The Feminization Of Leslie - Part Three free porn video

The Feminization of Leslie - Part Three Chapter Four - Summer in Skirts The end of school came and went. Susan was as good as her word, and never told anyone, as far as he knew. Leslie also returned many times to the Dreycott residence to play with Denise. On some of those occasions, his mother even allowed him to go dressed -- more or less -- as a boy (although he still wore androgynous clothes and jewelry, and still had his feminine hairdo and long nails). Denise was always dressed as a girl and, on those visits when Leslie was in boy clothes, he thought he detected a change in her behavior, but couldn't put his finger on it. An adult observer would have said that Denise was flirting with Leslie, as a pre-adolescent girl might flirt with a boy her age, but Leslie was too young to pick up on this. Her demeanor when he was dressed as a girl was also perhaps flirtatious, in a way, but different. Then, she would show affection rather in the way girls show fondness for each other, hugging and holding hands, although an astute adult might wonder if there were, in these affections, subtle overtones of a nascent lesbianism. The still- na?ve Leslie remained oblivious. That summer Catherine also took Leslie, always dressed as a girl, to visit other families with boys undergoing petticoat discipline, and he gradually came to realize that there was a far greater number of boys in his situation than he'd previously realized. He began to understand more fully why he'd received so little teasing at school. One evening, they held a sleepover in Leslie's room for several of the neighborhood's feminized boys, and, as girls would, they stayed up half the night in their nighties, talking and giggling. One afternoon, Sabrina dressed him in party clothes and shoes, jewelry and makeup, and Catherine took him to visit another neighborhood home, but this time it was not a feminized boy but several of the girls from school to whom he was introduced (Susan not present, to his disappointment.) This provoked in him much initial embarrassment but, apart from a little harmless teasing at first, the girls took pains to make him feel part of their group, and it became clear that they'd all had prior exposure to other feminized boys. Within a short time they were upstairs in one girl's room, laughing and giggling together, trying on each other's clothes and jewelry, doing each other's makeup and nails, and generally behaving like pre-teen girls do everywhere. Leslie returned home that evening, flushed and excited, and eagerly gave Sabrina a blow- by-blow description of the afternoon's activities. Sabrina was quite pleased by this, as it was a strong indication of his growing acceptance of his new lifestyle. -- As it turned out, while Susan may have kept her word and treated their day together with discretion, at least one -- or perhaps more than one -- of the girls from the party didn't. About a week later, as he was walking past the food court in the mall, dressed that day in his "feminine-boy" mode (girl's jeans, sneakers and t-shirt, earrings, bracelet, polished nails and subtle makeup), he heard a chorus of giggles and turned to see a trio of girls he recognized from school looking in his direction. As he turned and stared at them with growing dread, they began pointing at him and calling out in loud, sing-song voices, "Hey Leslie! Why aren't you wearing one of your pretty dresses today? Didn't you have fun playing dress-up with Allie and Dana and Rochelle? Did you like having your pretty nails done? Where are your high-heels? You look so cute in high- heels, Leslie! Who would have thought a BOY would look so cute!" He walked away quickly, blushing furiously, and plunged down the concourse toward the main entrance, but there was worse to come. As he made his way outside through the main doors of the mall and into the bright, beating sunshine, he almost walked straight into Rocco, the titular leader of the gang at school he had come to think of as "the mean boys". As luck would have it, three more of the gang were also present. Leslie averted his face and turned to walk away, but it was too late. He'd been recognized. "Hey!" shouted Rocco, pointing. "It's the fag! Hey! Hey fag! Where you going? Come on back here, we wanna talk to you!" They started after him. Leslie looked frantically around for an adult, someone who could possibly intervene, but there was nobody, only a few other kids, standing around the ashtray bin, smoking cigarettes. They looked up with mild interest at the shout, but made no move to interfere. No help there, he thought fearfully. The boys rushed up to him, grinning evilly. "Hey! Hey where's your dress, fag?" said Rocco. "How come you're dressed like that today? You tryin' ta FOOL people into thinkin' you're a BOY?" The others guffawed loudly at this witticism, which encouraged Rocco still more. "Hey, Dan!" he went on, addressing one of his mates. "I bet the pretty fag here gives a great blow job! Maybe we should find out! Whadya say, fag? Wanna give us all blow jobs? Where's your lipstick?" By this time, the four had completely encircled Leslie, and he felt panic welling up inside him. He cast about frantically, looking for some means of escape, but none was evident. "Look, Rocco," he began, trying desperately to keep his voice steady, "look, I don't want any trouble, okay? Just let me go. I promise I won't say anything..." "Hey, we don't want no trouble either, fag," Rocco replied, grinning, "and you're damn right you won't say anything if you know what's good for you. It's simple. All you gotta do is go over there with us..." he pointed to a copse of trees beyond the parking lot, "And give us all BJs, and we WILL let you go... If you don't, well, I guess you'll get to see how your lipstick looks on two fat lips!" Again the others howled at this comedic gem. Leslie began to shake. "Hey!" came a sharp voice from the direction of the main doors. "Hey! Leave him alone, asshole!" They turned and saw a tall boy about Leslie's age emerge from the concourse and stride in their direction. Leslie had seen him around school before. He was a friend of Simon's, he recalled. What was his name? Andrew, he thought it was. "Rocco," the boy said as he came up to them, "just fuck right off, okay? Go pick on someone your own size, or better yet, go pick your nose." One of the others snickered at this remark, but was quelled by a quick glare from Rocco. "Yeah?" said Rocco, turning belligerently toward the newcomer and flexing his muscles, "and who's gonna make me?" "I don't have to make you," Andrew replied easily, spreading his hands, "it's simple. You and your bunch of ass-kissers can just go beat it, now, or maybe some private information just might happen to leak out at school in the next couple of days... information that certain guys might not WANT leaked out. Know what I mean, DANNY?" he looked over Rocco's shoulder at one of the other boys, who was suddenly looking distinctly uncomfortable, "Maybe a photo or two... maybe stuck up on a student website... things like that. Could be embarrassing... right, DANNY? "See," he went on, "maybe Leslie here isn't the only boy who wears a dress now and then. Maybe some other boys do too, but they keep it a deep, dark secret. It would be a shame if that information got out, somehow..." "Let's get out of here," Danny spoke up suddenly, and Rocco stared at him in surprise. "Come on, guys!" he went on, a plaintive tone creeping into his voice, "Let's leave the fag and his boyfriend... Let's go to the arcade or something..." He was edging away from the group, still looking manifestly uneasy. Two of the others began following him toward the mall entrance. "Yeah," they said, anxiously, "yeah, come on, Rocco. Let's go play video games, or something..." "Jesus," Rocco muttered, "what the fuck is wrong with you guys? God, what a bunch of pussies... Oh, alright. Let's go play