Making Progress - New Illustration

 It's been a while and there are reasons but no need to bore you. Everyone has their own problems.

These illustrations are the best I can do at the moment as I'm struggling to achieve the right frame of mind to create anything. Hopefully readers will enjoy them.

I've made a little more progress on a story and hopefully will be able to finish it before Christmas.

My thanks to Jennie who kindly inserted the text in a way that really improves the overall image.

 R.Dave and Wendy, hopefully I'll be in touch soon and thanks for your patience.

Take care 

Carrie

Foundations of Humiliation

 I'd hoped to have another short story completed by now but for several reasons  still find myself unable to focus for any length of time. However I have about 50% of a story written , I need to get my brain in gear and finish it but right now writing a grocery list is difficult.

So, once more I've had to post an illustration in lieu of a story. I know it's a cliche but every picture really does tell a story. My caption is only my interpretation of what's happening in these images. Readers will have their own version. I've also revamped an old one and given it new text.

It was mentioned to me before that readers may find these captions difficult or at the very least not easy to read. Fortunately, I received an offer of help on that front. So, my thanks and appreciation to Jennifer for taking the time and effort to make these more readable and hopefully more enjoyable for readers.

Take care 

Carrie

The Male Bride and His Matrons of (Dis) Honour

 I'd thought about doing another bridal themed story but perhaps it's too soon after TBRH. There's probably a half decent story in the scene below but I doubt I have the focus or commitment to finish it.

So I took the lazy option.

I had an uncompleted illustration from a few years ago which I eventually finished and captioned.

I greatly appreciate the kind and supportive comments readers posted for TBRH, it's good to know some readers like the material I post.

Hopefully you will like this also.

Take care 

Carrie 

The Bridal Replacement Hypothesis - New story with illustration

 

   

The Bridal Replacement Hypothesis  

by

CarrieP

 

 

“This is a most unfortunate turn of events.” Caroline’s mother sighed wearily, unable to disguise her annoyance.

William, always anxious when his future mother-in-law became vexed, was somewhat relieved that at least this time he would not be the subject of her ire. Nevertheless, he did feel a slight nervousness in the pit of his stomach and as there were no pockets in his fitted jacket he felt his trembling fingers reach for the pure silk shantung of his pressed pleat trousers. He hated this outfit but at least it could, albeit at a stretch, be considered an almost manly shade of deep coral, unlike the pale lavender palazzo pants he had to wear yesterday.

“Yes most unfortunate, Mother.”Caroline repeated in a grave voice “You were quite specific about my dress size; these gowns are far too small for me. I could not possibly try them on. How very… disappointing.”

 William regarded his fiancée with a look of incredulidity and was about to say something but a stern look, perceptible to no one but him dissuaded him from uttering a word. He was acutely aware of Caroline’s abhorrence of all things inordinately feminine, frills and flounces were looked upon with scorn, silks and satins rarely tolerated and when they were, would take the form of a mannish shirt or a plain top. Her reluctance to conform to her mother’s view of femininity was a constant source of friction between them and William, much to his discomfort, was usually caught in the middle. However, once the young man was safely ensconced in their palatial home Caroline’s mother seemed to be drawn to her future son-in law, fussing and fawning over him as if he was a favourite pet.  With this new distraction in her life she seemed less inclined to badger her daughter about her decidedly unfeminine sartorial choices. Naturally this suited Caroline perfectly as she had more important things to think about than fulfilling her mother’s ideal version of the ideal and dutiful daughter. For his part William considered her mother’s attentiveness as merely a passing enthusiasm as the newest addition to the household and believed that once she had gotten used to a masculine presence in the house her attention would again revert to Caroline.

Unfortunately for William, it did not work out the way he expected, she seemed to become more attached to him and as the weeks passed he was pulled inexorably into her orbit. Despite the cavernous size of the house he was unable to escape her constant attentions and had almost by default become her companion.

Of course he had complained to Caroline, on the infrequent occasions when she was present in the house, but she had only to smile at him and he would have done anything she wished. After all she had chosen him when she could have had her pick of any man. Remarkable as this was, what amazed him even more was that she had never baulked at his dreadful, embarrassing secret. In fact, she said it drew them even closer. He often wished he could be more forceful and insist she inform her mother that he should, at the very least, be allowed choose his own clothes. Well… at least twice a week…if, of course, that would be agreeable with her mother. But she always managed to either distract him with her charming smile or chide him in a severe tone depending on how thin her patience with him was. Either way, he never found the courage to deny her mother’s requests, no matter how demeaning.

Now in this alien environment of an exclusive bridal boutique, Caroline’s austere look was quickly followed by her disarming smile and once more he was both relieved and confused in equal measure but it had the desired effect and his heart fluttered like a love struck Romeo gazing at his Juliet. Unfortunately, the moment did not last very long.

“Do stop fidgeting William.” Caroline’s mother said brusquely, snapping him back to reality.

“Oh Martha, leave the poor boy alone.” Mrs Fitzmaurice, her friend, intervened and slid a reassuring arm around his shoulder. “It’s understandable that a young man would be slightly uneasy in these surroundings.”

“Yes, Martha .” agreed Mrs Cavandish, another companion, as she  moved  to his side in a show of support and caressing his cheek in a most affectionate manner.“You are far too hard on William.”

“Don’t you worry, William.” Mrs Claybourne, yet another friend joined the conversation in his defence, taking his hand and stroking it she added with a light laugh “We are here to protect you.”

William grateful for their support and protection smiled appreciatively and lowered his eyes respectfully, a gesture he had only recently come to learn was greatly cherished by these and the  other society matrons in his future mother-in-law’s circle.  For all his faults- and he had many- he was a quick learner  and had  adopted this pose on a regular basis and although he knew it made him seem more docile it was a price he was willing to pay to avoid Caroline’s mother displeasure. He was aware that if she fell into a foul humour he would bear the brunt of her exasperation for days. With no guarantee that his fiancé would be around to protect him he would have to rely on these ladies to provide a bulwark against her domineering mother.  Of course it was degrading for a man to seek sanctuary in the company of these middle-aged ladies but in the weeks that he had entered their home his timidity had become so ingrained he felt he had no other option.

“I can see there is no need for me to come to your aid, darling.” Caroline laughed lightly as her mother stubbornly continued to frown.

However, his practiced display of demureness and deference could soften even the most austere and demanding of female hearts and Caroline’s mother was no exception.

 “Well, perhaps I may have been a little tetchy.” she conceded begrudgingly but her face began to soften, “But this is a most annoying development. I was assured by Madame Margot that she would have Caroline’s exact size. We cannot decide on her bridal gown by just looking at it on a rack or hanger.”

“I am so sorry Lady Congrove.” A deeply apologetic voice called from across the room as Madame Margot entered closely followed by an assistant.

“This is most embarrassing.” Madame Margot proffered her apologies and added a curtsy for good measure.

By now William had retreated to a place of safety and tried to blend in with the rails of bridal gowns but the hue of his deep coral pantsuit made that difficult, thankfully all eyes were on the two women. He observed Madame Margot take the impact of Caroline’s mother anger and although empathising with the unfortunate dressmaker he was greatly relieved that for once it was not him that was the subject of her wrath. Madame Margot was suggesting several other styles that would be similar but Caroline‘s mother annoyance was inextinguishable and she continued to upbraid the misfortunate woman.

“Have one of your assistants model them for us.” Caroline’s mother finally demanded.

“I had thought of that your ladyship.” Madame Margot replied sheepishly and took a step back before continuing “But unfortunately none of my girls are the same dress size.”

A grave silence fell on the room as Caroline’s mother’s face took on a dark expression.

“Perhaps…” the voice of Madame Margot’s assistant nervously broke the stillness, drawing the attention of both women “Perhaps that young lady over there would oblige us. She appears to be just the right size.”

Every pair of eyes in the room turned on the figure in the deep coral pantsuit and after a few moments the air was filled with the sound of female giggling. Even Caroline’s mother was not immune and joined in as William’s face turned crimson.

“Preposterous!” she exclaimed “That’s not a girl that is my darling William, my future son-in-law. Although now that you say it, he does have the delicate features associated with our sex.”

“You silly girl.” Madame Margot scolded her assistant “I am so sorry for this girl’s idiocy, Lady Congreve. ”

The laughter petered out and a strange hush fell on the room as every woman present mentally measured William.

“No… wait…perhaps the girl is right.” Mrs Cavandish said as all the women, now with curious expressions on their faces, slowly advanced on the young man.

“He does have a certain …”Mrs Claybourne mused out loud.

“Girlish charm.” Mrs Fitzmaurice added helpfully.

“Exactly.” her friend replied as she repeated, “Girlish charm.”

William winced but before he could protest the assistant had her tape measure around his waist and Madame Margot was running her eyes over his body mentally calculating the young man’s contours.

“Yes, yes I think it would work.” she said. “Not perfect of course, your ladyship. But good enough to model all the gowns.”

“Gowns!” William repeated “You…cannot…”

The women now excited by this strange idea babbled frantically to each other, drowning out his protests.

“The bosom, Madame.” Her assistant said a little tentatively “We could use some foam or similar material.”

It took William a few moments to realise the women considered this ridiculous idea to be a serious proposition and he decided to move towards the door, however in those few seconds of hesitation he had become surrounded by every female in the room and now had no means of escape. His eyes searched for Caroline but saw she was in conversation with her mother and Madame Margot.

“What a splendid idea.” Mrs Fitzmaurice chirped and beaming at him added, “You would be doing us all a great service and ensure we have not wasted our time coming here today.”

“Yes wonderful.” Mrs Claybourne agreed “It would be a shame to leave without seeing these beautiful gowns modelled.”

“Please…ladies…I must…I can’t…please…” an incoherent stream left his mouth as panic rose up from within.

He barely noticed his feet touch the floor as the two women, followed by the rest of the entourage, steered him across the room towards a pair of large double doors with the nameplate Dressing Room 1. He continued to object but his pleadings were lost in their chatter.

