So poor Max was forced to stand in the gangway, holding onto a high rail.
“Couldn’t have planned it better if we’d tried,” smirked Elsa. “Now everyone on the bus can get a good eyeful.”
Amora was waving to all her schoolfriends.
“Hi Jane. Hi Nicola…Rachael… Meet Max. I told you we were hosting a boy-baby for a week, didn’t I? Here he is. He’ll be at St. Mary’s from now on. I know you’ll all look after him…”
“What’s he wearing…?” screamed Nicola.
“These?” asked Amora, reaching up and giving the scarlet frills of Max’s pants a playful tug. “These are official rubber St. Mary’s bloomers, for big baby boys. Do you like them? In fact, this is the complete St. Mary’s boys’ uniform, which any boy that comes to our school is going to have to wear in the future, by order of Miss Trevelyan herself!”
They all gaped. “I have to have a feel,” murmured Rachael, getting out of her seat and making her way forward to where max was standing, in the middle of the bus. “Oh my god, you’re so cute, Max. I just want to feel….” She gasped. “The rubber’s so soft! And his little jacket, and his socks, and…everything! It’s just too darling!”
The bus was stuck in a traffic queue now, and the rest of the girls took the opportunity to approach and explore their new schoolmate.
“What’s this here?” cried one, pointing at the little protuberance pressing against the front of his pants. (Amora had decided against a pull-up, feeling that she would like Max to appear au naturel.)
“That…ah, that’s his little…er, container… To keep him out of mischief, if you know what I mean. Touch it. You can’t do any harm. It’s quite hard…the device, I mean.”
The girl flicked it a couple of times, and giggled hysterically. She turned to her friend.
“Hey, Celia, come and have a feel of this. “What’s it made of, Am?”
“Oh, plastic covered steel I think. Yeah – his thing’s not going anywhere in that, so you don’t have to worry. You’re all safe.”
“We are, but he isn’t!” someone from behind them, with a spiteful laugh.
The aforementioned Celia was now making a more careful examination of the device.
“It’s curled over…his willy can’t straighten up at all…there’s a little compartment for his balls, too. What a clever thing!”
“They have locks so the guy can’t remove it,” said Elsa, knowledgeably. “Though this one is permanent – isn’t it, Maxie?” she added, with a smirk.
“fuc-k. I wish I could get my boyfriend into one of these. I could make him do anything... For one thing, he’d have to use his mouth a bit more often…”
“Celia, shush! Really. Not in front of the children, please…”
“Oops, sorry. But look at his little jacket, and he’s got the school tie and everything!” She stroked Max’s cheek. “And you’re really cute, Maxie. Which class are you in?”
Max's cheeks were burning now, and his lip was quivering like a baby about to cry.
“He’s in 10C with us,” said Elsa. “Never mind, though. The other one’s in your class.”
“The other one?”
“Luke. He’s just as cute. You’ll see him soon enough…”
The bus was making slow progress. It was quite hot inside, and the scent of warm latex filled the air. Despite his weak efforts to ward them off, a couple of the older girls also helped themselves to a feel of Max’s erection control device, and everyone agreed it was an excellent idea for over-sexed adolescent boys. The conversation was punctuated by the continual clicking of shutters and Max’s bus-ride was recorded for posterity – and for friends and family.
“We are gonna be late,” said Elsa.
“Good,” returned Amora. “I want to see Miss Blackshear’s face when we take Max into her office. I reckon she’ll be totally outraged, if Miss Trevelyan hasn’t told her yet.”
“I do hope so,” said Elsa. “I think the reason she’s always so bitter is cos really she’d like to cane us, but she isn't allowed.”
“Oh, do you think so? That may be right. I bet she would…”
The bus arrived at last, and they filed off. The playground was almost empty. Because they had missed the bell, everyone on the bus had to report to the school office. Amora patted Max’s bottom.
“Come on Maxie. You’re going to meet our favourite lady, Miss Blackshear. We’ll have to queue up at the side of her desk while she marks us in. Make sure you stand as close to her as you can, won’t you? And push your pelvis forward, so your pants get nice and taut over your little willy, and she can smell the hot rubber. Get it? I want to see her reaction. My phone’s on silent, and I’m going to try to get a snap.”
“Go, Am,” laughed Elsa. “I wanna see that!”
-
165.
They were near the back of the queue. The first girl to arrive at Miss Blackshear’s desk had already tried the “I’m sorry, miss – the bus was held up” excuse, and been quickly rebuffed.
“Well, you know the roads are busy these days. You should have taken that into account and caught an earlier bus.” She glared through her black-rimmed spectacles. “Please don’t offer such pathetic excuses. One black mark against your name.”
“See?” hissed Elsa. “See what she’s like?” She pushed Max behind her. “Stay hidden till the last moment. Am? Got your phone ready?”
“Ready. Video mode.”
The queue moved quickly. Miss Blackshear was no longer looking up at the malefactors. Instead, as each one was marked in and dismissed, she would simply stay focussed on the register and snap at the next.
“Name? Form? Reason for lateness? Dismiss.”
Soon it was Elsa’s turn.
“Elsa Davies, miss, 10C. Bus, miss.”
“Next!” Miss Blackshear was getting irritable now. “Next!”
Elsa stepped aside. Max, looking nervous, was hanging back, so she put a hand in the small of his back, and thrust him forward – a little too firmly, however. He stumbled forward, put one hand onto the desk to prevent himself falling, sweeping the register and all Miss Blackshear’s papers onto the floor, and the other on the back of her chair, nearly pushing it over. He hung there for a second, trying to regain his balance, his legs pressed against her thigh, his abdomen thrust into her face! Her glasses had been knocked off into her lap.
There were gasps, but everyone seemed paralysed. No-one came to their aid. Amora was too busy with her phone, anyway. Miss Blackshear emitted a scream of horror, and in an attempt to evade the thick, pungent latex pressing against her face, turned her head sideways. Her chair was on castors, so in pushing against it in his struggle to get upright, Max felt it slowly slipping further away, tipping him even further forward and grinding his abdomen against Miss Blackshear’s cheek. With an effort, he managed to arrest the movement, which threatened to precipitate both of them onto the floor, and clung on manfully.
“Help! Someone help me, please!”
“Get him off me!”
Miss Blackshear, nostrils assaulted by the scent of hot rubber, unable to free herself or even move for fear of ending up on the floor with Max on top of her, had quickly been apprised of the her assailant’s gender by the small, hard bulge in his pants which was now digging into her cheek.
“Get him off!!”
Amora was mentally hugging herself with delight. Things could not have developed any better than this! And there they were, still pressed together like a couple of sardines. She zoomed in on Miss Blackshear’s furious face.
The little tableau was finally brought to an end by Miss Trevelyan, who at that moment appeared from her office, which was next to the Secretary’s.
“Goodness! Miss Blackshear! Whatever…?”
“He assaulted me!” came her muffled voice. “Get him off!”
“Oh. I see!”
It is possible there was the slightest hint of a smile on Miss Trevelyan’s face, though Elsa couldn’t be sure.
“Girls… Help him off, please. Carefully… Or they’ll both be on the floor.”
Three girls helped Max to stand up. Miss Blackshear struggled into an upright position.
“Thank you, girls. Now then, Max, I think you owe Miss Blackshear an apology…”
“M-miss… I’m so s-sorry… I must have slipped, and…”
“Oh. So you are Max, are you? Yes, the head mentioned her plan to import…” - she paused, as if even the sound of the word offended her – “boys into the school. I hope this is not an indication of how you propose to continue…”
“I-I’m sorry…it was an accident…”
It was clear Miss Blackshear had not been fully on board with the head’s plan. Miss Trevelyan issued a mild reproach.
“Come now, Miss Blackshear. It must have been a shock, but I’m sure Max meant no harm. He’s probably a little nervous on his first day.”
“Well, yes, of course, Miss Trevelyan.” She gave a slight shudder, adjusted her blouse, and fiddled with her bouffant. “I’ll mark him in…”
The day had started well, Amora thought, as she and Elsa led Max and a couple of their friends from the bus to the classroom. A great video, for sharing with her inner circle only.
Through the glass panels in the door she could see the rest of the class were already seated, and their class teacher, Miss Clarkson, was walking back and forth in front of the blackboard. She guessed from the excitement and amusement on the faces of her schoolmates that she was preparing them for Max’s arrival. As they entered, a ripple of chattering broke out.
“Quiet please, girls. Your four, take your seats please. Max, I’m Miss Clarkson. Welcome to 10C. Come over here if you would.”
She guided him to the front of her desk, facing the class. She could feel him trembling slightly, and his ears were red with self-consciousness. Good. Miss Clarkson was also not wholly in agreement with the head’s decision to host these two boys. However, she was gratified to see him dressed in such a humiliating version of the school uniform. Maybe Miss Trevelyan wasn’t as misguided as she had thought. So despite her initial reservations, she allowed herself a quiet smile. All right, he hadn’t had any choice in the matter. But she didn’t much like boys, and she determined at that moment that she would teach him a lesson. Who could say… It might even be rather fun…
“Girls, allow me to introduce Max Dinsford. In recent months Max has been attending P and S, just along the road. Some of you may remember him and his friend Luke paying us a brief visit. But now Max and Luke have been enrolled as students of St. Mary’s, at least for the foreseeable future. We hope they settle in quickly, and have an enjoyable and profitable stay.” She smiled, and continued. “You will see that Max has his very own St. Mary’s uniform. Here, Max, stand up here so everyone can get a good view.”
She produced a little wooden stool from behind her desk, and placed it in front of the class. Max looked at it nervously.
“Go on. Jump up.”
He climbed onto the stool, lowered his head, and held his straw boater in front of him.
“Don’t be shy, Max. Come on, put on your boater and raise your head. Show the girls how smart you are!”
Reluctantly, he complied, cheeks burning now as well as ears.
“That’s it. Hands by your side, please. Now…”
She picked up her pointer. A hush fell over the class, broken only by the occasional stifled giggle. All eyes were focussed on Max.
“I’ll just run through his uniform, and then I’ll ask for your views. I know you’re all quite fashion savvy. Let’s start at the top. Boater. You all have one. They are worn on special occasions. Max is wearing his because this is his first week – his special occasion. Tie. The standard school tie in school colours. Blouse. The boys have special blouses made of spandex, except the collar and cuffs, so they fit nice and close and won’t get torn.”
“Why do they have to be spandex, miss?”
“Ah. Well, boys can play rather roughly, and I don’t think a loose blouse in lightweight cotton would be ideal… But also, they tuck nicely into the next item of his uniform, his bloomers” – here she tapped his hip with her pointer – “without spoiling the lines.”
“Why is he wearing, like, baby pants, miss?” asked a girl at the back, with a giggle.
“Well, first of all – and I’m not sure whether you know this - because both boys are fitted with special devices to calm their natural boyish unruly tendencies.” She tapped Max’s device sharply with her pointer. It made a satisfying clicking noise. “It’s a curved metal tube, which keeps his little pen-is under control, and his mind on his work. So loose puffy baby-style pants are much more fitting. Second, because he and Luke are being trained as babies. When they grow up the hope is they may want to stay babies.”
Gasps. Cry of “what, for ever, miss?”
“Maybe…”
Max had had enough. “No! Don’t wanna be a baby forever! Don’t wanna wear baby pants any more! Luke can if he wants. He likes being a baby. I don’t!”
“Max! That’s quite enough, thank you! How dare you shout in my class. You’ll wear what your guardians tell you, and no arguments!”
“But, miss…”
“Quiet! Goodness me, what a way to start your education at St. Mary’s. Another word out of you and I’ll have to send you to the head!” And she gave him a smart little crack on the bottom with her pointer to drive the message home.
Max looked downcast.
“Understood?”
He looked at her resentfully, but eventually… “Yes, miss…”
“Right. Then I’ll continue. So, those pretty latex pants in the school colours with nice frills at the legs, then white socks and standard school shoes. I think it’s a lovely outfit. Girls? Any comments?”
