Scott, an 18-year-old boy from Ontario, Canada, is excited to participate in an exchange program and experience life in England. However, upon his arrival, he discovers that there has been a mix-up, Scott Campbell isn't Sophie Campbell. What will h...
When Scott arrived home, he could see Mrs. Evans waiting for him just inside the door. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the conversation that was sure to follow. As he approached her, she smiled warmly and asked, "How was your first day?"
Scott hesitated for a moment before replying, "It was okay, I guess. I'm just glad to be home."
Mrs. Evans could sense that something was bothering him, so she probed further. "Is everything alright? Did anything happen at school?"
Scott shifted uncomfortably before finally admitting, "I got called out by Headmaster Baker for not following the appearance code."
Mrs. Evans raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what did she say?"
"She said I need to follow the dress code better" Scott replied, feeling a sense of dread wash over him.
Mrs. Evans nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes. It looks like we have some work to do then. Why don't you drop your bag off in your room and then meet me in the car? And make sure to leave your uniform on - it will make bra and panty shopping less awkward," she teased.
Scott's eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean?" he asked, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Mrs. Evans chuckled. "Don't you remember? You have to meet all the rules in the handbook. That includes a specific style and colour of panty."
Scott groaned. "But what about the bra? I don't even have boobs," he protested.
Mrs. Evans pulled out the handbook and pointed to the rule that stated all students over 13 must wear a bra. "Sorry, Scott. It's the rules," she said apologetically.
Scott let out a deep sigh and reluctantly headed towards the car, with Mrs. Evans following closely behind
Mrs. Evans led Scott to the underwear section of Primark, and Scott felt his cheeks flush as he scanned the rows of bras and panties.
"You'll need to get a specific style and colour of panty to follow the appearance code," Mrs. Evans said, picking up a pack of deep red panties with a small bow in the front. "The handbook also allows white ones, but I prefer the red. It matches the school uniform."
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Scott sighed and made his way to the bra section, feeling increasingly frustrated. "I have no idea what size I am," he muttered.
Mrs. Evans chuckled. "I'm guessing you're probably just an A cup unless you're hiding something under your shirt."
Scott scowled but eventually grabbed a white t-shirt bra in size 34A. Mrs. Evans stopped him and suggested he get a red or nude-colored bra instead.
"Why can't I just get a white one?" Scott asked, confused.
"You can see white through a white shirt," Mrs. Evans explained. "But nude or red won't be visible. Better get two in case one is in the wash."
Scott grabbed a nude-colored bra and reluctantly added a red one to his pile. He couldn't believe he was actually shopping for bras and panties with his housemistress.
"Can I finally go home and take off these itchy tights?" he grumbled.
"Not quite yet," Mrs. Evans said. "We need to get you some makeup too. My foundation definitely won't match your skin type, and since you'll be wearing it every day, you better have your own."
Scott groaned again, but Mrs. Evans was already leading him to the stockings section, where she picked up two pairs of silky, semi-opaque stockings.
"These should be much more comfortable than those itchy tights," she said, holding them up to Scott's leg.
As they headed toward the checkout, Mrs. Evans glanced down at Scott's legs and asked if he had a razor.
"Yes," Scott said, blushing again.
"Good. Make sure you shave your legs tonight," she said firmly.
At the MAC cosmetics store, Mrs. Evans picked out some mascara and blush while an employee with caked-on foundation offered to help them.
"My daughter is looking for a foundation that will match her skin tone," Mrs. Evans said, gesturing toward Scott.
The woman turned to Scott and smiled. "I can help you with that, babes. Let's find the perfect shade."
Scott followed the woman to the foundation section, feeling self-conscious as she swatched different shades on his arm. He didn't know anything about makeup, and he was grateful when Mrs. Evans stepped in to help.
"That one looks perfect," Mrs. Evans said, pointing to a bottle of foundation. "Let's try it out."
The woman sat Scott down in front of a mirror and started applying the foundation to his face. Scott felt like he was in a dream as the woman chattered on about different makeup products and techniques.
"You have such beautiful skin," she said. "It's a pleasure to work with."
Scott couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had never been complimented on his skin before.
As the employee finished up, she handed Scott a mirror. He looked at himself in amazement, hardly recognizing the person staring back at him. He had never worn makeup before, but the way it brought out his features was striking.
Mrs. Evans looked at him with a smile. "You look beautiful, dear," she said.
Scott felt a mix of emotions.
Scott is relieved when they finally leave the store and head back to the car. "So, what did you think?" Mrs. Evans asks him as they drive home. "Do you think you can replicate that look on your own?"
Scott hesitates before answering. "I don't know, it seemed like a lot of work. And what if people at school notice? Won't they think it's weird that I suddenly look like a girl?"
Mrs. Evans chuckles. "Trust me, Scott, no one will suspect a thing. They'll be too busy being jealous."
As they pull into the driveway, Mrs. Evans turns to Scott. "Okay, remember to shave your legs and put on some lotion. We don't want any stubble or dry skin showing in the morning."