fuckin' video games..." He turned and glared at Leslie over his shoulder as he walked away, "I'll be seein' you in school, girly. I still want my blow job!" "You have to be able to get it UP, first, Rocco!" Andrew called after his retreating back, "too bad you CAN'T! Dickless wonder!" With a final malevolent glare back towards Leslie and his savior, Rocco, accompanied by and his gang, disappeared into the mall. Leslie heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Oh my God!" he breathed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Oh my God, thank you so much! Thanks Andrew, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along! Those assholes really meant business!" "Hey, no problem," Andrew replied, "I hate it when shits like that pick on people just cuz they're different. They do that all the time, you know. Four against one... what a bunch of cowards! They pick on the Asian kids at school, all the time... the littler kids, even that kid with the crutches. It really pisses me off. And call me Andy, by the way. Nobody except my mom calls me 'Andrew' ". "Well, thanks again, Andy," Leslie said gratefully, still trying to stop himself from shaking, "I was scared stiff. You really saved my bacon." "That's okay. No problem, like I said. Well, I gotta get going. See ya round!" "Yeah, see you!" Leslie gazed at Andy's retreating back as he disappeared back into the mall. By the time Sabrina pulled up in the car, he'd almost stopped shaking. -- With less than two weeks to go before the start of school, Leslie was lounging in his room one morning, still wearing his nightie, when his mother entered and said, "Leslie, it's time we went clothes shopping. School is just around the corner, and you need lots of new things. I'd like you to go shopping with Sabrina, today. She has a list of everything you'll need. It's a long list, I'm afraid, so you'll probably have to go two or three days in a row. Now up you get and get dressed. Sabrina will lay something appropriate out for you." Sabrina entered a moment later and, after rummaging in his closet, pulled out a dress and heels. "Hey," he said, puzzled, "how can I shop for school clothes as a girl?" She sat down on the bed next to him. "Well," she began, "for starters, you're not going back to your old school. You're going to a new one this term. It's called the Christeen Academy." "Huh?" he exclaimed. "What new school? Why not my old school? I liked it there!" "You're going to be attending the same school as Denise," she explained, "it's a very good school, a private school. Very expensive, too. And, I think you'll like it there. There's a lot of boys there who... well, I think you'll find you have a lot in common with them..." Leslie sat still for a moment, slowly putting two and two together. Then the light went on. "Wait a minute," he said suddenly, "if I have to go shopping for school clothes dressed as a girl...!" "That's right," Sabrina said, "at this new school, everyone dresses like a girl." His eyes widened. "Everyone?" he exclaimed, "you mean... I have to wear girls clothes EVERY DAY?" "That's right, hon," she replied, putting her arm around his shoulders, "it's a school rule." "And all the other boys do too?" "That's right." "Are there any girls? I mean, real girls?" "Nope," she told him, "all boys." "But..." he stammered, "but... I don't wanna dress like a girl all the time! I mean, yeah, it's fun, sometimes, but... geez...." "I think you might find that it's better than you think," she said soothingly, "it's a very strict school, from what I hear, but they also do a lot of things that are fun, and things that... well, feel good, too..." "Will I get teased?" he asked, after a few moments. "I didn't get teased much at my old school, but some of the boys..." "No teasing," she said firmly, "none whatsoever, I can promise you that. All of the boys there are the same. They'll all be dressed as girls too, you see. Your mom's been there on a tour, and she said that some of the boys looked like they were having a lot of fun, so you just might really like it there. Now," she said, standing and patting him on the bottom, "Up you get, and get dressed so we can go shopping!" They borrowed Catherine's car and headed off once again to the mall. "Check it out!" Sabrina said with a wicked smile, brandishing a piece of plastic. "Your mom gave me her credit card. We can go wild!" It took three days to get everything on the list. More petticoats and crinolines, formal dresses, lots of fashion jewelry, heels, makeup. They returned to the salon in the mall to "fill" his nails (necessary as the acrylic coat grew out) and refresh his manicure, after which he received a pedicure, his toes polished the same shade as his nails. His hair had grown over the summer, and it was now styled in a sort of short page-boy bob, and dyed light blonde, as his own natural color had by now darkened to a deep honey. On the third day, Sabrina led him into one of the stylish new teen girl's clothing stores in the mall. This baffled him, as none of the clothes on display seemed the sort that they'd typically purchased up to then: why, there wasn't a crinoline in sight! "Your mom thought you should have some casual clothes to wear at home," Sabrina explained, "something more like what teenage girls usually wear. Since you'll be wearing very dressy clothes every day at school, she thought this would be a nice change." As Leslie stared in wonder at the mannequins dressed in miniskirts and halter-tops, or cute dresses and heels, Sabrina began pawing through the racks, extracting a selection of dresses, skirts and tops. "Here," she said after a time, handing him a huge stack of clothes to try on, "I think you'll like these. I got you a few miniskirts, including a denim mini. And some longer skirts as well, and a few sundresses, and... let's see, what else? Oh, some cute tops and blouses... Hey, let's see if we can find some hot pants... or daisy dukes!" "What're they?" he asked, struggling with the mound of clothes she'd given him. "Really short shorts!" she explained, grinning, "they really show off your legs. And they look wicked with heels!" They left with a selection of dresses, skirts and tops, several pieces of casual jewelry and, to Sabrina's delight, a pair of "daisy duke" shorts. They presented their mountain of purchases to Catherine, who asked Leslie to model many of the items for her. They met with her approval, even the shorts. Chapter Five - The Academy: First and Second Year "Sabrina!" Leslie cried, eyes misting, "I can't go in there! I'm scared." "Oh honey," she said, stroking his hair, "It'll be okay, I promise! You'll meet lots of boys like you. There's nothing to be afraid of, really!" They were sitting in Catherine's Mercedes, Sabrina at the wheel, outside the main entrance to the Christeen Academy. It was Leslie's first day of school. It was drizzling slightly, and the few other people in view through the rain-streaked side window were hurrying to the doorway, wearing raincoats and hats, or clutching books or papers above their heads to shield their hair. He saw several crinolines beneath the raincoats. He himself was wearing a snow-white dress, sleeveless and v-necked, with gauzy crinolined skirts falling to below his knees, and gleaming white patent spike heeled pumps. A triple-strand pearl choker graced his neck, and he wore matching drop earrings and triple-strand bracelet. Sabrina had woken him early, and she'd worked diligently on his attire and makeup, wanting him to be perfect for his first day. She'd done his hair carefully, finishing with a pretty white bow, then worked on his makeup, painting his lips a deep frosted strawberry pink that matched his nails (which she'd polished the night before), attaching feathery false eyelashes, and giving him deep, sultry eyes with smoky grey-blue eye shadow and liner. "You look absolutely stunning, you know," Sabrina said, reassuringly, "everything's absolutely