Victor had to endure a couple of weeks as a convent schoolgirl before he was called into Mother Superior’s office to find his aunt sitting there. He walked demurely to the free chair and carefully smoothed his pleated skirt under him before sitting down with his knees firmly pressed together as he had been trained, feeling the material of his blue tights.
“There is a company I’m well connected with that has an opening for a trainee receptionist/secretary”, Mother Superior told them. “Secretarial Skills are about the only class where Victoria is performing adequately. She certainly has no aptitude for dress-making despite all the extra hours of lessons I provided for her.” Victor studied the carpet in front of him and squirmed in his convent uniform recalling the tedious extra hours he had been forced to put in for his dress-making classes.
“I have arranged an interview for you”, Mother Superior continued, clearly believing that they should be extremely grateful. Victor frowned. There was no way he was interviewing to be a dumb receptionist or secretary! “That’s wonderful, thank you so much”, his aunt responded. Victor looked at her in shock. “Thank Mother Superior”, she told Victor firmly. He tried not to look too displeased. “Thank you Mother Superior”, he responded mechanically.
He begged and begged but his aunt and mother insisted that he had to at least do the interview or it would be a slap in the face to Mother Superior. Victor would have been quite happy to give her an actual slap in the face but his aunt was very conscious of her kind neighbour who had secured his place in the convent and didn’t want to disappoint her.
So the following week his mother and aunt prepared him for the interview. His mother brought breastforms on straps that gave him a size c – significantly bigger than he’d been showing before now.
She pulled a corset around his torso and started to pull the strings. He quibbled but was told it was necessary to give him a proper feminine shape. As she pulled the strings he watched in the mirror and the corset duly tightened into an hour-glass shape. His new boobs were held up firmly by the under-wired cups of his corset. His mother pulled again and his waist was squeezed into an even tighter embrace. “Stop!” he begged, gasping for breath.
His mother gave one further pull and then quickly tied the strings. “No way!” Victor pleaded but there was little he could do about it now. He looked at the straps dangling from his corset. “What are these for?” Five minutes later his question was answered as black stockings were attached to his suspender straps.
They put him in a business-like crisp fitted white blouse – the buttons straining noticeably to accommodate his new bigger boobs. Then it was a black and white tartan pleated skirt. He protested that it barely covered the tops of his stockings. “It won’t do any harm if the men on the interview panel get a glimpse of suspender”, his mother tittered. Victor was shocked. He looked at his aunt for support but she obviously agreed.
They slipped four-inch heels on his feet and made him walk around the room to practice. He pleaded that this was all too much but they totally ignored him and proceeded to his make-up.
He ended up with foundation, plucked eyebrows, eyeliner, light blue eye shadow, false eyelashes with mascara applied, blush, scarlet lipstick and matching painted nails.
He cringed when he saw the finished product in the mirror. He squirmed in his corset and bulging blouse and tugged his short pleated skirt down as far as it could go but the corset held it at his thin high waist. With his feet wedged into his heels he tottered around the room.
He could feel the foundation caking his face, couldn’t help but flutter his false eye-lashes and was highly conscious of his stockings and suspenders straining with every step. He begged once more but his aunt and mother grabbed an elbow each and steered him out of the house, clutching a handbag.
They drove him right to the door not allowing any opportunity for him to avoid the interview. In the back seat he squirmed and tugged at his short skirt constantly checking to see if his suspenders were showing.
They left him continuing to tug on his skirt as he tottered towards the front door of the building. The receptionist looked him up and down as he scampered over in his heels, clutching his handbag nervously. Her make-up was relatively restrained compared to his and he could see her thinking that this was a right little tart as she checked out his short pleated skirt.
There was to be a short test before the actual interview he was told. He had to wait in a room with other applicants until it was his turn. There were three young ladies in the room – all looking business like in crisp white blouses, grey knee-length pencil skirts and sensible shoes. They all glared at Victor, especially his bulging blouse, short pleated skirt and black stockinged legs looking even longer in his high heels. Then they noticed his fluttering false eyelashes and scarlet lipstick. He could see them all sigh heavily, suspecting that this bimbo was going to get the job ahead of them.
Victor sat on a chair and continued to fiddle with the hem of his skirt and constantly adjusted the way he was sitting. He had his knees jammed together and held his handbag on his lap hoping this would stop anyone sitting opposite from seeing up his short skirt. He was pretty sure that crossing his legs would reveal his stocking tops at the sides.
The test was fairly routine and it wasn’t long before Victor scampered into the room in front of the interview panel of two men and a woman. The men perked up noticeably and smiled. The woman audibly harrumphed.
Once again Victor fidgeted in his skirt and it was clear that the men were enjoying that but he couldn’t help it. Any attempt by the men to look at his face resulted in them staring at the bulging buttons on his blouse.
The interview appeared to be interminable. The woman seemed keen to finish it but the men kept asking more questions. When it finally finished, Victor stood up, tugging his skirt down yet again and minced towards the door in his heels. He could feel the men’s eyes following him all the way.
Victor had rarely been so relieved as when he was released from his corset and high heels at home. Later that day his aunt got a message for Victoria to present herself with her mother at the company the next day. His mother and aunt were convinced that he had got the job. Victor begged and begged. He insisted that there was no way he was going to be a receptionist/secretary!
But they were determined and he found himself in a short red pleated skirt sitting beside his mother in front of the manager squirming in his corset, stockings and suspenders, fluttering his eyelashes helplessly.
“So in return for our investment in training this young lady you would be required to commit to a contract for three years”, he explained. Victor almost guffawed. There was no way he was spending a single day as a receptionist/secretary! “That’s no problem, where do we sign?” his mother asked.
Victor was gobsmacked. He couldn’t think of anything to say as his mother signed and pushed the paper over to him. 3 years in skirts, boobs, stockings and suspenders and high heels?! He felt sick to his stomach but they all looked at him expectantly and feeling quite numb, he picked up the pen and signed.
When they got home his aunt popped open a bottle of champagne. She handed a glass to his mother, poured out the bubbly, they clinked glasses and stood back to look at Victor. He stood tottering in his high heels, tugging his short pleated skirt as ever and wishing he could get out of his tight corset. He blinked his false eye-lashes at them.
His mother smiled. “Delinquent boy to pretty secretary in two months!” His aunt laughed. “Cheers!” They clinked glasses again and Victor cringed knowing that he was going to be in tight blouses, short skirts, stockings and suspenders for the next three years at least!
Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Topic: Escape to Victoria (Read 25591 times)
