Author Topic: Teenage Heiress (Read 42844 times)

DaraJaney · « **on:** September 10, 2006, 03:17:48 PM »

[Especially for NancyJo, who asked for something other than a baby theme.]

Eileen Parsons gathered her three sons to tell them about an important letter she had received. A Grand Aunt in America who had lost contact with all her relations many years ago had made contact through her solicitor.

It seems that this 80-year-old lady expressed a great wish to trace her relations back in Britain in order to make contact again before she died. The boys’ Grand Aunt had inherited quite a fortune and lived in a mansion in New England. She was particularly keen to know what female descendants she had and strongly hinted that any such grand nieces would be favoured in her will.

The boys had several cousins but all were male. Their parents had received similar letters and the families met to consider what to do. Eileen pointed out that her middle son, sixteen-year-old Lesley, was the only one who had a name of ambiguous gender.

They carefully crafted a letter that implied that Lesley was a girl but didn’t actually say so. They hoped that the Grand Aunt was sufficiently elderly and distant that she might not bother checking the facts. Poor Lesley was embarrassed enough about his name as it was, but now his brothers and cousins gave him a terrible time, constantly referring to him as the only girl of the family.

Matters took a turn for the worse when a letter was received telling them that their Grand Aunt was going to come to Britain herself in the summer to meet them. She clearly was not on her death bed as they assumed. She hinted even more strongly that the only girl in the family could expect quite an inheritance so Eileen was eager to maintain the deception.

Lesley begged and pleaded but she eventually convinced him that it would be enough to wear girl’s trousers and tops with just a little padding. They would move to a summer home for the visit so that none of his friends or neighbours would see him.

Summer was still a few months away and his mother insisted that he grow his hair longer so that he could be temporarily given a slightly more feminine hair style. All along she reminded him of the things he could do with the fortune.

They met their new-found Grand Aunt at the airport. Lesley stood self-consciously wearing a white blouse with a red sweater over it. If it wasn’t for the little bumps under his sweater he could have been a boy. His tackle was tightly strapped up and he wore quite tight fitting trousers. His hair was bobbed. He wore black t-bar shoes that just had a little heel. His brothers, Jason and Roy, were under strict instructions not to laugh and tease him. If they were all found out, there could be very serious consequences.

Their Grand Aunt was thrilled to meet them and paid special attention to Lesley, insisting on sitting beside him in the car and quizzing him. He struggled to smile as he tried to give appropriate answers to all her questions about his life. His brothers judiciously stared out the windows and kept straight faces.

Back at the summer house their Grand Aunt produced presents for all. Jason and Roy tore open the wrapping paper to find excellent computer games that were only released in America and hadn’t reached Britain yet. They were thrilled. Their mother’s present was a beautiful and, she suspected, very expensive necklace.

Lesley was the least anxious to open his present. Eventually all eyes turned on him and he had to. Under the wrapping paper was a layer of tissue paper. His heart sank as he folded it back and saw the pink satin material. All the others struggled to hold straight faces as he revealed the pretty pink dress.

“Ehm, she doesn’t often wear dresses”, his mother said to explain his lack of enthusiasm, “but this one is beautiful, isn’t it?” Lesley forced a smile and nodded. “Why don’t you try it on?” his Grand Aunt suggested.

Lesley was still speechless but his mother took the box the dress came in, grabbed him by the arm and hauled him upstairs saying “what a great idea”.

She brought him into her room. There were tears in his eyes as he looked at her desperately hoping that he wasn’t going to have to put on the dress. “Please Mum, don’t make be wear that dress”, he begged. “I’m sorry, but we have to keep her happy if we want to get this inheritance”, she reminded him. “Also, we can’t do anything that would raise suspicions. We could go to prison if we’re found out.”

Lesley sighed heavily but put up no counter-argument. His mother pulled out the dress fully and tried to stifle a smile at the layers of organza petticoat under the satin. Since he was so reluctant to undress, she pulled off his sweater and unbuttoned his blouse.

Then his mother threw the dress over his head, pulled it down and zipped him up. She reached up under the petticoats and unbuttoned his trousers. Lesley wanted to cry as she pulled down his trousers.

She went looking in drawers and pulled out a pair of plain white panties. He had managed to retain a pair of boy’s briefs until now but had to agree they would look odd should anyone get a glimpse. He still couldn’t bring himself to put on the girl’s clothes so his mother had to pull down his briefs and make him step into the panties.