perfect, your hair, nails, makeup; I saw to that. You'll knock them out, I promise! You have nothing to worry about there." He sat still, his face pale, gripping his purse with white knuckles. He said nothing, just stared fearfully at the entrance. "Go on, Les," she said gently, "you don't want to be late on your first day..." He swallowed hard a couple of times, then opened the door. With a final anxious backward look, he stepped out and, holding his purse over his head, ran in his heels up to the doorway and disappeared from sight. She sighed, and started the car. First day of school, she thought, is always a bitch. -- Once inside the main entranceway, he gazed around in astonishment. The hall seemed full of girls. All of them were dressed much as he was, in crinolines and heels, full makeup, bows and lace. It was noisy with the chatter of many conversations. The broad hall in which they stood was rich with aged mahogany paneling, brass fixtures and thick, wine-shaded carpeting. Oil paintings of young ladies in turn-of-the-century ball gowns, wedding dresses and ballerina outfits graced the walls. It seemed almost like the foyer of an elegant, old-world hotel, or a palace, even. He wondered distractedly if the subjects in the paintings were really young ladies. He looked around hopefully for Denise, but she was nowhere to be seen. Then he remembered that she and her family were still out of town, and wouldn't be back until that evening. He was still taking in the scene when a tall, elegantly dressed young woman with cascades of blonde curls and wearing a tight, revealing blouse, pencil skirt and heels, stepped forward and clapped her hands for attention. "Ladies," she called, as relative silence fell in the hall. "Ladies, I would like all of the first-years to line up over here," she indicated the wall nearest her. "Now, please!" A few of the younger ones began moving in that direction. Others, wide- eyed and trembling visibly, remained rooted to the spot. "Come along!" she said briskly. "We don't have all day! I'll call roll..." She began reading off a list of names, and one by one, petticoated boys emerged from the throng and lined up. "Leslie Marsden!" he heard her call, and he walked over to join the line, his knees quivering beneath his skirts. While the roll call continued, Leslie had a chance to look around at the other students. Some were obviously quite a bit older, second-year, third-year, probably, and beyond. Many were standing in elegant postures that exuded self-possession and confidence, dressed in the most spectacular dresses and shoes with beautifully coiffed hair, impeccable makeup and nails, glittering jewelry. He found himself admiring them and their graceful, mature femininity, and he wondered if, after a year or two at the academy, he might look the same. When the roll was over, there were about a twenty first-years standing with him in a line. All of them looked, he thought, as nervous as he felt. "Alright, first-years," the woman said, smiling, "my name is Mistress Monique, and I will be your teacher for the next couple of weeks of orientation and training. Now, please follow me." She led the way along a wide, carpeted corridor and the buzz of conversations receded behind them. She turned down a side corridor and led them into a large room, decorated in a similar style to the main hall. A sign by the door had read, "Classroom 1", but inside it was unlike any classroom Leslie had ever seen before. Instead of classroom seating this room had large, butter-soft leather sofas, loveseats and overstuffed armchairs. There was no blackboard, but he did notice a retractable movie screen affixed to the ceiling. "Please find somewhere to sit, girls," Mistress Monique said. One by one, they sat. She waited until the silence was complete, then began, "Girls, I want to explain a few things about our little academy that you will need to know." She gazed around the room. "Now, the first thing you need to know is that this is a very strict school. We do not tolerate ANY improper behavior here. We require our students to be perfectly behaved young ladies at all times. We require feminine conduct and deportment at all times. We require you to be perfectly dressed at all times. By this, I mean formal or semi-formal dresses. High heels ONLY. Your makeup, hair, and nails must be perfect, and you may be required to submit yourself, your makeup and nails particularly, for inspection from time to time. You should wear jewelry appropriate to your outfit. We rarely chastise any girl for wearing too much jewelry, only too little. And of course, only feminine undergarments will be permitted. "In some cases during your training here, your dresses, makeup, jewelry, shoes, and so forth will be provided for you. You will be expected to know how to dress yourself, do your nails and makeup, and choose your own jewelry, although," here she allowed a small smile, "Of course that is partly why you're here, to learn how to do these things properly. That will be a significant part of your early training." She paused and looked around the room, then smiled again, this time more warmly. "I am very pleased to see that all of you are already dressed and made up very well. It's very nice to see. I am confident that this year we may well have many star pupils among this group. And of course," here her smile became a little chillier, "We have yet to have a failure here. We DO demand perfection." Then her manner changed abruptly, and she became less serious. "Now! Ladies," she said brightly, "Having said all that (and probably scared you silly!), I do want to say that we also have a lot of fun here! We're not ALWAYS all about rules and discipline! I daresay that you may well find many of our activities very enjoyable, and, particularly in second- year and beyond, not only enjoyable but... well, stimulating..." Leslie looked apprehensively around the room, and saw that several of the other boys were doing the same thing, looking apprehensively from face to face. His stomach still crawled with anxiety. One of the boys hesitantly put up his hand. "Yes, Jennifer?" "Mistress Monique," he quavered. "Ma'am, I was wondering, well... what is the punishment for disobeying?" "It depends on the transgression," she said, spreading her hands, "We're not unfair. On a first offence, particularly if it's something relatively minor and not a deliberate violation of the rules, we may just give you a stern warning; for example, having chipped nail polish, or forgetting to wear earrings or lipstick. However, on repeat offences, or if you do something willfully disobedient, you may be punished more severely. We don't mete out punishments frivolously. We always ensure that the situation requires it before we take any action. But, we do have corporal punishment here, when necessary, and also, we do employ restraints." Restraints? Leslie wondered uneasily. What does THAT mean, I wonder? But there was no time to worry about it. Mistress Monique clapped her hands again for their attention. "Now girls," she began, "we will spend the rest of the day discussing clothes, makeup, hair, accessories, and so forth, so that you will all know what we deem appropriate attire. Gather around a little closer, please, so I don't have to raise my voice..." For the next couple of hours Mistress Monique discussed in great detail the clothes and accessories that were acceptable at school, and those that weren't. She talked at length about undergarments (satin and lace preferred); garter belts and stockings ONLY, she emphasized, no pantyhose. Panties must be worn, along with training bras. One boy put up a tentative hand and asked if adult bras could be worn. Leslie noted that he had a somewhat larger 'bust' than the others. "We generally feel that, at your age, a training bra may be more appropriate," Mistress Monique responded. "But of course, some girls do develop sooner than others. If your mother is already