Make a Wish

[DaraJaney]

Tom’s mother went to answer the door.  Outside was an attractive young woman.  “Mrs Gordon?” she enquired.  “Yes, that’s me” his mother responded, clearly curious what this unexpected call was about.  Tom approached behind her, similarly wondering what this nice young lady wanted.  Then they noticed a cameraman who had been off to the side of the door.  He came around behind the woman and focused in on Tom and his Mum.

“I’m Martha.  You made an application to the ‘Make a Wish’ TV series.”  “Yes”, his mother answered, growing increasingly excited.  Tom knew nothing about this.  “Well, we have decided to … grant your wish!”  She spoke the last three words as if they were a catchphrase.  Tom was aware of this popular show but never watched it.

“Oh my goodness!” his mother was beside herself.  “And your wish was?” Martha prompted her.  “To have a daughter!”  Tom frowned.  What?  Martha continued “and today Anna Gordon you will have a daughter”.  She then looked at Tom.  “And you will have a sister!”  Tom gave a fairly weak smile supposing that they expected him to be happy about this.  But he’d never particularly wanted a sister – a brother to play football with maybe – but a sister, pah!

They were bundled into a limo to be driven to the TV Studio.  His mother knew how this worked.  They would record pieces like the doorstep surprise and then further pieces in the studio and on location, depending on what the wish was.  Martha was in the seat opposite them.  “Are you excited to have a sister?” she asked Tom.  He looked at his mother as if to ask “do I have to say yes?”  She frowned at him.  “You’ve always wanted a little sister!”  “Since when?” he disagreed.  “I remember you saying you wanted to have a little sister!” she protested.  “When I was three maybe!” he scoffed.

His mother was disappointed.  “Wouldn’t it be nice to have one now though?”  Tom gave a look of incredulity.  “No!  Flouncing around in pretty dresses, playing with dolls?  Nah!  Girls are stupid!”  Both his mother and Martha frowned.  Tom realised belatedly that this wasn’t the best audience to air his views about girls.  “That’s hardly a very progressive view of girls nowadays”, Martha was clearly cross with him.  Tom was a little put out by that – he liked to try to please pretty young women.  What was Martha?  Twenty?  He wasn’t the least bit put off by the fact that he was only 12.

They arrived at the studio and Tom was told to sit in the waiting area while his mother was taken into the studio area by Martha.  A few minutes later she came back through the doors accompanied by a young girl who looked a bit peeved.  “Sorry about that but you will still be paid and we’ll find you another opportunity” Martha told her.  Then Martha looked over at Tom.  “Come along then.”

He was led into a dressing room.  His mother was in a chair in front of a mirror having studio make-up applied.  Tom was motioned to get into another of the chairs.  When he did, it was swung around away from the mirror.  Martha stood in front of him.  Two very attractive make-up ladies flanked him.  Tom smiled at them, eager to make a good impression on them.  Martha was still looking rather pissed with him so he thought he’d lost his chance there.

One of the two women started to remove his t-shirt which took him by surprise.  He noticed, hanging on a clothes rail behind Martha, was a jacket and white shirt with a tie slung over it.  There was also a pair of trousers there and then various costumes.  He supposed that his t-shirt and jeans weren’t the look the show was going for and they wanted him to wear something more respectable.

The other woman reached for his belt.  He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to undress in front of all these women but they were very attractive when they smiled and they seemed very pleased with Tom when he cooperated.

He sat in the chair with his hands cupped over the front of his briefs.  The chair was pushed back towards a sink and they started washing his hair.  “I suppose I always liked him to have his hair a bit long since I didn’t have a daughter”, his mother observed.  Tom made a face.  He hated going to the barbers, that was all.

He was a bit puzzled at the smell of some of the lotions – they must be conditioners, he presumed – that the women were working into his hair.  One of them started smearing make-up on his face.  This didn’t particularly worry him as he knew enough about TV to know that everyone needed make-up to look presentable on the TV screen.  He did wonder what all the pulling at his hair was about but he still had his back to the mirror so could see nothing.

A plastic cap was put over his hair and he was quickly steered towards one of those enormous hairdryers which was promptly lowered over his head.  He was aware that some of the male football TV programme presenters had fashionably big hair so wasn’t too fazed by this.