Lesley looked in the mirror. The dress was quite short on him and only came half-way to his knees. He consoled himself that at least the panties were very plain.

His mother took the box to put it away. “Oh look.” She took out a pair of pink panties with three layers of white lace across the bottom. “I guess you’ll have to wear these.”

Lesley’s cheeks burned red as he stood there in the pink frilly panties. They were well covered by his dress but he knew they were there. He prayed and hoped that his brothers would never see them.

His mother looked pensive. “We don’t have any ankle or knee socks that you could wear.” She went to another drawer and produced a pair of white nylon stockings. Lesley winced at the sight. Then she found a white suspender belt. She looked up at the forlorn expression on his face and smiled sympathetically. “Sorry but they’re all we’ve got.”

She reached up under his petticoats again and hooked the suspender belt around his waist. She made him sit on the bed as she rolled the stockings up his legs and attached them to his suspender straps.

When she was done she made him stand in front of the mirror again. She stood back from him. “Bend over a little”, she instructed. He did as he was told. She got a glimpse of the lace-top of the stockings but decided there was no point in saying anything – there was no alternative. “Fine”, she said looking away innocently.

He put on the t-bar shoes and stood up thinking he was finished. But his mother had found a pink bow in the box and insisted on clipping it in his hair to one side of his head. They studied him in the mirror. It was bad enough having to wear any kind of dress but no sixteen-year-old girl would be seen dead in this. No ten-year-old would.

(http://unclegadget.com/UncAds/Electronics3.jpg)

DaraJaney · « **Reply #1 on:** September 11, 2006, 07:19:08 PM »

His mother steered him towards the door as he tried to dig his heels in. He groaned as she succeeded in getting him as far as the door. At the top of the stairs she stopped to smooth down his petticoats. Lesley could not believe that he was about to go down in front of his brothers wearing a pink dress, white stockings and a pink bow in his hair.

His mother went down briskly to the foot of the stairs and looked up expectantly. The boys and their Grand Aunt looked to the top of the stairs too. Lesley took a deep breath and started down the stairs.

He fought back the tears and desperately tried to smile as he emerged into view. His petticoats billowed up as he descended and he had to stop and push them back down. How the boys avoiding bursting out laughing he didn’t know. His Grand Aunt was delighted and gushed over him. He was alarmed that she pulled up his petticoats at the side to examine them. He was terrified that his brothers might see his suspenders or frilly panties.

“Now aren’t dresses much more pretty than trousers”, his Grand Aunt asked him. Lesley just forced a smile. If he said “Yes” his brothers would quote it back at him for the rest of his life.

Once she had finished admiring him she told them she had another surprise. Lesley braced himself. He was beginning to go off surprises. “I’ve booked a table in the most expensive restaurant in town and we are due there in fifteen minutes.”

Lesley nearly wet himself. The thought of wearing this outfit in front of his family had nearly killed him but now he was going to have to go out in public dressed like a little sissy girl.

His brothers were delighted and immediately grabbed their coats. His mother was diplomatic enough not to look too pleased but she was smiling broadly.

When his Grand Aunt’s back was turned, Lesley held out his petticoats pointedly to his mother in a silent act of desperation - clearly pleading “do I have to go out in this?” - but she just shrugged. His brothers pointed at him and silently bent over with laughter until their Grand Aunt turned back again and they instantly resumed a normal demeanour.

His mother opened the door. His Grand Aunt walked out first followed by his brothers who looked back at him again and held their hands over their mouths as they chuckled. Lesley stood unable to move. His mother held the door and waved at him to go out. Lesley clutched his petticoats and walked out the door.

The cool evening air circulated under his petticoats and he braced himself as he felt it between his panties and his stockings. He carefully gathered his petticoats as he stepped into the car. He looked up at his mother as she went to close his door and she actually looked quite proud of him.

When they stepped out of the car outside the restaurant, he felt the suspender straps strain against his stockings that had obviously slackened as he sat in the car. He discretely pushed down on his petticoats, concerned that his stockings had slipped down a bit and might now be seen.

The usher who opened the car doors for them was clearly amused at this teenage girl in a dress more suitable for an eight-year-old. The ladies marched into the restaurant first. Jason and Roy followed behind Lesley.

“Is your shoe undone?” Jason asked. Lesley leaned forward. He had to push back his petticoats to see. His shoes were both buckled OK. Then he heard a snort of laughter behind him and realised that his brothers had seen something when he bent over. “They’re not tights – he’s wearing stockings”, he heard Jason whisper to Roy and they chuckled again.

