Make a Wish

[Andlat]

It's just trying on a few dresses. What's the worst that can happen, right?

[petticoated]

This is really good.

[DaraJaney]

Mrs Collins spoke in a whisper to discuss a personal matter.  “Those bright pink panties don’t really go with the delicate powder pink of the petticoats though.”  Tom frowned and resumed trying to push down his petticoats.  He looked in the mirror and couldn’t see any pink panties peeking but it had to be a close thing.

The ever-helpful Maureen told them to wait a moment.  She rummaged in some boxes and produced a pair of white panties with powder pink frills across the seat.  “Perfect!” his mother concluded.  As his mother pulled his old pink panties down, he wondered frustratedly why there was all this fuss about underwear that shouldn’t be seen anyway.

His mother pulled his new panties on him and the ladies stood back behind him.  He was facing the mirror and was satisfied that there was no panty showing.  “Just lean forward a little” his mother put a little pressure on his shoulder and he leaned forward as little as he could.

“Oh yes, lovely!”  He was disturbed how little he was leaning forward to presumably give them a view of the powder pink frills on his panties.  “Now tights!” Mrs Collins declared.  “Some people think they are tacky but we have these lacey tights with crucifixes in the pattern amongst rose buds.”  “Sounds wonderful!” his mother reckoned and soon he was standing in the lacey white tights with Maureen tugging them this way and that to get the crucifix pattern straight.

Once Maureen showed them the ankle socks with powder pink lace around the top Tom knew there was no stopping them.  White strapped shoes with a two inch heel were added.  It took Maureen a while to find white gloves with powder pink lace at the wrist but she was determined and they loved the consistency of his accessories.

Tom reckoned he must he nearing the end of this torture.  He just had to get it over with.  “So just a veil, parasol and bag left to choose”, the lady told them.  Tom sighed heavily.  He could see a dozen parasols at the ceiling and that one of them had powder pink frills along the spokes and he took some consolation that it wouldn’t take them long to choose it.  He harboured hopes that a veil might help hide his embarrassed face but these days it seems that a minimal veil draping down the back of his curls was all that was required.

Eventually he was posing for the camera in his short, heavily poufed Communion dress with lacey crucifix patterned tights, pink frills on his ankle socks, pink lace on the wrist of his white gloves, white veil floating over his curls, clutching an opened parasol in one hand and a little white handbag in the other.  He was made to walk up and down the shop.  His petticoats rocked unnervingly and he didn’t have any free hands to hold them down.  He didn’t like that the camerawoman had knelt down to get a lower angle shot.  Were his white panties with powder pink frills going to be seen on national TV?

He tried to think could he get a good lawyer to get him out of this.  Surely they couldn’t show all of this on TV without his permission – and there was no way he was giving it.  But then he reckoned parents can usually give permission on behalf of minors.

He was so relieved when they decided it was a wrap.  “So the next surprise is that there is a First Communion day going on today in the next town and they’ve agreed that Tom can join it!”  Tom was aghast.  He thought he was about to take off the horrendous outfit and accessories but instead he was going to be paraded in public in it!  “You said it was an imaginary First Communion!” he protested.  “Well yes”, Martha was unfazed, “you won’t be in the actually ceremony – you can only receive your First Communion once after all.  But we’ll be taking part in all the photos afterwards.”

Tom pleaded as he was ushered out of the shop.  He’d already tried to reach the little buttons up the back of his dress but it was useless.  Outside a gust caught his petticoats and parasol and he was helpless to do anything about either.  He could see people on the street staring at him.  He must have made quite a sight even if they just thought he was a rather large girl for a Communion dress.

A limo door opened in front of him.  He needed to get out of sight as quickly as possible.  So he tried to climb in but couldn’t without taking down his parasol.  He fiddled urgently with the catch but the powder pink lace of his gloves caught in it and he had to struggle with it.  He realised that he was half bent forward, having tried to get into the car and his frilly panties were surely on display.  The tittering behind him was supporting evidence for that.