“I like it, miss! He looks so cute. I think he should stay a baby forever!”
“Scarlett?”
“I don’t think it’s fair, miss. If he doesn’t want to be a baby, he shouldn’t have to be.”
“I agree with Scarlett, miss. And if he didn’t have to wear that…thing…he wouldn’t have to wear baby pants…”
“What would be wear instead, then, Jacqueline?”
“How about shorts, miss? They’d look just as nice…”
“Yes, please, miss,” wailed Max. I’m in big school after all. I shouldn’t still be a baby. And wearing this device thing is making me feel ill. I get so frustrated I’ll never be able to focus on my work…”
“Poor Max,” cried someone else. “See? It’s making him ill. Miss, you should send him to the nurse…”
“Yes, miss,” came a chorus of voices, “let him go and see Nadine…”
-
166.
Further down the corridor, in 10B, Luke was undergoing a similar introduction at the hands of Mrs Melchitt. She, however, was a much more kind-hearted and motherly woman, who had three children now grown up, and for who the pretty, curly-haired Luke brought back nostalgic memories of her own babies. She sat him on her knee in front of the class, stroked and kissed his cheeks, and spoke to him softly in the third person.
“Is baby Luke liking his first day at his new school?”
Luke had that very morning decided resistance was futile, and that the best thing would be, for the time being at least, to be seen to embrace babyhood wholeheartedly. He had been encouraged by the reception he had had from the other pupils; he had been cuddled and kissed and fawned upon by girls of all ages, and he was a boy vulnerable to excessive shows of attention and affection. Moreover he liked the way everyone eulogised about his outfit, and he had started to enjoy the feeling of the ringlets tickling his ears, the comfort of the thick pull-up, and the reassuring grip of the leg bands of his pants. Yes, he thought, there were lots of advantages to being treated like a baby. So for the time being I might as well go with it, and keep everyone happy.
“Yeth, thank you, mith. Baby Luke like Thaint Mary’s very much.”
“Oh. You’re such a good boy, Luke! Now girls, I want you to look after Luke very nicely. Who would like to be his chaperones for this week?” Eager hands shot up. “Hilary…yes, and…let me see…Lavinia. He will be your responsibility, and next week we’ll have two other girls.”
It has been said that it is more difficult to change an individual’s natural inclinations by argument or coercion than to pass a Boy Scout through the hole in his own woggle. And indeed this was the case with Luke and Max, the first instinctively drawn to regression, the latter constantly fighting against it and made miserable by the struggle. And being surrounded by girls of his own age had compounded his misery and frustration to the extent that, as the week went on, he started throwing tantrums in class. Even Miss Clarkson was forced to confess that the situation was not sustainable, and after the intervention of Violet Canter he did indeed visit Nadine on two occasions. Nadine was gentle and sympathetic – as well as young and pretty.
“So, Max, why don’t you tell me exactly how you feel? I hear things haven’t been going very well in class.”
“No… I’m really sorry… I can’t explain why, really…”
“Do you not like being at St. Mary’s? I fully understand if an all-girls private school is not your bag…”
“No. No, not at all,” he responded, hastily. “I love the school. The girls are so…” – he was about to say “cute” – “the girls are so friendly…”
“So what’s the problem, darling?”
He sighed. “You know about my… You know I have to wear…”
“Rubber pants?”
“No. Not that. The other thing.”
“Ah. Your device. Yes. I read your notes.”
“Well… I just can’t live with it. And the thought that it’s permanent… It’s too much…”
His eyes filled with tears. Nadine took his hands. “Oh, you poor thing…” She gave him a cuddle. She had silky hair and rather firm breasts.
“Oh, no… please don’t…” He pulled away.
“Oh. Yes. I see the problem now. That’s…awful.”
“Yes, it is. I’m uncomfortable all day long. I can’t even do anything about it after I get home.”
“Does Amora help at all?”
Max turned bright red. “Y-yes. She and Elsa are very…er, thoughtful…”
“Okay Max. Look, don’t worry. I’m going to talk to Miss Trevelyan, and we’ll see what we can do.”
The upshot was that two days later Max spent the morning at P & S, and was visited by female engineer from the company that produced the ERDs. Within five minutes the bolts had been drilled out, and he was free.
“There. Does that feel better?”
“It feels great! At last!”
“I’m not surprised. This ERD is a size smaller than you should have been wearing!”
“Really?”
“Yes. Perhaps your friend is smaller than you, and they gave you both the same size…”
“That’s it! I bet!”
“Anyway, you’re free now.”
Shirley knocked and peeped round the door.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes, madam. All done.”
“Max. Does that feel better?”
“It feels…amazing!”
“So what do you want to do for the rest of the…”
“I want to go back to St. Mary’s, miss.”
“We were thinking…as you’re not going to be a baby any more…maybe some different pants?”
“Whatever. But these are fine for now. I must get back and tell Elsa.”
“Elsa?”
“Amora’s best friend. We share a desk in 10C.”
“Oh. I see… But Max?”
“Yes, miss?”
“Best behaviour, you understand? You’re on probation now. Miss Trevelyan won’t tolerate any hanky-panky.”
“Hanky-panky, miss?”
“You know what I mean…”
“Yes, miss. Don’t worry, miss.”
Max quite happily set off by himself. Shirley returned to her office, where Mandy was waiting.
“Well?”
“All done. He’s happy now. Gone scurrying back to his girls.”
“Did you do the right thing, I wonder?”
“Well, there really wasn’t any choice, if we didn’t want to upset the relationship with St. Mary’s. Though what he might get up to now, heaven knows. You know Miss Trevelyan only sanctioned the arrangement in the first place because they were both under firm control?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“So I offered to withdraw him. But now she’s met him I think she’s taken a fancy to him. So he’s on probation. Miss Clarkson, his form teacher, is going to keep an eye on him.”
“Fingers crossed, then.”
“Yes. If he gets himself sent back here he’s going to end up as a permanent party toy for anyone who wants to hire him.”
“Ooh, Shirley, you wouldn’t…”
“I would. Which reminds me, this party that Teddy’s arranged. We need to finalise arrangements for the boys.”
“And the equipment. One cage, and we need to go round and do the wall fittings. I’ll get Yulya and Anna on it.”
-
167.
Miss Trevelyan understood very well the need to maintain a strictly austere, even daunting, persona in front of the school. In private she was rather more laid back. As a young teacher she had had a very well-developed sense of mischief, and was known for her ambiguous comments and even the occasional practical joke. But when she was appointed head of St. Mary’s, all that had to be concealed in the interest of maintaining discipline. It was true that, when confronted with serious misbehaviour, she occasionally found the need to resort to a little razor-edged sarcasm – but it was no longer delivered with a wry smile, as in the past, but quite deadpan, so that the girl on the receiving end had no intimation it was intended to do anything but wound.
She had become so used to dealing with young females, she understood their strategies and motivations so well, that she had been taken aback by the relative naïvety of the new male students. She had never taught or supervised boys, and at first sight it seemed as if they were a different species of being, without deviousness but with a charming gaucheness. The unfortunate encounter between Max and Miss Blackshear had made her want to laugh out loud. She had known the school secretary for years, and she was certain that within that severe exterior was an equally severe spirit. It had been good to see her so suddenly and comprehensively humiliated. In fact, she had noted Amora surreptitiously filming the episode, and at break she approached Miss Clarkson and asked that she find an excuse to confiscate her phone for the day, and convey it to her for examination - by which subterfuge she intended to obtain a copy of the video for her own private amusement.
So her apparent tolerance in allowing Max to stay at St. Mary’s unfettered, as it were, was in fact that old sense of mischief bubbling to the surface.
“I really don’t know what might ensue,” she had said to herself, “but I think I’m tired of the endless status quo. It really can’t do any harm, can it? And I can return him any time I want.” She sat in her office musing, a twinkle in her eye. “It’s not that I’m putting the cat amongst the pigeons…no. On the contrary, I think it’s more like putting the pigeon amongst the cats…”
The pigeon in question had resumed his seat next to Elsa.
“Is it…off?”
“It’s off!”
“Great! We can have some real fun tonight.” (By “we”, she meant herself and Amora.)
“Shh…miss is watching us…”
“I don’t care.”
She put her hand on his thigh. “Soon be home time,” she whispered, keeping her eyes attentively fixed on Miss Clarkson. Nevertheless the eagle-eyed teacher was alert to the slightest move, and she could see the girls at the neighbouring desks looking across and smirking.
“Elsa! No talking! You’re distracting the class.”
“Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.”
“Any more nonsense and I’ll send the pair of you to the head.”
Elsa lowered her eyes in silent compliance. But behind the back of the girl in front she was playing with her felt-tip pen, her slim manicured fingers caressing the end suggestively. As Max watched, heart beating faster, she wrapped her hand around the shaft, and scratched at the cap with one sharp fingernail.
He took a deep breath. Involuntarily, his newly-freed member was swelling and stiffening. In less than a minute it was fully erect, his pants stretched taut over the head. Elsa stifled a giggle. This guy was so easy! She could even get him aroused by telepathy! Max’s cheeks had turned bright red. Miss Clarkson was still looking at them suspiciously. The girl just across the aisle to Mitch’s left was staring open-mouthed.
“What is going on with you two? Right. Out here, now. At once!”
Elsa got to her feet and made her way to the front. Max remained where he was, desperately trying to will his unruly boyhood into submission. But it had a mind of its own, and obstinately refused to lie down.
“Max Dinsford! Did you hear what I said? Max!”
With a snort of anger, Miss Clarkson marched down the aisle and took Max by the ear. It was only then that she caught sight of the cause of his reluctance. She stared at it for a moment, speechless, between disgust and amazement.
“Well, really…” was all she could think of to say. She pulled herself together.
“Angelica…go and fetch one of the prefects from upstairs. You can tell the teacher it’s urgent. Dayita? Go to the office and borrow a school cardigan – a large one. Quickly, please.”
The girls hurried away on their errands. Angelica returned first, with a tall, serious young woman wearing black tights under her school skirt in tow.
“Ah – Wendy. I want you to take two pupils to the head. No, wait a minute. Leave them with Miss Blackshear, and I’ll write a note for you to give to Miss Trevelyan.” She paused, and shook her head in disbelief.
“Dayita – did you…? Ah, good. Give it to me.”
She pulled Max into a standing position and prepared to tie the arms of the cardigan around his waist. For a brief moment the offending bulge was visible to the whole class, eliciting a collective gasp, followed by a buzz of conversation punctuated by hysterical giggles.
“Quiet, girls! This is not a laughing matter, as Mr Dinsford is about to discover. Please go and stand by Wendy, while I write a note.”
Two minutes later Wendy was leading Max and Elsa to the school office.
“That’s what happens when you introduce boys into the school,” she said, as if to herself.
“Yeah. Great, isn’t it,” responded Elsa, with a cheeky grin, which Wendy replied to with a supercilious sneer.
Miss Blackshear’s face as Max entered her office was a picture.
“What’s he doing here again?”
“Sorry miss. I have no idea,” said Wendy, in a bored tone. “Miss Clarkson asked me to give this to the head.” She handed over the note. Miss Blackshear reached out to take it, but stopped in mid-movement. Elsa had whipped off the cardigan, and all at once the reason for his reappearance had become startlingly clear.
“This is why, miss,” said Elsa, as matter-of-factly as she was able. “He got his device taken off, see?”
Miss Blackshear was almost choking with revulsion. She turned puce, her mouth fell open and her eyes bulged.
“W-what… H-how… Why, you disgusting, horrid boy!” she screamed. “Such a…thing? In St Mary’s…?”
Max stood there, frightened, not knowing what to do. His erection was pointing directly at the school secretary, and quivering slightly under the taut latex. It was at that moment that Miss Trevelyan emerged from her office.
“What’s going on? Miss Blackshear, what is the matter? What’s…. Goodness me!”
She had caught sight of the object of Miss Blackshear’s reproach.