Lesley straightened up instantly and walked into the restaurant quickly. While he was relieved to be out of the cool breezes, he was now in a crowded room and most people facing him stopped what they were doing and stared. They all smiled and many whispered to their companions who turned to look.

Lesley kept his eyes straight in front and tried to follow the ladies as quickly as possible. He was relieved to reach their table and smoothed his petticoats under him as he sat.

He wished the meal would be over as soon as possible but his Grand Aunt was full of talk. She mentioned a number of times how Lesley wouldn’t have to worry about money again. He sat there shifting uncomfortably in his pink frilly panties, feeling the suspender straps cut into his thighs, wondering was this really worth it. Either way he was stuck.

The need to go to the toilet inevitably came on him. He tried to hold off until they got home, not wanting to have to go to a ladies toilet but when his mother ordered coffee, he knew he had to go.

“Excuse me”, he said as he pushed his chair back. His mother smiled and said “the powder room is at the back on the left” just in case he had forgotten which toilet to use.

As Lesley turned to leave the table his mother said “just a moment”. He looked back and she was fiddling with the back of his dress. His petticoats were showing so she smoothed down the satin. “There you are. As I said, she’s not very used to dresses.”

Lesley went to the powder room and into a cubicle. He reached up under his petticoats and tugged at his panties but they couldn’t be pulled down because of his suspenders. He sighed heavily. He would have to take off the dress to be able to undo the suspenders under all those petticoats.

He had great difficulty reaching the zip but eventually got the dress off and hung it on the back of the door. He looked down at his pink frilly panties and white stockings and suspenders. He nearly cried at the sight of himself.

He undid the four suspender straps and pulled down the panties. He did what he needed to do, pulled up his panties again and reattached the suspender straps. The ones at the back were really difficult to attach and they repeatedly snapped out of his fingers.

Eventually he was able to put his dress back on but had great difficulty pulling the zip all the way up again. By the time he did, he was roasting under all those petticoats and stockings.

He emerged from the cubicle and examined his dress and petticoats in the mirror. He turned around and twisted to see the back and sure enough the petticoats were exposed all the way around there. A lady came in just as he was smoothing his dress. She smiled sweetly. He gave an embarrassed smile back. “What a pretty dress”, she commented but she was now smirking. Lesley was sure his cheeks must be burning. He muttered a high pitched “thank you” and scampered out of the ladies.

Back at the table, his Grand Aunt turned to him. “I was just saying to your mother that I must bring you shopping tomorrow for more pretty dresses.” Lesley tried to smile in response but inside he was mortified.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #2 on:** September 13, 2006, 06:25:32 PM »

The next day he set off into town with his Grand Aunt. He was back in his girl’s trousers and blouse but his mother made him wear plain white panties in case his Grand Aunt made him try any clothes on.

Before he walked out the front door, Lesley turned back to his mother discretely and gave her another pleading look. He so wanted to be rescued from this nightmare.

Three hours later the front door opened again and his Grand Aunt marched in carrying several shopping bags. Lesley mooched in reluctantly behind her carrying as many bags again and gave his mother a very sad look.

He was wearing a light blue dress with white trimmings. As he stooped to put down the bags his mother caught a glimpse of the lace hem of a slip underneath. The dress came to a few inches above his knees and he wore white knee socks. He had a number of fancy hair slides too.

His Grand Aunt pulled out a number of his new outfits for his mother to see. Lesley watched forlornly from behind and his mother felt quite sorry for him even though she loved the thought of seeing him in these outfits. There were other dresses, pleated skirts, lacey blouses, camisoles and nightdresses.

When his Grand Aunt went up to her room he pleaded with his mother. “Please Mum, I can’t take it any longer.” But the way he held out his dress and stamped his heel only made her smile. “What happened to your trousers?” she asked, since none of the bags seemed to contain his old clothes. “She threw them out”, he replied while heaving a sigh.

“Don’t worry, she’s going back to America in a week”, his mother reassured him. “A week?” he repeated with frustration. He hated the thought of having to wear dresses and skirts for a whole week.

His brothers were greatly amused to see him in a new outfit each day. He moped around staying indoors as much as he could but his Grand Aunt wanted to see the local sights and he was regularly dragged out in public. He couldn’t get used to the exposed feeling when wearing a dress or skirt. He had to stop himself clutching his skirts all the time and try to walk around with some confidence.