Eventually the parasol collapsed and he dived into the car.  The door was closed by someone outside and he found himself being whisked away towards the church.  He couldn’t believe he was sitting there in a Communion dress about to be shown off to a church full of people.  In his seated position his petticoats only came to his knees and he could see his mortifying lacey tights and frilly ankle socks as he went to his doom.

When they got there it looked mercifully quiet around the church.  The congregation were still inside and were lining up photographs on the altar.  Tom was marched down the centre aisle with his hard heels clicking on the tiles making everyone turn around.

“We told them we needed some footage for a new drama series where a teenage girl is remembering her younger childhood”, Martha explained.  “That should prepare them for seeing a girl rather old for her Communion dress”, she smiled at Tom.

The communicants were lined up on the three rows of steps at the front of the altar.    Tom noted their elegant full-length and ballet length dresses and how the girls and mothers smirked at his short poufey dress and gaudy powder pink accessories.

They positioned Tom at the side on the lowest step so it looked like he was just as tall as the children on the top step.  He tried to shuffle in a bit so his short dress, lacey tights and frilly ankle socks couldn’t be seen but Martha manoeuvred him back again.  “If you want this to be over quickly then do what you’re told!”  He grimaced but stayed where he was as the cameras flashed and the TV camera rolled.

There were more photos taken outside where Tom was made to put up his parasol making him stand out even more.  He could see mothers tittering to each other at what they thought was an older girl in the most juvenile dress.

[Andlat]

Tom really should've paid more attention to the things his mother wished she had a daughter for. At least that way, he'd have an idea of what other torments await him.

[DaraJaney]

“We’re all having tea in the parish hall”, one of the ladies told his mother who didn’t need a second invitation.  “That’s very kind of you, come along … eh … Tina!”  Tom was momentarily taken aback at his new name but had no choice but to follow them into the parish hall – anything was better than standing around the church in the middle of the crowd.

His mother pressed a tea cup and saucer into his white gloved hand and a plate with a slice of lemon drizzle cake into the other.  “Sit over there.”  He hovered over the plastic chair wondering how to control his petticoats with both of his hands full.  He tried to swish the petticoats under his bottom as he sat but they tipped up at the front making him jump up again, concerned that his powder pink frills would be seen.  Eventually he figured out if he just sank into the middle of the petticoats, it worked better.

His mother was full of chat, no doubt eager to make the whole experience last longer as she admired Tom in his pretty outfit.  Eventually they went to leave.  Tom was eager to get out the door while his mother was still making her goodbyes.

The Communion boys were all gathered in a semi-circle outside – no doubt bored with the fussily feminine goings on inside.  A gust of wind caught Tom’s petticoats outside the building and they fluttered right up in front of him.  His attempts to push them down again were clearly too late as the boys smirked and elbowed each other sniggering.  His mother hadn’t appeared but he was desperate to get away from these boys who now knew what he was wearing under his dress.  But they deliberately blocked his way.

He was a foot taller than all the little twerps but knew it wouldn’t do to engage in thumping them.  He was sure to get into big trouble if he dirtied his Communion dress or tore his lacey tights in a fight.  His mother came out at last.  “Ah I see you have a lot of admirers!”  The boys were suddenly smiling as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.  “Come along now Tom … oh!” his mother realised her mistake.  Tom’s guts felt like they dropped several inches.

The boys’ jaws were collectively dropping.  He could see them looking anew at his short poufy dress, lacey tights, frilly socks and gloves and especially those powder pink frills on his panties.  He took advantage of their surprise to stomp through the circle but it looked more like mincing in his two-inch heels.

Back in the Four Seasons he never thought he’d be so relieved to be back in his pink dress and plain white tights.  Martha was consulting her clipboard.  Oh no, what’s the next torture, he wondered.

“So your cousin Fiona is getting married tomorrow and she’s going to have an extra flowergirl!”  Tom winced while his mother clapped her hands excitedly.  “Oh yes, another dream of mine!”

He desperately tried to think of some way out of this but he had no boy’s clothes and where was he going to go in his frilly pink dress.  Who was he going to complain to and reveal that he was a twelve-year-old boy dressed like a six-year-old girl?

