Schoolhouse
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At School free porn video
At School
by Janet Harris
So, here I am, typing this at a school library computer in my white blouse and
tie. I've been a boarder for four days now and I think I'm getting used to it.
What I'm not getting used to so fast is being female, because, though no one
here would believe me, that has only been for four days too. Before that I was a
middle-aged man who sometimes fantasized about being female, without being at
all gay. I used to think my fantasy impossible because it had to be a complete,
magical transformation - no dressing-up or messy operation would do. I read many
stories of such transformations and wrote a few myself, but never thought it
could actually happen until I found a strange ring in some roadside mud.
At the time, nothing could be further from my mind than magic or
transformations, indeed I hadn't even visited fictionmania for a week or two.
The ring was golden, but seemed too light to be solid gold and plain like a
wedding ring. I glimpsed some writing on the inside, so I got back into my car,
on the passenger side because the traffic was busy, got a cloth out of the
glove-box and cleaned the mud off it. As soon as I saw that it was not in
English, indeed some of the letters were not in our alphabet, I began to feel a
strange foreboding about it. The runes on Tolkien's famous rings sprung to mind
and I began to think of magic. However, I soon realised that these were not
runes but Greek letters and, since my holidays in Greece, I could guess the
rough pronunciation of the words, if not their meaning. One was "metamorphosis"
and the meaning of that was very clear.
Perhaps, if I wore the ring, I could magically transform in the way I'd so often
imagined. Gingerly I tried to put it on my third finger, but it would only fit
on my fourth. Nothing happened. I did feel a little strange with it on but I put
that down to anticipation. I was a bit surprised to find that I really believed
that the ring had magic powers. Perhaps, I thought, I need to recite the words
engraved inside the ring. I glanced around at the traffic and the row of shops I
had stopped beside and thought I would much rather transform in private. But
then I realised that if I disappeared from my present life at this particular
point, on this journey, it would really be quite convenient and much less
complicated than doing it at home. No one would notice if the person in the
parked car suddenly became someone else or even believe their eyes if they
happened to be watching.
I found I was shaking as I read the words silently again. It was not all fear,
there was a strange joy and excitement at the prospect of realising a long-held
dream. I took a deep breath and pronounced slowly "Ektos to kytanemes
metamorphosis giramos", then replaced the ring on my finger. There seemed to be
a great whirling change in the world around me which lasted less than a second.
There was no pain, no change in the noise of the traffic, no change in the
passenger seat I occupied but the car was different and it was travelling fast!
I found I was wearing a grey pleated skirt from which my nylon-clad knees
protruded. I could feel a stiff collar tight around my neck and see a striped
school tie falling between the two great mounds on my chest against a bright
white blouse under an orange blazer. I turned towards the driver and saw a
strange man in his thirties. That must be my new Dad, I thought. Everything was
set up exactly like my favourite fantasy. My name must be Janet, which seems
awfully common and plain to me now; couldn't my old self have made a better
choice? I was on my way to boarding school for the first time at seventeen, a
school with very strict uniform rules. At least I would be new at school and not
expected to know anyone or anything, because I had absolutely no real memory of
anything as Janet before this point.
"So, d'you think you'll play a lot of tennis?" my new Dad suddenly asked.
"I hope so", I lied, startled at the high pitch of my voice, "I've packed my
best shoes."
I was not too bothered about getting things wrong now. I decided I could easily
bluff my way around such difficulties. It did seem odd that I was so suddenly
dropped into a completely different life with no preparation. I wondered if I
could get back, if I wanted, not that I did, just yet. I glanced at my new left
hand and found I was not wearing the magic ring. It could have dropped off when
my fingers became so slender and feminine, so I looked around in the foot-well.
"What have you lost?" asked Dad.
"Oh just a penny I was carrying for luck," I lied, having just seen one down
there. "Oh here it is!" I cried, picking up the penny after checking every nook
and cranny for the ring.