He really dreaded Sunday. They were all going to visit his Aunt Louise. All his cousins would be there. His mother wanted him to wear the pink dress with the petticoats. “Oh please Mum, not that one – it’s the most embarrassing of all.” “She’ll expect you to be showing it off proudly to your relations, you’ll have to wear it.” He flopped down on the side of his bed and muttered to himself.

As they walked up the pathway to his Aunt Louise’s house he couldn’t put his predicament out of his head as he felt the tug of his suspenders on his white stockings with every step. His petticoats fluttered in the breeze and he had to take a firm hold of his dress. His brothers couldn’t wait and practically ran up the path to press the doorbell. Then they turned and smiled at the sight of Lesley walking up the path in his pink dress.

“Oh hello”, their Aunt practically screeched as she opened the door. And then she saw Lesley. “Oh look at you! She looks so much prettier is dresses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so pretty!” Lesley wanted to kill her but he tried to smile shyly.

Inside, his Aunt insisted that he twirl in the centre of the room. His cousins came in from the garden and positively beamed at the sight of Lesley in a dress. Initially they had envied him the fortune that was supposed to be coming his way but now they revelled in his torment. “Serves him right”, one of the whispered.

They all went out into the garden. Lesley struggled as the heels of his shoes sank in the grass. One of the boys found a football and kicked it down the garden and all the other boys chased after it.

“Boys!” Aunt Louise said. “Never mind, we girls can sit here at the table.” Lesley followed them over to the garden chairs and gathered his petticoats under his bottom as he sat.

His Grand Aunt told his Aunt Louise about their shopping trip and all the clothes she had bought for Lesley. He watched the boys enviously as they galloped around the garden kicking the ball. He looked down at his dress and his snow white stockings. There was clearly no point in even asking if he could play too.

“Which is your favourite?” Aunt Louise asked him. He hadn’t been following the conversation. “Hmmm?” “Which dress is your favourite?” she asked with a devilish smile. He cursed her in his mind. There was no way out of this one. He noticed how his Grand Aunt cast her eyes admiringly over his pink dress. He held out his petticoats and said “this one, of course” and she was delighted.

When the boys returned for some drinks his Aunt had to rub it in. “Doesn’t Lesley look pretty is her dress boys? She says that’s her favourite of all her dresses.” Jason was in mid-swallow and splurted up most of his drink at this. He buried his face in his hands and continued coughing to cover up his laughter. “Sorry”, he said eventually, “went down the wrong way” and he coughed a little more.

When they were finished their drinks Aunt Louise became concerned that the boys were going to give the game away with their occasional sniggers. “Why don’t you children all go for a walk down the lane to lake.”

As the boys walked off towards the gate, Lesley looked at her to see if she included him in this. “Run along with the boys now Lesley.” He stood up, smoothed his petticoats down and felt the now familiar strain as his suspenders took up the slack of his stockings.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #3 on:** September 15, 2006, 06:44:18 PM »

By the time he reached the gate, the boys were gone a hundred yards already. He tried to walk faster but in the heels and with a headwind catching his petticoats, he couldn’t keep up. “Wait for me!” he called but that just made them laugh and walk faster.

At the end of the lane the boys climbed over a fence into the field where the lake was. Lesley stopped at the fence. He looked at the rough wood that would surely catch on his dress or snag his stockings. Jason looked back at him. “Come on!” he called. “I can’t climb over the fence”, Lesley called back. “Why not?” Jason asked. He waited on the off chance that Lesley would explain about his dress and stockings. “You know why”, Lesley said quietly. Jason ran off to the lake.

Lesley hung around by the fence, afraid even to lean on it and dirty his dress. He kicked a stone and then worried if he had scratched his patent leather shoes.

When the boys eventually came back they seemed more giddy than ever. “Lesley doesn’t want to dirty his pretty pink dress”, his cousin Gary teased. Lesley glared at him but said nothing. Roy flipped up his petticoats at the back. Lesley stepped away from him and smoothed his skirt down again crossly.

Soon all the boys were surrounding him and flicking at his petticoats. “Let’s see his panties”, Gary prompted. Suddenly one of them pulled the zip down at the back and they pulled the dress off him. Lesley stood appalled in his bra, frilly panties, stockings and suspenders. His hands shot back and forth between his “breasts”, groin area and stocking tops as he was unsure which was most important to try to cover up.

The boys roared laughing as Gary held up Lesley’s dress. Lesley darted towards him to try to get it but Gary pulled it away at the last minute and threw it to Jason. Lesley ran towards his brother but he threw it to Roy who nearly dropped it in a puddle.