As the door closed behind him he gasped audibly as his eyes darted about the large room, bridal gowns and accessories appeared to occupy every available space, some on rails, some laid carefully over chairs, others on mannequins, shoes stacked neatly on metal frames. William felt his knees tremble at the sight and looked towards the door for a chance to escape but he saw Madame Margot turn a key in the lock. He now knew he was well and truly trapped with no means of liberation. His head fogged and his body becoming strangely detached from his brain by this dreadful turn of events, he was only vaguely aware of instructions being issued and hands moving deftly and quickly over his body. It took him several seconds to realise his top had been removed.

“What is this for?” Mrs Cavandish asked pointing to the wide bandaging around William’s chest.

“N…no…please Caroline…not here…”William blurted pleading with his fiancée who was now by his side and reassuringly holding his hand.

Caroline stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek.

“It’s quite all right darling.” she reassured him quietly unfolding the tightly bound fabric.”You are among friends no one will judge you here.”

“William has a regrettable condition for a male ladies.” her mother explained to the women looking on with wide-eyed curiosity as Caroline completed her task and a modest yet  fully formed female bosom revealed itself on William’s chest.

The spectacle was greeted by gasps followed quickly by admiring exclamations.

“May we…would he mind…” Mrs Fitzmaurice asked, clearly perplexed by the unveiling of William’s perfectly formed feminine bust.

Instinctively, William raised his hands to shield his protruding mounds which instantly drew a strong rebuke from his future mother-in-law.

“William.”she snapped in a manner that he knew and dreaded. “Did I give you permission to cover your bosom? Please do not be rude to the ladies.”

He reluctantly but quickly obeyed and dropped his hands.

“That’s better. This day is stressful enough without your display of girlish modesty.” she chided him but in a gentler voice and gestured to her friends to inspect the protruding glands. “You should be proud of your beautiful breasts now let the ladies examine them.”

There was no need for a second invitation and immediately William felt hands cupping his shameful secret.

“Remarkable.” Mrs Claybourne said as she held both breasts in her hands as William wished the ground would somehow open and he could slip quietly away. The other woman smiled as she added, “Just like a girl’s, so pert and firm.”

It was bad enough that Caroline had told her mother of his mortifying condition, who in turn had informed Jenny, her lady’s maid. The girl, when Caroline or her motherwere unavailable, was now tasked with binding the hideous things in the wide stretch fabric every morning and removing it in the evenings. As he quickly discovered it was also obvious, from their furtive glances at his chest, the housemaids now also appeared to be aware of his embarrassing secret. But he had little time to dwell on that now.

Mrs Fitzmaurice edged her friend aside and a different pair of hands now fondled him. A deep shame was etched on his face and it did not go unnoticed.

“No need to be embarrassed William.“ she said in a sympathetic voice “Two of my maids are at least a size smaller.”

“I’m sure you would like to have them covered, darling.” Caroline asked, coming to his rescue with Madame Margot in tow.

“Yes…yes…”he blurted and continued a little louder than he had intended “I have to get out of here.”

“William! You know you cannot disappoint the ladies.” his fiancée replied sternly as she gestured to the eager female faces, her tone almost indistinguishable from her mother’s and making abundantly clear to everyone in the room  that she would brook no dissent. “But first we need to cover those breasts of yours. That is what you want, isn’t it.”

The words could not leave his mouth, he could only nod his agreement and swallowed hard as his saw Madame Margot pick up a box and open it.

He gasped as he saw her hand the item to Caroline’s mother and felt a queasy sensation begin to form in his stomach. Unable to face the humiliation he closed his eyes and felt unseen hands slip the brassiere up his arms. A silence fell on the room he could hear the laboured breathing of every woman present. He felt a single tear roll down his cheek.

“It’s only fitting that Mother puts you into your first brassiere.” Caroline voice whispered in his ear and he felt the cool elastic stretch under his arms and across his back. There was a noticeable tugging as her fingers nimbly fitted the hooks into the corresponding eyes.

Another tear escaped from his firmly closed eyes and made its way down his cheek as he now felt her hands slip inside the brassiere and settle his breasts in the cups, he felt her warm breath on his neck as she adjusted the shoulder straps.

“No need to be upset, darling.” Caroline’s mother said affectionately as she felt his breasts through the brassiere’s lace and satin cups, “It’s not as if this is the first time others have seen your bosom. You are among friends and family. Now dry your eyes, like a good girl.”

“As you can see ladies,” Madame Margot addressed the women who were clearly fascinated by the young man before them, she placed her hand under his left breast “This particular brassiere has the effect of pushing up and enhancing the bosom.”

He slowly opened his eyes and despite the deep shame and distress engulfing him the smiling, empathic and encouraging faces of the ladies present offered him a small degree of calm. However this was short lived as he now saw Madame Margot and her assistant busying themselves arranging various voluminous gowns on the chairs and sofas throughout the large room. His anxiety quickly resurfaced.

Nooooo… a silent scream roared inside his head, oh no…please…no…

He had been so overwhelmed by the events of the last few minutes that he had not noticed his pants were now around his ankles and his legs were being lifted one at a time as the last vestige of his male, albeit nominal, male clothing was removed. It was only the ladies excited voices that snapped him back into the moment.

“Oh Martha!” Mrs Claybourne gasped as she walked behind to inspect him “You have put him into a girdle.”

He had become so used to wearing these hideous, repulsive feminine foundations that he had almost forgotten he was wearing the dreadful  garment.

He felt a hand on the heavy satin at his rear and he shivered as Mrs Fitzmaurice ran her hand down the corresponding satin panel at his front, letting it linger between his legs for a moment that felt like an hour.

“And stockings!” Mrs Cavandish exclaimed as she fingered the garters holding up the sheer hosiery.

To his consternation, the other ladies made a similar inspection and from the corner of his eye he could see the smirks on Madame Margot and her assistant.

He felt tears of abject humiliation welling up once more.

“As we girls know only too well,” Caroline’s mother addressed her friends in a matter-of-fact tone, as she tugged at the girdle’s wide heavy elastic waistband pulling it up an inch  “males have very little control over their base desires  and have a ghastly tendency to become excited when in the presence of our sex. Docile as William is, he is still a male and a prisoner of these disgusting cravings. Like all of you, my household is staffed exclusively by female servants and it would be most inappropriate if he surrendered to his male lust and such an objectionable display was witnessed by my housemaids. As you can see the girdle is quite effective in ensuring the male organ is kept under complete control.”

“Quite right Martha.” Mrs Claybourne agreed “And as we can see he is nice and smooth , just like a girl. No dreadful male bulge.”

“A good firm girdle keeps our bodies under control.” Mrs Fitzmaurice said approvingly “Why should it be any different for a male, although we never considered such a delicate soul as William to be associated with that appalling and beastly sex.”

“Yes, he is such a sweet, adorable creature.” Mrs Cavandish concurred, adding her reassurance ”And no need to feel embarrassed William I am wearing the very same style. A little constricting perhaps but my figure is all the better for it.”

“He is such a sweetheart. It is why I’m marrying him.” Caroline said as she hugged him closely, her hand falling to his satin clad buttocks, drawing him closer. “Isn’t that right, darling.”

By now words were beyond William and he could only nod and watch in horror as Madame Margot and her assistant approached with a bulky garment carried between them.

“As the style you requested is ballgown, Lady Congreve,” Madame Margot said “I would suggest a seven tier petticoat.”

“Seven tiers?” she repeated as she examined it and obviously impressed gave her approval “Yes it does look delightful.”

“Yes, your ladyship.” Madame Margot said as her assistant held up the voluminous underskirts. “Seven beautiful layers of very stiff and gathered petticoat netting, the outer layer has lace around the bottom of the hem. It has an inbuilt silk slip for the bride’s comfort so she will not itch. The netting is so stiff a crinoline is not required as its stands alone. Wearing this under such a beautiful gown will make the bride feel truly feminine.”

The underskirt was laid on the floor in front of William who stared at it in terror.

Caroline looked at her mother and could not hide her expression of relief that she had been spared the ordeal of donning such an exceedingly feminine garment. Of course her mother was far too busy concentrating on her future son-in-law to notice.

William, unable to comprehend what was happening, was guided into the opening and in a matter of seconds he was encased in the wide petticoat as Madame Margot ensured it fitted correctly around his hips.

“Perfect Madame.” her assistant cooed fluffing out the net underskirts as William looked on with a pained expression, still unable to grasp how he had found himself in this humiliating position.

“Yes, splendid now help me with the first gown.” Madame Margot instructed the young woman.

The magnitude of what was happening seemed to paralyse him and just as he was powerless when he was placed in the enormous and heavy petticoats, he was now incapable of preventing himself being encased in this vast swathe of satin. Madame Margot and her assistant placed the gown over his head and as the assistant began buttoning the gown’s bodice from the back Madame Margot was arranging the skirt over his petticoats. Mrs Fitzmaurice and Mrs Claybourne delighted with this unfolding spectacle could not resist helping with the operation. William remained motionless as Mrs Cavandish placed his hands into matching satin opera length gloves and silently watched her roll them up  his arms. As this was happening the two ladies then arranged the gown’s long train ensuring it was perfectly aligned.

Satisfied they had completed their task they joined Caroline and her mother to admire their handiwork.

“Oh…my dear William” Mrs Fitzmaurice gushed “You certainly do look the part.”

“He certainly does. ” Mrs Claybourne exclaimed, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her “Such a beautiful gown. Please tell us, how does it feel?”

“Do you feel as pretty as you look?” Mrs Cavandish asked.

His eyes remained closed but this only heightened his other senses and he was now even more aware of the tightness of his girdle and the stockings tugging on its six garters, the straps of the brassiere bit into his shoulders and the flesh around his chest. Even through his satin gloved fingers he could feel the softness of the gown. As these sensations danced inside his brain some other voice was suggesting that this may be a nightmare and he would soon awake.

His eyes opened and flickered momentarily as they began to focus and his worst fears were realised.

The reflection in the mirrored wall opposite confirmed the sensations he was experiencing were indeed reality.

“Let us see how the gown moves as you walk.” Madame Margot said gesturing him to walk but he stood rooted to the floor still transfixed on the image staring back at him.

“William!” Caroline’s mother’s sharp tone immediately snapped him back into the present and she took his gloved hand “Walk.”

