Tricked Into Feminization

Part 6

Now that it was known that he was going to be attending the convent, Frank hoped that Mother Superior would insist on a gymslip of an appropriate length. But either she didn't know or she had lost interest but Frank had to continue wearing the shortest gymslip in the school.

This attracted a lot of extra attention from boys especially at the bus stop and on the bus. His high-heeled t-bar shoes made his legs look even longer in his tan tights. Occasionally there would be extra sniggering from the boys at the bus stop following a gust of wind or from the boys on the bus if Frank had to reach up to hold the bar when the bus lurched and he would know he'd given them a flash of his panties.

The girls were no kinder to him. They smirked and muttered 'tart' and could be heard suggesting that his short gymslip was deliberately to attract boys and give them easy access. The thought horrified Frank.

At his first ballet class he stood in the line of girls, still keeping the front of his tutu pushed down a little, unconvinced that the thick pink frills that now adorned his nether regions would be enough to conceal. This meant that the back of his tutu tipped up and revealed the lines of pink frills on his bottom but he had his back to the wall and it wasn't as risky anyway.

"Girls as you can see, you don't all have to match each other's outfits. In ballet we are happy to see individualism. See here Harriet has lovely embroidery on the front of her outfit. And Frances ..." she beckoned him to the front.

Frank cringed but had no choice but to shuffle his way over to her in his ballet shoes, still awkwardly holding the front of his tutu down. He stood beside her and faced the line-up. "Frances here has lovely frills under her tutu." She went to flip his tutu up at the front but Frank turned quickly so she ended up flipping it up at the back.

He felt her fingers running through his thick pink frills. "My goodness. Double stitching! They won't come off easily." Frank cringed. "Now there are many different things you can do." She continued to babble on about options while still absent-mindedly holding the back of Frank's tutu up to the class and prolonging his exposure.

There were one or two other beginners but none had as many problems achieving the right shapes as Frank had. Madame Bouquet kept tapping at his pink legs with her stick to get them in the right place. The girls giggled at his feeble efforts.

The clock seemed to have stopped, he checked so often, desperately wishing the hour to be up. When the bell finally rang Madame Bouquet said "Frances, you stay here. You need a bit more practice." Frank wanted to cry.

The girls gathered their things and left. Frank was now under the personal and constant supervision of Madame Bouquet. "Higher", she tapped his arms and pink legs again and again. Unfortunately she had him touching his toes with his back to the door as the girls giggled past having changed for home.

At ten to five, Frank had to interject. "Please Madame Bouquet. I have to get the five o'clock bus or I'll have to walk home." "That's no problem", she assured him. "The stop is only three minutes away." Frank desperately wanted to explain that he needed time to change but she was already barking commands and tapping at his pink legs with her stick.

At three minutes to the hour she finally dismissed him. He had barely time to replace his ballet slippers and put on his high-heeled shoes. They didn't help him run for the bus as he tottered along in hurried little steps, his tutu catching the wind, not helping aerodynamically.

He just about made it. He went up the steps on the bus and looked along the aisle. The only empty seats he could see were at the back which was dominated by the toughest boys. He decided to stand and try to ignore all the amused looks at his pink tutu and tights.

Three more children came before the bus pulled away. "Move down the aisle!" the driver ordered. Frank had no choice but to push along but his tutu was wider than the aisle. "Hey!" "Watch it!" the occupants of the aisle seats complained as the underwired netting scratched them.

Frank had to turn sideways and push his tutu down at the front, thereby giving everyone in the left-hand seats full view of his pink frilly bottom. He felt slaps and pinches as he pushed along. He decided he couldn't stand in the aisle leaving someone with a face-full of pink frills, it was better to sit.

He was terrified of the tough boy's faces as they watched with incredulity as the 'girl' in the pink ballet tutu, pink tights and high-heeled shoes sank into a seat. Of course his tutu was too wide for the seat and was held aloft by the arm rests. There was nothing he could do except sit there and hope not too many frills were showing – for all the difference it made at this stage.

When it came to his stop he had to repeat the procedure of walking sideways with his tutu flipped up. He wondered should he expose his bottom on the other side this time or to the same people. These were the kind of choices he was reduced to now.