Lesley visibly cringed at how close they came to getting his dress filthy. “Oh is poor Lesley afraid that we’ll dirty his favourite frock?” Lesley gave up trying to chase them and stood dejectedly in his girl’s underwear.

Roy threw the dress at him. Lesley took it gratefully and pulled it over his head. The boys walked back up the lane as Lesley struggled with the zip and took care to smooth out his petticoats. They laughed at him when he checked on his dress again before entering the garden but he didn’t want his Grand Aunt to be suspicious of anything.

Back at the garden table his Grand Aunt asked him had he any plans for the rest of the summer. Lesley was not prepared for what seemed like an innocuous question so he just shook his head.

“Well why don’t you come to America with me then for a month. I’d love to show you off to all my friends.” Lesley was stunned. He looked at his mother for help. She looked at him blankly. He’d just admitted that he had no plans so there was no way out.

When his mother realised that there was no getting out of it she said “that’s a great opportunity, isn’t it?” Lesley was utterly dejected. Another month as a girl! He managed to squeeze out a “yes”.

A few days later he stood at the departure gate in a dress with a white broderie anglaise bodice and yellow gingham skirt and sleeves. He had endured amused looks from all the other travellers especially teenage girls who couldn’t believe they were seeing a fellow teenager in such a sissy dress.

After the hugs from his mother, his Grand Aunt strode through the metal detector frame. Lesley turned to look back at them one last time. His brothers were smiling exaggeratedly and waving inanely. His mother gave him a sympathetic smile. He wanted to make one last plea but his suitcase full of dresses, skirts, blouses, panties, camisoles, slips, stockings, tights and nighties, and not a single pair of trousers or shorts, had already been checked in and was on its way to the cargo hold.

There was no way out of it. He was going to spend the next month in the company of his Grand Aunt with no choice but to act like a happy girl, pleased with her wardrobe of sissy clothes.

As they walked across the tarmac, Lesley had to hold his gingham skirt desperately as the wind from the high terminal building gusted around them. He scampered up the stairs and into the aircraft.

When they returned after a month, Lesley’s mother first recognised his Grand Aunt as she emerged through the arrivals gate. For a moment, she wondered who was this older teenage girl with her? Had she brought another relation with her unannounced? There was certainly a family resemblance.

Then her hand went to her mouth as she realised it was Lesley. His hair had been bleached and pressed into tight curls. His face was covered in make-up with plenty of blush. As he came closer, he fluttered his eyelashes in embarrassment and she could see the mascara and how his eyebrows were obviously plucked. He wore pink lipstick and hooped earings dangled from his lobes which had been pierced.

She could hardly take it all in at once. He wore a lacey white blouse and a red pleated mini-kilt over black tights (or stockings?). The way he tugged nervously at the hem of his skirt suggested they were probably stockings.

Although his heels must have been three-inch at least he scampered along without any difficulty, suggesting that he was well used to them. She took his hands and said “look at you!” His nails were all painted pink and his hands were obviously manicured. Bracelets jangled on his wrists.

He smiled but was clearly highly conscious of his latest embarrassing look. Alone with his Grand Aunt in America he had been powerless to resist her making more long-term changes to his appearance like having his ears pierced and hair bleached and permed.

His brothers were now used to hiding their amusement while their Grand Aunt was looking but as soon as her back was turned they silently laughed and pointed.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #4 on:** September 17, 2006, 02:12:49 AM »

At home at last, but still having to act as a girl as long as his Grand Aunt was around, Lesley unpacked with his mother. He took a large make-up box out of the suitcase. His previous sissy dresses seemed to have been entirely replaced by more grown up attire. But it became clear that all of the new dresses and skirts were very short.

His mother helped him unpack the shoes, all of which had at least as high a heel as the ones he was wearing. There was a small box of jewelry, much of which looked quite expensive, that most girls would kill for but which was entirely unappreciated by Lesley. “Never mind”, his mother reassured him, “she’ll be gone in a week.”

His Grand Aunt treated them to another meal at the restaurant. Lesley was hugely conscious of the clicking of his heels on the tiles as they crossed the room which made everyone turn and look. At least now they were not laughing at him, although there were certainly eyebrows raised at the outfit.

He shifted several times after sitting but the stiff net petticoat under his pleated pink mini-skirt made it impossible for him to smooth the skirt under his bottom. The skirt had to rest in a circle around him but he kept running his hand down the back of his skirt to make sure it wasn’t sticking up.