I began to feel a little frightened then, of being stuck in this new body for
its whole lifetime. I had to admit it was what I had wanted, but now it was so
starkly real, it was another matter. Those awful baby-feeding mounds on my chest
would be a constant reminder that I was now a fertile woman. Well, they're not
really awful, especially when I play with them in the shower, but they remind me
that I'll soon have a period and one day have to give birth. I mean, I've passed
some pretty big turds in the past, but the thought of a baby's head makes me
shudder. Am I being too crude? Well, I'm a schoolgirl now and I do crude.
Pretty soon we were driving through the school gates and I could see dozens of
boys and girls of different ages, all in the same white shirt and tie that I was
wearing. It made me feel blended in, invisible and at home, which was nice. I
hugged my Dad goodbye, which felt odd when the bosoms squashed in the hug were
mine. I was shown up to my dormitory and unpacked my big suitcase. It was very
strange, knowing nothing of my past as Janet. So far most things seemed to
conform to my old fantasy, so when I told my fellow-boarders that I had an older
brother and that my last school had been a comprehensive called Woodgates, which
didn't require uniform, I hoped I wouldn't find out on my next home visit that I
was wrong.
Nothing in my former male fantasies, however, really prepared me for the stark
reality of having a female body, which I discovered as soon as I went for a pee.
Under these clothes, it should have seemed perfectly normal but, as I watched
the pee trickling out of my pubic hair, I was shocked to the core by my new
groin. Although I knew I was basically pleased to be now of the fairer sex and
delighted to be young again, I found myself bursting into tears. As I grabbed
some toilet paper to wipe my eyes, I reassured myself that it didn't matter if
the other girls spotted I'd been crying; they'd put it down to home-sickness.
After I'd unpacked my spare uniform items (no other clothes are allowed) and
arranged them in my locker, I was shown the way to the Senior Common Room by
Helen, the expected chatterbox of my dorm. She was not allowed in, as a junior,
so left me outside the door. This was the first time I had to open a door myself
and take a step into my new life. I almost chickened out and bolted. Hesitantly
I peeked inside and couldn't spot Yvonne, who had shown me to my dorm. Instead,
a tall slim girl with cropped blonde hair took hold of my tie in the traditional
St Austell's manner and introduced herself as Julie, a new name, not in my
stories.
"So you're Janet Harris, eh?" she chatted, "I hope you like it in dorm 23.
You've got Helen, haven't you?"
I suddenly noticed that the figure next to her was in trousers, a boy!
Julie introduced him, "Oh, this is John, my boyfriend from Oak House." and he
stepped forward, looking me up and down. He didn't touch my tie, so I gingerly
touched his, hoping I wasn't being too forward. Boys have been the hardest thing
to get used to, these last four days. The other girls talk about their "cute
little bums" but I find myself more interested in the front of their loins. It
really isn't envy, I'm glad I don't have that peculiar equipment any more, it's
just curiosity really. I'm really proud if I see that looking at me has made the
little lump grow!
I would have expected wearing skirts to be hard to get used to but I just don't
notice at all. That's partly because we're not allowed anything else here. The
awful knee-length plain grey things we have to wear all the time are far from
flattering, but I'm afraid my huge bum (well, it seems huge to me) would be
shown up awfully in jeans. I went shopping in the local town yesterday and saw
many women in trousers, but I think I'd still rather wear skirts, even in the
holidays. I love wearing my little sports skirts for tennis and the early
morning runs. As for bras, well, they're just a necessity. I have to really
think about it while writing this to even feel the straps on my shoulders. I
don't much like them bouncing around when I'm in my nightie anyway.
In my original story, that Janet got her hair chopped into a short bob on the
first Wednesday trip down town. I definitely didn't want to do that yesterday
because I love the feel of my long hair around my shoulders when I can release
my bun at night. It really suits the Edwardian appearance of the uniform
nightie, with its big round frilly collar and puffed short sleeves. Anyway, I
want to see what it's like at home, in nicer clothes, to have long hair before I
think about getting it cut. I do feel in a slightly despised minority among the
boarders, because the day-girls all have buns, but I can easily put up with that
for two weeks till I get home for the first time.