The bulk of the dress seemed to weigh him down and his every step filled the air with a distinct, uniquely feminine swishing sound as the stiff netting of his petticoats swayed and moved against the heavy satin of the gown’s skirt. He could feel his breasts, now free of their binding, move within the confines of his new brassiere. It was a ghastly experience but from the look on his future mother-in-law’s beaming face, it was not one she shared. There was warmth in her smile he had never seen before and she gazed on him with unbridled affection. The others looked on as he was led around the room by his joyful  and smiling escort to the sound of rustling satin.

“Such a pity it wasn’t in your size Caroline.” Mrs Cavandish consoled the bride to be.

“Yes…yes…a pity…yes…”Caroline answered somewhat distractedly unable to take her eyes from the feminine figure of her fiancée in his bridal gown.

“The heaviest of duchess satin. Such a beautiful, feminine material. ” Madame Margot announced proudly as the couple continued to parade. “Please do not take this the wrong way Lady Congreve, but he does not look out of place in the gown. It is as if it was made for him and the brassiere gives him a wonderful cleavage.”

William visibly winced at the comment his humiliation burning inside.

“Oh don’t be upset darling. It was meant as a compliment, you do look every inch the bride.” Caroline’s mother whispered in his ear “I’m not sure the gown would have looked as good on my daughter. Now let’s go around one more time before we try another gown. And perhaps we will try a suitable veil Madame Margot.”

William’s heart sank as he felt her hand squeeze his affectionately. As they passed the other ladies he looked pleadingly at Caroline but she merely smiled and blew him a kiss and turned back to the company.

They all looked on as Caroline’s mother and Madame Margot fussed over William, fluffing out his skirts and rearranging his long satin train.

“I haven’t seen your mother so happy in a long time.” Mrs Cavandish said.

“Yes, quite remarkable.” Mrs Claybourne agreed. “He really does look the part.

“I think your mother has decided on your gown, Caroline.” Mrs Fitzmaurice added.

“Oh I think she has not only decided on the gown.” Caroline said “But who is going to wear it.”

The ladies nodded their agreement and smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

Regrets...He's Had A Few - Short Story plus illustration

 

It’s been a while.

This is a short piece which would usually take a few weeks to write but my levels of concentration are practically nil and it took over two months. There are plenty of ideas but at the moment I’m struggling with various issues so not sure when the next post will be.

To any Ukraine readers – my thoughts, support and best wishes are with you.

Thanks W – This one’s for you.

 

Take care

Carrie

Regrets…He’s Had A Few.

By

CarrieP

For William, every day was one of regrets.

So many regrets.

For the decisions he had made or more accurately, the ones he did not make.

Regret, for bending so easily to his future mother in law’s forceful personality. Regret, for compliantly and unquestioningly taking the various herbal supplements she had insisted would greatly benefit his body and mind. Regret, for not immediately refusing to wear the dreadful unmanly clothes she had bought for him , the shirts that looked more like women’s blouses in silk and satin, the wide legged and high-waisted pants, the two inch patent leather shoes with tiny bows. Regret, for being brow beaten into addressing her as Mummy.

Regrets, for these and so many other things that had degraded his masculinity and weakened his spirit.

 However, his greatest regret was for allowing himself to slide carelessly, almost unconsciously from a red-blooded, vigorous, independent male into a weak, helpless ,vulnerable facsimile of a man.

For weeks he was forbidden to view himself in a full length mirror  he still should have been alert to the small yet noticeable changes in his body, the nascent round mounds on his chest that grew bigger as the days went by and at the same time there was a corresponding reduction in the size of his genitalia. Now barely visible, his manhood appeared to be hiding of shame in his pubic hair.  Noticeable also, was the increase in the size of his buttocks, accentuating his small waist and giving him a vaguely hourglass appearance. The little masculine strength he’d possessed had ebbed away and his arms now resembled those of a girl. At first he refused to even acknowledge these developments but eventually when his future mother-in-law finally allowed him access to a mirror he was forced to confront a new reality. Horrified at the girlish figure reflected back at him he burst into tears, much to the delight of the assembled servant girls.

He pleaded with his fiancée, but Caroline, having warned him on numerous occasions of her mother’s overbearing persona and telling him forcefully to stand up for himself,  felt he had no one to blame but himself for allowing it to happen.  She conceded that his altered figure was most unfortunate but she expected the effects of the herbal supplements to diminish in the coming months.  To his consternation she also informed him she would be away on business for several weeks and it would be in his best interests not to voice his grievances too vigorously  as her mother could be most unreasonable when annoyed. It would be better for everyone, including himself,  if he ensured her mother was kept happy. Caroline pointed out that her mother, a powerful society matron, was used to getting her own way and life would be so much easier for him if he was more compliant, adding in a factual manner, that he had managed this quite well to date.

However, despite Caroline’s  well intentioned advice  and in an effort to regain his self-respect  he tried to rebel but his feeble attempt at asserting his fading masculinity was quickly dealt with and he immediately  found himself draped over his mother-in-law’s knees, receiving a sound spanking with her wide antique silver hairbrush.  Of course he squealed and kicked his legs but she was far too strong for him, finally exhausted and unable to break free he submitted to her punishment. His utter humiliation was compounded by the presence of a number of her housemaids who had been dusting and vacuuming their mistress’s bedroom when the unfortunate incident occurred. Naturally they  made little attempt to hide their amusement at his mortifying predicament.

After the abject failure to regain some semblance of manliness he was left in no doubt he would now be firmly under her control and subject to her authority in all matters. He was now under no illusion as to what was expected of him – obedience and subservience. From that moment he was required to address her as ‘Mummy’, yet another source of hilarity for the servants.

Not wishing to repeat the ignominy of another spanking he meekly accepted his fate and continued to wear the ghastly clothes Mummy had ordered him to wear, the palazzo or capri pants, the satin pussy bow blouses. He  dreaded  having to accompanying her to fashion shows or on  various shopping trips to  exclusive stores  where much to her delight and his embarrassment he  was often mistaken for Caroline by the other middle aged matrons. His only consolation was that there were no other males present.

Bedtime brought little respite. His future mother-in-law was greatly unimpressed by his own nightwear, finding it far too inelegant and unsightly for the exquisite décor and feminine ambiance of his new bedroom. She insisted he should wear something more suitable to compliment the genteel surroundings of his boudoir. Of course he briefly considered a protest but her steely stare and the prospect of being placed over her knees quickly dissuaded him of even broaching the subject. She dispatched Agnes, her lady’s maid to retrieve some of her own pyjamas for him. All were heavy satin in pink, lavender, peach and other similar feminine hues with intricate embroidery favoured by women on the sleeves and lapels.  He watched dejectedly as Agnes, laid out a pair in a soft rose colour on the bed, her lips forming a faint yet unmistakable derisory smile as she arranged them neatly on the satin quilt. Needless to say it was an extremely restless night for the young man, the satin enveloping him was agonisingly tortuous yet at the same time excruciatingly pleasurable.

Following a most fitful sleep, the morning brought even more troubles. As he removed the dreadful satin pyjama to his utter horror he discovered a glaring stain in the groin area, clearly visible on the soft material. In an attempt to conceal the shameful blotch he wrapped the pyjama top around the bottoms before placing them in the laundry basket, he showered and dressed quickly before Agnes made her appearance. Now fully dressed in the awful clothes that Mummy had laid out for him the night before - a hideous plum coloured palazzo pants and what he tried to convince himself was a silk shirt rather than a ladies blouse- he greeted Mummy’s maid. The look of disappointment on her face was quite noticeable. Agnes had on numerous occasions insisted on dressing him on the flimsy excuse that he did not have a valet, these were most humiliating experiences as she fussed over him treating him like a five year old. Quickly following Agnes was one of the housemaids who, to his great relief, emptied the laundry basket before Agnes could examine them. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief, his embarrassing secret was safe.

Until of course that night, when both Mummy and Agnes entered his bedroom. He had already removed his clothes and was just about to put on the appalling teal coloured satin garment that had been laid out on the bed for him. A knock on the door and Mummy’s voice made him reach for the matching heavy quilted full length dressing gown in the same womanly colour.

“The housemaids have informed me of an unusual stain on your pyjamas” Mummy said walking past him into the room, Agnes following closed the door. William’s face turn crimson as Agnes, with a contemptuous smile, held up the offending article.

“I…ah…I…it…”he spluttered.

“No need for explanations.” Mummy said in a conciliatory tone “I understand the male has very little self –control, isn’t that so?”

“I…it…I did not…it was …”he continued to stumble.

“As I said, no self-control.” Mummy continued.”Fortunately there is a solution. Agnes, show Master William the remedy to the male problem.”

He gasped as the maid, unable to disguise her delight, held up a long, sturdy yet distinctly feminine garment.

“To ensure that you have no further embarrassing incidents you will wear one of these every night under your nightwear.” Mummy informed him.

He tried to speak but no words left his mouth.

“Your night girdle.”Mummy explained impassively as if this was an everyday occurrence. “And as an added precaution Agnes has suggested a sanitary pad. Ladies wear them at night during their time of the month to prevent disagreeable leakage. A girl can’t be too careful, don’t you agree William?”

As she handed him the heavy girdle a barely audible squeak escaped from his throat.

“Now put it on like a good boy.” Mummy said “Or perhaps you would like Agnes to assist you?”

This was a hideous turn of events and he was completely overwhelmed by her demands but as Agnes brought the evidence of his embarrassing ejaculation closer to his face he understood there was nothing he could say that would allow him an escaape.

He hands trembled as he held the girdle, the white satin of the front and rear panels separated by a denier of elastic far heavier than he had ever encountered.

“Come along William, no need to be so modest.” Mummy instructed in a clearly impatient voice, adding “You have nothing we have not seen before.”

Turning his back and still with his dressing gown on, he tentatively and very awkwardly placed one foot into the girdle, then the other and began to draw the heavy garment up his legs. Reaching his thighs he began to struggle. Before he could object, not that he was capable of such an act of defiance, Mummy relieved him of the dressing gown.

“No need to be shy William.” she laughed lightly.

Naked and exposed he pulled and tugged the girdle over his thighs and looking down between his legs he could feel tears of shame welling up inside as he saw the sanitary napkin nestling in the girdle’s gusset.

“Oh do get on with it William.” Mummy said curtly, her irritation beginning to show.“Ladies do this every day, just grin and bear it like we do.”

Feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever William continued to draw the monstrous garment over his thighs and felt the pathetic shrunken sexual organ between his legs settle into the folds of the soft sanitary pad. His shame intensified and did his best to contain the tears welling up inside.

“Maybe you are right Agnes.” Mummy addressed her maid as she watched her future son-in-law strain to pull the girdle up his body, “Perhaps he does need a lady’s maid to assist him.”

William although extremely disorientated, heard the remark and despite his confusion and self-pity  immediately recognised his situation could indeed  get worse if he failed to placate his future mother-in-law. He redoubled his efforts and making one last effort he managed to settle the girdle an inch or so below his ribcage. Almost at once he felt the constriction of the garment on his abdomen, the girdle’s crotch squeezed tightly against his genitals and he was aware of the unfamiliar bulky sanitary pad pressing against them.

Mummy and her maid observed the pitiful figure before them with amused expressions and William suddenly became conscious of the small yet prominent feminine mounds hanging from his chest. He lifted his hands to cover them which caused even more delight to the onlookers; he could hold back the tears no longer and began sobbing.

“Oh dear.” Mummy said in a sympathetic voice and drew him to her bosom to comfort him. “No need to cry my darling boy, you’re just tired and a little confused.”

Agnes lifted the pyjama top over his shoulders and meekly he allowed her button it, she pulled down the bedclothes and sitting him on the bed drew the satin pyjama pants up his legs then helped him stand.

Mummy slipped her hand between his legs and looked him directly in the eyes as she squeezed firmly, his eyes dropped to the floor in shame.  The large wad hugging and protecting his now diminutive organ meant he was only vaguely aware of a slight pressure.

“Perfect.” she said with a satisfied smile and gesture to her maid to confirm her conclusion.

“Oh yes, Madam.” Agnes grinned in confirmation. “Fits wonderfully, just like it would with a girl. One could not tell the difference.”

William could hold back his tears no longer and began to cry.

“Yes, just like a girl Madam.” Agnes repeated her face unable to conceal her satisfaction at the outcome.

“There, there William.” Mummy consoled him and dabbed his cheeks with a tissue as she put him to bed.” No need to be upset, this is for your own good.  We don’t want another embarrassing incident, now do we?”

“But…” was all he could manage to reply as Agnes slipped a heavy satin sleep mask over his eyes.

“Hush now and sleep.” Mummy said, “You will feel so much better in the morning.”

The morning merely brought a further erosion of his masculinity, as if by magic, and to his great disappointment not to mention discomfort Agnes appeared just as he awoke.

“Good morning Master William, I hope you had a restful night.” she greeted him in a breezy fashion fussing and straightening the heavy quilt with the deep quilt, she added with a snigger. “Madam has asked me to check for any…leakages. When you are showering I will inspect your girdle and pad.”

When he emerged from the bathroom he saw Agnes had made the bed and laid out his clothes for the day, the usual ghastly ensemble of clothes that at best could be described as unmanly, high waisted pants in coral with wide legs and a matching shirt in silk which was, in reality, more of a blouse with long sleeves that ballooned out at the elbow and gathered again at the wrist. Dreadful,  of course but over the last several days his resolve  had been so weakened  and undermined  by Mummy’s overbearing personality he now felt quite helpless. However despite this erosion of his masculinity he could not prevent himself gasping at the sight of the long legged panty-girdle and long-line brassiere which lay next to the clothes.

“These pants are particularly tight fitting.” Agnes said, picking up the object of his terror and displaying the girdle to him between the fingers of either hand , she smiled encouragingly  “So you will require a little help ensuring they accommodate your figure properly. This is the ideal foundation wear for just such a purpose. Now be a good boy and put it on.”

He looked at the garment in her hands and recoiled in horror which brought an immediate reaction from the maid. Her eyes narrowed and her expression grew darker, an almost inaudible growl reached his ears.

“Now” she barked.

He had never heard her speak in such a tone and he was so alarmed he instantly took the girdle trying to steady his shaking hands. Turning his back to her and still wear his long quilted dressing gown, he placed one foot and then the other into the girdle’s legs and as he had done the previous night began sliding  it up his thighs, gyrating his hips as he did so. He found it easier than the previous night as the rear of the garment had a long zip running down it separating the satin material and so did not have to wrestle with it as much. The thought struck him that he would now spend almost twenty four hours encased in women’s foundation garments. However, the threatening look on Agnes’s face immediately concentrated his mind and he somehow managed to struggle into it. Covering his private region and most of his buttocks he nevertheless laboured to locate the zip at the rear. The maid immediately took charge and removed hi s dressing gown,  in the process she brushed  against his small yet promising fleshly breasts with her hand. He could not be sure if his blush was as a result of wearing a girdle or having his exposed breasts touched. Not that it mattered , not only was he humiliated but completely helpless and at her mercy.

“This is exactly why you need a lady’s maid, young man.” Agnes said as she stood behind him and began zipping the girdle.

He felt as if he had tight heavy bandages enclosing his thighs to his knees as the heavy elastic mesh compressed his flesh, the dainty lace at the hems belying the strength of the fabric. He gasped as the maid began zipping him into the long, heavy garment and as she worked her way up the garment his gasp turned into a whimper.

“Hush now Master William, and breathe in.” Agnes spoke softly with not even the merest hint of her previous displeasure in her voice and as the zipper reached its destination he felt the tight embrace of the girdle constrict his torso. He immediately recognised this garment was far more confining than the one he wore the night before.

She ran her hand over his tightly restrained satin clad buttocks and squeezed gently, his helplessness was overwhelming, his eyes closed as if to blot out the shame but the real reason was he knew what was coming next and he was powerless to resist.

With his eyes remaining closed he felt his arm being lifted and a thin strip of material slid up onto his shoulder immediately followed by a similar sensation on his other arm. A tear ran slowly down his cheek as he felt more heavy elastic being wrapped around his chest and tightened  as Agnes quickly placed the brassiere’s hooks into to the corresponding eyes.

“Your first brassiere.” She said, her voice a mixture of pride and triumph. Placing a finger under his chin she lifted his head and told him to open his eyes, when he did not comply he felt a sharp blow to his backside and although the heavy material softened the impact his eyes opened automatically.

The full length mirror reflected a familiar masculine face but a figure that would not be out of place in an advertisement for ladies foundation wear. The tight girdle, extending from just below the ribcage to just above the knee moulded his male trunk into a more womanly shape, the matching long-line brassiere containing his small yet plump bosom suggested a reasonably attractive feminine figure. Agnes smiled as she made minor adjustments to the brassiere’s straps.

“Madam will be pleased.”

“Madam certainly is.” Mummy’s voice rang, suddenly announcing her entrance, her admiration for her maids work clearly etched on her handsome face. “What a wonderful figure.”

William, feeling the brassiere’s shoulder straps biting into his flesh and the tightness of the heavy girdle constricting his abdomen and thighs squirmed visibly.

He made a feeble attempt at a protest but if either of the women heard they ignored it as they quickly helped him get dressed.

“My friends cannot wait to meet you.” Mummy said as she placed a string of pearls around his neck,” I have told them how adorable you are and how Caroline is such a lucky girl. Now we have a lot to do as they are arriving this afternoon and staying for the weekend.”

Underneath his sturdy foundations William’s stomach lurched at the very idea of meeting anyone dressed in such a fashion.

The day was spent supervising the housemaids as they prepared the various rooms for their mistress’s guests. Having spent several days in the emasculating clothes Mummy had chosen for him, William had almost grown used to the smirks and the mocking remarks of the maids as they went about their chores. And today was no different. They admired his blouse and his new pants saying how fetching the colour was and how his pearls complimented his outfit. But worst of all was their admiration for his figure which to any female eye could only be achieved through the strictest of girdles.

Likewise Mummy’s friends were gushing in their praise for his choice of outfit and how he had the ideal physique for such an ensemble. To his horror he was told there would be a dinner in his honour that evening at the private members club they all were members of.

As ladies do, they assembled in Mummy’s luxurious and spacious bedroom in the late afternoon for drinks and to discuss plans for the evening ahead.

“You do realise Theodora.” one said eyeing William “There may be a difficulty in William gaining entry. As we all know, it is a female only establishment. ”

“But he is so adorable, not like other males, darling.” another said and to his embarrassment, tracing her hand across his slightly protruding bosom. “He could very easily pass for a girl.”

Knowing glances were exchanged, Mummy and two of her friends quietly  left the room while the other s gathered around William seemingly unable to contain their curiosity. Hands caressed his face; he felt another touching his brassiere encased breasts, he felt his buttocks being squeezed gently and worst of all, the sensation of a hand between his legs.

Frozen to the spot, his mind in complete turmoil, he could nether move nor speak.

After what seemed like an age , he heard Mummy’s voice from beyond the gaggling female throng.

“Royal blue would really suit him. Of course he would have to wear a corselette.”

“And matching petticoats of course.” Another voice added.

William turned to see Mummy and her friends enter with several dresses and voluminous petticoats.

He barely noticed the hands unbuttoning his blouse and another pair undoing his pants.

“We should try the pink satin one first.” one of the women said “Pink is a delightful colour for our type of male. It has such a calming effect. We can put him into the royal blue satin afterwards.”

“I’ll ring for Agnes, she can help us in case he becomes a little agitated.” Mummy smiled as she began unzipping William’s girdle “One never know there may still be a little masculinity in there, isn’t that right William?”

“Aaah…”

The sound was barely audible as he felt female hands grapple with his brassiere and girdle.

“Don’t worry my darling boy.” a voice said “You will be the prettiest girl there.”

 

 

 

 

Unintended Consequences - Final Chapter plus illustration

 

Below is the final instalment of Unintended Consequences.

I really thought I would have it finished before now but events conspired against me but I suppose there’s a kind of symmetry to the timing- my good friend Bea died Christmas Day six years ago. I still miss him.

I’m unsure when I will be able to post another story. Right now I am not in a good place mentally or emotionally although physically I’m fine and thankfully have avoided covid. As a result my concentration levels are not so good and it is unlikely my situation will improve in the next few months so it’s doubtful if I will have the wherewithal to post something new(I’m still aware I have to finish Life’s Little Dilemmas- and I will at some stage). Although I will try to do the odd captioned illustration as it requires less time and effort.

I hate to say it but Satre was right- Hell is other people.