When he stood to go to the loo, he did so very slowly taking great care to ensure that his skirt was smoothed down all around. He strode off to the toilets but hesitated momentarily in reaction to the noise of his heels and attempted to keep them off the tiles. This amused many of the ladies around.

Over desert, his Grand Aunt announced that she had another surprise. Lesley froze with the spoon half way to his glossed lips. “I have arranged for Lesley to go to the most prestigious girls’ finishing school in the country for her last two years of schooling.”

Lesley wanted to die. His Grand Aunt was puzzled by the lack of enthusiasm around the table other than from Jason and Roy who seemed to find it funny. Their mother intervened. “Well, Lesley. I guess that’s an offer you can’t refuse”, she said pointedly. He put the spoon in his mouth and chewed the profiterole. His life was over.

At home he managed to get his mother aside. “That’s it! I can’t do it any more Mum.” She couldn’t help smiling at hearing his boy’s voice from those perfectly pink lips. “You have to Lesley. We could all end up in prison.”

“I’d rather go to prison than spend two years as a schoolgirl”, he protested. “I think not”, his mother said, “especially not if the other boys in the prison know that you’ve been going around dressed as a girl. Think about it.”

Lesley flopped down on a chair and tears came to his eyes. “Now, now, you’ll ruin your mascara”, his mother said. He momentarily tried to pull himself together but decided he didn’t care about his mascara. “Look it’s not so bad being a girl”, his mother tried to console him. “Lots of people do it!” She tried to get a smile out of him, unsuccessfully. “It’s only for a couple of years.” Lesley broke down crying uncontrollably and she realised that probably wasn’t the best thing to say.

His mother and Grand Aunt accompanied him to his enrolment in the Royal Greenville Finishing School for Young Ladies. They met the head mistress, Ms. Frankfort. Lesley was brought from the room to be kitted out with the uniform. Before the door closed behind him he heard Ms. Frankfurt assure his mother that “I can guarantee you that all of our pupils leave here as perfect young ladies.”

Lesley returned wearing his new uniform. It consisted of a tight fitting white blouse - even though he only had small “breasts” the buttons strained, a wine blazer with crest and a red plaid, pleated skirt – the regulation being six inches above the knee. His mother couldn’t tell if they were black stockings or tights – he was becoming better at preserving his modesty. He wore high-heeled t-bar shoes. She smiled at the red satin tie which made a large floppy bow.

“I know that many schools now neglect many of the essentials”, Mrs Frankfort said. “Does she have a good grounding in sewing, knitting and embroidery?” His mother tried not to laugh and shook her head. “Right, we’ll have to do extra classes in those areas so”, Mrs. Frankfort noted. “We also place a lot of emphasis on deportment. In order that Lesley can settle in properly I recommend no visits for the first term. She should immerse herself in her studies. I promise you that you won’t recognise her by the time Christmas comes around.” Lesley squirmed in his seat.

Being the most exclusive school in the country, the Royal Greenville had single rooms for the girls with en suite facilities, which at least solved one problem for Lesley.

On his first morning he stood in front of the mirror zipping up his skirt. He turned around and bent over a little to check that his stocking tops couldn’t be seen. But they could, so he had to reach up under his skirt and shorten the suspender straps.

He straightened up again and looked at himself. Would he ever get to wear a pair of trousers in the next two years? A tear came to his eye. He took some tissues, blew his nose and pulled himself together. Then he headed out for his first day of school as a girl.

(http://unclegadget.com/UncAds/Elec2wires.jpg)

DaraJaney · « **Reply #5 on:** September 19, 2006, 02:00:41 PM »

The worst part was that he had to go to a sewing class with girls three years younger than him because he was a beginner. His teacher, Ms. Carter, was very frustrated with his lack of progress. Even more than the real girls, he couldn’t see the point. She got quite mad with him one day and he was sent to Mrs. Frankfort.

“So, you are even worse at sewing than girls three years younger than you! I suspect that you are not really trying. You probably don’t see the point of it. Well, young missy, I can assure you that you will leave this school an expert in sewing and embroidery.” Lesley sighed. “And you can straighten up. I can see you’ll need more classes in deportment.”

“Well, we have ways of dealing with girls who aren’t trying”, she told him. She pressed a button on her phone set. “Send for Ms. Hutton.” Lesley was perplexed. Ms. Hutton was the woman who fitted him out with the uniform.

