When news came through that the lockdown was to be eased and people could travel further distances again, Joe asked if they would be able to move home so that his nightmare of having to dress and act like a sissy girl could end.
“No we must stay here and take care of your poor granny, mustn’t we?” Joe fiddled frustratedly with the frills on his apron. “Well, can we just go and get some of my proper clothes?” he pleaded. “Don’t be silly! You don’t want everyone in the neighbourhood to know that you are a boy who’s been wearing pretty girl’s clothes for the last few months do you?” She fluffed up his petticoats while Joe sighed, realising that he would be teased endlessly about his frilly panties and lacey tights.
“Now it’s an hour til bedtime you’d better start tying up your ringlets so they’ll still be nice and bouncy in the morning.” “Yes mother.” As if it wasn’t humiliating enough having his hair in ringlets, it took so much work – tying up each individual ringlet in pink ribbons every night and untying them in the morning, while sitting in front of the mirror in his pretty dress.
As people could now meet outdoors, his granny had the idea of inviting one of her friends over for tea in the garden. Mrs Winstone had been on her own through the whole lockdown and his granny was worried that she was quietly going mad. She was rather posh which was the one thing that his granny couldn’t stand about her. She even used to have a maid but in recent years was unable to retain anyone who would meet her high standards and demands.
As his granny and mother were discussing this, Joe came out with their tray of tea. His granny smiled as the lace trim on his apron fluttered and his petticoats swayed as he walked. “You know what would be really funny?” she mused. “If Mrs Winstone thought that we had a maid! She would be so jealous.” They laughed at the idea.
Joe agreed to go along with the prank. He was spending more and more time in his apron doing chores around the house and bringing them tea anyway.
In the days leading up to the visit, some parcels arrived. Joe hadn’t paid much attention - they were getting lots of deliveries since they couldn’t go out shopping.
Two days before Mrs Winstone was to come, his granny and mother came into his bedroom in the morning with some of the boxes. His mother took a black dress out of one of the boxes and hung it on the back of the door. It was a maid’s uniform, black with white lace collar and trim on the sleeves and hem. “What the ….?” Didn’t he look enough like a maid in his apron, he thought? Apparently not.
He got out of the bed and they got him to take off his nightie. His granny opened another box and removed a pair of small silicone breasts! Joe’s jaw dropped. “We want you to show a nice shape in your uniform.” The breasts were on bra-like straps and they quickly adjusted them to give him nice little boobs.
While Joe was somewhat mesmerised by his new acquisition, his mother held up a particularly large pair of knickers. She made him step into them and when she pulled them up, he realised that there were thick pads in the bottom and over the hips. Next was a basque with waist clincher and bra cups. His mother hooked him up at the back and the stiff wire under the bra cups presented his new little boobs nicely.
Joe noticed four straps dangling from the basque. He examined them and when he looked up, his mother was rolling up a black stocking. Once his stockings were attached to the suspender straps his granny took the maid’s dress, threw it over his head and zipped it up. Immediately his mother took one of his petticoats, made him step into it, pulled it up under his uniform and tied it in place at his higher, narrower waist. Then they produced a full white apron, tied it around his waist on a big bow and settled the frilly starched straps over his shoulders.
“Now for your make-up!” Joe emitted regular protests and yelped occasionally when something hurt but there was no stopping the two women on their mission. They applied foundation, drew dark eye-brows, eye-liner and eye-shadow before gluing on false eye-lashes and thickening them with mascara. They drew thick red lips with the stick and powdered some blush on his cheeks.
They placed a lacey headband into his ringlets and gave him white gloves which had lace trim at the wrists. Finally his mother took a pair of black high-heels from another box. She strapped them on and they pulled him to his feet. He stumbled in the four-inch heels. They made him wobble across the room. “I can’t walk in these!” he protested. “Don’t worry”, his mother smiled. “You have a couple of days to practice and get used to them.”
Joe looked in the mirror. At least his maid’s uniform came almost to his knees. He stood sideways to appreciate the little boobs pressing through the bib of his apron. His petticoats stood out perkily over his padded bottom and hips. “Now!” his granny declared. “Time for you to make our breakfast!” Joe sighed heavily.
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So Joe spent two days in the maid’s uniform and full make-up, mostly training to walk convincingly in the four-inch heels. His mother insisted that immersion was the only way. No pain, no gain. The quickest way to get used to high-heels was to wear them all day every day.