On the plus side- and it is a very big plus- I am incredibly lucky to have some very good friends who I know will continue to sustain and support me.

This final chapter is quite long, hopefully you  will enjoy it.

You take care of your selves and enjoy what is left of the Christmas holidays.

 

Carrie

Unintended Consequences.-The Conclusion.

BY

CarrieP

 

 

L

ike most young men of his class, a self assuredness bordering on arrogance was ingrained in Claude Parker-Burke and this was most evident when dealing with the female of the species. Rarely if ever was he ruffled by the weaker sex however this had all changed in the last thirty minutes and the emotions he now felt ranged from intense insecurity to outright panic, a mental state he had never experienced before whilst in the company of women. The cause of his alarm was directly attributable to his aunt, believing he was accompanying her to visit her bankers he now found himself in an educational institution called St Jude’s, a finishing school for girls. However, all was not as it seemed and  he had now suddenly discovered at least two young men of a similar age residing in the same establishment and to his disbelief and utter horror they were dressed in female attire. One of them, who he now knew to be the son of the Countess von Otterdorf, was standing in front of him in the uniform of a lowly, junior parlour-maid while the Countess, seated next to Claude, looked on impassively. The other unfortunate youth encountered earlier, was dressed in an elegant lady’s riding habit and the object of close attention by his female companions. Both young men were not only dressed like members of the female sex but also had a distinctly feminine shape which left Claude in no doubt that they were tightly corseted.

The reasons why these unfortunate youths were dressed in female garb was as yet unclear but nevertheless it had a distressing effect on Claude and although his first instinct was to flee his legs were unable to respond to his brain’s command. The presence of two large and menacing female servants would, in any event, have no doubt rendered any such attempt useless. He remained motionless, his face quite pale, seated on the sofa between his aunt and the Countess, uncomfortably nestled in the folds of their silk and satin skirts. An earlier remark by Miss Strangelove, the Headmistress of this ghastly place, resounded in his head,

“Every young person crossing the threshold of St Jude’s will be turned into an elegant young lady.”

 Surely …she did not literally mean… every…The unthinkable flashed through his head but before he could even begin to try making sense of this grotesque situation the Countess spoke.

“My dear Claude, you do seem quite perplexed. I suppose I had better explain it to you simply.” the Countess began as if speaking to a five year old “You see Maria and Andrea’s- the young man you happened to see earlier- behaviour has been absolutely dreadful, showing complete disregard  for their mothers’ authority, behaving abysmally towards female servants  and generally displaying utter contempt to the feminine sex in general.”

“Ghastly traits not unknown to you, Claude.” Aunt Emily interjected unhelpfully, which only served to heighten his anxiety, he now became aware that all eyes in the room were on him.

“Fortunately, St Jude’s offers a path to redemption for wayward and reprobate young men.” the Countess continued “Who in this room would have thought that this meek and modest parlour maid was a dissolute and incorrigible young man who was wasting his life gambling, womanising and bringing shame on my family. I lost count of the servant girls that have left my service because of his constant pestering and unsolicited advances. Now look at him. A more docile maidservant you will not find. Isn’t that correct Maria?”

“Yes Countess.” The shamefaced uniformed parlourmaid replied with a curtsy.

The rising panic inside Claude finally reached his limbs and he attempted to rise. Gretchen and Matilda, the two burly servants advanced towards the couch but his aunt’s hand pressing down on his right arm and the Countess doing the same on his left was enough to halt any upward movement. Observing this they retreated. A glance at the stern faces of the large servants and their huge shovel like hands persuaded him this was not the time to make any sudden move, he remained seated however his eyes still frantically searched for a potential escape route.

“Now of course you must understand not every young man who enters St Jude’s is forced into domestic service.”  The Countess smiled at him once more and gave him a reassuring pat on the cheek.

“Only the belligerent ones, I believe?” Aunt Emily asked the Headmistress.

“Yes Miss Parker-Bourke.” Miss Strangelove answered and gestured to the male maid “Maria was particularly quarrelsome and with such males we consign them to a spell at the lowest rung of the domestic service ladder.”

Miss Strangelove looked at Claude before turning once again to the unfortunate Maria, she then addressed Claude’s aunt directly

“A scullery maid under our redoubtable head cook, Mrs Coldstrap.” she said, Claude felt a chill run own his spine “Believe me, Miss Parker-Bourke, it had the desired effect. Mrs Coldstrap has a remarkable talent for dealing with aggressive young men. Isn’t that correct Maria?”

“Oh yes …yes Headmistress.” Maria, his face at the mention of the name became somewhat pale, answered immediately with a curtsy.

Claude could see the sympathetic look on his face had been replaced with one of fear and dread.

“May I call you Emily?” The Countess said reaching over Claude and taking his aunt’s hands in hers.

“I was hoping you would.” his aunt replied.

“Wonderful, and you must call me Magdalena.” the Countess gushed.

“Now, Emily you can observe just how well behaved my son now is, there is not the merest hint of the scoundrel he once was.” the Countess continued. “After only a day with Mrs Coldstrap he had changed but Miss Strangelove insisted that another several weeks would be most beneficial for his long term rehabilitation. And as you can see he has risen to his new post as junior housemaid.”

“He does look quite docile, Magdalena.” Aunt Emily said as she patted Claude’s knee “Don’t you think so too, Claude?”

Forced into domestic service… scullery maid… the Countess’s son…a male housemaid.

As the words tumbled through his brain, the panic inside tightened its grip but the scream that formed deep within was unable to escape.

His silence was not unexpected by his companions.

“If he continues to progress under Judith’s tutelage and his contemptible male traits are subsumed by more genteel, refined feminine ones, he may… just may , mind you… even be allowed to leave domestic service and become a pupil as was originally intended.” Miss Strangelove said, “Would you like that Maria?”

“Oh yes…yes... very much.” Maria exclaimed with an excitement that startled Claude

“I have observed recently, Headmistress,” Judith said “when cleaning the young ladies rooms he has begun to take a very keen interest in their dresses.”

This brought satisfied smiles from the ladies particularly the Countess who seemed to beam with pride.

Claude, despite his growing fear, was appalled to notice that the young man showed no sign of embarrassment at this pronouncement, in fact he even smiled demurely at his mother who returned it with genuine affection. He began to imagine what horrors this establishment had inflicted on this poor unfortunate wretch of a male to reduce him to such a state. Although the evidence was in front of him he still found it difficult to comprehend that mere women could strip a vigorous youth of his masculinity, transforming him into a compliant and submissive female servant. 

“Of course, my dear Master Claude.” Miss Strangelove interrupted his thoughts as she addressed him “Not all new male pupils have to undergo months or even years below stairs. The intelligent ones understand immediately that their perceived male superiority and its accompanying obstinacy are quite useless in St Jude’s. They quickly accept their fate and avoid the unnecessary confinement in the kitchens under Mrs Coldstrap.”

Their…their fate… confinement… The words rang in Claude’s ears like the peeling of a funeral bell and his eyes once more frantically searched the room for an escape route as Miss Strangelove paused for a second and rang a bell after the loud tinkle subsided she once more fixed him with her gaze and continued,

“Of course the…shall we say … less co-operative boys… those young men not inclined to obey immediately, well, those are dispatched below stairs into the welcoming arms of our kitchen staff.”

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation and a large, red faced woman in a pale blue uniform her hair concealed beneath a frilled mob cap entered and strode purposefully towards Miss Strangelove.

Claude needed no introduction.

“You have a vacancy for a scullery maid, Mrs Coldstrap?” Miss Strangelove asked.

“I always have a vacancy for a scullery maid, Headmistress.” the large woman laughed coldly, her eyes falling on the figure seated between the two fashionable ladies.

Claude wanted to sink further into the sofa, wishing his aunt and the Countess would lean into him and cover him with their skirts and ample flesh to shield him from this fearsome figure.

“As I say saying,” Miss Strangelove resumed her lecture “The young men that are foolish enough to believe in their ridiculous, mythical male superiority quickly discover that they are no match for Gretchen, Matilda.”

The two large and burly servants now stood either side of Mrs Coldstrap and Claude felt a chill as he noticed their mouths widen into a grin. From the corner of his eye he recognised the look of dread on the face of the only other male in the room. Desperation continuing to tighten its grip, his eyes continued to search for a means of escape but the presence of these bulky, muscular women ensured no such route was available.

“I do hope, you are not foolish, Master Claude?” Miss Strangelove asked, Claude thought he heard Mrs Coldstrap snigger. In a fit of anxiety he turned to his aunt and whispered,

“I…I really think we should leave now Aunt Emily.”

“Leave!” Aunt Emily, much to Claude’s dread, announced incredulously to the assembly.

“I think the poor darling still hasn’t understood.” The Countess replied, caressing his cheek and smiling affectionately at him.

His eyes darted around the room, Gretchen, Matilda and Mrs Coldstrap eyes appeared to widen with anticipation, a smile appeared on Miss Strangelove’s mouth while Judith’s face seemed to take on a strangely cheerful aspect however Maria, the other male in the room, could not meet his eyes.

Claude had indeed tried to suppress the evidence of his own eyes however the horrible conclusion to the events he had witnessed since he had passed through the high gates of this establishment could no longer be denied. Mrs Coldstrap inched towards him with the menacing figures of Gretchen and Matilda by her side, the advance by the women stripped away the thin veneer of self-delusion.

“Please…please…Aunt Emily.” he begged, unable to contain the panic that surged like a mountain stream inside him.

“I think he does now, Magdalena.” Aunt Emily said calmly as she patted her nephew on the knee in a reassuring fashion.

“Please Aunt Emily, don’t let them take me.” Claude sobbed.

“That will all depend on what you say to my proposal, dear Claude.” she answered.

“Y…yes...of course… yes… anything…I…”he babbled as his aunt put her finger to his mouth and silenced him, her eyes locking on to his .

“You will voluntarily accompany us upstairs where you will remove all your male clothes and then be dressed from head to toe as a girl.”

Claude opened his mouth but the only sound heard was a low, unintelligible whine.

“I do not expect you to like wearing dresses but failure to do so or even the merest hint of resistance…”Aunt Emily’s voice trailed off as her eyes drifted towards the three large figures looking down on him. “However I am sure Mrs Coldstrap and her assistants will be able to persuade you otherwise.”

