Shoot

[DaraJaney]

Time at school dragged on and on.  Having moved back four years he was bored by the lessons.  He had far too much time to think about his next pageant, usually dreading wearing the latest fancy tights or ankle socks that his mother had found for the next show.

He even dreaded the breaks at school.  He looked on with envy as some girls kicked a football around but he would get into trouble if he smudged his snow-white tights.
Some girls were happy to clamber all over the climbing frames but there was no way he was doing that in his short uniform and pink frilly panties. 

But even the girly games were fraught with danger.  Whenever he was prevailed upon by the girls to try some skipping, it always got an audience of boys across the wall no matter how much he tried to hold his dress down.  He was badgered into a game of hop-scotch once and it was only when he had to bend over and pick up the counter that he cringed realising the display he was going to give – especially with his back turned to the boys’ playground.

Then he got invited to several birthday parties by girls in his class.  His mother insisted that he go and since he owned four party dresses, he couldn’t claim to have nothing appropriate to wear.  Often the parties included a bouncy castle.  The girls would cheer and race over to jump up and down on it.  Liam would just cringe and clutch the hem of his short dress realising there was no way he could enjoy that.

Not that he was ever able to successfully conceal his frilly panties at any of these parties anyway.  He often overheard remarks from mothers on how Laura always had perfectly matched frilly panties for her outfits.

Going home from one of the parties he was informed by his mother that his fake ID card gave his birthday as 12 March so he was going to have his own birthday party.  She fobbed off his protests saying that he couldn’t go to all these parties and then not have one on his own birthday.  Of course, he hadn’t wanted to go to any of them.

She insisted that he had to wear his pink pageant dress for his own party where he had to be the centre of attention.  He greeted the first guests nervously trying to push his perky petticoats down and not think too much about his freshly pressed ringlets, now reaching well below his shoulders even when tied up in two large sparkly pink bows.

The guests insisted that he had to be the first to go on the bouncy castle.  The only way to climb up on it was on his hands and knees and he gave everyone that perfect view of how the lace on his panties matched the trim on his petticoats.  Even the tentative little bounces that he tried at first caused his petticoats to parachute despite his futile attempts to hold them down.

When the others all clambered on to the bouncy castle there was no way he could control his movement anymore and he was bounced around – sometimes landing on his head with his petticoats flopping upside down over his body.  As he scrambled to right himself his ringlets fell across his face and obscured his vision.  It was probably for the best that he couldn’t see exactly what he was showing off or the line of boys watching happily from the lawn.

He was mortified as he opened all the presents in front of everyone.  Not surprisingly given his sissy appearance, everyone had bought him dolls or frilly socks or tiaras.  He had to act as if he was delighted with each present.  He wanted to die when it turned out that one guest had dared to give him a pair of pink frilly panties.  Everyone giggled knowingly as he cringed more than ever trying to pretend he was delighted with them.

When he went into the house to go to the loo his mother insisted that he change into the new pink panties since they matched his dress so well.  He was only back in the garden a minute when he heard – “oh look she’s wearing the new panties!”

[nappy1]

Time for the wheels to fall off especially in relation to his greedy mother.

[Sissy Poopsie]

Enjoyed this latest chapter. After drinking lots of fizzy drinks at his party wouldn't it be embarrassing if while bouncing in the bouncy castle he wet his new pretty panties.

Mummy might think he needs to be re-potty trained. She could put him back in training panties or even more embarrassing nappies and frilly plastic knickers. He would then be modelling he more babyish clothes.

[DaraJaney]

Liam’s other three pageant dresses fitted nicely over the same boosted pettislip and his mother just had to have each of his pairs of matching panties upgraded with the matching stiff lace.  He won the next two rounds of pageant too.

Then when he showed up at the next one he saw two of the runners-up glaring at him.  They were wearing much shorter dresses, much more poufed out petticoats and very lacey ankle socks.   One was pushed to lean forward by her mother who was sitting behind her and obviously wanted to check the lace on her panties.

As the contestants gathered to go on stage these two girls jostled Liam.  “It’s your fault we’re dressed like this”, one said angrily, holding out her poufy petticoats.  “You think I want to be dressed like this?” Liam countered, then realising he hadn’t used his girly voice.  The two girls looked at him suspiciously.  Liam cringed even more in his sparkly tights and frilly panties.  But they appeared to think that it couldn’t possibly be a boy dressed like that.

Despite their best efforts, Liam won again.  His mother was waiting outside the communal dressing room watching all the girls emerge in their regular clothes.  There was no sign of Liam and surely all the others had left by now.