The following morning he was driven to the dress shop where the females of the wedding party were being prepared.  Three bridesmaids were fussing over each other in their elegant slim pastel pink dresses.  Tom’s second cousin Louise was dressed in a matching junior bridesmaid dress.  He hadn’t met her often but when he did he always tried to make the most of being one-year her senior by making her feel inferior.  In her heels she was now as tall as him.

Then two little second cousins emerged from the fitting rooms giggling in bo-peep style pastel pink dresses and bonnets.  Tom threw his eyes up – more sissy girls!

“So would you have a junior bridesmaid dress to fit him?” Martha asked the store staff.  They rummaged in the rack of identical pastel pink dresses examining the size labels.  They eventually pulled out a dress similar to Louise’s but not so slim.

His mother didn’t seem so pleased.  Louise frowned too.  “I’m supposed to be the only junior bridesmaid!”  She clearly wasn’t happy at the prospect of having to share the limelight with a partner – especially one making the dress look so dowdy.

“I was really thinking of a flowergirl dress”, his mother added.  The shop ladies looked at each other.  “He’s really rather large for that.”  Still, one of them dutifully went to the rack of pastel pink bo-peep style flowergirl dresses and went straight to the far end.  She took the largest dress out and examined inside the bodice.  “This could be let out a bit”, she suggested.

The dress was whisked away to a sewing machine at the back of the shop.  “Mum please!” Tom begged but he could see she was smiling at him trying to imagine how the dress would look on him.

She didn’t have to imagine for long.  Once Tom’s pink dress was whisked off him, he was again anxious not to be left standing in front of everyone in his pink frilly panties so had to cooperate with being dressed in the altered frock.

It buttoned up the back no problem and one of the ladies had already found multi-layered petticoats to do under it.  Pink frilled ankle socks were pulled over his feet and mercifully flat pink dolly shoes were strapped over them.

But when he stood up, he saw that Louise now towered over him in her heels – an effect compounded by the fact that she was wearing an elegant junior bridesmaid dress while he was in a bo-peep flowergirl dress.

Then he saw his mother coming towards him with a bonnet.  “No please!”  She ignored his pleas and placed the bonnet on his curls.  “You have to match the other flowergirls sweetie!” she smiled as she tied the ribbon tightly under his chin.

“Right let’s go”, the lead bridesmaid clapped her hands.  His mother brought the two little flowergirls either side of him.  “Now hold Tom’s hands.”  The little girls giggled as they clasped his hands tightly, clearly amused at Tom in his matching dress but much shorter on him than their ankle length dresses.

He was pulled along as they enthusiastically headed for the door and then for the limo outside.  He was nervous as the wind caught his short petticoats but the little girls held his hands tightly and he had to try to ignore the likely reason for the giggling from Louise behind him.

[DaraJaney]

Of course the assembled wedding party had to have lots of photos taken before and after the ceremony.  Other members of the wedding party were clearly nudging each other and wondering about the larger flowergirl in the much-too-short bo-peep dress and bonnet.  Louise was revelling in her role in charge of the flowergirls, making sure that Tom and his little companions were out front in every photo.

At the meal, he had to sit at the kiddies table and to be honest he was more appropriately dressed for it.  Little girls much younger than him were giggling at his embarrassingly flouncy outfit.  The little boys were clearly trying to get glimpses of his frilly panties every time he moved.  He supposed he would if he was in their position.  He didn’t like how often they sniggered conspiratorially.

After the meal, the bridemaids and flowergirls all disappeared and returned having changed into more normal clothes.  Tom still sat there in his bo-peep flowergirl’s dress and bonnet as Louise appeared in a pants suit and the little flowergirls now ran around in jeans.  “Sorry we don’t have any clothes for you to change into”, his mother smiled.  She clearly wasn’t sorry at all as she looked admiringly from his bonnet, down his bo-peep dress and mountainous petticoats, his frilly socks and pink dolly shoes.

He just wanted to sit there holding his petticoats firmly down but that wasn’t going to be allowed.  The bridesmaids pulled him up to dance when the music got going.  Holding his hands tightly they made sure to make him swing and twirl and there was nothing he could do to stop his petticoats swirling and undoubtedly flashing his frilly panties in the centre of the dancefloor.