“Uhh…I… aaahh…dr…dresses…”more incomprehensible babble floated from his mouth, the three women moved closer.

The sight of these large and threatening females creeping ever closer  caused immediate panic in Claude and in a most unmanly gesture he threw his arms around his aunt which drew smiles from the Countess and Miss Strangelove.

“Oh do stop blubbering Claude, it really is most annoying.” his aunt admonished him “Now please tell me is it your intention to accompany me voluntarily?”

The young man’s eyes darted between the male housemaid and the three imposing females who were now only a matter of feet away.

Images of him toiling under the fearsome Mrs Coldstrap immediately flashed into his brain and the horrific account of the Countess’s son’s descent into a life of domestic servitude rang in his ears,

Scullery maid…Mrs Coldstrap…life in domestic service…months, years…

The idea of fleeing the room much like his masculine pride and self-confidence seemed an eternity away, yet another glance at Gretchen and Matilda’s leering faces was quite enough to ensure his compliance with his aunt’s request.

“Y… yes…oh yes Aunt.” he stumbled, nodding his head energetically to assure his aunt of his agreement.

“A very wise decision darling.” Aunt Emily said unclasping his arms from her waist as she stood and straightened her skirts before addressing St Jude’s formidable cook, “Unfortunately Mrs Coldstrap, you may have to wait a little longer for your next scullery maid.”

“As you wish, Madam.” Mrs Coldstrap replied in a clearly dejected voice, her eyes never leaving the pale youth who now also stood, taking up a position so close to his aunt that her skirts covered his legs.

“I would greatly appreciate your assistance Magdalena.” his aunt spoke to the Countess “You know how giddy young males can be when they are being corseted.”

“Corseted…”the word left his mouth in a low moan.

“He really does have a lot to learn, Emily.” the Countess laughed prompting sniggers from all in attendance with the exception of the unsmiling Maria who appeared to shift uncomfortably bringing a sharp rebuke from Judith, his supervisor.

“Please follow me ladies.” Miss Strangelove said as she joined the other women and smiled at Claude “I am so glad you have decided to be reasonable and have avoided an unpleasant scene.”

Claude felt a momentary sense of relief as he saw the three servants reluctantly withdraw however he felt a dull ache in the pit of his stomach as he realised the Countess and his aunt had slipped an arm under his and began steering him towards the door.

As they entered the spacious vestibule a large assembly of girls gathered in groups of three and four taking a keen interest in the proceedings as Claude was guided towards the wide staircase. He could hear the distinct crinkling and swishing of silk and satin, taffeta and organza, the heady mixture of several perfumes drifted into his nostrils. The murmuring grew louder as they drew nearer the stairs and the voices became clearer.

“Oh wonderful, we have a new boy.” a voice from one group said.

“Yes and he doesn’t look as arrogant and conceited now.” the verdict, delivered with a sneering laugh from a trio to his left.

“Oh good he is not heading for the kitchens so we will be able to play with him later.” Another remark was clearly heard.

“I wonder what colour dress he will be put into?” yet another voice queried only to be immediately answered by a squeal from another group.

“Pink, I hope. New boys always look…so…delicate in pale pink.”

“Girls…please…” Miss Strangelove gently rebuked her charges “Remember your status, your breeding. You are young ladies in one of the finest educational establishments in the land -not a collection of crude urchins at a street corner.”

Between the increasingly restive assembly of girls and the still ominous presence of Mrs Coldstrap and her confederates Claude was quite relieved to feel the arms of his aunt and the Countess steer him behind the wide bustle of Miss Strangelove as she mounted the staircase.

“You will have to forgive the girls Master Claude.” Miss Strangelove said lifting her skirts and revealing several layers of petticoats as she took the first step. ”They are usually very well-behaved but they do tend to become overexcited when they see such a fine masculine specimen as yourself.”

The further from the throng of girls he got his relief began to wane as the reality of his situation slowly began seeping into his brain. Wedged between his aunt and the Countess his eyes were fixed straight ahead on the swaying bustled ample hips of Miss Strangelove and the heavy satin skirts she held in her hands, he could see the ruffled hems as they swung gently with each step.  The swishing noise of her and his two escorts’ skirts seemed to drown out any other sound and with each whisper of silk and taffeta he felt as if he was being hypnotised, it was almost as if he was being drawn into some unfamiliar soft and delicate place. He felt confused, almost lightheaded as the smooth rhythmic sounds entered his brain and began slowly enveloping and stifling  his masculinity.  He found it difficult to concentrate, to focus on his maleness, he suddenly felt his courage ebbing away.

As the quartet reached the top of the stairs and moved down a wide corridor Claude began to feel alarm rise inside in very being, his first instinctive reaction was to try to loosen the bond of his companions’ arms but his manly strength seemed to desert him at the crucial moment and his feeble efforts were of no avail. Miss Strangelove opened a door and ushered them inside.

There could be no mistaking this for the bedroom of a male it reeked of femininity. Pastel shades predominated, vases filled with roses of every colour and hue were placed on almost every table, the Hepplewhite chairs were upholstered in pale blue and the large windows had floor to ceiling curtains in the identical shade. A large dressing table with a gold triptych mirror reflected the four occupants. Claude’s attention was immediately drawn to the large bed that dominated the room, he could not prevent the gasp that left his mouth as his eyes fell on the items laid out on the deep satin quilt of pale ivory. What seemed like the entire contents of a lady’s wardrobe, had been carefully arranged, silk chemises, linen pantaloons, petticoats of various light colours and fabrics. Taking up almost half the bed was a heavy satin burgundy gown. His eyes moved to the item next to it and he let out a barely audible whimper. On top of the gown lay a long corset in a similar shade, the panels open and its laces falling neatly folded at either side as if beckoning its wearer into its embrace.

However shocked as he was he could not also help noticing the incongruous garment that was neatly laid out next to the sumptuous satin gown. His heart quickened as his eyes were locked on to the dull brown scullery maid’s uniform, a plain apron and mob cap next to it. He was aware of his heart racing, his breathing quickened and he suddenly felt lightheaded as the room began to spin.

“Oh dear…” he heard a voice say “I do believe he is going to faint.”

Claude’s brain received a sudden jolt as the smelling salts found their way through his nasal passage to their destination, his eyes opened and through the clearing haze he made out the three female faces peering into his.

“The stronger sex!” one of them laughed in a derisory tone.

“Wh…what happened…”he said, his eyes blinking and trying hard to focus and became vaguely aware he was reclining on a chaise longue with three familiar faced looking down on him.

“Oh you only had a little fainting episode.” another said and he recognised his aunt’s voice.

“Nothing to be concerned about.” the Countess said “Most girls your age get them at certain times of the month.”

The remark brought sympathetic smiles to the three women’s faces.

“Now it’s time we finished your dressing.” His aunt said “We can’t have you prancing about in your lingerie after all.”

“Li…linge…lingerie…”he spluttered and looking down he was horrified to see he was wearing ladies silk pantaloons gathered tightly at the knees with pink ribbons and underneath this soft garment dark coloured silk stockings hugged his legs, his feet encased in ankle boots with a two inch heel. Over his torso was a fine linen chemise with delicate lace edging.

“A…aah…you…cannot…I…” he babbled incoherently as his aunt and the Countess lifted him and steered him towards the bed once more. As they moved slowly he noticed his clothes, his male clothes, folded in a neat bundle on a chair.

“Oh you can forget about those my dear.” The Countess said “ You won’t be needing them for quite some time.”

“Now, young man,” Miss Strangelove said sternly as she gestured at the clothes on the bed, “you have a choice to make.”

His mouth became as dry as sandpaper and he felt his knees weaken. The vial of smelling salts was once more placed under his nose and the weakness disappeared.

“Mrs Coldstrap…” Miss Strangelove said pointing at the drab brown scullery maid’s uniform and her finger then pointed to the silk gown.“Or… your dear aunt? It is your choice.”

He remained silent, the evolving shock of his predicament rendering him speechless.

“I suspect young Claude is much like my son.” the Countess, turning to his aunt shook her head and sighed “ Quite obstinate and wilful not attributes welcomed at St. Jude’s however as  you saw dear Emily, Mrs Coldstrap will soon dissuade him of such ridiculous notions.”

“After witnessing the transformation of your son Countess,” Miss Strangelove said “I thought he would have had more sense. Such a pity, I suppose I had better ring for Mrs Coldstrap.”

At the sound of the name the fog cleared from Claude’s brain, he looked at his aunt and still unable to speak his eyes pleaded with her to intervene but she remained resolute and just as Miss Strangelove’s hand reached for the cord for the servants bell Claude finally found his voice.

“Th..this…d…”he spluttered, the quiver in his voice noticeable to all as his hands trembling  touched the satin gown, ”this dress…please Aunt Emily.”

“Oh Claude I am so pleased.” Aunt Emily gushed “I did not wish to lose you to Mrs Coldstrap although having seen Maria earlier perhaps it may be better to leave you here.”

“Oh… no…no…I…” Claude blurted as his eye caught Miss Strangelove with her hand still clutching the cord for the servants’ bell “Please…please Aunt I really like thus dress.”

The panic that rose inside him dwarfed the shame of the words he just uttered, in his mind’s eye he could see himself dressed in the horrible scullery maid’s uniform, toiling under the dark stare of Mrs Coldstrap and her ghastly assistants.

“He does appear to be genuine.” The Countess intervened and Claude rewarded her faith in him by nodding vigorously.

“Yes…yes… I am…truly.”

“Well in that case…”Aunt Emily said and picked up the long heavy corset “ I suppose we had better get you dressed before you give Miss Strangelove reason to summon Mrs Coldstrap. Now position yourself here in front of the bedpost while the Countess and I fit your corset.”

With the vivid image of Mrs Coldstrap still looming large in his brain Claude quickly did as he was told.

“I think you know what to do now Claude.” his aunt said.

Claude without hesitation held on to the bedpost and closed his eyes in shame.

“What a clever boy.” the Countess laughed lightly.

“Yes, he has been present on several occasions over the years when I was being dressed by my maid.” Aunt Emily replied as she placed the long corset around his torso as the Countess lent her assistance by adjusting it so the heavy garment fitted into place.