When he returned to the sewing class he was wearing a pink gingham dress with a very short skirt puffed out by layers of stiff netting. He hoped that nobody could see the matching frilly panties underneath. His hair was tied up on either side with pink ribbons and he wore white ankle socks with a thick lace trim.

The thirteen-year-olds giggled when he walked into the room. “That’s enough”, Ms. Carter cut them off. “When you’ve caught up with the other girls, we’ll consider giving you your uniform back.” From then on, Lesley focussed a lot more seriously on his sewing.

When the bell rang for the end of class all the girls streamed out into the corridor. Lesley could hear that it was full of girls moving classroom. He desperately hoped for some kind of reprieve but Ms. Carter just said “what are you waiting for?” He braced himself and walked out into the corridor.

It had been at least a year since any girl had been made wear the little girl outfit so all his fellow pupils were highly amused. A path opened up down the middle of the corridor as Lesley walked, his cheeks burning.

He now had to face his normal class of sixteen-year-olds. “Calm down girls”, Ms. White told the class as Lesley slid into a seat as quickly as he could. The teacher came over and stood in front of his desk. “So who is our new girl?” “Lesley Parsons.” “A little young to be in this class?” she suggested to tittering.

“Go up to the blackboard and write your name on it so that we can all be reminded”, she told him. Lesley stood slowly and brushed his skirts down carefully. He walked up to the board and took a piece of chalk. He started to write his name along the bottom. “No dear”, Ms. White corrected him, “along the top.”

He reached up and there was immediate sniggering around the room. He realised that his frilly panties must be showing. He took his hand down instantly and tugged at the back of his dress. This brought further laughter. “Continue”, Ms. White said sternly. Lesley sighed, braced himself and reached up again. He printed his name out as quickly as he could to the accompaniment of tittering from the girls. “No dear, in proper joined up writing.” He bristled but could say nothing. He took the duster, reached up again and wiped out his name. He then painstakingly wrote it out again and tried to ignore the laughter at his frilly panties.

After a few days hard work at the sewing he eventually regained his proper uniform. That morning he was so relieved to be able to put on a decent length skirt again. He walked out of his room once again able to feel the gentle tug of his stockings with every step. Then he paused a moment and felt rather depressed all of a sudden at how pleased he had been to be back in stockings and suspenders.

He came to realise that his timetable had no place for science or business subjects. He had been very successful in those subjects in his old school and was looking forward to deciding what to do in college. But two years of home economics and deportment was going to do nothing for his prospects.

Even when it came to sports they were determined to be ladylike. There was no football or even hockey. They played netball once a week. On his first time on the court, Lesley was very conscious of his very short pleated games skirt. He realised that there was no way he would be able to run without showing his panties, let alone jump up to put the ball in the hoop.

In fact, the first time he ran the sports teacher blew the whistle immediately. Lesley stopped and looked around wondering what was wrong. The girls all sniggered. “What are you doing wearing white panties under your blue skirt”, the teacher asked. Lesley looked sheepish. “Go up to your room this minute and change into blue panties”, she ordered.

Lesley slouched off the court and did what he was told. When he returned wearing the appropriate underwear, the teacher stopped the match again. “Let me see”, she instructed. Lesley was mortified. He raised his skirt at the side to display his blue panties.

Deportment classes weren’t going too well for him either. The girls had to change into more formal attire for this. It took him ages just to get the seams on his stockings straight. He still struggled to apply lipstick correctly so that usually took a few attempts to get it right.

His pink and blue floral dress had an attached slip that required him to get his skirt smoothed down just right. The heels must have been four-inches at least. He pulled on the white gloves, took the hand-bag and he was ready.

Once again he struggled to satisfy his teacher. He thought he was used to high heels by now but she was never satisfied with his gait. She constantly chided him for allowing his slip to be seen. His general demeanour was so annoying to her that she took to calling him slutty.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #6 on:** September 22, 2006, 02:24:47 PM »

After the third deportment class his teacher sighed and sent him to Ms. Hutton. He fought back the tears as he anticipated having to wear that pink gingham frock again. But that wasn’t his punishment this time. In fact he’d give anything to be able to wear that frock and frilly panties instead.

Ms. Hutton squeezed him into a corset. She pulled and pulled on the strings behind him until he could hardly breath. He then felt a final squeeze as she firmly tied the knot. She walked away to pick up a bright red dress and he tried to see if he could reach the knot but the corset severely restricted his movement. He would not be able to take it off himself.