buying you grown-up bras, you certainly may wear them, if you wish." She talked about other types of foundation garments, basques, merry widows, bustiers, corsets, and girdles, telling them that, as their training progressed, they would at various time be wearing all of these items. "Although," she added, "in many cases we will be providing them for you." Leslie's head began to swim with the torrent of information and unfamiliar terms. She went on, describing the kinds of shoes that were acceptable. Heels, it seemed, had to be at least three inches high, and had to be slim and graceful (though not necessarily stilettos), no chunky heels permitted. She talked about makeup. Eye shadow and eye liner, mascara, blush, and foundation must be worn. Lipstick, with or without gloss, was mandatory. False eyelashes were encouraged, but not mandatory. Nails had to be polished at all times, and long nails were preferred (she complimented several of the boys, including Leslie, on their long, elegant, perfectly polished nails). Earrings were required at all times, and ears must be pierced with at least one set of holes, no clip-ons allowed. Other jewelry would be required as appropriate. She hinted that, at an undisclosed time in the future, they would be required to wear more exotic kinds of jewelry, but did not elaborate. Several boys, including Leslie, were asked to stand up before the group as good examples of the sort of presentation the school liked to see in their pupils. He blushed and smiled shyly as he stood and, at Mistress Monique request, twirled gracefully before them, earning another compliment from her on his skill at moving in heels. He felt good about this, and his stomach begin to unknot a little. Several hours later, when Sabrina picked him up at the entrance, he was exhausted, but much less apprehensive. "So honey!" she grinned as they pulled away. "How was your first day at school?" "It was okay," he said, "Not as bad as I thought, I guess. It's still pretty scary, though. I think they're pretty strict. They want EVERYONE to look and act like a girl ALL the time!" he told her. "Some of the kids looked a lot scareder than me, though!" "More scared than I," she corrected him, "So, did you meet any of your teachers?" "Yeah, Mistress Monique," he replied, "she's nice, but pretty strict. And she's real pretty! She got me to stand up in front of the class because she thought I looked so nice. She said I looked like a 'proper, elegant young lady'!" "Wow!" Sabrina enthused. "That's so cool! Sounds like you're off to a good start!" "Yeah," he agreed, "thanks for making me look pretty today, Sabrina. It really made a difference." "Why, you're welcome, sweetheart!" she smiled at him, "You're very welcome!" -- The following day, to his joy, he ran into Denise in the main hall. She was looking as frightened as he'd felt the previous day, but breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Leslie. "Hey!" she said, coming up to him, "Boy am I glad to see you! Where am I supposed to go, do you think? This place is so confusing..." "I think you're probably in my class," Leslie answered. "There's only one first-year class, and there's only, like, twenty kids in it. Just go with me." They went down the hall and into Classroom 1, and Leslie introduced Denise to Mistress Monique. "Welcome!" she said, smiling and extending her hand, "Now Denise, you missed a lot of information yesterday, so meet me at noon and I'll try to get you caught up. You look very nice, by the way. You're already dressing as we require, so that's a big step in the right direction. For now though, please just take a seat. You can sit next to Leslie if you wish." Later that morning, Leslie got a taste of what Mistress Monique meant by 'restraints', though not first-hand, thankfully. Midway though the day, during a break, Mistress Monique happened to witness one of the boys pulling off another boy's earrings. The offender skipped out of range, waving them around and grinning maliciously, while the other boy wailed and tearfully demanded his earrings back. Monique observed the whole event from the door. "Shawna!" she thundered, striding into the room. The offender flinched violently and cowered against the wall, dropping the earrings on the floor. "Shawna! We do NOT tolerate bullying at this school! That is totally unacceptable. Give Paula her earrings back immediately." With trembling fingers, he picked them up and handed them to the other boy, who received them with one hand, wiping mascara-stained tears from his cheeks with the other. "Leslie," she turned to him, "would you please take Paula to the washroom and help her fix her makeup? Thank you." "Shawna!" she turned to the other boy, who was staring at her fearfully. "Please sit over here. Now!" Leslie and Paula left the room together. "Wow," Leslie said, as they walked down the hall together, more to break the silence than to converse, "that Shawna's in for it now, I bet! I guess we'll find out what kind of punishments they use around here when we get back." Paula sniffed and nodded. He seemed a trifle unsteady in his heels, so Leslie walked a little slower. They went into the nearest washroom, and Leslie took a towel, wet one corner and daubed at the other's mascara- streaked cheeks until they were clean. "There," he said, "Do you know how to do your own makeup?" "Yeah," the other replied. He was quickly regaining his composure, it seemed. "Well, sort of," he grinned, "maybe you can give me a hand?" "Sure." Together, they dug around in Paula's purse, extracted the necessary makeup, and made repairs. Then Leslie helped him re-insert and fasten his earrings. "There you go," he said, "you look good. Real pretty, in fact. Are you ready to go back?" "Yeah," the other replied, grinning, "let's go see what Mistress Monique has in store for Shawna!" They ran back together and entered the classroom to see Shawna, near to tears, sitting in a straight-backed chair at the front of the room. His bracelets and necklace had been removed and were sitting on a nearby table. Instead, he was wearing glittering rhinestone cuffs on his wrists, from which short silver chains led to the chair arms. A second chain joined the cuffs together. A rhinestone collar encircled his neck, attached to which was another chain. Mistress Monique was holding the other end by a short leather loop. On seeing them return, she said, "Please take your seats, ladies." She attached the leash to the back of the chair and went to the door, peering up and down the corridor. Then she called out, "Simone! Simone, could I borrow you for a few minutes?" "Certainly, Mistress!" they heard a voice respond. A few moments later a tall, striking young woman with long, cascading blonde hair entered the room. She was wearing a figure hugging, fifties- style sheath dress, sleeveless and with a deeply scooped neckline that revealed spectacular cleavage. This was matched with tall black patent spike heels. Her half-inch nails were immaculately polished, her makeup perfect, her jewelry matched unimprovably to her outfit. She smiled at Mistress Monique. "How can I help?" she inquired. "Could you please keep an eye on my class for a few minutes?" Mistress Monique asked, "I'm taking Shawna for a 'walk'." "Absolutely!" she responded, "I'd love to." "Excellent!" Mistress Monique then unfastened Shawna's cuffs from the chair and bade him stand up. She fastened these chains behind his back with a tiny silver padlock, so that one chain passed across his front, the other across his rear, effectively pinning his arms to his sides. She then bent down and attached two more sparkling cuffs, joined by a very short chain, to his ankles. "Now!" she said, taking up the handle of the leash. "Come with me. We're going on a little tour, you and I..." She tugged on the leash, and Shawna had no choice but to follow. However, the length of the chain on his ankle cuffs shortened his stride so that he was forced