 It extended for several inches down his thighs, his aunt and the Countess fussed and tugged the corset until they were satisfied it was in the correct position both at chest and thigh level. His eyes still firmly shut Claude heard their remarks on how well the corset suited his frame, how it would greatly enhance his figure and how it would also ensure his masculine gait would be curtailed somewhat. He manfully held back the tears as he felt them jerking and pulling the heavy material into place and through the light fabric of the chemise he could feel the corset’s boning press against his body. As his aunt had said he had been summoned to her boudoir on many occasions to discuss vague and flimsy issues, perhaps something to do with his vacation plans or his circle of friends. However once there he was unnerved and emasculated by being in such a feminine realm and unable to find a reasonable excuse to leave he was compelled to remain and witness her being dressed by her maid. This also happened with other aunts and even the odd time with his mother particularly when he had been somewhat delinquent in his actions.

Now finding himself in such a dreadful situation he was only too well aware of what lay ahead and the abject humiliation that would soon follow. Had he not witnessed this uniquely feminine scene several times? The images flashed into his brain, he recalled Aunt Emily wincing as her maid methodically laced her into the ghastly garment him while she groaned slightly with each tug. After taking a moment to adjust her mind and body to the vice like grip of her stays, her dressing continued with the maid layering her in petticoats of different fabrics.

These were the appalling thoughts that played out inside the young man’s head, his eyes remained closed in anticipation of the unspeakable ignominy that was about to befall him and as he felt the first tug on the corset’s laces his body jerked slightly. From experience he knew without having to be told to grip the bedpost as the lacing continued.

“He is obviously aware of the procedure.” The Countess noted as his aunt now concentrated on the upper section of the corset and as she pulled the laces from bottom to top he felt the corset clench his upper torso.

“Oh yes Magdalena, he is quite acquainted with the intimate details of a lady’s boudoir.” Aunt Emily answered brightly as she patiently worked her way down the corsets laces, his body jolting with each tug. “Isn’t that right Claude?”

When he did not reply she tugged the laces abruptly and repeated the question.

“Yes Aunt Emily.” he replied immediately, quickly realising he could not afford to irritate his aunt.

“That’s a good boy.” Aunt Emily said “Just remember to answer promptly when spoken to. You’re not among those dreadful male friends of yours now.”

“Yes my dear Claude,” the Countess said as she made some slight adjustments to the corset’s front “You will soon be one of us and ladies are expected to behave in a more civilised manner.”

Miss Strangelove handed the countess a moulded piece of soft rubber and she nestled it into the corset’s right cup. He gasped as he felt it settle against his chest and when the second one was in place he could see the corset ‘s bust protrude in a seemingly natural way.

“Yes most satisfactory.” the Countess said “Quite natural in fact.”

“We have developed an expertise in faux bosoms over the last several years.” Miss Strangelove explained “They are most becoming, are they not?”

The women laughed, nodding in agreement as Claude examined his new features with alarm.

“Perhaps you would you like to finish, Magdalena?” Aunt Emily asked her new friend.

“A double knot I think.” the Countess, taking up position drew the laces a little tighter, his gasp was audible as she leaned forward spoke softly into his ear. “We don’t want your first corset to loosen, now do we Claude?”

“No, Countess.” Claude, mindful of his aunt’s warning, answered immediately.

“I’ve chosen my three favourite petticoats for you Claude.” Aunt Emily smiled, gesturing to the garments draped across the satin quilted bed.

Claude winced at the sight and froze as the Countess picked up the first one.

“You know what to do Claude.” his aunt said and the young man bent down slightly  with his arms outstretched to allow the Countess to slip the delicate cream silk petticoat over them and the settle the it over his corseted  hips where she drew the string and tied it into a neat knot. Miss Strangelove repeated the action with the second a satin petticoat a deeper shade than the first. He could almost hear his masculinity’s screams being quietly muffled as the womanly undergarments covered his hips and legs with their insidious femininity. By the time his aunt lifted the third petticoat- a taffeta creation in a delicate shade of ivory  with a deep frilled hem -over his head and tied it in place, Claude felt a single tear run down his cheek which quickly turned into a trickle.

“Yes it is quite emotional.” The Countess, her voice soft and emphatic, comforted him as she dabbed the tears away with her lace handkerchief “And I’m sure those are the first of many tears but what we are doing really is for your own good and do not be ashamed of failing to mount a more manly resistance. If you had shown any defiance you would not be here dressed in these beautiful clothes.”

The Countess motioned towards a full length mirror to his left and catching a glimpse of himself he turned away and gently began to sob and as his tears continued to flow she continued,

“I’m afraid you would have met the same fate as my son. You would at this very moment be dressed in that plain, dull scullery maid’s uniform, slaving under the stern and watchful gaze of Mrs Coldstrap…possibly for months and then possibly an even longer period as a housemaid under Judith. Now aren’t you glad you made the right choice?”

Being forced into a corset and petticoats was indeed a most traumatic experience however even though his mind was in turmoil and his masculine strength had deserted him, deep inside he knew that the Countess spoke the truth. The images he had witnessed earlier had been seared into his brain and he knew he would do anything, anything including allowing himself to be dressed as a girl, to avoid incarceration in this dreadful institution. Aunt Emily had indicated that this was the price he must pay if he was to avoid such a dreadful fate.

The Countess placed her finger under his cheek and raised his head and their eyes met.

“Y..yes…yes Countess.” he murmured as she continued to wipe away his tears.

“That’s a good boy.” she smiled and nodded to his aunt who began fastening a device around his waist.

“Oh…please…no…please…Aunt…”he jabbered.

“Yes Claude.”Aunt Emily said firmly as she tied the bulky apparatus around his waist, ensuring it sat securely over his buttocks. “You know only too well that every lady wears a bustle, it is not only fashionable but will give you a distinctly feminine silhouette. And do stop whining before I change my mind and have Miss Strangelove summon Mrs Coldstrap.”

The mention of the name was sufficient to bring Claude to his senses.

“Yes Aunt.” he replied meekly anxious that he did not upset her.

“He should be honoured.” Miss Strangelove said “Only the most senior girls in St Jude’s are allowed to wear them.”

Claude had little time to think about her remark as the Countess and his aunt were already lifting the dress over his head, arranging it to ensure the skirt fell properly and without ceremony began placing his arms through the sleeves. With beaming smiles the women busied themselves, the Countess adjusting his skirts while his aunt buttoned up the back of the dress and with the closure of every button he felt the gown’s bodice drawing tighter around his corseted torso. The sleeves seemed as tight as a second skin and he suddenly became aware of the sheer bulk and weight of the gowns skirt and the petticoats  beneath.

A sensation of utter weakness came over him but it was one more of the spirit than of the flesh and was quickly followed by an even more profound emotion, helplessness at the hands of these women.

Immediately realising he was now trapped inside a satin gown, a sense of utter helplessness descended on him and he now recognised  he was now completely under his aunt’s authority.

“Remarkable” The Countess gushed as she stood back to admire her handiwork. “He looks quite charming, still a little masculine perhaps but he is undoubtedly far prettier than my own dear son. And yet… I think there is something missing.”

 “Yes I agree, he does look reasonably girlish.” Aunt Emily concurred, the merest tinge of disappointment in her voice. Claude visibly cringed and held his skirts to keep his hands from shaking, as his aunt added “But you are correct Magdalena there is something amiss.”

Claude steeled himself, stole a furtive glance at the mirror and gasped audibly. The corset had shaped his male body into an unmistakably feminine form with a distinctly female waist, the rubber breast forms gave him a reasonably prominent bosom, the bustle added the uniquely feminine dimension of a womanly derriere. However his face, framed by his shortish hair, and with its high cheek bones, wide eyes and full pinkish lips seemed to oscillate between male and female.  His initial glimpse of the disturbing reflection revealed  delicate features not out of place on a girl while a moment later a different angle betrayed a more boyish appearance. It was extremely disconcerting and he could feel tears welling up inside once more.

A boy in a dress he whimpered to himself.

“I expect this will improve his appearance greatly.” Miss Strangelove said as she stepped forward, he winced at the sight of what she held in her hands. Their eyes met briefly and he held his hands to his chest suddenly becoming aware of his jutting bosom and just how feminine a gesture this was. He immediately knew another layer of femininity would be added which would further enhance his girlish appearance.  

Miss Strangelove immediately recognised the fear in his eyes and smiled,

“It will make your appearance much more credible. As your aunt and the Countess have said you are reasonably passable as a girl but we really don’t with to leave anything to chance, now do we?”

There was agreement from the Countess and his aunt. There was no question of resistance as deep down he knew she was right and the last thing he wanted was to be seen as a boy in a dress. His eyes his fell to the floor as she  settled a long and thick mane of dark hair on his head and began to arrange it expertly into a simple but elegant arrangement held in place by a number of discreet   hairpins.

Claude had to hold on to the bedpost to steady himself as the reflection he now saw was now even markedly more feminine and he had to look closely  for indications of any discernible masculinity.

It was yet another dreadful humiliating moment among the many he had endured over the last hour, he could feel the blood drain from his face and his knees begin to weaken. The Countess seemed to notice this even before he did and the vial of smelling salts was once more placed under his nose, immediately reviving him.

“We can’t have you swooning like some nervous debutante.” she said as she gave him a second dose which brought him sharply back to his awful new reality.

As he was still trying to gather his senses, Aunt Emily had begun coating his lower lip with a light pink substance.

“Pucker your lips.” she instructed brusquely, he shamefully obeyed and presenting his lips she added with a smile “That’s a good boy, we want you to be as pretty as possible.”

When his aunt had finished the Countess began dabbing some face powder over his cheeks before turning him once more towards the mirror.

“Yes…oh yes.” Miss Strangelove exclaimed “Much, much better.”

Claude gasped once more and this time he had to peer even closer in an attempt to locate his hidden masculine features. They were there of course, but now with the addition of the feminine hairpiece, lip colouring and face powder, they were now more difficult to discern. He took a few paces closer and as he did he felt the full weight of his new female clothing impede his movement while simultaneously the unmistakeable whisper of satin, silk and taffeta filled the air with each step. He turned around to confront his tormentor and his skirts obliged with yet more rustling of petticoats, his mouth opened but nothing flowed from it, his brain was overwhelmed by the reflection and the sudden awareness of his tightly constricted torso and voluminous skirts.