Home is now definitely where my new parents live, though I don't remember ever
having been there. I'm really looking forward to going home for the weekend
after next - it's just eight days away now - and meeting my Mum. I spoke to her
on the phone on Monday night. It was a bit odd feeling so close to someone who I
don't even know what they look like, but it came naturally. I babbled on about
the uniform and the routine and she was really sweet with me.
I suppose I've become completely feminine in thought and attitude, but its hard
for me to judge that. I'm certainly more emotional and have cried several times
since my first pee. I suppose I'm more interested in clothes and fashions now,
but then I have to be. I'm fascinated by the gossip and intrigue of the dorms
and have no difficulty in fancying boys. Being a teenager again is a bigger
change. I've rediscovered boredom. There's lots to do all the time but I keep
feeling bored - I'd forgotten that aspect of youth.
I'm not bored writing this, partly because I keep thinking how it might turn you
guys on. I suppose I'll soon forget what used to turn me on when I was male.
There's not much privacy here at school to explore my body, but I have managed a
few good wanks and they were fantastic. I'm in no hurry to try sex with a boy; I
want to be good friends with one first. Being a New Girl, I get chatted up a lot
by the boys and I quite enjoy it, but that makes it harder to really make
friends with them. When we have class discussions is the best time to get to
know them. That's the only time they seem to want to talk seriously to us
without showing off.
The school work is really hard. I'd forgotten quite how intensive A-level
courses are. I'm doing Sociology, History and Economics, I discovered from the
books in my suitcase. I was aghast at first because I'd done science subjects as
a boy, nearly twenty years ago. Then I read my notes and found I could
understand an awful lot of it. Perhaps I've got some memory of my past as Janet
somewhere in my head. I seem to have habits, too. I took my bra off, even on the
first night here, and put it on next morning without noticing that I was doing
it, or how I did it. I didn't notice that my blouse was buttonned the other way
around from shirts I was used to, until I had almost finished taking it off,
that first night.
The stockings and suspenders don't seem to come so naturally but then they would
be new to me anyway. Almost every time, I have to stop myself attaching them
over my knickers, which I pull down to my knees while I do up the clips, so that
they go over the straps for easy peeing. I suppose tights would be too warm and
clammy - it's nice to feel a draught around your knickers sometimes. I found I'd
packed a very frilly white pair for tennis, which made me blush.
Wearing a skirt for tennis reminds me, of course, that I'm playing the ladies'
game, not that I was ever any good as a man. I find myself so fit and nimble now
to move about the court that I feel sure I could beat my old self easily in
straight sets. I enjoy the game so much more now, too. It wasn't my main
interest as a man but now I'm keen to practise and play at every available
opportunity. I even looked at new rackets in town yesterday, but I'll have to be
careful with my money. There were some really cool tops, too, in the sports
shop, but here we can only wear buttoned-up polo shirts.
I saw the boys' Rugby team getting on a coach for an away match yesterday. We
had to go and cheer them off anyway. They looked weird with their top buttons
all done up - we must be a laughing-stock at other schools. Crystal told me that
they have pop-fasteners on their rugby shirts so that they can do them up again
immediately if they get pulled open on the field. How silly! All this was surely
invented by my old male self for his stupid stories, but then how am I living in
it, in such stark reality?
I don't often think about how I got here. It frightens me a little. I don't want
to go back; I'm just looking forward to going home to wear my own clothes in
eight days time and getting free of this uniform for good when I go to
University. I don't see how this can possibly be a dream when I keep going to
bed to sleep in the middle of it. Each night I wonder if I might wake up back in
my old (very old it seems to me now!) male body but each morning the first thing
I know is that I'm squashing a boob, because I don't seem to have proper female
sleeping habits yet.
It's nice to be able to share these secret thoughts of mine with you guys who'll
understand. That's all I've got time for now - they're locking up the library. I
hope you enjoy it!
Mara
- 10.04.2020
- 8
- 0