to take tiny, mincing steps. Tears streaked his cheeks. Together they made their way to the door, and disappeared. Leslie and Denise exchanged looks. Wow, he thought tensely, that looks pretty bad. Note to self: don't get in trouble! "So," the tall blonde woman spoke up, sitting on the desk at the front of the room and crossing her long, slender legs, "you're all first-years, right? And this is your second day?" Some of the boys nodded. "I guess that looks pretty scary, huh?" she said, cocking her head toward the door. "Well, don't worry. It really doesn't happen that often. But, Mistress Monique does like to make an example of someone early on. It helps to throw a bit of a scare into the new girls right away. Then they're more likely to behave!" she finished with a giggle. "What's going to happen to him?" one boy asked. "First of all, just for future reference," Simone responded, "We always refer to other students as 'she' and 'her', okay? As for her, well, Mistress Monique is going to take her around in her restraints and exhibit her to some of the other classes. We call it a 'walk'. It's pretty humiliating." Another of the boys put up a tentative hand. Simone nodded at him. "Um, miss..." he asked hesitantly, "Are you a boy or a girl?" Her eyes twinkled. "Guess!" she said. One boy said, "Girl," under his breath. Several other boys nodded. "Yeah," said Paula, "you gotta be a girl. Are you a teacher?" More boys piped up: Girl! Girl! Girl! One boy, perhaps just to be different, said "Boy!" "Okay, okay!" Simone said, waving her hand, "Okay, I'll tell you. I'm a boy. But!" she went on over the chorus of startled gasps. "I'm a post- grad. This is my sixth year. You see, if you stay here longer than four years, you're required to make some permanent changes. For example, you have to get breast implants, or go on hormones, or both. I decided on implants," she went on, grinning and arching her back, displaying her ample breasts. "But I'm also starting hormones soon. You also have to get electrolysis or laser hair removal, to remove your boy-hair... things like that." The boys just stared at her in amazement. One boy asked, "Miss, do you still have your... your thing?" "Yes I do," she said, nodding, "I haven't made a decision about surgery, yet." Surgery? Thought Leslie. What the hell does that mean? Surely they don't... they don't cut it OFF... do they??? He crossed his legs. The conversation went on for some time. The new boys, once they overcame their initial shyness, peppered her with questions, which she tried her best to answer. Presently, Mistress Monique returned, with Shawna hobbling along in tow. His eyes still leaked tears and his glossed lips quivered. "You may sit here," she pointed to the straight-backed chair. She undid the chain around his back and reaffixed them to the chair. She also left his ankle cuffs in place. It was an effective demonstration. -- The rest of the week past comparatively free of incident. They met some other teachers, Mistress Jackie, Mistress Danielle, Mistress Sonya. Days stretched into weeks, weeks into months. Leslie began to feel more at home at the Academy. He and Denise and Paula became school chums. They sat together, ate lunch together, and tried to pair up whenever groups of two or more were called for. They learned about haute couture. They learned sewing, so that they could make alterations to their dresses themselves. They tried on a long list of foundation garments, memorizing the unfamiliar names, basques, merry widows, bustiers, waist cinchers. They learned about makeup, skin care, hair and nail care. One day, they were led into a huge room filled with hundreds of wedding dresses, and were asked to choose one in their size. Leslie chose a sumptuous pure white off-the-shoulder gown, trimmed with lace and beading, with full crinolined skirts and long train. They were given bridal lingerie to wear (including bustiers with fully padded cups, a new experience for most of the boys) and for the next couple of hours they did up each other's lingerie, helped each other into their gowns, adjusted veils and headpieces, chose jewelry and accessories. Mistress Monique reminded them that brides must have "something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue". They would therefore need to locate and wear something old, and something borrowed. Their dresses, she explained, were new, and they had each been given a blue trimmed garter to wear. As they dressed and undressed, pinning in alterations to each other's dresses, Leslie couldn't help noticing that Denise, as she surveyed the room full of partially clad boys in lingerie, was displaying a noticeable lump in her panties. Mistress Monique didn't notice, or chose not to. Cooler weather came, and Catherine took him shopping for a pretty pink overcoat, trimmed with (fake) fur at the collar and cuffs, a matching hat, kid gloves, and several pairs of high-heeled boots, which he wore every day to school. He carried his indoor shoes in a cloth bag, and changed into them once he arrived. Christmas came and went. Leslie got a mixture of boy's and girl's presents. His mother got him a new bike, an expensive foreign model with elaborate gearing and suspension. Sabrina gave him dresses and skirts, jewelry and lingerie. -- The school year was coming to a close, and Leslie, now eleven-going-on- twelve, was looking forward to the summer. His mother had promised to take him to Orlando for a week at Disneyworld, and had also hinted on a couple of side trips to Darien Lake or Six Flags. They would also be spending a week at the Dreycott's summer residence, up in cottage- country. Leslie didn't think to ask if he would be going on these trips as a boy or a girl. The past year had been suffused with femininity: on school days, he would dress in elaborate party dresses and heels, impeccably made up and coiffed, and he would spend the day at the academy in the company of other similarly clad boys, being taught the finer points of feminine dress and behavior by alluring, glamorous women who exuded feminine sensuality from every pore. On the weekends, he would exchange his frills and lace for more casual girl's clothes, short skirts and tops or mini-dresses, heels, matched with a teenage girl's makeup and jewelry: large silver hoop earrings, bangles, chokers. Thanks to Sabrina, he now had an extensive casual wardrobe to choose from; dresses and skirts, as well as tops of every style: tube tops, tanks, spaghetti-strap camis, halter tops, blouses, baby tees. -- The summer passed quickly. His mother made good her promise to take him to Disneyworld and to Darien Lake (as a girl, it turned out. It was decided that his long nails and feminine hairdo would be too noticeable if he was dressed as a boy, and they couldn't be removed, since he would need them for the next school year). He also spent a lazy couple of weeks at Denise's cottage, swimming, basking in the sun (no need to worry about girlish tan lines this year), waterskiing and tubing, and going into town to shop and eat ice cream. As the new school year became imminent, his mother and Sabrina took turns driving him around town on shopping expeditions in search of the clothes and other items on the lengthy shopping list provided by the academy, things that, the list said, he would need in the coming year. There were some unusual items. One afternoon they had to drive across town to the waterfront area, which was lined with upscale boutiques, souvenir shops, cafes and bistros. One of the boutiques, called "Damsel In Dis Dress" specialized in vintage clothing. He and Sabrina drove there on a weekday to avoid crowds, parked near the marina, and walked up the boardwalk to the store. On entering, they felt almost as if they had walked into another world, or at least, another age. The long narrow boutique was crammed to bursting with every kind of fantastic dress imaginable. Incredible beaded and embroidered Victorian ball gowns