“I…ah…this…it’s…”meaningless drivel eventually trickled from his lightly coloured pink lips.

“Yes darling you do look extremely pretty.”Aunt Emily beamed, obviously delighted with the results of her and her companions’ handiwork.

“Quite remarkable ladies!” Miss Strangelove said in an excited voice “It’s quite rare that such results are achieved on the first attempt. His masculinity seems to have been almost completely diminished by his gown and new hairstyle.  I think I recall only one other young man that made such an impression on me on his first dressing.”

Claude looked down on his bulky new feminine clothing, still trying to come to terms with the dreadful situation his aunt had forced him into but suddenly all this seemed to pale into insignificance as Miss Strangelove addressed Aunt Emily.

“Would you consider him becoming a full time pupil? He would be such an addition to the school.”

“What do you think Claude.” his aunt asked him “Would you like to remain here I’m sure you would make some wonderful friends.”

“Oh…oh no…please…please Aunt Emily.” he whimpered clutching his voluminous skirts and moving quickly to her side, his hands latching tightly on to her right arm. “Take me home with you…please Aunt Emily…please, I beg you.”

“And you will promise to be obedient and respectful.” his aunt answered.

“Oh yes Aunt…yes…yes of course.”Claude blubbered, tightening his hold on her.

“Well…I suppose the fact that you made no attempt to resist does stand in your favour.” she conceded as she began to move towards the door with her nephew still clinging to her arm.

“Such a pity.” Miss Strangelove said as she opened the door for them“I’m sure he would have enjoyed himself here among the other girls.”

Reaching the top of the stairs the Countess joined them.

“Now lift your skirts Claude, I’m sure you have seen ladies do this as they descend stairs.” the Countess said “We don’t want you to trip and fall, displaying your petticoats for all to see.”

“That a good boy.” his aunt praised him as he gripped his cumbersome skirts in both hands and gingerly placed one foot in front of the other, making his way slowly down the stairs.

“It’s as if he was wearing dresses all his life.” the Countess commended him much to his obvious shame.

The young man was relieved when he reached the last step, not only because he had not tripped in the unwieldy clothing but that the hallway was empty of pupils. At least that was one humiliation he would not have to endure. However just as they made their way across expansive highly polished tiled floor two uniformed figures appeared and moved towards the front door. Claude tried to look away but his aunt and the Countess who had by now  slipped her arm into his free one ensured he was positioned in front of them.

Maria opened the door and just like Claude cast his eyes downward in shame.

“Well thank you so much Miss Strangelove, for facilitating my nephew’s transformation.” Aunt Emily said shaking the Headmistress’s hand.

“It was my pleasure Miss Parker-Burke.” Miss Strangelove replied “Seeing yet  another male dressed in feminine finery gives me and my staff an enormous sense of satisfaction, even if we cannot hold on to him for a year or so. If he does not meet your expectations we would only be too happy to welcome him back.”

Claude, a shiver running down his corseted spine, flexed what little strength he had in his arms and brought himself even closer to his two escorts.

“He has assured me he will be compliant but if not…”Aunt Emily said but was almost immediately interrupted by her nephew.

“Oh I will Aunt, I will.” he blurted enthusiastically.

“You see how intelligent Claude is, Maria?” the Countess addressed her son “If only you had been as wise as he you would be at home with me instead of…well… learning the error of your ways.”

“Yes Madam.” the uniformed male housemaid with eyes still lowered, replied quietly with a curtsy.

“At least he is making progress Magdalena.” Aunt Emily interjected.

“I will call again next week to check your progress reports with the Headmistress. “the Countess said as she and Aunt Emily, with Claude between them moved towards the door.

Claude out of the corner of his eye could see a look of envy on the maid’s face as the trio, skirts and petticoats rustling, moved through the door into the sunlight. As the door closed behind them he heard a brusque female voice bark an order,

“Back to your work Maria, you still have to polish the silver and the beds to make.”

Yet another shiver went down his spine as he lifted his skirt and awkwardly entered the carriage.

 

It was only when they passed under the tall and foreboding wrought iron gates that Claude felt a weight lift from his shoulders but now that this  particular sword of Damocles had been removed from over his head he once more became acutely aware of his ghastly feminine apparel. He had no choice but to rest his hands across the enormous, weighty swath of satin that now covered his lower body, the unfamiliar feminine smoothness of the fabric sent more shivers through his body and he closed his eyes hoping he would soon wake from this nightmare.

“I think Claude likes his new gown.” the Countess laughed lightly, noticing his discomfort.

“Yes I think you do Claude.”Aunt Emily agreed, eyeing her nephew and Claude, aware that at any time his aunt could order the carriage to return to St Jude’s, knew the response that was required.

“Oh yes Aunt Emily it is very nice.” he lied hoping his voice sounded vaguely genuine.

“The correct answer.” she answered with a knowing smile“You are a clever boy.”

Claude breathed a sigh of relief but immediately recognised that from now on he could not afford to upset his aunt in any way. The result would be a return to that ghastly place and an even wore fate than his present one.

The conversation for the remainder of the journey centred around his aunt’s plans for Claude over the coming weeks and how she looked forward to having a well mannered girl about the house once more. As they discussed this dreadful arrangement Claude remained silent and began to make plans of his own. He had realised he had  left clothes in his aunt’s house from a visit the previous year and he was determined that  once everyone had retired for the night he would take his opportunity and flee, never to return. He would never forgive his aunt for her horrible behaviour although that may change if he increased his allowance.

As the carriage came to a halt outside Aunt Emily’s elegant townhouse the Countess and his aunt alighted first with the help of the cab driver. When it was his turn, instead of jumping down as would have normally done, he had to manoeuvre his bulky and cumbersome skirts in order to get through the door of the carriage. A large hand was extended and Claude knew he had to take it otherwise he feared he would topple over into the street. He kept his face downward to avoid the driver’s gaze.

“Don’t worry Master Claude you are in safe hands.” the voice said, in shock Claude looked up and saw the voice belonged to Gretchen.

“Miss Strangelove has kindly given me Gretchen for a few weeks until we are sure you are settled into your life.” Aunt Emily said quickly adding the caveat  “Just in case you have any second thoughts.”

Claude felt a twinge in his stomach and although this was a complication he could have done without it made him even more determined to escape that very night.

“Now come along Claude, there is something I wish you to see.” Aunt Emily said as she guided him up the steps and just as they reached the door it was opened by Jane, his aunt’s head housemaid.

“Good afternoon Madam.” she said and curtsied, greeting the Countess with the same solemnity.

She then turned to Claude and in a faux respectful tone greeted him also.

“Good afternoon Master Claude.”

He blushed furiously and wanted to give her a verbal lashing but knew however dressed as he now was, this was an impossibility. Not only would it sound ridiculous but he was sure Gretchen would have dragged him back into the carriage and then to St Jude’s.

“What a beautiful gown. The colour really suits you.” her voice reeked of mockery.”But you have so many upstairs to choose from, you are such a lucky young man.”

Claude was speechless and looked to his aunt, his mouth agape.

“I have decided Jane will be your lady’s maid from now on.” Aunt Emily explained and before he could reply addressed Jane, “Have you made the arrangements?”

“Yes Madam, you can view it from the blue drawing room.” Jane answered as her mistress swept across the large hallway.

Once inside the drawing room Aunt Emily took up a position at the bay window looking out onto the spacious back garden.

“Come here Claude.” she instructed, he felt the Countess’s hand in his as she led him to his aunt, he was conscious once again of the voluminous skirts jutting out from his hips, swishing as he moved across the room.

“There is something I think you should see.” she said as through the window two housemaids approached a large steel drum.  One of them poured some liquid into it and set it alight. The other held a large canvas bag and when her mistress nodded her head one of the maids reached into the bag and produced a pair of trousers.

“N…no…no…”he blurted as the maid dropped the pants into the drum, the other servant reached into the bag, a jacket and shirt were produced and shown with a smile to her mistress before being  thrown unceremoniously into the rising orange flames “please…no…Aunt Emily…”

Claude felt a familiar tightening in his stomach and the tears beginning to flow.

“Yes Claude, you have no use for them now.” his aunt spoke softly “Your time in this house will be spent dressed as a girl, you may as well accept that fact now as it will make life much easier. If not, you can always return to St Jude’s.”

The Countess moved to his side and consoled him.

“Don’t be upset Claude, you will soon get used to wearing your new gowns, just look at Maria he has become quite accustomed to wearing his uniform and I have no doubt he would much prefer to be standing here in a beautiful satin gown than toiling away as a housemaid in St Jude’s.”

Of course Claude knew she was right but this did nothing to alleviate the young man’s distress and the tears continued to flow.

“Shall I prepare Mater Claude’s room Madam?” Jane asked her mistress.

“No Jane.” Aunt Emily answered “As you can see the poor boy is extremely confused by today’s events. It will be better if he has someone soothe and nurture him, he will sleep in my bed tonight and the Countess has graciously offered to comfort him also.”

Claude was horrified, there seemed to be no escape from these dreadful women

 “I’m sure Claude would welcome the company. Isn’t that so my darling boy?” Aunt Emily asked but Claude could only sob uncontrollably. She ignored his blubbering and added with a smile, “Yes I thought you would. Now run along with Jane I have told her to instruct you in some very basic feminine behaviour, how to sit properly and arrange your skirts, how to gesture in a feminine way with your hands among other things. And of course how to curtsy, I have guests for afternoon tea and I wish you to meet them so unless you would prefer to be exposed as a young man in a dress I’d suggest you obey Jane’s every command. She will be an excellent governess as well as a lady’s maid.”

Claude, his escape plan going up in smoke before his eyes, could only whimper and with a nod from her mistress Jane took him by the hand and led him from the room.

Dazed and confusion they moved across the hallway towards the wide ornate staircase.

“Just imagine that Master Claude.” Jane sneered at the still whimpering young man. “There will not be a minute of any day that you will not be under the control of, the mistress, the Countess or myself. I am so looking forward to it, aren’t you?”

Claude’s seemingly endless supply of tears continued unabated as Jane smirked,

“Come along my pretty boy, you may be crying like a girl but you still have a lot to learn. Now lift your skirts and follow me.”

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carrie