Before he was freed from the drier Martha came over and sat beside him.  “Your lips are so dry, do you never use chapsticks?”  Tom frowned and shook his head.  That was another thing he associated with silly girls, but again, he needed to look his best for TV.  So he let Martha apply it.

Just as the drier was finally taken away, one of the make-up ladies reached for the clothes rail.  But she didn’t take the shirt and jacket as he expected.  She reached behind that and took out a pink dress, with puffed sleeves and a heavily flared skirt.  She walked towards Tom.  His jaw dropped.

His mother, Martha and the two make-up ladies stood between him and the door.  Martha removed his plastic cap and as he looked in the mirror a bundle of curls unfolded down to his shoulders.  He saw also that the chapstick had obviously been a pink lipstick!

“We had planned for that girl you saw leaving earlier to be your mother’s daughter for the show and your sister”, Martha explained.  “But after hearing your views about ‘stupid’ girls, we decided to change plans.  You are going to be your mother’s daughter and maybe you’ll learn to appreciate girls!”

“No!” Tom protested.  But there were four of them.  They got the dress on him and buttoned it up the back.  Two of them held his arms while Martha pulled white opaque tights up his legs and under his skirt.  His mother pulled pink ankle socks with white lace around the top over his feet and quickly buckled pink t-bar shoes with a two-inch heel over them.  Martha meanwhile was tying two thick pink ribbons through his curls in a complex weave before tying big bows on top.

They let him go.  He was appalled.  He looked in the mirror and stood with his arms hovering above the heavily flared skirt – as if he would be further contaminated by touching something so sissy.  But eventually his urge to try to push it down took over.  The dress was very short on him.  “The dress was meant for that girl who is only 9 years old.  I thought it mightn’t fit him but it does – just about.”  Martha gave a satisfied smile.

[sarahpenguin]

you are doomed  now little girl by being  mean to women in a dara janey tale. i hope you  will be a baby girl for halloween  being taken trick or treating by your mommy wearing a my first halloween baby costumme dress  strapped iinto a pretty pink stroller. remember always to be polite :)

[DaraJaney]

“No!  It’s too short!” Tom protested, trying to tug the short hem of his pink dress down.  “Well if you are worried about your modesty”, one of the make-up women interjected as she moved towards the clothes rail.  She removed a hanger that had a pair of pink panties with lace trim and three rows of frills around front and back.  Tom was speechless as he backed off, as if the devil was approaching.  He backed into the chair and flopped into it.  The two make-up women took the opportunity to hook the panties over his feet and up under his dress.

He was freed again.  He looked aghast in the mirror.  The two big ribbons in his hair were mortifying.  He reached up to try to take them off but they were so thoroughly threaded through his curls that it was impossible.  The women were all giggling.  He looked in the mirror again and saw that, as he reached up to the ribbons, his dress rode up revealing two rows of frills on his panties.  He quickly lowered his arms again and decided against any further vain attempts to remove the embarrassing ribbons.

Martha and his Mum grabbed an arm each and led him to the door.  “No please!”  But he was unbalanced by his two-inch heels and was easily ushered along.  They took him out into the corridor.  There were a few people passing by.  Tom cringed expecting a thorough mocking from anyone who saw him.  But of course it was not unusual to see people in all sorts of costumes in a TV studio.  So people definitely looked him up and down and smiled but nobody thought too much of it.

Nobody appeared to realise that he was a boy.  Which was a relief but when he thought about it, he was not happy that he could be so easily made to appear like a stupid little girl.  He was going to have to stop thinking of girls as stupid though - look at the trouble it had gotten him into!

Martha and his mum started walking along the corridor. He tried to follow rather than be left standing around on his own in the stupid dress.  He stumbled along in his unfamiliar heels.  They stopped.  “People are probably going to suspect you are a boy if you don’t walk more like a girl”, Martha observed.  Tom thought about how to mince around like a stupid girl …. like a girl, he corrected himself, but he reckoned that might only get him into more trouble for having a poor impression of girls.