She pulled the dress over his head and it fitted snugly over his corset. She zipped him in. By tugging as hard as she could on his hem she just about got it to cover the tops of his stockings but as soon as he moved the thin black line could be seen again.

She made him sit down, took off his four-inch heels and strapped on court shoes with a five-inch heel. Lesley could not believe the difference. It was like walking on tippy toes. His poor toes were bent forward at quite an angle and took his full body weight. Ms. Hutton had to hold his arm as he tried to walk.

After a few tottering attempts to cross the room she sat him down at a mirror, wiped off his lipstick and applied a scarlet colour. She covered his cheeks with a heavy rouge, dabbed blue eye-shadow on his lids and attached gaudy dangling earrings.

Finally she stood him in front of a full length mirror. “Now we look like the slut we really are, don’t we?” He couldn’t stand still in the heels and constantly tottered about. “Now, back to class with you.”

He desperately tried not to cry as he knocked on the door of his classroom. He held the door knob tightly as he walked in, still unsteady on his feet. The girls exploded into laughter when they saw him. It was many years since any girl had been forced to dress as a slut.

He closed the door and made a dash for the nearest desk with quick little agonising steps. He sat in the desk and no matter how he tugged on his dress it rode up well over his stockings tops leaving suspender straps exposed.

He tried to flex his feet for some relief but they were jammed into the shoes at an unnatural angle with no room whatsoever for manoeuvre. Half-way through the class the teacher called him up to the board to write out a chapter of a book on the blackboard.

It took him twenty agonising minutes on his feet to complete the task. He kept having to lean against the board to steady himself and get some relief. When he was told to go back to his desk he walked so gingerly, even the girls started to feel sorry for him.

After the class he wondered could he take the shoes off for a moment’s relief. He tried to bend down but the tight corset would not let him reach any further than his knees. He was stuck in these shoes until someone let him out of them or out of his corset.

After classes were finished for the day, he was told to scrub the floor of the main corridor. There was no point in even trying to prevent his panties, stockings and suspenders being seen by the hundreds of girls who passed by as he leaned forward stiffly in his corset to scrub the tiles.

When he finally got back to his room that night the girl from the next room untied the strings of his corset for him. He sat on the side of the bed breathing deeply for the first time. When he removed the corset the marks of its metal frame were impressed deeply on his skin.

Although his feet were in absolute agony it was several minutes before he could bring himself to bend down and unstrap them. When he took off the shoes his toes were still stuck pointing upwards. It was several minutes before he was able to coax them into their natural position and walk flat on the floor.

The next day he did much better in deportment class. The corset ensured that he kept a perfectly straight back and the five-inch heels forced him to take dainty little steps. Plus there was the fact that he was trying so, so hard. He was so relieved to be allowed return to his school skirt and relatively comfy four-inch heels the next day.

He counted the days until the Christmas break when he would have two weeks at home. He was just dying to be able to wear trousers again after six months in skirts and dresses.

His mother arrived to collect him and was shown in to Mrs. Frankfort’s office. She was told that they were very pleased with Lesley’s progress. “Despite a few early difficulties”, she said with a fixed smile, “she has become a model student in recent weeks”.

The door opened and Lesley walked in. His hair was freshly permed in tight curls. “That should hold for the two weeks”, the hairdresser told him and noted the forlorn look on his face.

He walked confidently across the room in four-inch heels, one foot placed perfectly in front of the other with his hips swaying. He was wearing a cerise pink jacket and A-line skirt. He clutched a pretty purse in his white-gloved hands. His eyes looked down demurely. His make-up was heavy but perfectly applied with his lipstick creating an image of perfectly curved and thick lips.

He paused in front of the women. To his mother’s astonishment he exercised a perfect curtsey, sweeping the side of his skirt out with one hand revealing a glimpse of a lace-trimmed petticoat. Did anyone still curtsey these days? she wondered. He then sat carefully in a chair, smoothing his skirt beneath him and pressing his knees together and slightly to one side.

“Now I want you to make sure that she maintains this standard of deportment and presentation over the Christmas holiday”, Mrs. Frankfort advised his mother. Lesley’s fixed smile strained a little. “She must be properly made-up and wear appropriate lady-like clothes at all time. Otherwise we will see a regression into sloppy behaviour by the time she returns.” His mother nodded and Lesley’s smile almost totally disintegrated as Mrs. Frankfort glared at him, hinting at the type of punishment that might be meted out if he faltered.