Towards the end of the night Louise told him – “there was nothing to stop you removing your pretty bonnet but I guess you must really like it”, she tittered.  Tom cringed.  She was right.  He’d become so used to his bonnet during the day it hadn’t even occurred to him to remove it.  People must have thought he was quite happy to be there in his complete bo-peep dress and bonnet.

The next morning there was to be no reprieve.  “I seem to remember there was something else I had mentioned in my letter but I suppose it was a bit fanciful”, his mother mentioned to Martha.  “Oh with our wardrobe and props departments I think anything is possible”, she responded with a knowing smile that Tom didn’t like.

He was finally brought home and scampered into his house before he could be seen in his pink dress.  He was relieved to be allowed go to his room and take off the sissy clothes.  His mother suggested a bath first and he readily agreed being keen to wash off all the icky sissyness that seemed to stick to him.

After his bath he came out of the bathroom in a robe wondering what had happened its belt.  “What about the hair?”, he asked his mother, having been reminded of his stubborn curls in the bathroom mirror.  “We’ll need a professional to get you back to normal when the time comes.”  “What do you mean when the time comes?”  “There’s just one final special treat.”  “What?  No!”

His mother steered him towards the games room at the back of the house.  She opened the door to reveal that the room had been completely redecorated as a nursery!  Clearly a girl’s nursery at that – it was all pink and white frills.

Then he saw a smiling Martha in the corner.  His mother whipped the bathrobe off him – made a lot easier by the planned absence of the belt.  Tom desperately covered his private parts from Martha’s view.  He tried to run from the room but the camerawoman and boom operator had come in and blocked the door.

His mother calmly patted the vinyl cover of a large changing table which already had a thick cotton nappy in a nursery print opened on it.  “You’d better hop up here if you don’t want to be filmed in your birthday suit.”  Tom cringed but climbed up on the table and his mother quickly wrapped the nappy around his waist and up through his legs and pinned it with two pink-tipped pins.  “There we are”, his mother said cheerfully, “dignity restored.”  Dignity?  Tom didn’t think so as he sat there in a nappy being filmed for public TV.

“Please mum numph…”  His protest was silenced by a large soother being pushed into his mouth.  “Now, now.  This is the last surprise so just play along and it will soon be over.”  His mother reached for a pair of plastic pants while Tom considered his options.  She hooked them over his feet and made him raise his bottom while she pulled them up over his nappy.  “See, much quicker if you cooperate.”  Tom sighed heavily.

Martha came toward him with a dress.  If he’d thought his other dresses were really sissy – and he did – well this made them all look quite dull.  The baby pink dress had huge puffed sleeves trimmed with two inch lace, a wide lace collar, white bunny shapes sown on the front.  The skirt flared from just below the sleeves and billowed over layers of sewn-in petticoats.

He tried to protest as they threw it over his head but the rubber bulb of the soother was too large to be able to spit out and his mum and Martha held an arm each which they were pushing into the sleeves.  He cursed the invention of buttons while he felt the dress close around him as Martha fastened them all up his back.

His mother produced what looked like one side of an oven glove.  He watched curiously while she pulled it over his hand and tightened a strap at the wrist.  Martha was already doing the same to his other hand.  He realised too late that they had completely disabled his hands with padded fingerless mittens.

They let him swing his legs over the side of the changing table and he examined his mittens again trying to figure a way of getting them off.  While he did that his mum and Martha pulled pink tights over his feet and once again he was too late to resist.  His jumping down from the changing table just allowed them to pull the tights up over his nappy.

He was now facing a mirror.  He could see his mother admiring him in the mirror too.  He was distraught to see that his dress only came halfway down his nappy and the nursery print could be seen through his pink tights.  “Oh dear, did the wardrobe department get the measurements wrong?” his mother asked.  “Not at all” Martha assured her as she flapped out a pair of pink frilly knickers for his nappy cover.

He was lifted up onto the changing table again and the nappy cover was pulled up over his tights and under his petticoats.  He jumped down again only to be confronted again by the mirror in which he could now see the two lower rows of frills on his nappy cover were prominently visible.

[Andlat]

Oh, he's in for it now!