lined one wall, while another section contained dozens of roaring twenties "flapper" dresses. Audrey Hepburn's gown (or at least a good reproduction) from My Fair Lady graced a mannequin near the rear of the store, while glass display cases sparkled with spectacular rhinestone chokers, brooches, chandelier earrings. A Marilyn Monroe mannequin modeled her red dress from The Seven Year Itch. Sabrina was in heaven. She prowled the aisles, eyes shining, reaching out to touch this or that garment, while the store's proprietor maintained a discreet silence behind the counter. Leslie wondered what they were doing there, but learned soon enough. He found himself trying on a selection of fifties-style taffeta dresses with mid-calf length conical skirts, similar to Julianne Moore's wardrobe in Far >From Heaven. All were darted to allow for a generous bust -- which Leslie didn't have -- so the bodices typically sagged a little and it was hard to find a good fit, but they eventually settled on a sleeveless, royal blue dress with a wide, flaring skirt, tight waist, and deeply veed neckline, front and back. They also purchased a pair of satin high heeled pumps, which the proprietor dyed to match the dress while they waited. After long days shopping, he and Sabrina would return home, exhausted, and crash in front of the TV or retire to bed early. The start of school loomed. -- Second year for Leslie was busy, and full of new experiences. He and his cohort wore their fifties dresses several times; they also tried on more wedding dresses, became much more familiar with lingerie, learned sophisticated makeup techniques, and gave each other manicures and pedicures. They also, occasionally, found themselves on the receiving end of various ingenious punishments. One boy who, despite being quite feminine in other ways, apparently disliked wearing heels, was wont to kick off his shoes periodically during the day and wander around in stocking feet. Mistress Monique upbraided him about this two or three times but, when this proved ineffective she eventually put his feet into skyscraper-heeled shoes with ankle straps that locked with tiny padlocks. He was thus forced to walk for several days in heels far higher than he, or any of his classmates, had ever worn before. He never removed his shoes after that. Thus, second year was, in general, very much like the first, only more so. Third year, however, was different. Chapter Six - Third Year As before, in the closing weeks of summer, Leslie and Sabrina had a lot of shopping to do. One afternoon, as they drove to the mall together, Leslie noticed that she would look over at him periodically with a small, secret smile on her face. "Hey Sabrina," he said finally, poking her in the arm, "what gives? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary." "You'll just have to see, honey. It's a surprise," she answered. And with that she would say no more. They parked and entered the concourse, whereupon Sabrina immediately made for the entrance to Silk & Satin. "We've decided it's time for you to have some REAL bras," she announced, grinning at him. "How about that?" Leslie had, several times now, tried on various undergarments with full padded cups at the academy, so the sensation of having a full bust was not entirely foreign to him. Nevertheless, he discovered that the idea of having his OWN bras, that he could wear any time he wanted, was exciting. He wondered if Denise or Paula were getting bras of their own. It would be fun, he decided, to pay a visit to Denise's house, and casually walk in wearing some skimpy, form-fitting dress that enhanced his full, teenage girl's bust. He found himself gleefully anticipating Denise and Angela's reactions. They selected several, in different styles, all with firm, padded cups. While Sabrina waited, Leslie would slip one on in the change room, then he would pull the curtain aside and she would examine the bra carefully, running her finger along the straps and cups to make sure it wasn't too tight. Sometimes she would get him to put his top back on, so she could see how he looked fully clothed. They left the store with a dozen fully padded bras in different styles and colors, and four new bathing suits, all with built-in cups. -- Then, one night soon after, he had a dream. In it, he was at the academy. He and Denise were helping each other try on dresses and lingerie, doing up each other's corsets and garter belts, excitedly trading earrings and bracelets, doing each other's makeup. As Denise bent to clip Leslie's stockings to his garter belt, her hand would periodically brush against his satin-clad crotch. Whenever this happened, Leslie would feel the familiar squirmy, excited flutter in his stomach, and his penis, trapped in its lacy constraint, would attempt to stiffen. The tension gathered in his abdomen and groin, as it always did, only this time it built up higher and higher, becoming more intense by the moment. Standing there in the classroom with Denise crouched before him, he suddenly uttered a loud, involuntary groan, and she glanced up at him curiously. Then, abruptly, the tension seemed to collapse in on itself... and burst! He woke up to the sensation of sticky wetness on his stomach and the hem of his babydoll nightie. What the heck just happened, he wondered in mild apprehension. Did I just wet the bed? No, this certainly didn't feel like pee. He sat up, gathered a handful of tissues and cleaned himself off, then he gradually drifted off to sleep again, thinking about the dream, and the strange event that it seemed to trigger. -- Then a week or so later, he was standing before the mirror in his room in bra and panties, holding dresses up to himself. He planned to go over to Denise's place for the afternoon to swim and hang out with her and a few of her friends, and he wanted to look nice. As it happened, he hadn't yet paid her a visit since he'd gotten his new bras; either he was unavailable, off on some lengthy shopping trip, or Denise was, for the same reason. Today would be the first day that their schedules coincided. The dresses were all very short, with spaghetti straps or halter necks, and he was thinking of pairing one with some light, strappy heels and perhaps some flirty jewelry. His nails were polished a sassy, frosted blue with tiny white decals, his toes the same. He held up one dress, then slowly tossed it aside and stood for a while, gazing at his reflection. I do look pretty good, he thought to himself, turning sideways to examine his figure. He enjoyed looking at himself in a bra. It gave him that same squirmy feeling in his stomach that he remembered >from his dream. He retrieved a pair of heels from his closet and slipped them on, then put a pair of long, dangly silver earrings in his ears. The shoes certainly made his legs look much longer and slimmer and, as Sabrina had told him so long ago, they definitely made his rear stick out. Hot... he thought to himself. The word arose unbidden. Yeah, he reflected smugly, I look hot! The feeling in his abdomen intensified, and he felt his penis begin to harden within his panties. What was it that Denise had once told him? It feels good to rub it when it's hard. He'd tried that, once or twice in the past. Yes, it had felt good, sort of, but nothing to write home about. But now... He freed his cock from his panties, and it sprang up immediately. Gee, he thought. This time, it's REALLY hard... He looked at his reflection again, taking in his modest but perky breasts, his long legs. Slowly he put his hands over the cups of his bra and began kneading them gently. He liked the way his bracelets and nails shone in the soft light. They looked real pretty... Without consciously willing it, one hand stole slowly down to his groin and wrapped around his shaft. He began to move his hand slowly, up and down. Before when he'd done this, the feeling had been pleasurable, certainly, but nothing like the sensations he experienced