Wendy turned to her. “Miss Trevelyan. Miss Clarkson asked me to give you this.”
She handed over the note, and while the head was distracted reading it and Miss Blackshear was still fixated on Max’s distended pants, took the opportunity to grab a quick snap.
“May I go now, miss?”
“Er, yes, of course, Wendy.”
And off she went to share the evidence with her friends in the prefects’ room.
Miss Trevelyan quickly took charge of the situation. She drew in a deep breath.
“Right. Max. You’d better come into my office. We can’t have you standing here like that. If any of the younger girls were to see you they’d be traumatized. Elsa, you too. Miss Blackshear – you can close your mouth now. Probably best not to stare at it too long…”
“Miss Trevelyan… I mean… I wasn’t…”
“And could you send Nadine to me? As soon as possible, please.”
She ushered the two into her office and closed the door.
“Have a seat. Dear, dear, Max, whatever are we going to do with you?”
“Are you going to expel me, miss?”
“I’m not giving up on you yet. The school needs a bit of a shake-up. However, there are limits.”
“There was a knock at the door.
“Come in… Ah, Nadine. Max here has a problem…as you can see. He needs cooling off. Can you help him? I know this is not in your usual line, but you always seem to find some suitable treatment whatever the problem…”
Nadine was looking especially smart. A crisp grey nurse’s outfit, a short apron, shiny stockings, and scarlet lip-gloss. She glanced at Max, quite unfazed.
“I think I may be able to help. Would you like to come with me to the infirmary, young man?”
Max rose. Nadine took him by the hand and led him out, checking first that the coast was clear.
“Nadine will come up with something, I’m sure,” said Miss Trevelyan. Now, Elsa. From what Miss Clarkson say here” – she held up the note – “she suspects you may have had something to do with Max’s – ah – state.”
“Me, miss?” said Elsa innocently.
“Well, whatever. I won’t recriminate. I must speak to Miss Dearman and see if she can suggest a solution.”
She picked up the phone and went to the window. She lowered her voice. Elsa couldn’t hear much of what was said, but at the end of the conversation she heard a mention of what sounded like “control pants”.
“So, when could we expect…? Today? Oh, thank you. I was afraid we might have to keep him out of lessons. Are they effective? I see…yes. All right. I look forward to seeing Anna shortly, then. No, no problem. I really would hate to lose him. Yes. A breath of fresh air…”
-
168.
“Let’s have a coffee while we’re waiting, shall we Elsa?”
Miss Trevelyan opened the door and called to Miss Blackshear.
“Doris? Could we have two white coffees please. Oh, and some biscuits, if you wouldn’t mind. Thank you so much.”
The coffee and biscuits arrived after a few minutes, delivered by a rather sniffy Miss Blackshear, who placed the tray on the head’s desk and left, pointedly ignoring Elsa.
“Oh, dear,” said Miss Trevelyan. “I hope Max didn’t upset her too much. I’ll have a chat with her later. But Elsa, how are you? How’s things in 10C?”
They chatted for a while about the school, about graffiti in the toilets, about arrangements for Christmas. They were just finishing their coffee when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
It was Max, followed by Nadine.
“Max! There you are. Oh, you look much better. Did Nadine find something to help?”
Max looked slightly dazed, and his ears and neck were inflamed. His erection had quite subsided, however. He looked at her as if he didn’t quite understand the question. Nadine smiled. She was wearing surgical gloves. She dabbed at her shiny lips with a rather sticky-looking tissue.
“Yes, Miss Trevelyan,” she said sweetly. He’s all better now, aren’t you darling?” She patted his cheek. A couple of drops of something milky glistened in her hair…
Elsa returned to class, leaving Max in the head’s office. Anna arrived shortly after, and handed Miss Trevelyan a package. She opened it, and held up a little pair of heavyweight latex shorts with frilled legs.
“Miss Dearman say, sorry we only have plain blue at present. She order blue and red today. To make up, she stick little red heart on leg, here.”
“Oh, how sweet of her! Now, let me see… Can you show me how this works?”
“Yes, I show. Inside three loops welded to front seam. Bottom one go around base of shaft, behind balls. Middle one around middle of shaft, top one below head. Bottom loop keep pen-is erect - must be erect for control to work, but latex thick so keep it nice and flat against tummy.”
“Clever! Let’s get them on him, shall we, Max?”
“What?” Max backed away. This didn’t sound cool at all.
“Come on, don’t be shy. Anna will help you.”
Ignoring his weak remonstrances, they undid his belt, stripped off his baby pants, and made him step into the shorts. Anna pulled them up – not without a struggle, because although liberally powdered, they were tight and strong. While Miss Trevelyan held open the waistband, Anna reached down and pulled his private parts through the bottom loop. As soon as it was allowed to tighten behind his balls his pen-is began to swell.
“Good. It working.”
She fed it through the middle loop, and when it had attained full tumescence, she snapped the top loop over the end and worked it down till it tightened just behind the glans.
“There. Done.”
“Gosh,” said Miss Trevelyan, “what a clever idea. There’s no way it can slip out of those bands, is there?”
She let go of the waistband and rethreaded his belt, buckling it tightly. “Now let’s have a look at you. Here, face the window.” She stood back. “What a difference! It’s just as stiff as before, but now it’s all neatly strapped up it can’t offend anyone, can it Anna?”
“No. I think it look very smart. And will stay nice and straight to attention all day.”
“Hmm… He’s quite a big boy, isn’t he?” She grinned. “Better keep your belt tightly buckled, Max, or you’ll be bursting out of the waistband!”
She opened the door of a small wardrobe in one corner. “Take a look at yourself in the mirror. This is the way to go. Don’t you agree?”
Max stared at himself. It was nice to be out of those baby pants, it was true. He had never wanted to be made into a baby in the first place, and then to be sent to a girls’ school as one was intolerable. If Luke wanted to acquiesce, that was his business. He wanted to be at St. Mary’s, but he wanted to be there as a boy, a year ten boy mixing with girls of his own age. But no year ten boy would be seen dead dressed like this! Apart from the rest of the juvenile uniform, these shorts were almost as short as his baby pants. They were frilled at the legs. His prick was proudly displayed for all to see – all right, so it was compressed against his tummy, flattened by the thick, taut latex, trussed up tight – but it would be permanently erect, standing straight up like a fat little sausage, with his little balls splayed out symmetrically at the bottom of the shaft! How was he supposed to chat up a girl like that? She’d be continually checking it out, wondering whether she dare ask him if she could measure it, giggling about it with her friends! How could he impress any of them with his cool and his sharp wit, or his good looks, with that thing permanently straining at his shorts, demanding attention? And what about lunchtime, and break? Then it would be not only his own year, but the whole school! Imagine how humiliating that would be! No. There was no way he was going to accept this.
“I’m sorry, Miss Trevelyan. I’m sure you mean well, but I’m not wearing these.”
“I beg your pardon, Max?”
“I’m not wearing them.”
“I see. Just one moment.”
She picked up the phone and dialled a number.
“Shirley. Hi. It’s Heather Trevelyan again. Your student seems not to be grateful at all. He says he’s not wearing them… Can you believe it? I know. You have?” She turned to Max. “She’s already ordered two more pairs, in the school colours. Here, she wants to have a word with you.”
She handed him the phone.
“Max? So you’re refusing to wear them?”
“Miss, I-I…you see, it’s just that…”
“Yes?”
“It’s not that I’m ungrateful…”
“You wanted your ECD taken off. I got it taken off. You’ve been complaining about being dressed as a baby, so you decided to make an exhibition of yourself and nearly got yourself expelled. Then Miss Trevelyan generously said you could stay, and I provided you with special shorts than would enable you to regain your status as a boy. And after all that, you think you can rebel?”
“No… I…”
“Well, you can’t. I have full control over your therapy. I can do anything I like. I can have your device reinstated – and this time it will be permanent. I can dress you as a tiny toddler, with masses of satin and lace. I can fit you with permanent locked sissifier, through which you will be fed and watered. I can advertise you for hire for hen parties, and leave your treatment to the partygoers. I can turn you into a piggy or a cow and show you all over the county. Or I can simply release all the material I already have on you, and make you famous.”
“Miss! No! Please…”
“Or you can do as you’re told, wear what you’re told, and get a good education. Well? What is it to be?”
“I’ll…do as I’m told, miss….”
“You had better. But to remind you of your disobedience, I will have one pair of your new school shorts fitted with a butt-plug, to help keep you nice and hard…”
-
169.
Luke had had a miserable lunchtime. There was no sign of Max, no moral support, and so far he hadn’t made any friends – a lot of acquaintances, eager to get a close-up look at him, but no friends. Everywhere he went all he heard were squeals, gasps, and giggles – and lots of excited chatter. He had contrived to stay in his classroom at break, but at lunchtime he had to go to the canteen by himself, and stand in the queue. Apart from the fact he was being stared at by the whole room, the girls immediately ahead of him were in fits, whispering and laughing, suddenly swinging round and pretending to be surprised, while those behind him kept up a constant chatter, whispering about “what sweet little rubber pants” he had, speculating “whether he needs changing” or if he “wants his dummy”. In fact his dummy was pinned to his jacket on a length of ribbon, and once or twice he felt so distressed he almost yielded to the urge to pop it in his mouth.
At lunch he found an empty table, but was quickly joined by three year eight girls, whose sole purpose it seemed was to torture him.
“Ella? What’s that smell?”
“Dunno. You mean that sort of rubbery smell?”
“Yeah. Can you smell it, Greta?”
“Yes. Smells like a baby’s rubber pants. If it’s a baby, he’ll probably wet himself anytime, and then we’ll be able to smell wee, too.”
“Oh, no. I hope we don’t have to change him!”
“It’s easy. Wipe him off, and put lots of cream on his botty and winkie. They like that, you know!”
He finished his lunch as quickly as he could, made his way into the playground, and headed for the hockey pitch, where there were fewer people. Even so, he had to run the gauntlet of shouts and whistles before he attained the relative peace of the grassed area. He sat on the ground to be as inconspicuous as possible, and started to eat a chocolate bar he had bought in the canteen. But he was not to be allowed much respite. His phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi… Luke?”
“Yeah…”
“It’s Helen. Remember me? In the park? Where are you?”
Luke sighed. Not now, please. “Er…you know…at school…”
“You’re not at our school. Which school?”
“Er…”
“Which school?”
He braced himself. “St. Mary’s…”
There was a moment’s silence.
“St. Mary’s? Not that posh girls’ school, though?”
“Yes. That posh girls’ school - as you call it.”
“You’re joking.”
“Unfortunately not.”
“But…how…?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We wanna hear it! Don’t we, Sandy?”
“We do!” came Sandy’s voice from the background.
There was a short pause.
“But…what are you wearing, then? They have strict uniform rules…”
“Oh, it’s….you know…”
“No, I don’t. Send us a selfie. Full-length.”
“I-I can’t… I’m, er, busy…”
“You’d better do it…or else.”
He knew what “else” was. He was about to set up his phone on timer, when he saw two girls standing watching him with serious fascination. Probably year seven.
“Hi, guys. Do me a favour. Take a picture.”
He ended the call, handed one of them his phone, and stood back, trying not to look self-conscious. After a bit of messing around she took a snap. Her friend also took one of her own. Oh, what the hell. It was no secret any more.
“Thanks.”
They remained staring at him as he sent the picture. A few seconds later Helen rang back.
“Lukie!” she cried ecstatically. “Shit! I can’t believe it! You look so cute! Love the uniform! However did you manage to get in there? It’s the perfect place for you, of course – all those girls.” She sniggered. “How’s it going – chatting them up in your…” – she stifled a giggle – “in your rubber baby pants?”
“Look…”
“Don’t say anything now. You can tell us all about it when you come over. Friday evening at seven. I’ll text you the address. Don’t be late…or - you know what to expect. And, oh yes, wear your rompers, won’t you? Those pretty blue ones. Byeee!”
“Wait!”