When it came to the time for Mrs Winstone to arrive his granny and mother fussed over his uniform – fluffing out the frilly lace over his shoulders, poufing out his petticoats, settling the bow at the back of his apron and renewing his lipstick and rouge.
Mrs Winstone was invited to go down the side passage of the house into the garden where she sat socially distanced from his granny and mother. They smiled knowing she was quite unsuspecting.
They had placed a bell on the patio table. His granny reached forward and rang it. Mrs Winstone was clearly puzzled. The back door opened and Joe flounced out in his maid’s uniform. He tried to maintain a pleasant demeanour as he walked across the patio in his now familiar high-heels, his hands resting lightly on his petticoats, ensuring that they wouldn’t be ruffled too much by any sudden gusts.
His granny and mother savoured the look on Mrs Winstone’s face as she watched this maid in full uniform approach. “Tea for three please Josephine.” “Yes Ma’am” Joe replied as trained. He was about to whirl around to get out of there as quickly as possible but remembered that he would be in danger of exposing his stocking tops if he did that so he maintained a dignified slow turn and walked back to the house.
Barry was in his garden as ever. His jaw appeared to have hit the ground. Joe did his best to maintain a composed look – as much as he could in a maid’s uniform with petticoats, full frilly apron, black stockings and suspenders, high heels, full make-up and fluttering eye-lashes.
Needless to say, Mrs Winstone was bursting to ask how they managed to have a well-turned out maid but didn’t want to acknowledge that they had something she couldn’t get. So she acted as if this was reasonably normal.
Joe served them tea and cakes and returned to clear the table when summoned with the bell. His mother decided to put Mrs Winstone out of her misery. In reality they didn’t want people to think they actually had a servant.
“Josephine here is in training. We agreed to take her for a couple of months and then the lockdown happened.” They could see the relief in Mrs Winstone as she readily believed the story. “Well I’d be very happy to take her on for a training period and could pay well”, she responded.
His mother and granny were surprised at this turn of events. Joe continued to gather the plates. “That’s an interesting proposition”, his mother said when she thought about it. Joe froze. “Why don’t you bring her over next week and we’ll see how it goes?” Mrs Winstone decided to strike while the iron was hot. “Let’s do that”, his granny agreed before Joe was in a position to raise any objections. He tried not to show his distress.
Joe’s objections were easily dismissed afterwards. A simple threat to share photos and videos with his friends back home silenced him. The idea of them seeing him skipping and playing with dolls in his Easter dress with full petticoats, lacey tights, rumba panties and ringlets was enough to strike terror in him.
The only relief for him was that they obtained a more normal and practical maid’s uniform for him – white trim but not lacey, no petticoats and sensible heels. He still had to wear the shaping garments to give him a convincing figure and some make-up.
But when they presented him at Mrs Winstone’s she clearly wasn’t happy. “What’s this? Where is her proper uniform?” His mother responded “that was her uniform for special occasions – like your visit”. She hoped that flattery might help.
“No, no, no!” Mrs Winstone insisted. “Bring her back in the proper uniform and we’ll talk. I can provide a special uniform for occasions.”
So they returned the following day with Joe in his lace-trimmed uniform, petticoats and high-heels, fully made-up with fluttering eyelashes. “That’s more acceptable”, Mrs Winstone agreed.
“Here is my standard contract. Six-month training period followed by a commitment to two-years after that”, she stated firmly. “Six months and two years?” his mother was taken aback. Joe tried not to fall over at the thought but was reassured by his mother’s surprise.
“I put a lot of effort into the six-months of training” Mrs Winstone insisted. “I need to be assured that she won’t simply walk off into another job.” “I see your point”, his mother responded. Joe tried to give her an insistent look that she couldn’t possibly agree to that.
“Very well”, his mother took the contract and signed it before he could demur. Joe nearly fell over. Two and a half years in petticoats, stockings and high heels!
His mother stood up. Mrs Winstone was smiling. “Why don’t you come back in a month and see how she’s getting on?” A month before there was any chance of release! “Marvellous, we’ll see you then.” His mother smiled at Joe, taking in another sweep of his outfit from his lacey headpiece and ringlets, down his frilly apron, petticoated skirt, black stockings and high heels. His wide-eyed look of desperation was really set off nicely by his long false-eyelashes.
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Topic: Lockdown (Read 28227 times)