now. His breathing sped up, his heart pounded. His hand moved faster. His other hand continued to knead the cups of his bra, while tiny moans began to escape his lips. His hand moved faster still. Then... seemingly without warning, the excited pressure in his gut swirled down into his groin like water going down a drain and... exploded! Small gobs of whitish goo flew from the tip of his shaft, while his hips moved spasmodically. Startled, he stopped all movement and stood, bewildered by what just happened, staring down at the gobs of goo on the rug before him. Two or three globules had adhered to the mirror, and were now sliding slowly toward the floor. He stared at them, almost mesmerized. His breathing gradually returned to normal and, taking a handful of tissues, bent to wipe up the spots of his issue. As he did so, a sly, smug smile came over his face. So this is what it's all about, he thought exultantly. This must be what 'jacking off' means. He'd heard the term several times in the past, but was never sure just exactly what it meant. Now he knew. Wow! It sure felt good! I wonder, he thought, I wonder if Denise has done it yet... He selected a pale blue print sundress, finished getting dressed, and packed a bathing suit and towel into a beach bag. Then, pausing to pick up his purse, he raced downstairs to wait for his mother to take him over to the Dreycott's. As they drove, he was quiet, and he found that he was shy about meeting his mother's eye, afraid perhaps that she might see his thrilling new secret there. But she acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, chatting much as usual on the short trip, and deposited him at the Dreycott home's front entrance. "I'll be back around five," she informed him. "Have fun!" Leslie opened the front door walked through the house to the back (he was such a regular visitor that knocking was no longer needed) and emerged onto the back patio. There were several people in the pool, laughing and cavorting. Rock music issued from some concealed speakers. Leslie was about you yell a greeting over the noise but then stopped, startled. In the pool, along with Denise, Andrea and Paula were several boys. Simon was there, along with his best pals Jordan and Sam. The fourth boy, Leslie realized, was Andy, the same one who'd intervened to save him >from Rocco and his gang at the mall, two years ago. Leslie hadn't seen him since. As he watched, Simon picked up Denise around the waist while she screamed excitedly, and they fell back into the water together, sending a wave over the edge of the pool at his feet. "Hey, Leslie!" Andrea called out when she saw him. "Finally! Come on, girl! Get into your suit and get wet!" She shot a splash at him. The boys lookied up curiously. "Yeah, come on in!" Andy yelled. "The water's fine." Leslie turned and went into the change hut. Shit... I didn't know there'd be boys here, he thought uneasily. They would likely have recognized him, he figured, despite having changed a lot in appearance over the last year. He was now pretty much indistinguishable from a real girl, he knew, even under close scrutiny, but that was probably irrelevant. They undoubtedly knew who he was anyway. He stripped off his clothes, put on his bathing suit and got his towel out of his bag. Then, after taking a deep breath, he opened the door and emerged, to be greeted with cheers from the others in the water. Suddenly shy about being seen with his new feminine bust, he ran quickly to the pool and dove in immediately. He swam the entire length underwater, then surfaced and swept the wet hair from his eyes, to find that he had come up next to Andy. "Hey," Andy said. "Hey, Andy. How's it going?" "Good! How are things with you?" "Good," Leslie replied. He gazed down shyly, "you know... I haven't forgotten what you did for me, that day at the mall. You know, when Rocco and his gang were messing with me. That was a really brave thing, and I really appreciate it." "Aw... T'weren't nuthin, ma'am," Andy grinned, affecting a cowboy accent. "Really, those jerks are just a bunch of cowards. You stand up to them, and they fold like wet newspaper. No big deal. And they haven't bugged too many people since, either. Kind of interesting, huh?" "Well, thanks, anyway. You definitely saved my ass." "Worth saving," Andy grinned crookedly. Then he nodded toward the length of the pool. "Good lungs, too," he commented. "Ah," Leslie replied, glancing back at the distance he'd just traversed underwater, "That was, like, ten seconds, tops." They regarded each other solemnly for a moment, then Andy said, "Race you to the other end!" "Sure," Leslie agreed. "Okay... Go!" The pushed off from the side together, then surged, neck and neck, across the water, touching the opposite edge at exactly the same moment. "A tie!" Simon announced from his vantage point, sitting on the edge of the diving board. "Again!" Andy yelled. They hurled themselves back toward the opposite end together, stroking and kicking almost in unison. "Another tie," Simon called. "Okay, okay!" Leslie said, panting, holding up a hand. "That's enough for now. Let's just say we're equally good." Andy grinned, "Alright. You are pretty good. I knew I was fast, cuz I'm going to be on the swim team. But looks like you're almost as fast!" "Almost?" Leslie echoed. "I don't think so! Didn't I hear the word 'tie' a couple of times just now?" He grinned and pushed off again, floating on his back, his arms spread. Then he swam down underwater again, and finally climbed out and dried himself off. He lay in the sun for a while, watching the others then, when it got too hot, dove in again and swam a couple of lengths. He'd forgotten all about his initial shyness over his new bust. He was sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet in the water, when Andy suddenly surfaced, hauled himself out and sat beside him. "Hey Les," he said. "Hi again." "So," he began, "Are you in school with those two?" he gestured toward Denise and Paula, who were still in the water. "Yeah," Leslie replied, "the Academy." "Guess that's some fancy school, huh?" Andy continued. "Do you like it there?" "It's okay. It's pretty... well, different." Andy nodded gravely. "Yeah, that's what Denise says, but she doesn't want to talk about it much. Different in what way?" Leslie assumed Denise was reluctant to give out too many details because of the embarrassment that might involve, and found that he was feeling the same way. "Well, we just learn different things," he said vaguely, hoping that would satisfy Andy. He noted with interest that Andy had, quite naturally it seemed, referred to Denise as 'she'. He, Leslie, always thought of Denise as a girl, simply because she was so naturally feminine. Indeed, he often forgot that she was really a boy, underneath. Was that what prompted Andy to use a feminine pronoun? Or had he been told to? He was likely not unfamiliar with the phenomenon of boys dressed as girls, since there seemed to be so many in the neighborhood. Was that it? Leslie found himself wondering whether boys referred to him as 'she' when talking about him. Should he ask Andy about it? He felt too shy to bring it up. Andy nodded again, and apparently decided that further probing would require too much effort. He changed the subject. "I'm gonna be on the swim team this year. At least... I hope so. I'm gonna try out anyway." "Yeah, well, you're a pretty good swimmer, alright. Can you do other strokes besides the crawl?" "For sure," he said. "Back stroke, breast stroke, butterfly, you name it. I wanna do the medley events." "Cool." They talked more, shifting from subject to subject, swimming, summer vacation, movies, Darien Lake, to which Andy had gone several times. Leslie began to feel more relaxed. He did note, however, that Andy's eyes would occasionally stray downward, coming to rest on his chest. When he became too hot, he slipped back into the pool and floated on his back near