But she was gone. He clapped one hand to his forehead. “Shit, shit, shit…fuc-k!”
Was this how his life was going to be? One indignity after another?
It seemed that way. It was his first day of getting back by himself.
“You’re a big boy, now,” Georgia had said. “I’m sure you don’t want us hanging around the school like year seven parents, do you?”
He had to wait fifteen minutes for the first bus, which was full. The girls with him at the stop had beguiled the time teasing and pestering him, and while they waited for the next one the harassment became worse, particularly from the year sevens, who seemed, despite being newbies, the cheekiest of the lot.
“You’re Luke, aren’t you?”
No answer.
“Can I get a selfie with you for my mum? Please…?”
“An’ me!”
“All of us! Come on!”
There wasn’t really much choice. They clustered around, some with their arms around his waist. One tugged at his pants, pointing with her other hand as if to say, “See? Rubber!”
He put up with it for a few minutes, but finally he reacted.
“Stop it!” he shouted, and stamped his foot. This gesture only had the effect of sending the girls into hysterics. He was saved further humiliation by the arrival of the bus, also crowded. The girls could have pushed in front of him, but to give them their due they actually pushed him ahead. He was momentarily grateful – till he realised they had him trapped in their midst, standing in the middle of the bus, and had to suffer prods and pinches and tickles and exploratory fingers all the way to his stop.
He alighted irritable and exhausted. To avoid further attention as much as possible, he ran as fast as he could back to the house. Georgia and Tessa were waiting, wanting to know all about his day. He gave them a redacted account. He knew he had to raise the matter of Friday evening.
“Er, Georgia…?” (She had told him to drop the “Miss Randall”.)
“Yes, dear?”
“Er, could I possibly go out for a bit Friday evening? I’ve been invited to meet up with some friends from my old school…”
“Really? From P and S?”
“No, I mean my actual old school…”
“Oh. Who are they?”
“Helen and Sandy… They were a year above me…”
“Oh, that’s sweet of them. But you understand I’ll have to ring them to check… I’m obliged by the agreement with Miss Dearman to know where you are at all times. I’m your guardian, you see…”
There was nothing for it but to give her Helen’s number. She rang her straight away.
“Hello? Is that Helen? Hi. My name’s Georgia Randall. I’m just ringing to check you’ve invited Luke over on Friday evening. I’m his guardian. You did? Oh, yes, I know. Yes, he’s lovely, isn’t he. Could I possibly have a word with your parent? Thank you.” She covered the phone. “I’m going to speak to her mum, Luke. Hello? Hi. Yes, I’m Georgia, Luke’s guardian. Helen tells me… Yes, that’s right. Yes, I know. So nice that they’re getting together again… Yes… Yes… He can? That’s so kind… [aside] You can stay over, Luke. Isn’t that exciting? All right. I’ll pack him a little bag. We’ll drop him off…about seven? Perfect. See you then. Oh, yes – put her back on. Helen? Hi. It’s all fixed. We’ll bring him over on Friday. He has the address, right? Yes. Okay, well… Sorry? His blue rompers? Of course. Yes, they are pretty, aren’t they? Okay. Bye, then. Bye.”
She put down her phone. “There Luke. All done. They sound really nice people… Now, what homework do you have for tonight?”
-
170.
Friday evening arrived all too soon. After supper, Luke was led into the bathroom, where he was bathed in scented soapy water, patted dry, and brought into the lounge to be dressed.
“You want to look your best tonight, Luke,” said Tessa. “Which one of the girls do you think likes you the best? I think it must be Helen. She’s the one who seems to be making the running. What’s she like?”
Luke wanted to tell her that Helen was in point of fact a sly, scheming bitch. But he guessed it would only rebound on him, when she put on her caring, virtuous act.
“You know. Typical teenage girl. They’re pretty much all the same.”
“Oh, Luke! I think you like her…”
He sighed impatiently. Georgia was already fussing about with his outfit for the evening.
“You’ll look really special, dear. I’ve chosen things that will suit your complexion, your eyes and your lovely ringlets. But first we’re going to put you in a nice thick nappy.”
Luke screwed up his fact, and was about to object, but Georgia cut him off.
“No arguments! I want you to look nice for Helen’s mother. So you’re going to be dressed properly, with a proper nappy to show off your rompers to best effect. You’d better make sure your polite and well-behaved, too. And don’t slouch like that! Now, lie down, please.”
Wearily, Luke lay on the carpet and allowed her to encase his abdomen in a heavy towelling nappy, secured with a big silver safety-pin. To keep it in place, she produced a pair of elasticated pants in natural latex. Then came a long-sleeved yellow stretch cotton top with a frilled round collar and frilled cuffs. Then on went his blue rubberised rompers with the yellow buttons. The ensemble was completed with his matching bonnet, short yellow socks and blue sandals.
“There! If they don’t fall in love with you at first sight…”
“All three of them,” added Tessa.
“Now I’ve packed you a rucksack with everything you need,” said Georgia. “I’ve put in spare dummies, your cuffs and dummy-strap in case you’re naughty – don’t make that face, Luke! Yes, I’ve told Helen’s mummy she can use them if necessary, so that’s why I warned you to be on your best behaviour. There’s spare pull-ups, rubber pants, everything in case you need to be changed – don’t pout at me, Luke, or I’ll give you a smack on your leg! Stand still while I tie this dummy to your button. See? I even went out of my way to find a blue dummy and a pretty yellow ribbon! I don’t know, the things we do for you…”
“Don’t be ungrateful, Luke,” added Tessa. “We just want you to look nice for your friends. You don’t seem to have hooked up with anyone at school yet, so we thought you’d be glad to be friends with Helen and Sandy.”
It wasn’t that he hadn’t had offers. Girls were falling over themselves to invite him to their homes. How many of them said, “Oh, my mummy’s just dying to meet you…” In other words, she was nostalgic for when her kids had been babies, and he would be the perfect substitute for their affection. No thank you! Though sometimes, if it was a girl he really liked, he had been tempted to take the risk. But the one he would really have liked to be friends with was, oddly enough, the girl he shared a desk with. Clara Uttley had never laughed at him, or teased him. She had treated him like a friend from day one. She was pretty, in a quiet sort of way. An oval face with calm brown eyes, cheeks that were always slightly pink – and it wasn’t makeup – and straight, shiny, light brown hair cut in a simple bell. She had a pleasing serenity about her. She never seemed to get fussed, but did everything in a measured way – never jumped about or squealed or shouted like some of the more immature members of the class. He respected her for what he perceived as an inner strength, and he noticed also that she was respected by the teachers. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner. She was always pleasant to him, but then she was the same to everyone. He couldn’t fathom her. She was self-contained without being introverted. But apart from the odd enquiry about his past life, and particularly about P & S, she didn’t appear to have any real interest in him. Except… What was it? Except it was as if they had an unspoken understanding. He couldn’t explain why he sensed that, but he felt if he were ever in real trouble, he could approach her and she would help.
However, the two…miscreants he was going to meet that night were the polar opposite. Cheeky, mischievous, rude, opportunist. Yes, that about summed them up. When Tessa parked the car outside Helen’s house, he had to steel himself to open the door. He followed his guardians up the front path. The door opened before they’d even had time to knock. Helen’s mother. And exactly the sort he had anticipated. Rather overweight, untidy hair partially dyed red, and just a little too effusive.
“Oh, ladies! Lovely to meet you! I’ve hear so much about little Luke from my daughter, I couldn’t wait to meet him….”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs…er…”
“Braithwaite. But do please call me Emma.”
She showed them in, and called up the stairs.
“Helen? Sandy? Luke is here!”
A brief pause, and then the two girls came galloping down the stairs, Helen in the lead.
“Oh my god, Luke. You wore them! Good boy! Aren’t they just darling, mum? I told you, didn’t I?”
“You did, sweetie. Yes, he’s just so…cute! Ladies, would you like a coffee or something…?”
“Thanks, but as you’re babysitting, Tessa and I have booked a restaurant. Forgive us, but we need to get going.”
“No problem. Shall we talk in the morning. I can drop him back whenever convenient…”
“Let’s do that.”
They said their farewells, and Luke was left in the dubious care of the girls. If he had hoped for any protection from Helen’s mother, it soon became clear that he was going to be disappointed. Sandy has already slipped his phone out of its pocket.
“You don’t mind if I borrow this for a bit, do you Luke?”
“Yes! Give it back! Mrs Braithwaite, tell her to give it back!”
“Well, maybe…”
“Don’t worry, Emma. I only need a few minutes.”
“Yeah, mum, don’t worry. Sandy’ll give it back.”
“There, Luke. She just wants to borrow it, that’s all. Now, what would you like to eat?”
“But…”
“We’ve got pasta, pizzas, chips… What do you feel like?”
“Helen? Where’s she taking it? Why is she taking it upstairs? Make her give it back!”
“Shh, baby! Calm down. Come into the living-room so I can have a proper look at your rompers. Come on.”
Helen dragged him through the door and made him stand in front of the sofa. She sat down and began to examine the material.
“Feel this, mum. Real rubberised satin. And underneath…” She pulled open up one leg. “Look! Little latex pants over his nappy, in case he wets himself. See?”
“Goodness. Luke, darling, you have real baby clothes. But in your size. How sweet! No wonder Helen and Sandy want to play with you. I mean, you’re a bit younger and all that…not like their main friends…but being a big boy baby… That makes you rather unusual, doesn’t it? Special. You can come and stay anytime. You three will have so much fun together, I know. Don't worry, I'm not a very strict mother... We don’t have many rules here, you know… Though Georgia did say we shouldn’t hesitate to discipline you if you start getting out of hand…”
“We’ll take care of that, mum, don’t worry.”
“Of course, dear. He’s your baby, after all. I’ll leave him in your capable hands.”
“But… I’m not going to misbehave, Mrs Braithwaite, I swear…”
“I’m sure you won’t, darling.” She laughed. “I suspect you’ll find Helen and Sandy quite strict parents, so obedience would be the best policy…”
Luke frowned with dismay. What sort of a mother was she?
But at that moment Sandy returned, with a confident smile on her face.
“Here you are, baby. Phone. Keep it safe.”
“W-what have you done to it?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Mum?” said Helen. “Can we have something to eat?”
-
171.
There was no high chair, but nevertheless the girls insisted on feeding Luke, and gave him lemonade in a baby bottle, forcing him to drink by squirting it into his mouth. After supper they took him upstairs, leaving Mrs Braithwaite chatting endlessly on the phone to some friend who she called “Tipsy” – whether a name or a condition was not clear – and, oblivious of Luke’s embarrassment, relaying to her a detailed account of his appearance and behaviour. Helen brought the accessories bag with them, and they sat Luke on the floor of her bedroom while they examined the contents. He noticed that the far wall opposite the bed had been covered with posters advertising baby products, and that there were dolls and stuffed animals and a blue plastic baby’s potty on the floor. He looked at them suspiciously.
“Do you like our little collage?” smiled Helen. “We wanted you to feel relaxed and at home here during your stay.”
“Here are his cuffs, for when he’s being a bad baby,” grinned Sandy.
“Let’s see if they fit, shall we?” suggested Helen. “Here baby, hands behind your back, there’s a good boy…”
“No! I haven’t done nuffing wrong!”
“No, but you will, if we don’t take proper measures.”
“Please…”
“Hands behind your back!”
“No!”
Helen looked at Sandy. “Right. He’s asked for it.”
“What?”
“Sandy will show you.”
“Luke? Remember that video we took of you at the playground…?”
“What about it?”
“Well, sweetie, I’ve uploaded it to my laptop. See?”
She played the video to remind him. He pretended not to look, but he saw and heard enough and it was not comfortable viewing.
“So what?”
“I also uploaded all your contacts from your phone.”
“What?”
“I know, it was a breach of your privacy, but…”
“Don’t you dare…!”
“Of course not, Luke. Just so long as you behave, and play your part as our little baby, you have nothing to fear.”
“You…bitches!” He couldn’t help himself.