They could see he didn’t know what to do.  “Come along”, Martha ordered and moved towards the reception area.  Tom did his best to follow without looking too much like a sissy.  Martha went out the doors to the street.  Tom cringed.  He really didn’t want to go out in public like this.  “It’s just a few doors down”, Martha tried to reassure him.  He tottered along uncertainly.

A few doors down the street was Mrs. Harding’s School of Deportment.  “Good idea”, his mother agreed.  Tom winced but was anxious to get in off the street where his juvenile pink frilly dress was attracting more attention.

They went into a studio where ten girls were lined up in front of the instructor.  Martha took Mrs Harding aside and had a private chat.  They looked at Tom who squirmed in his white tights.  Was she telling him that he was a boy?  Could the girls tell?  They were smirking and giggling but, while they were all wearing dresses, his was easily the sissiest despite obviously being a few years older than any of them, so it might be just that.

“Very good now, come along Tom” Mrs Harding motioned to him to join the line of girls.  The girls all looked at each other astonished.  They clearly hadn’t realised this was a boy.  Well, why would they with his pink dress, white tights, frilly ankle socks, curly hair tied up with pink ribbons and pink lipstick?  Mrs Harding tried to bring the giggling and laughter to an end as Tom joined the end of the line.  He was at least six inches taller than any of the girls.

“Leave him with me.  I have a series of one hour classes all day so I will keep at it and give you a call when I think he is ready.”  Tom’s jaw dropped as his mother and Martha left him there.  He was clearly going to have to endure a series of different groups of girls witnessing his mortification – unless he learned fast and got out of there.

He had been worried earlier that if he minced around like a sissy girl, that he would get into trouble.  But that was exactly what it felt like Mrs Harding was teaching him to do.  He had to walk across the studio with his arms held out daintily above his flared skirt.  She trained him to place one foot directly in front of the other while he walked which felt like it could only be done by wiggling his bottom while he moved along.

He had to learn to curtsey and how to sit and stand while managing his short dress.  He had to learn to pick something off a low coffee table without bending over and revealing his pink frilly panties.  That took a lot of practice with the girls lined up behind him, they  were only too happy to burst into giggles whenever they saw a peek of frills.

Despite his best efforts he had to endure two more hours in the company of new groups of girls before Mrs Harding phoned Martha to say he was ready.  A camera crew turned up with her and his mother to capture the final minutes of Tom’s training.  He was trying to put the thoughts of appearing on TV like this to the back of his mind.  It would be the end of his life as we know it.  He had to find a way out of it but right now he was just concerned with getting out of these deportment classes so had to try his best to be convincing.

It didn’t help that this latest group of girls were barely more than toddlers but he was still the most sissily dressed and it was particularly mortifying to have them laugh at his efforts and giggle at his frilly panties.

He noticed that his mother was now dressed up.  When Mrs Harding allowed him to leave, she told him to demonstrate his well-practiced curtsey to her.  He was mortified having to do his most perfect effeminate curtsey while everyone looked on, otherwise he risked another hour of deportment.  His mother clapped with delight as he held his skirt out and dipped daintily in front of her.  “You look just ready for a nice meal in a posh restaurant”, she told him.  Tom cringed but was desperate to get out of there so didn’t protest.

[Andlat]

Quite a great deal of work to grant her wish for the day!

[DaraJaney]

Who said it was just for a day? ;)

[DaraJaney]

Heads turned as they entered the restaurant.  Tom could feel the ribbons in his hair fluttering while he focused on trying to hold his dress down while he sat, hoping not to give away any flashes of pink frilly panties.  He looked ridiculous enough.

He had to sit there smiling as if he was having a lovely time with his mommy as the cameras captured footage.  The crew were still there when he needed the toilet.  He really didn’t want to go while they were still recording but there was no sign of them leaving.

Eventually he had to ask. “Please may I go to the bathroom?”  “Of course dear.  Remember it’s the little girls’ room today” she tittered.  He sighed heavily and desperately tried to keep his flared skirt down as he stood.  His mother giggled as he walked towards the bathroom, eyes in front and arms held right down by his side, occasionally fumbling with his hands to confirm his dress wasn’t poking up at the back.  His discomfort in his very short dress was most amusing.