His mother pushed open the door and saw Liam, his hands tied high above him to the strut across the top of a door to a changing cubicle.  He was gagged and his dress rode up so high the full extent of his peach frilly panties and sparkly tights were visible.  He had been tied there facing his ultra-sissy reflection in the mirrors while his angry competitors took their time changing.

When he passed his supposed 11th birthday and had to move into an older age category for competitions, he begged his mother “please stop this!  Please don’t make me do any more pageants!”  “Are you kidding?  With this prize-money?”  If he thought moving to the older category might mean more mature outfits then he was wrong.  In fact, his juvenile appearance went down even better with the mothers thinking ‘Laura’ was now over eleven.

The only problem was that his voice was threatening to break but his mother solved that easily by getting him to lip-sync to a recording of Shirley Temple singing the song which went down a treat.  The taller he grew, the shorter his dresses sat on him.  He was sure the frilly panties with his Shirley Temple were on view no matter how straight he stood or how he tried to push down the poufy petticoats.  But that just increased the entertainment level for the audiences.

Each week he had to stay for an extra hour ballet tuition.  He tried being deliberately useless in the hope Madame Suchet would drop the idea of him being the lead.  But she phoned his mother.  “Laura will have to stay a second extra hour today – we have not made enough progress.”  His mother readily agreed and Liam had to conclude he had no choice but to do his best if he didn’t want to spend even more hours in his pink tutu and tights.

After another month of lessons, when his mother was picking him up, Madame Suchet told her “she’s making excellent progress now.  There is a competition for a scholarship to Lady Hamilton’s Private School for Girls.  I’ve entered Laura for it.”  Liam froze.  “This is the third time I’ve entered a pupil of mine and they have always qualified for it.  I’m determined to keep up that 100% record.”  Liam fiddled nervously with the net of his pink tutu and squirmed in his tights.

“Is that the school where the girls wear that old-fashioned gymslip with the stripey blue blazers and straw boaters?” his mother asked.  “Yes a very traditional school”, Madame Suchet confirmed.

She really turned up the degree of difficulty for his ballet lessons.  He knew there was no point slacking because she would just extend his hours.  However, he thought that he could surely deliberately flunk the test or competition whenever it came to that.

But one day when he turned up for rehearsal Madame Suchet was clutching an envelope.  “We’ve won it!  You’ve won the scholarship!”  Liam was non-plussed.  “But how?”  “It’s continuous assessment based on videos of your training sessions”, she explained.  “You just need to report to be fitted with your uniform for your five-year scholarship to Lady Hamilton’s Private School.”

Fortunately his mother did not appear to want to send him to the girls’ school so didn’t act on that.  Her attention was focussed on the end-of-year concert in which he had his starring role in the ballet.  It went down a treat and while the audience applauded a lady came up to his mother.  “Mrs Long!  How are you?  We haven’t seen you all year! What are you doing here?  My niece was in the ballet – wasn’t it fantastic?” she asked, clutching the camera she had used to record the whole dance.

Liam’s mother was not sure what to say.  She was struggling to remember the woman’s name but was sure she was the mother of one of the boys who had been in Liam’s class before his change of school.  Liam came flouncing along, still in his pink tutu, tights and ballet shoes.  “Mum, the bow has become tangled in my ringlets, can you free it?”  The lady looked puzzled.  She was sure Mrs Long only had a son but this child in the pink tutu had definitely called her mum.

She studied the child’s face carefully.  She could see that Mrs Long did not know what to say.  “Liam!”  The woman’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.  He squirmed, tried to push down his tutu in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal his pink frills.  But nobody was denying it.  “Well that explains a lot!” the lady concluded.  She looked at her camera realising she had captured Liam Long flouncing around a stage in public performing ballet expertly in a pink tutu and pink tights.

His mother, not knowing what else to do, tried to remove his tangled bow.  Liam cried out as she tugged his ringlets, confirming to the woman that that was his real hair permed in ringlets.  Without another word she rushed off.

[Sissy Poopsie]

Oh didn't see that coming. I hope the lady agrees with mummy and thinks Liam is a pretty sissy who deserves to stay in dresses. Might give her ideas for her own son.

[Party Dress]

I wonder where this story could go next?!

I feel the all girl's school will be needed, but I wonder if this woman will end up reporting that a 15 year old boy has been attending an all girls primary school living as a 10/11 year old girl?!

[DaraJaney]

Liam was not surprised to find that the video of his ballet performance quickly went viral on all his old school’s social media.  For almost a year he had avoided them finding out about his mortifying predicament.  “I can’t go back to school there”, he insisted.  “Oh it’ll blow over in a few weeks”, his mother tried to assure him unconvincingly.  “Well, months maybe.”  But she and Liam were only too well aware that everything posted on the internet was there forever and boys would never let him forget something like that.