“There. Now that’s what I mean. That’s exactly why we need this. What do you think, Helen? Shall we send it to one contact at random?”
“Maybe two. Teach him a lesson. Don’t fuc-k with us, baby Lukie, or…”
“No! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it – I’ll do whatever you want. See?”
He thrust his hands behind his back.
Sandy looked thoughtful. “What do you think, Helen? Should we let him off this time?”
“Well…”
“Please! I’m sorry!” Though he was furious about what Sandy had done, he knew he had to conceal it under total submissiveness. None of his friends knew what was going on with him. If even one of those contacts saw that video… “Punish me any way you want! I’ll be really, really good from now on…”
His pleas and servile demeanour gratified the girls.
“All right,” said Helen. “We’ll give you a chance. But it’ll be your last chance.”
He grovelled. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be good, I promise.”
“That’s better, baby. Right. Let’s get these cuffs on you… There. Now, what else is there in there, Sandy?”
“Ooh… Look at these. Lovely big pacifiers… All for you, you lucky boy! Hey, Helen – look at this one!”
“Oh my god! I bet this is your favourite, Lukie!” She took the sissifier from Sandy.
“And there’s a retaining strap so it can be locked onto his hood. And look here! Look at these other things…”
“He looks so pretty as he is… What do you think, Sandy? Time for our little photo-op?”
“Good idea, Helen. Come on, Lukie, get up.” She helped him to his feet. “Stand over her by the baby wall and show us what you got.”
She led him over and posed him in front of all the baby posters and paraphernalia.
“What are you…?”
“Shh, baby. Be a good boy. We just want a few snaps for our album. Nothing to be scared of.”
“No…please…I don’t want no photos…”
“Luke! Stop it! Let’s not go through all that again.”
“But…”
“Anyway, we’re making a video,” said Helen, producing a tripod from the corner of the room and attaching her phone to it. “That’ll be much more fun, won’t it? Now stand there and be good while we adjust the picture.”
“Please, Helen…” Luke squirmed uncomfortably, though he didn’t dare move. “You got a video already…” He shifted from one leg to the other. With his hands cuffed behind him he felt awfully exposed. “My wrists are sore…”
“Oh, dear! What a fusspot!” tutted Helen, just like an impatient mother. “Well, all right. We’ll take them off for a while, as long as you promise to be obedient.”
“I will…I promise.”
Helen removed the cuffs and retreated, while Sandy made the final adjustments to the phone. But unfettered, Luke became even more flustered. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. But he needn’t have worried. The girls quickly took charge.
“Right,” said Helen, brusquely, “now we’re not going to talk when we start the camera, but this is what you have to do. You have to read the words on the boards I’ll hold up – nicely – don’t worry, we’re going to have a rehearsal – and follow the instructions in red. We’ve spent some time working this out, so don’t mess up – or else.” (Those two little words always filled him with foreboding.) “Understand? Okay. Let’s give it a try.”
The girls had prepared a number of large white cards with monologue and instructions written in large black capitals, interspersed with instructions in red. She held up the first one. Luke stared.
“HELLO. ME LUKE PETERS. THIS MY FAVOURITE OUTFIT, RUBBERISED SATIN ROMPERS. (TUG AT FRILLS TO SHOW ELASTICITY) OVER MY NAPPY I WEAR RUBBER SAFETY PANTS IN CASE I HAVE ACCIDENT. (PULL UP FRONT OF ROMPER PANTS AND PULL OUT LEG OF LATEX PANTS TO SHOW)
She dropped that one and held up a second.
(PUT FINGER TO MOUTH LIKE NAUGHTY CHILD AND LOOK COY) MUMMY SAYS I BIG ENOUGH TO STAY DRY BUT SOMETIMES I STILL WET MY NAPPY THEN I HAVE TO GO ON MAT AND BE CHANGED AND WIPED AND CREAMED AND POWDERED. SMELL IS NICE. SOMETIMES I DO WEE IN NAPPY COS I LIKE NICE CREAM AND POWDER SMELL…
And a third.
I HAVE LOTS OF PRETTY RUBBER PANTS. I LIKE VERY MUCH. I LIKE WEAR THEM TO GO OUT. EVERYONE SAY I SMART BOY. IF I WEAR WITHOUT NAPPY, MY WILLY GET ALL STIFF AND HOT. (HOLD CROTCH) THEN I LIKE PLAY WITH WILLY. THEN MUMMY SAY NAUGHTY BOY, NOT DO THAT, AND SMACK LEG. BUT NOT HURT.
Luke’s mouth fell open. “No way! You’re fuc-king joking…”
Helen and Sandy looked at each other.
“I can assure you we’re perfectly serious, Luke,” said Sandy, firmly. “You’d better play along, young man.” She went to her laptop on the chest of drawers and opened it. “All I have to do is open this file, and with a couple of clicks it’ll be sent to everyone you know. Would you like that? I can do it, if you’d prefer. Then you might as well go home. We’ll have no further use for you. Well? Shall I?”
Luke’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t!” He stamped his foot with frustration and impotence. “All right! I’ll do what you want! Let’s get on with it, then.”
“That’s better, Luke. Right. So let’s run through it, shall we? And put some feeling into it…”
Luke groaned. He had feared something like this, but hoped Helen's mother would protect him. Well, it could hardly get any worse.
But it could.
-
172.
They spent a good twenty minutes rehearsing, during which the girls came up with a few extra ideas. In between statements, he had to pick up the dummy pinned to his bib and put it in his mouth and suc-k it vigorously. The girls were delighted to see that, quite of his own unconscious volition, he squirmed with embarrassment throughout, wriggling and pressing his thighs together in the most comical manner. Their main concern was that his little monologue should come over as untutored and sincere. They really didn’t think it would be possible to achieve this, but they hadn’t taken into account that by forcing him to repeat the same stuff time after time, and repeatedly correcting him on his delivery, they not only got the required result, but they demonstrated that behaviour can govern emotions – as, when one is feeling miserable, forcing a smile can actually make one feel happier. So, soon he was acting quite in character, and even ad-libbing!
“Hello! Me baby Luke Peters. Me wearing my very favouritest outfit, my rubber satin rompers!”
“Sometimes I wee my nappy deliberately, cos I like feeling cold cream on my botty, and smelling nice scented baby powder!”
He was getting nicely into his role, and was about to eulogise about his willy, when he suddenly stopped in mid-declamation and his face fell.
“Come on, Lukie – you’re doing so well. What’s the matter?”
He stared at the floor, lip quivering.
“What’s up, darling?”
“…my willy…”
“Yes, we know you have a willy. What about it?”
“I can’t… I can’t…actually…play with it…”
“What? Why ever not? Come on – speak up.”
“It’s… It’s… Auntie Shirley put it in…a special tube thing…”
Helen and Sandy stared at each other for a moment. “What?” said Helen.
“Show us!” cried Sandy.
And without further ado, they unbuttoned and pulled off his rompers, unpinned his nappy, and a moment later the reason for his distress was plain for them to see.
“Oh my god, Luke! You must have been very bad for her to do this.”
“I wasn’t… Well, not really… And she says it won’t ever come off!”
“What, ever? Don’t be silly. She’s not serious, darling. I’m sure if you’re very good she’ll get it taken off for you.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course! She’s just playing with you. But while you’re a little baby, it’s probably for the best.”
“No it’s not! I hate her! She a bitch! It’s not fair!”
Helen gasped. “Well, if that’s how you behave…it’s no wonder she’s punished you.”
Her mother appeared at the door.
“What was that? Who was he calling a bitch?”
“Hi mum. Miss Dearman. Cos of this.” She stood aside.
Mrs Braithwaite did a double-take. Then advanced cautiously for a closer look.
“Goodness…that’s so neat. Now I come to think of it, Georgia did say something…but I didn’t really take any notice…”
She stood there staring at it, a smile hovering on her lips. Looking up to Luke’s face, she saw he was frowning and pouting.
“There, there, Luke. You know it’s for the best… Adolescent boys…a degree of restraint necessary…tend to get out of hand…sure it’s only temporary…”
“Oh dear,” said Sandy. “And you were so happy just now. Then you got all rude and nasty.”
“Yes,” said Helen. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to punish you…”
“No!”
“…or would you prefer we reported you to Miss Dearman?”
“What? No! Don’t do that! Okay, punish me yourselves….”
“Good boy. Sandy? What do you think? Maybe the…” And she whispered something in her friend’s ear.
Ten minutes later he found himself naked except for his socks and sandals, hands cuffed behind his back, stretched face down on a plastic changing-mat in the living room. The girls had arranged the phone on its tripod a couple of metres to one side, where it was already recording the scene. Despite her view that she should be present to keep an eye on the process, Helen had ordered her mother to leave the house – “go and do some shopping, mum” - on the ground that she and Sandy were in charge of Luke’s management, and it would be “inappropriate” for her to be involved. Once she had left, the girls got to work. Helen set down the accessories bag next to the mat, and climbed astride Luke’s back, facing his feet. Sandy lay across his legs, making sure he couldn’t close them. He struggled and cursed, forcing Helen to administer half a dozen good hard smacks to his bottom.
“Ow! That fuc-king hurt!”
“Be quiet, or we’ll have to gag you as well!”
His protests subsided into muffled resentful muttering. Helen picked a pot of baby cream from the bag, put on a pair of latex gloves, and smoothed it gently into his glowing cheeks. That seemed to calm him down a little. But when she extracted a good-sized dollop on one finger, and pushed it between the cheeks, he stiffened and clenched his buttocks..
“What are you doing?”
“Do you want the gag?”
“Umph…”
As her finger slid inside him he shut his eyes tight. He couldn’t move, but he fought to resist its entry. However, Helen, with a wink at Sandy, worked it slowly back and forth, in such a way that somehow made his buttocks relax again involuntarily. Once she had him in this vulnerable state, she pulled out a glossy red rubber butt-plug, about four inches long, tapered to the rounded tip, with a narrow neck and a button base. Inserting the end, she worked it carefully back and forth for a couple of minutes, stretching him open by degrees, and eliciting little squeaks of protest, until all at once she gave it a final push, and it popped in up to the hilt, leaving only a little shiny red button between his cheeks.
“Yes!” hissed Sandy. “Nice one, Helen!”
And outside the window Mrs Braithwaite, peeping through a gap in the curtains, gasped in sympathy.
“Goodness! I wonder what that feels like…”
The girls didn’t bother to enquire.
“There, naughty boy. Now, turn over. I’m going to put you in a pull-up. I can’t be bothered to fiddle with that nappy. And look – I’ve found you a nice new outfit to wear this evening.”
They helped him up, uncuffed his wrists and dressed him. A little yellow T-shirt with a teddy on the front, close-fitting and just covering his navel; and a pair of sky-blue rubber pants, the legs trimmed with yellow frills, secured with a yellow vinyl belt.
“Let’s put his bonnet back on, shall we?” said Sandy.
“Yes. And I think we’ll strap one of those big dummies in, too. Might as well plug both holes!”
Finally, they fitted him with a blue leather baby harness, and cuffed his wrists to the buckle on the back strap. Now he was all neatly trussed up and unable to speak, they led him around the room, sniggering at the offended expression in his eyes, and the squirmy way the butt-plug caused him to move. In fact he looked just as if he had recently soaked his nappy!
They were just in the middle of these games when Helen’s mother “returned”.
“Hello, girls. Have you… Oh! Luke! You look so pretty!”
“Doesn’t he, mum? There's a lot of coolstuff in that bag. Do you like his pants?”
“They’re gorgeous! Come to mummy, Luke. Why are you wriggling like that? Are you sure he doesn’t have a wet nappy, Helen?”
She knew very well the reason for his awkward stance, but she wasn’t going to let on. Those bad girls! Really, fancy doing that to the boy! How must it feel…? She was a little shocked, but she also found it slightly titillating.
“No, I’m sure,” grinned Helen. “He’s just being a baby, that’s all.”
Sandy had sat down and was scribbling something on the back of an envelope.