He passed some tables with teenage boys leering at him.  He knew only too well himself how much naughty pleasure he got from glimpsing a girl’s panties.  If these boys saw his especially pink and frilly panties, he knew they would probably explode!

His mother certainly wasn’t rushing the meal, enjoying the attention her pretty ‘daughter’ was getting.  Martha sat at the table.  “So we’ve booked you into the Four Seasons for the night.”  “Oh wonderful!” his mother was thrilled.  Tim winced.  He was pretty sure there would be no boy’s clothes waiting for him there.

Their room had a double bed and a single.  The single had an apricot chiffon nightie slung across it.  “Oh adorable!” his mother picked it up and underneath there was a pair of matching panties with three rows of frills all around as well as lace trim at the leg-openings.

He was keen to take the embarrassing dress, tights, frilly ankle socks and panties off but his night attire was no better.  Of course the nightie was short and he had no choice but to wear the frilly panties or his boy parts would be on display.

Martha left them with promise of more surprises in the morning.  As his mother rolled his hair onto curlers to preserve his ‘do’, she tried to remember what else she had wished for with her daughter in the letter she’d sent to the show.

In the morning all was revealed.  “You are going to visit a dress shop to fit out your daughter for an imaginary First Communion ceremony!”  Martha told them.  Once again his mother was delighted.  All her Christmases were coming at once.  (That made her think – wouldn’t he look gorgeous in a red plaid dress with white fur trimmings and maybe green and red striped tights!  But first things first.)  Martha, noticing Tom’s lack of enthusiasm, assured him “we’ve booked a private fitting in the shop”.  That was some small mercy.

But Tom never felt so uncomfortable in his life as he did standing in the shop crammed with pretty flouncy Communion dresses, flowergirl dresses, bridesmaids dresses and wedding dresses.  There were enormous petticoats hanging everywhere, lacey gloves and stockings and veils and bonnets.  He couldn’t move without brushing against something even more sissy than the dress he was wearing.

He stood there while his mother considered a rack of Communion dresses.  She selected a ballet-length dress.  The shop owner, Mrs Collins, considered him dubiously.  “Obviously finding a size to fit him may be a limiting factor”.  Tom wondered would he be spared if they simply couldn’t find a dress to fit him.  He tried to look as big and butch as possible – not easy in a pink frilly dress.

His mother selected another full length dress but the lady sighed.  “I really don’t think any of these are going to fit him.  “Maureen!” she called.  “Can you bring out that rack for plumper little girls?”  The door to the store room opened and Maureen wheeled in a rack of dresses they obviously preferred to keep out of sight except in cases of emergency.

Maureen took a full-length dress from the rack and held it up to Tom.  “This will be maybe tea-length on him”.  Tom could see the wider bodice on the dress was more his size.  He was fretting.

“And this knee-length would probably be too short”, Maureen concluded putting it back on the rack.  “Wait a moment”, his mother stopped her.  “That beadwork is exquisite.”  Maureen let her take a closer look.  “I love it.  Let’s try this one on him.”

Tom cringed as he had to take off his pink dress.  The ladies tried to be as professional as possible and not laugh too much at his pink frilly panties but it was difficult.  At least when the Communion dress was thrown over him it covered those embarrassing panties.  Maureen struggled with the buttons at the back.  Tom saw a glimmer of hope.  She gave a firm tug which seemed to free the dress from a snag on one side.  “There we go!” she announced with satisfaction as she did up the rest of the buttons.

They all stood back.  The dress flared just below his chest and he could see it only came half-way to his knees.  His mother smiled at the beading again.  “This is definitely the one.”  “Very good.  Petticoats?”  Mrs Collins ran her hands through the lacey hems of several snow white petticoats dangling from the ceiling.  Tom felt sick.

His mother had a closer look.  “Oh I like this one with alternating powder pink and white layers.”  Maureen brought it down on a hooked pole.  Tom winced.  They were easily the sissiest petticoats in the selection – and it was a wide selection.

But soon his mother was pulling the petticoats up under his dress and tied them in place.  Tom could see it made the dress even shorter.  The ladies all smiled broadly.  He tried desperately to push the layers of organza down as much as he could.  “Stop it dear”, his mother admonished him.

[sarahpenguin]

Mmmmm bonnets :)