“Surely I can go to a private boys’ school with all the money I’ve earned between the modelling and pageant prize money?”  Liam was determined some good should come from his annus horribilus.  His mother looked sheepish.  “I’m afraid I’ve lost all your earnings through gambling.  That’s why I needed you to do the pageants but I’ve lost all that now too.  I’m sorry but at least you have your scholarship.”

So Liam stood in front of Principal Skinner as she inspected his uniform.  He shifted uneasily in his four-inch heels, feeling like a tightly wrapped present in all the shaping garments.  But the corset with underwired bra and padded hips and bottom appeared to be doing the job of giving him a teenage girlish shape.

“Very nicely turned out”, she told his mother.  “Turn around.”  Liam tottered around in his heels.  “Keep those seams straight”, she ordered.  “Yes Principal.”  She lifted the hem of his gymslip.  “Very good, I see you have followed the rule – the gymslip comes just one inch below the stocking tops to ensure our girls maintain an upright stance at all times.  Walk along.”

Liam tottered across the room as smoothly as he could in the heels.  He could feel his stockings and suspenders shifting with every step and was convinced his stockings were slipping down in danger of being seen beneath his short gymslip.

When he turned to come back his pleated skirt twirled up a little.  “Oops”, his mother reacted, expecting an admonishment from the Principal.  “That’s alright, a little glimpse is good – we have to keep the boys interested, don’t we?”, she smirked.  Liam cringed and tried to hold the hem of his pleated gymslip down as he walked back.  “Stop that!  Arms out!” the Principal ordered so he let go and tried to walk as steadily as possible.  He supposed it had helped that his mother made him wear the high heels all weekend to get used to them.

One consolation was that the ringlets had to go and his hair was now bunched in two pony tails under his straw boater.  “I see you have applied for the science subjects.  These are increasingly popular among girls now.”  Liam had been somewhat relieved to see that the otherwise traditional girls’ school had these subjects which were his favourites.

“Unfortunately, your acceptance of the scholarship came late in the day and all those classes are full.  I have assigned you the subjects that have places available: domestic science – that’s sewing, cooking, dress making etc – secretarial skills and deportment.”  Liam cringed.

“So report to room A4 for your first double sewing period” Principal Skinner ordered. “Yes Principal.”  He gave one final pleading look over his shoulder as he reached for the door knob but his mother was smiling, noticing how his stocking tops peeked as he leaned forward just a little to turn the door knob.

As he scampered down the long corridor, seemingly taking ages in the high heels, he tried not to think too much about the next five years in his gymslip, corset, stockings and suspenders.

Just as he was getting used to his new school a new torment revealed itself – the school prom.  The girls’ school partnered with Lord Kingsley’s School for Boys when organising proms.  Of course his mother insisted he had to go and bought a coc-ktail dress for him.

At the dance the girls lined up on one side of the hall, giggling at the line of boys opposite.  Liam cringed, seeing the leering looks from the boys.  He tried to push down the short petticoats under his dress.  He wished that his underwired bra didn’t present his new boobs so nicely.  He couldn’t stop flickering his unfamiliar false eyelashes.  His lips stung and felt swollen since his mother applied his scarlet lipstick.

When the first dance was called, the boys rushed across the room to claim a partner.  The girls were under strict instruction from Principal Skinner not to refuse a boy at least one dance.  Liam tried to avoid the boys by scampering along behind the line of girls but his five-inch heels meant he couldn’t get away entirely and soon his hand was grabbed by a boy who tugged him out onto the dancefloor.

He felt so exposed with just a flimsy pair of lace-trimmed panties under his short flared dress and he could feel the air circulating on the bare skin above his stockings.  With his hands firmly held in waltz hold there was nothing he could do to stop his dress swirling out as the boy led him in a lively dance.

He was so relieved when the music stopped but again the five-inch heels prevented him from scampering off the dancefloor quickly enough to avoid another suitor and he was quickly hauled back to the centre for the next dance.  He proved to be a popular dance partner all night.

Liam’s mother was surprised when he asked if he could meet his new school friends on a Saturday at the local mall.  He had heretofore tried his best to stay indoors as much as possible since dressed like a girl.  But it seemed like the isolation was getting to him.

She was further surprised that he wanted to wear a dress with all his shaping undergarments, full make-up, painted nails and stockings and high heels.  “All the other girls will be dressed up like this”, he insisted as he clutched his matching purse.  He noticed his mother smirk.  He realised he had just said “other girls”.

THE END