“Sandy? What are you writing?”
“It's a poem. I had an idea. A nursery rhyme, really. Do you know, “I had a little pony”?”
“His name was Dapple-Grey…?”
“That’s right. I’ve adapted it a bit. I’m going to get Luke to read it while we film him.”
“Show me.”
She handed the paper to Helen. “What do you think?”
Helen read it out loud.
“I am a little baby, my name is Lukie-loo,
I’m captured by two horrid girls,
Oh, what am I to do?
They teased me and they spanked me,
And plugged my little bum,
And dressed me in blue rubber pants –
Oh! If only I could c-um!”
Helen screamed with laughter. “Sandy, that’s genius! Let’s make him stand against the baby wall and say it! Then we can send it to Miss Dearman. She’ll wet herself!”
They shepherded him upstairs, pushed him against the wall, took off his dummy strap and uncuffed his wrists.
“No! Please don’t make me read that!” he begged, panicking.
“Oh, Luke darling, it’s nothing,” soothed Mrs Braithwaite. “Miss Dearman will be so surprised. You never know, she may even agree to have your, er, device, removed. Go on, it’s sweet.” She turned to the girls. “Though I think it would be better if he learns it by heart. It would seem more spontaneous that way.”
“You're right, mum. Okay, Luke, get it off by heart, and… What’s with that face? Don’t you dare say no to me again, or...we’ll send out the video we just took… Ah, that did the trick, didn’t it? Right. Here, hold dolly under your arm… and hold this dummy in your other hand. Give it a little suc-k after “horrid thing to do”. Now, let’s rehearse. And put some feeling into it…”
“Yes,” added Sandy. “And when you've got it off pat, you can perform it and all the other stuff you learned earlier, and then I'll download it and edit it into a super little film. Let me see, what can we call it...”
-
173.
“Luke pulls it off?” suggested Helen.
“Luke takes the cake?” offered Emma.
“Luke in latex, maybe…,” said Sandy.
“Luke struts his stuff?”
“Baby in bondage?”
“Hahaha…”
“Baby Blue? He had blue rompers, now he’s wearing blue pants…”
“We’ll decide later. First of all let’s get some footage.”
It took most of the evening, but after many takes they had some really delightful material. As can happen in such situations, after a while Luke was concentrating so much on his delivery that he seemed to forget he was being filmed. The girls were unable to contain their mirth much of the time, so the success of the evening was largely down to Emma, who treated him like a mother would treat a real toddler, encouraging his showing-off and praising his performances, and urging him on to bolder and bolder displays of silliness and naughtiness. He flaunted his baby pants shamelessly, and, memorably, allowed himself to be persuaded to sing and dance to the tune of “The Wheels on the Bus”:
“The baby in the house wears rubber pants, rubber pants, rubber pants,
The baby in the house wears rubber pants… All day long….
The baby in the house’s nappy’s wet, nappy’s wet, nappy’s wet,
The baby in the house’s nappy’s wet… All day long…”
In the middle of this song he suddenly stopped, made a silly face, and clutched his crotch.
“Ooh, Mrs Braithwaite….”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“If I do a wee in my nappy, will you change me?”
“If you want, of course I will…”
“I do. I know you will wipe me nicely, and put the cream on gently… And will you powder me, and give me a cuddle, and maybe give me my bottle?”
“Of, course, dear. Anything you want.”
“I like the smell when I’m put in powdered rubber pants…”
“Do you, now?”
He thought for a moment.
“Yes… My willy’s feeling all…tight…”
“Really? Is it uncomfortable?”
“No…,” he said wistfully. “I’m used to it. But it won’t go down since the girls plugged my bottom…”
Even Emma had to suppress a smile. He looked at her, and said, very seriously, “I think… I think I’m going to wet my nappy….”
Sandy quickly checked the phone to make sure it was focussed and running. This she didn’t want to miss.
“Yes… Oh, oh! I’m doing it!” he cried in a surprised but excited voice. “I’m doing a big wee in my pull-up!”
“Good boy, good boy Luke,” smiled Emma. “Let it all out. Hold dolly tight and suc-k your dummy. That’s it! Gosh, that is a big one!”
They could see his pants tightening over the expanding pull-up as it soaked up the wetness. He pressed his thighs together and closed his eyes, rocking his head from side to side and making little humming noises. After a minute he stopped moving, opened them again and looked at his audience with a slightly startled expression.
“Have you finished, Luke?” asked Emma, gently.
“Y-yes.”
“Shall I change you?”
“Y-yes, please…”
“I’ll bring up the mat,” said Sandy, leaving the room.
They put the mat next to the baby wall, and while Mrs Braithwaite changed Luke, Sandy moved around looking for the best camera angles. While Emma wiped and creamed and dusted, Helen took his rubber pants, washed, dried and powdered them, and Sandy, taking pity on him, extracted his plug. Soon he was all fresh and clean, and ready for bed. They made him up a bed on the floor with a spare mattress and a duvet in a child’s duvet cover, Emma put him in a clean nappy, fed him milk from his bottle and gave him a dummy to suc-k, and soon he was fast asleep.
“What a little darling,” breathed Emma. “Once he gets in character, he really is just like a very big baby, isn’t he? It’s like the baby is his real self, and all that adolescent bluster and arrogance is the act.”
“It’s true,” said her daughter. “If we could only completely erase the teenager, he’d be a lovely sweet little thing.”
“But that’s never going to happen…”
“Maybe there’s a way,” said Sandy, almost to herself. “But I need to edit all this video into a proper film. I think there’s going to be four…no, five, chapters – playground, arrival, punishment, baby show, and wet.”
“Sounds good, Sandy.”
Sandy worked on her film in the spare room till nearly one in the morning. When she returned to the bedroom Helen was already in bed, and dropping off to sleep.
“Finished?” she yawned.
“Just. I’ve used this new software to fade in the chapter titles. I’ve called the film “Luke’s Baby Life” and added “Starring Luke Peters” – so everyone will be in no doubt who it is.”
“Well, we know – that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“Maybe. But it’ll keep him on his toes.”
“You’re right there. He’ll have to do anything we tell him to. Listen, I’m tired. I’m going to sleep and think of forfeits for him. I’ll watch the film in the morning. How long is it, incidentally?”
“An hour and twenty minutes.”
“Wow!”
“Yeah. And we haven’t finished yet. Let’s ask your mum if we can keep him all day tomorrow, too. I’ve got a few ideas.”
“Ooh, yes, let’s. I’m sure that lady will agree – specially if we offer to give her the film.”
-
174.
Helen was up at six, and watched the whole thing.
“Sandy? You awake? That was incredible – so professional! I love your commentary and the background music. What did you say? “That day was a very special day for Luke. His first day out in his new blue satin rompers. He was going to meet his best friend Sarah in the park. They had arranged to have a princess’s tea-party in the castle turret…” Brilliant! And the butt-plug episode. Here, let me find it… Here we are. This is so cool.”
She played the video.
“Despite their carers best efforts, sometimes big boy-babies forget themselves and need to be disciplined. A little smack on the bottom may only have a temporary effect. Where a more lasting reminder is required, the best and kindest corrective may be a simple smooth plug – only mildly uncomfortable, but impossible to ignore.”
“And this bit near the end.”
“Showing off to everyone in his pretty latex pants and singing his silly rhymes has distracted Luke from his need to pee. By the time he realises, it is too late, and he floods his nappy once again!”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it so much it’s difficult to accept we won’t be able to show it to anyone else. Can you imagine the reaction? I mean, if we showed Fay, or Gemma? They’d be the ones wetting themselves then!”
“I know. But if we did, it’d be all over the school in hours. Anyway, ask your mum about Luke staying for the day. If we get permission, we can decide what to do. Let’s find him a different outfit – there’s more clothes in that bag. Maybe…we could take him out somewhere?”
“Yes, let’s! Okay, I’ll go ask mum to ring that lady…Georgia. I hope she’ll let us…”
Emma was happy to call Georgia, and the upshot was she agreed they would call about seven in the evening, and Emma asked her if they’d like to stay for dinner, and she said they’d love to, and the girls were ecstatic they’d have another whole day playing babies. By that time Luke was awake, sitting up in bed looking cute with his curls all tousled and his eyes still sleepy. Sandy dragged the big accessory bag out from under Helen’s bed and began exploring. Shirley had provided enough stuff for a week, and Georgia had sent the whole lot over with Luke. Soon they were sitting on the floor going through the contents, while Luke looked on, not totally at ease.
“What are you lookin’ for?”
“Don’t know till we find it. You’ll need to look nice today.”
“Why?”
We’re taking you out.”
“What? Why? Where? I thought I was going back this morning…”
“No. Change of plan. Hey, Helen. Look at these! I really like the colours.” She held up a pair of yellow rubber panties with pink frills and a pink waistband.
“Ooh, yes. Rhubarb and custard! Good enough to eat.”
“We’ll have those, then.”
“And what are these?” She pulled out some odd-looking puffy transparent pants and tossed them to Helen. Helen took them, puzzled, and turned them over in her hands. They were natural latex pants, but the latex was double-layered, and in between the two fine layers were clusters on tiny plastic bubbles, which rustled as they moved.
“Weird! What are these for?”
“They were in a bag – here, there’s a label. “Puffa Pants – ideal undies for toilet-trained babies who think they’re too big for nappies.” I get it – if they wear these under their rubber pants everyone will think they’re still in nappies!”
“Not only that, but they make such a lovely rustling sound they’ll attract everyone’s attention!”
“No! I’m not wearing them! I don’t care what you say! I’m not!”
The girls looked at each other. Without a word, Sandy got up, went to the dressing-table where she had left her laptop, and tapped some keys. She turned to the bed and placed it on Luke’s lap.
“You haven’t seen our film yet, sweetie – but all your little antics are in it. Now, this file contains all your contacts – all your nice little friends and acquaintances. Now, I attach the film… There – “send to all?” All I have to do is touch “enter”, and…”
“No! I’m sorry!” His eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean it!”
“Sure?”
“Absolutely! Yes.”
“You’ll be a good baby for your aunties?”
“Yes!”
“Say it, then…”
“I’ll be a good…the bestest baby…for my aunties…”
“Oh, you’re such a darling little baby!” And she bent down, dabbed his eyes with a tissue, and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’ll look so cute,” simpered Helen. You can wear these under your pretty pants - they’re big boy pants, see? Like for three-year-olds maybe. You’ll feel all grown up, and when you walk down the street the rustling of your pants will make everyone stare and say, “Oh! What a cute little boy! What sweet little boy pants! Won’t that be nice, my little show-off? And look, here’s some nice long yellow big boy socks to go with them.” Luke mouth opened in dismay. “Yes, so they have ribbons at the tops, but they’re just to make sure they stay up. And you can wear these pink trainers instead of those silly baby sandals. What else?”
“What about this,” said Helen, “this pretty shirt? It would go perfectly.” She had found a shiny, silky long-sleeved button-up pink shirt with a rounded collar. “It’s quite dressy, but why not?”
“Why not? And look – here’s a little pink bow-tie on elastic. It’s obviously meant to go with it.”
“Yes – the whole outfit goes together really well. He can bring this little pink bomber jacket too, in case it gets cold.”
“What does it say…? “Girl Power”. Oh, yes, ideal!”
“But I’m a boy…” ventured Luke.
“Really, Luke, don’t be so picky. We don’t believe in gender stereotypes – do we Helen? Especially for little ones. Which reminds me, you’ll still want your pacifier, of course. Here, I’ll pin one to the front of your jacket on a nice yellow ribbon…”
“Use one of the…you know, rude ones!” whispered Helen.
“Naturally! Look, this one’s special.” She held up one with a pink guard, an extra-large boss, and a smooth pink pen-is-head teat. “See what it says on the box? “Open central boss and insert boiled sweet. In use, sweet will slowly melt and syrup from sweet can be suc-ked out of hole in end of teat. Hours of happy suc-king for baby.” Isn’t that clever?” She handed it to Helen.