the edge for a while, still conversing with Andy, before climbing back out and drying off. Some time later, he walked over and peered into the house through the French doors, looking for a clock. "Oh shit," he exclaimed on seeing the time, "I'd better change. Someone's going to be here any minute to pick me up." He ran back to the change room, drying his hair has he went, and, once inside, slipped out of his bathing suit and back into bra, panties and dress. He was just buckling up his shoes when he heard the doorbell ring, and a moment later Mrs. Dreycott's voice came from the direction of the house, "Leslie! Sabrina's here to pick you up!" "Okay, coming!" he called. He glanced in the mirror, re-did his lips, then emerged and ran to the edge of the pool. "See you guys later!" he called. "Thanks Denise, that was great!" "Hey Les!" Andy called, waving, "See ya soon, huh?" "Er, yeah, okay," he replied, "see you!" He ran through the house to the front door, where Sabrina was waiting." On the way home, he realized that in their entire conversation, Andy never once said or did a thing that would suggest Leslie was anything other than a real girl. -- "Ladies, welcome to your third year at the Christeen Academy! My name is Mistress Sonya, and I will be covering your orientation this term." It was the first day of school. Leslie and the others were again sitting in Classroom 1 while Mistress Sonya, a beautiful, olive skinned young woman with a cascade of raven hair and wearing a tight, revealing dress, stood at the front of the room and continued her opening remarks. "Now, during your first two years, we concentrated on clothes, fashion, cosmetics, general deportment, and basic femininity. This year," she paused, looking around the room, "will be different. This year, we will focus intensively on skills training, advanced femininity and the fine details of deportment. It is assumed that you have already learned everything you need to know about how to dress and present yourself. And," she continued, smiling, "I am pleased to see that, based on your appearance this morning, this assumption seems to be correct. You all look lovely!" Leslie glanced around the room. It was true, he realized. It looks like the start of a southern debutantes' ball in here, he thought. They were all dressed similarly, in formal or semi-formal dresses, heels, makeup, glittering jewelry. All of them now exhibited the bust lines of teenage girls, and some, who'd obviously chosen daringly low-cut dresses just for this purpose, even displayed traces of cleavage. Leslie wondered how this was possible. "Now," Mistress Sonya went on, "let's talk about skills training, since that will take up the bulk of this first semester. In a short time, you will be asked to go with Mistress Jacqueline for your preparation for some very important training exercises, which will begin in about five weeks time. This term, you will also be learning to dance, and how to behave with an escort, in preparation for the third-year ball, which will take place just under three months from now. Your mothers already have our schedule for the year, together with our requirements. They have all also signed releases for your 'preparation' later this morning." She went on, describing the other social events of the year, as well as the details of the training and deportment classes they would be attending. Presently, another teacher entered the room. She was wearing a white nurse's coat. "Ah, there you are!" Mistress Sonya smiled, on seeing her. "Class, this is Mistress Jacqueline. She will now take you for this morning's prep." "Good morning, girls!" Mistress Jacqueline said. "How lovely you all look this morning! Now, if you will please follow me..." She led the way out the door and, looking a trifle perplexed, the students followed. She led them down the hall to another, smaller classroom. There was a partly open doorway in the far wall that apparently led into a small, brightly lit room. "Now, please wait here, girls. I will call you one at a time." She consulted a list in her hand. "Let's do this alphabetically by first name. Alison?" she looked around. One of the students approached and stood before her uncertainly. "Good! Come with me please." She led the way into the small room and closed the door. A short time later, she emerged again. "Cathy? Come in, please." "Geez, where did Alison go?" Paula whispered. "Is she dead and stuffed down the garbage chute?" "I don't know," Leslie said, a trifle uneasily, "I suppose there's another exit." "Denise?" Mistress Jacqueline poked her head out and called. "Oh shit," Denise said, "well, here I go... Tell Simon I was thinking of him... at the end!" She disappeared into the room. One by one more names were called, then, "Leslie?" His stomach crawling with apprehension, he approached and went into the room. Mistress Jacqueline closed the door behind him. "Now, don't be nervous," she said, "this will only take a minute, and it's really not too bad..." This utterance did nothing to quell his fear. "Hop up on the table here, and stick out your tongue." Although baffled by this request, he complied. "Good," she said, examining his tongue carefully. "Leslie, do you have any sores in your mouth? Chancres, boils, cold sores?" He shook his head. "Alright then, good. Stick out your tongue again..." He did so. She gripped the tip with a rubber gloved hand that tasted faintly of antiseptic. "Now, please don't move, and don't pull your tongue back, alright? Do you understand?" He nodded. "I'm going to pierce your tongue," she informed him, as she swabbed something sharp-tasting over its surface. His eyes widened. He caught sight of a long, shiny needle in her other hand. "It will hurt a little," she continued, "but not as much as you think it will, and it'll be over in a second. Now, hold still... here we go." He felt a sudden sharp pain in his tongue and uttered a small cry. "Good! Now just one more second... Don't move, or we'll have to do it again..." he felt another, different pain, then she did something under his tongue, finally letting go. He withdrew his tongue and closed his mouth. The pain, thankfully, subsided quickly. "Oh my God," he breathed. His eyes were watering. He felt something in his mouth that wasn't there before, and moved his tongue around experimentally. The thing moved with it. "Here," she said, holding up a mirror, "have a look." Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. In the center was a small silver ball. He curled his tongue upwards. There was a similar ball on the underside. "It's a barbell," she explained, "now you MUST not touch it for at least five weeks, and here is a sheet that explains how to care for it properly. Please follow these instructions to the letter!" She handed him a piece of paper. "Now," she smiled, "you can go and join the others." She opened a second door on the opposite side of the room. He emerged into a different classroom, where the others who had gone before were standing in a group. They were taking turns sticking out their tongues, showing each other their piercings. "Hey Les!" Denise cried, rushing up to him. "Let's see yours!" Obligingly he stuck out his tongue. "Cool! See mine?" Denise said, sticking out her own tongue. "I just wish we had a little warning. I mean, there was no time to get used to the idea! Hey, what do you suppose it's for?" -- It was a full five weeks before they found out. In that time, Leslie's piercing healed nicely. Each day during that time they would practice some new skill; several times they dressed in ball gowns, broke up into pairs, and danced together, taking turns leading and following. Other days they would practice feminine gestures and overall deportment, the teachers scrutinizing their every movement, critiquing and occasionally demonstrating. Then, one day, they again found themselves in the same classroom in which they had waited to get their tongues pierced. The previous