“Wow! Luke – you’re gonna love this! What’s your favourite flavour?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “Here, this one will do.” She picked a purple one from a bag which had been stowed away with the dummies. Luke’s face was the picture of dismay. The girls collapsed in giggles.
“And what about his…you know, little bum-plug?” said Helen in an undertone.
“See this one?” She pointed to a little box in a pocket inside the bag.” She leant forward and spoke quietly in Helen’s ear. “Battery-powered remote controlled vibrator. Bluetooth. See the metal tip? Can even give him a little tingle if we want.”
“Cool!”
She turned to Luke. “Why don’t you go have a shower, and then come and have breakfast. There’s a dressing gown at the end of your bed. We’ll get you dressed after you’ve eaten.”
Luke made a face, but slipped out of bed, put on the dressing-gown, and headed for the bathroom.
Helen sighed. “He’s so sweet, actually. I don’t really remember what he was like before. We didn’t mix much with the other years, did we?”
“I remember he used to go round with that bunch of idiots - that Dinsford guy and the Tweed brothers and that lot. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dim. Pathetic. But then, most guys of that age are…”
“At least, the ones that we know…”
-
175.
Luke sat at the kitchen table in a dressing-gown eating his breakfast.
“Where shall we go, Lukie? Where would you like to go?”
“Don’t wanna go anywhere,” mumbled Luke, through a mouthful of Cheerios.
“Oh, I don’t believe you! Shall we go back to the park and see if your little friends are out today? Yes?”
“No!”
“That’s a great idea, Sandy! Let’s. I know he’d love to see his little girlfriend – what was her name – oh, yes, Sarah. Wouldn’t you, sweetie?”
Luke scowled at her. “You know I don’t want to see her. She’s obviously not my girlfriend. Why do you even bother to say stuff like that? It’s not funny. You just like being an annoying bitch, right?”
Helen compressed her lips in mock anger. Sandy? Why don’t you bring the laptop down.”
“Sure.”
She was back in a moment. She opened it. Helen nodded. She brought up all Luke’s contacts, attached the video, and turned it to face him.
“See this? See what it says? “Send to all.” All I have to do is to touch this key, and…”
“And you’re finished.” Helen completed the sentence for her. “You’ll be known throughout the whole town – in fact, globally, I wouldn’t be surprised – as Luke the baby. You’ll never be able to escape being a baby. You’ll have to be one for the rest of your life. That film will become a classic. The media will come and hunt you out, wherever you are, begging you to pose for them in you rubber panties. But maybe you’d like that…”
“Stop it… Please… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Just please don’t do that. Please shut it down. Just in case…”
Sandy was highly amused. “What? In case my finger slipped and…” She hit a couple of keys.
“Please!” Luke begged, eyes wide with fear. “Please don’t mess around. What would I do?”
“Well, then, apologise to us, and tell us how much you want to be a baby today and do all the babyish things we tell you.”
“Yes,” said Helen. “And if we see Sarah, promise to ask her on a date!”
“Yes, tell her you like her.”
“Ask her for a kiss!”
They both fell about laughing. After they recovered, they looked at him expectantly.
“Well?”
Luke’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.
“Get on with it…or…”
“All right! Give me a chance!” He gulped. “I…er, I’m really sorry for saying that.”
“And?”
He took a deep breath.
“I really want to be a baby for you… all day. I’ll do what you tell me…”
“And?”
“What?”
“You have to promise to ask Sarah out if we see her. Go on.”
“I, er… I promise I’ll ask Sarah out…if we see her…”
“And tell her you like her and ask for a kiss.”
Luke squirmed and bit his lip. Anyway, what were the chances?”
“Okay, okay! I’ll ask her out and say I like her…”
“And…?”
“Ask for a kiss…” he mumbled.
“Can’t hear you.”
“Ask for a kiss!”
“Say, “I’ll ask her for a kiss.””
He thought he was going to be sick. He eyed the laptop. Sandy raised her finger.
“Ask her for a kiss. I’ll ask her for a kiss. I will!” he blurted.
“Good baby…”
-
176.
Luke sulked through the rest of his breakfast. However, terrified by the girls’ threats, and fearing he was skating on very thin ice, he allowed himself to be prepared for his outing without a murmur; without a murmur, but with a rather pathetic little gasp as Helen inserted his butt-plug. It may have been marginally larger than the other one, because of the built-in cell, and the steel tip may have been cold, but once inside it felt reassuringly comfortable. On went his puffa-pants, then his outer rubber ones, and once they had done the poppers on his shirt up, and tucked it in, Sandy threaded a yellow vinyl belt through the belt loops, buckled it and locked the buckle.
“There. If you want to use the toilet you’ll have to ask, and then no tampering with your plug, understand?”
Luke grimaced.
“Stand still while I put this on.” On went his bow-tie on elastic. “Jacket…” She helped him on with the little pink “Girl Power” jacket with the pink sissifier on a ribbon. “Now sit.” She knelt, and slid the yellow socks over his feet and up his calves, tying the ribbons in bows just below his knees. She slipped on his pink trainers and tied the laces. She stood up.
“Stand up, Luke. Wow! You look so pretty! Your curls are holding up really well, too. I can’t wait to get you outside!”
It was a short bus-ride to the park. On the street and at the bus stop he was object of constant attention, admiring and amused. But instead of flaunting his new outfit, he slouched in a corner of the bus shelter looking distinctly sulky.
“Come out, Luke,” admonished Helen. “No-one can see you properly back there.”
Luke grunted.
“I’ll deal with him,” said Sandy. She took out her phone and touched the screen. The sudden vibrations deep inside had a remarkable effect on him. He stood bolt upright and his eyes widened with surprise.
“Now come out and stand with us!” ordered Sandy. She touched the screen again. Luke gave a yelp like a puppy who’s had his tail stood on. He stared at the girls in horror.
“Yes, it was me,” said Sandy. “And that was a mild one. So get yourself over here at once!”
He needed no second bidding.
“You’d better behave yourself today, young man,” she smirked. “As you see, I am in complete control. Now, here’s the bus. You can pay for us. Smile at the driver and be super polite, won’t you? Or…” She waved her phone.
On the bus Luke was obliged to sit between the girls on one of the inward-facing seats behind the driver, allowing the occupants of the opposite seat, namely two women and the child of one of them, a girl of about six, to stare at him for the whole journey. The sunlight streaming through the windows fell directly on his pants, filling the air with the faint scent of warm latex. The girl turned out to be one of those annoyingly inquisitive and loud children whose intrusiveness is generally considered cute – by their parents at least. She had been complaining about something to her mother, but as soon as her gaze fell on Luke she changed her tune.
“Mummy? Is that a boy?”
“Shh, dear. I expect so. It’s rude to talk about other people in front of them.”
Okay behind their backs, then, thought Luke.
The girl changed her delivery to a penetrating whisper.
“But…he’s wearing a girl’s jacket…and frilly pants…sort of like…baby pants…”
The mother smiled propitiatingly at Helen and Sandy, who smiled back in a way that was clearly intended to do nothing to discourage further conversation.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid my daughter’s terribly forthright...and a little nosey, sometimes, I’m afraid… Alexandra darling, you mustn’t comment on people’s appearance …”
“I was just saying…” she whined, sulkily. “And I’m not nosey…”
“Oh, don’t worry, really,” laughed Helen. “Luke doesn’t mind, do you sweetie? Perhaps Alexandra would like to come and sit with us. Would you? Here, I’ll move up and you can sit next to Luke and ask him all about himself.”
“Can I mummy?”
“Well, if the lady doesn’t mind…”
She was across the aisle in a shot, and squeezed in between Helen and Luke, making his pants rustle noisily. He didn’t know where to look. He thrust his hands between his thighs so he couldn’t touch his new companion. She, however, was quite comfortable. She looked up into his flushed face.
“You’re big, Luke. I really like your outfit. Your bow tie looks really smart… I love your jacket…” She felt the shiny material, making his shiver. She leant forward and explored the satin bows at the top of his socks.
“Mummy? Could I have some socks like this? Maybe white ones?”
“We’ll see, dear.”
She sat back. For a moment she was silent. Then,
“Luke…? Are you wearing a nappy? Your pants are all puffy…”
Luke was finally stung into speech.
“No! I don’t wear nappies. It’s just….sort of….”
“He has special big boy puffa pants,” said Helen, blandly. “He doesn’t need a nappy any more, but he’s not big enough for big boy stuff yet. Give them a feel and you’ll see…”
Alexandra needed no further encouragement. She grabbed a handful of his pants and gave them a through squeezing, causing them to emit a satisfying crinkling sound.
“Ooh, they feel nice and squidgy and scrunchy!” she cried. Then, taking the frilling of the left leg of his pants between finger and thumb, she pulled it as far as she could, and let it snap back onto his thigh.
“Ow!” cried Luke.
She looked up innocently into his face. “And your pants really are made of rubber, aren’t they? Mummy, they are!” she added, excitedly. “Look!” She tugged at them again. “Come and see! You can even smell them!”
This little episode generated a ripple of amusement in the bus, but made Luke squirm with embarrassment. Sandy could resist giving him a few seconds of vibration, just to compound his discomfort, which elicited a little gasp of surprise.
“Now, now, dear, I don’t think Luke wants you messing with his pants like that… I think it’s time for you to come back here.”
Alexandra pouted. Quickly, Sandy put her lips to Luke’s ear. “Beg her to stay, or…” She tilted her phone towards him. The display showed a red lightning icon, with the words “medium shock”. Her finger hovered over the button. Luke got the message.
“Oh, no, really…it’s fine…”
Sandy looked at him hard, and narrowed her eyes.
“I, er… Please let her stay. I don’t mind at all…”
“Well, if you don’t mind…”
“See mummy? Luke’s my friend now. Aren’t you, Luke?”
“Er, yes…course…”
“So…where did you get your pants an’ everything? Did your mummy buy them for you?”
“Er…no…er, my aunt…”
“Your auntie?”
“Yes,” said Helen. “His auntie Shirley. Actually he has other outfits too…and lots of rubber pants. Don’t you, sweetie?”
“I…er…”
“Come on, Lukie,” interjected Sandy, “tell Alexandra about all your lovely baby stuff…all those pretty rubber and plastic panties… He’s got quite a collection, in fact,” she laughed. Alexandra’s mother had got the joke now, and was beaming delightedly. The woman next to her was in fits, covering her mouth with her hand. Alexandra’s eyes were wide.
“Really? Could I…could I come and see? Mummy? Ask the ladies if I can go to Luke’s house…please…”
“We’ll see dear…”
“We’re only looking after him for the present, I’m afraid,” said Helen. “But here, take this…” She passed a P & S business card to Alexandra’s mother. “Shirley Dearman…that’s his aunt. You could always speak to her.”
“P & S… What’s that?”
“It’s a special school for, well, amongst others, big babies like Luke. You can adopt him for a week if you want. Just an idea…”
“Mummy! Can we?”
“I’m nor promising anything, darling. I’ll think about it.”
“I’d take him like a shot,” said the woman next door, with a giggle. “I’ve heard of P & S. It sounds a lot of fun…”
Next stop was the park, and they had to get off. Alexandra virtually had to be prised off Luke. As they alighted, he gave a deep sigh of relief.
“What is it about you and little girls?” chuckled Sandy. They’re attracted to you like a magnet.”
“It’s cos he’s such a cool dude,” said Helen wryly. “Now, let’s go and see if your other girlfriends are around, shall we? Pop your dummy in, there’s a dear. You know it keeps you calm and quiet, and we don’t want any showing off today.”
-
177.
What were the chances…? Sarah usually went to her friend Daphne’s house and they would play in her room or the garden. But the weather was so nice that day, she had asked her mother if she would take her and Daphne and Bea to the park.
“Maybe we’ll see Luke…”
“Maybe, darling…” replied her mother, doubtfully, not wishing to disappoint her. Shame though, she thought. She had enjoyed the encounter. Fancy dressing such a big hulking boy up as a toddler! The idea really appealed to her. She imagined her fifteen-year-old nephew transformed – what fun that would be. She must show the pictures she had taken to her sister.
Sandy, Helen and Luke were there first. Luke heaved a sigh of relief to see only a couple of children in the playground, and no sign of Sarah or either of her friends.
“Pity,” said Sandy. “Never mind. You may find someone else to play with.”
She and Helen led the way towards the playground and café, Luke hanging in behind them as unobtrusively as he could. He followed them into the café. There were only two tables occupied, each by two chatting women, presumably the mothers of the children in the playground. It was quiet, and the rustling of his puffa pants attracted their attention. Ignoring his embarrassment, Helen and Sandy chose a two-seater table and sat down, leaving him standing to one side, with the four women, all temporarily struck dumb, staring at him. Temporarily, because the stage-whispered comments soon started.
“Ooh – he’s a big one!”
“Love his cute little panties!”
“Lovely puffy nappy, too…”
Under the scrutiny of the customers, Luke shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He removed the sissifier from his mouth. “Please… Can I go outside and play…?”
“Soon, darling. Wait a minute while we decide what to order, and you can fetch it for us.”
Luke glanced nervously towards the counter. The two young assistants, neatly attired in short black dresses and white aprons, were looking at him and giggling. He turned red. Somehow girls were much more frightening that grown women.
“And please put your dummy back in,” added Sandy, loudly.
They took their time deciding on two cappuccinos and a piece of chocolate cake to share. Helen gave Luke her bank card and sent him off to the counter with a pat on the bottom. He faced the assistants, blushing and blinking furiously, transfixed with fear. Suddenly recovering himself, he snatched out his dummy.
“C-can I have…er…” he began.
“Ooh – what a nice big pacifier!” interrupted one of the assistants, a brunette.
“What…?”
“Your dummy! Look Carolyn! Have you ever seen one like that?”
Quite rudely, she reached over the counter for the dangling sissifier and held it up for her colleague to see.
Her friend, a blonde with her hair tied back in a ponytail, gave a little shriek of amusement and covered her mouth.
“Oh my god. It’s a…” She hesitated. “…quite a mouthful! Why is it all purple and sticky?”
“There’s a nice sticky sweet inside,” called Sandy. “I bet his tongue's all purple as well by now.”
“Oh! So it is! What’s your name, sweetie?”
Luke hung his head.
“Well?”
“L…Luke…”
“Luke. Luke, I love your outfit…”
Luke grunted. He would have liked to run away, but brunette was still hanging onto his sissifier ribbon.
“And…is that nice to suc-k on? I suppose…being quite a big boy…you need quite a big dummy…”
“He does,” called Sandy. “And that’s his favourite one. Luke? Place the order and then show the ladies how nicely you suc-k your special dummy. Go on!”
By now Luke was squirming with embarrassment, and desperate to escape from the counter. He pulled himself together.
“Er… T-two c-cappuccinos, p-please….and, er…” he stammered.
“Drink in or take away?” smirked the blonde.
“I, er…yes, d-drink in, please…”
“Regular or large, sir?” asked the brunette, sarcastically, letting go of the ribbon.
“Er…” He turned his head. “A-auntie Helen? R-regular or large?”
“Oh. Let me think. What about you, Sandy?”
“I think I’ll have a…”
They were dragging it out as much as possible.
“Maybe a large….no, regular…no, large. Yes, large. You?”
“Oh, I guess I’ll have…the same.”
“T-two l-large, p-please…”
“And which cake would you like, sir?”
“Ch-chocolate… That one there.”
“Is it for you?”
“No… It’s for…er, my aunties…”
“Oh. I wondered, because we have this cake here which has pink icing the colour of your panty frills… And sprinkles on top… Nice and soft and sticky…”
Blondie looked him straight in the face, eyes twinkling.
Luke recognised the cake from his last visit. He wouldn’t have minded a piece, but he wanted to escape from the café staff as soon as possible. “Oh! I mean…oh, no, I don’t think…” But Helen intervened.
“Lukie…yes, get yourself a piece of that. You know you love sticky things. Thank you for the suggestion, miss,” she called. “And Luke? Dummy in, remember.”
He did as he was told. He was so nervous by now that despite himself he immediately started suc-king desperately on it, making a little dribble of purple juice trickle down his chin. Brunette grabbed onto her friend’s arm in delight. Luke glowered at them, making them splutter with mirth. But they recovered themselves quickly and set about preparing the order.
They gave him the coffees on a tray to take to his “aunts” while they cut the cakes. Once he’d put them down on the table, Sandy decided it was time to test out his remote-control plug. As he made his way back to the counter, she started it vibrating on the lowest setting. But even that was enough to make him stiffen, spit out his dummy, and swing round with a pleading look on his face. But Sandy was enjoying herself now.
“Go on – we want our cake. And I said dummy in, please!”
With a last pathetic grimace and a trembling lip, he turned back and minced over to the counter, trying (and failing) to act normal – or as normal as a big guy in puffy yellow and pink rubber baby pants can act. He put the tray back on the counter, and blondie put the plates on it. This was Sandy’s cue to try level two.
Luke gave a cry and grabbed at his bottom. The assistants stared at him in surprise. Sandy added a mild shock, making him gasp and jump. They looked from him over to the table. Sandy winked and held up her phone. Slowly they began to understand, and smiles of glee spread over their faces. He turned again.
“Please don’t….”
“Dummy in, Luke! How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Sorry…”
“Just bring the cakes.”
-
178.
He picked up the tray. He had only taken a couple of paces when there was a cry of joy from the door.
“Luke! Baby Luke!”
Luke turned. No! Sarah? And Daphne and Bea too!! Just when he thought he was safe! In shock, his dummy fell out of his mouth, and he lost concentration. The tray tilted forward, and a moment later the two plates of cake had slid off. Plates and cakes hit the floor. Fortunately the plates were plastic, but the cakes were ruined.
“Luke! What are you doing?” cried Helen.
“I-I’m sorry…I…was…surprised…”
Sarah ran forward, quite indifferent to the minor accident.
“Luke! You’re here! Yippee! We can play in the castle again!”
Daphne and Bea joined her. Daphne looked him up and down. “You’ve got a new outfit! I like this one even more. You look so smart, Luke!” Boldly, she reached out and tugged at his pants. “Proper baby pants, too.”
“And you have a real bow tie!” squealed Bea.
“And such a cute jacket, Luke. Can I try it on, later? Even if it’s too big…” added Sarah.
“Where’s the other ladies?” asked Bea.
Helen had risen from her chair. “We’re looking after baby Luke today,” she said. “Let’s get this mess cleared up first, then we can talk.”
But the assistants were already clearing and wiping the floor.
“Don’t worry,” said blondie. “Accidents happen. We’ll get you fresh cakes, and then you can play with your little friends.”
“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry. I think he was so pleased to see them he forgot what he was doing.”
To her colleague she whispered, “Oh my god, how cute! He’s best friends with those three sweet little girls!” She turned to Helen and Sarah’s mother. “Would you mind if I took a photo of all of them together? They look so nice together.”
Luke was forced to pose with his friends, holding hands and then effectively being mobbed like a pop star.
“Thank you so much. I’m going to have one of these printed and hung on the café wall. And we’ll give the kids free cakes whenever they come.”
“That’s so kind.”
While fresh cakes were being prepared, Helen invited Sarah’s mother to have a coffee with them.
“I’m Helen, and this is my friend Sandy. We looking after Luke today.”
“I’m Joanna. I’m Sarah’s mother. Daphne and Bea are her best friends. It’s quite fortuitous we met up here again – we only come her about once a week, when I’m looking after the other two. Can I ask where the other two ladies are today?”
So Helen explained the whole thing to her, including the arrangements with P & S, and the reason behind Luke’s babification. As she spoke, Joanna’s eyes widened little, and her eyebrows rose in accomodation. When Helen had finished speaking, she remained silent for a few moments, staring at her and shaking her head slowly.
“Mummy? Can we go and play now?” asked Sarah. She had her piece of cake in one hand and gripped Luke’s hand with the other.
“Of course dear. Just in the playground, all right? Look after Luke, won’t you?”
“We will!” And the four of them headed for the door. Luke went willingly, glad to escape from the café staff. He was last out, and just as he was leaving, Sandy called after him.
“Don’t forget your promise, Luke, will you? A kiss and a date!”
Joanna turned back to the girls.
“Is that what he promised? Does he have a little crush on Sarah? I wouldn’t be surprised. Well, well. I’m glad you’ve explained it all. Now I begin to understand. But… I get now that Luke isn’t a baby by choice, and yet…”
Helen gave her an inquiring look.
“…and yet…well, he sort of suits the role…I mean, he doesn’t seem actually seem averse to playing the baby. When I met him before he was doing baby talk, the whole thing. It was really sweet.”
“It’s true,” said Sandy. “My theory is that he feels a lot more comfortable as a baby. I think he was badly behaved as a teenage boy because it didn’t suit his personality. I think the idea is that he might settle down as a baby and live a happy life in nappies and rubber pants.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” cried Joanna. “You know what, I’d love to have him myself for a week. Sarah would be so happy. And I think we could help persuade him to stay a baby. Do you think there are any spaces left?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” said Sandy. “I’ll give you Shirley Dearman’s number – she’s the boss of P & S – and you can ask.”
“You’re right about him, though,” said Helen. “Sandy made a video of all the things he’s been up to. You should see him singing baby songs, and everything!”
“Really? Can I see it?”
“Well, I don’t have it with me,” said Sandy. “I uploaded it onto my laptop and deleted it from my phone. I may be able to send it to you…”
“Oh, please! I wish I could have a peek now. Tell me what’s in it.”
“Well there’s so much…”
“I can’t wait.”
“You have to promise not to share it – not with anyone.”
“I wouldn’t – I swear. Just tell me about what he does in it…”
“We made him say the silliest things,” said Helen, “and in the end he started just showing off like a little kid. So now he’s so scared we might show his friends, he'll do anything we tell him to!”
“That’s so clever. I wish I could see it…”
Sandy hesitated.
“Helen? Why don’t you ring your mum? My laptop’s on the table, and the video’s on the desktop. We could ask he to send a copy to Joanna now. What do you think?”
“I guess. She’s not great with computers though…”
“All she has to do add Joanna to my contacts and attach it to an email or whatever. It’s simple.”
“Oh would you? That would be so kind…”
“All right. Hold on.”
She dialled her mother’s number. “Mum? Hi. Are you downstairs? Yeah. Could you do us a favour? You’ll find Sandy’s laptop on the kitchen table. Yeah. Okay. Open it up… Yeah. Click on emails and add a contact. I’ll text you the address.”
She texted her mother Joanna’s email address.
“Got it? Great. Now see on the desktop the icon called “Luke’s Baby Life”? Never mind. You can watch it later - or after this if you want. Can you attach it and send please? That’s right. Yeah, subject “Luke”. Great. Okay? Brill, thanks. See you later. Luke’s fine. Happy. Playing with his best friends. Bye then.”
“I’ve got it!” said Joanna. “Okay, now let’s see… Ooh, this is when he first met the girls! You filmed it! I had no idea. Oh, that sweet little romper suit…”
“It’s quite long,” said Sandy. “Maybe watch it later?”
“I will. Thank you so much. How exciting!”
They sat chatting for a few minutes. All of a sudden there was a crash, and Luke burst into the café, looking distraught.
“What’s happened?” said Helen, rising. “Are the girls all right?”
“They’re okay. Why have I just got a text from one of the Tweed brothers calling me “Baby Luke”?”
“What?”
Helen and Sandy looked at each other, horrified.
“Mum!” screamed Helen. She grabbed her phone.
“Mum? What did you do? What? Wait a minute. What did you press exactly? Well, what does it say on the screen? What?” She put down the phone, groaned, and clasped her forehead.”
“Tell me, Helen…”
“It says…“sent to all”!!”