Julian - Part 5 free porn video

When I was about twelve or thirteen my Mum and I moved into a simple little two bedroom house on Shawcross Street. I don't remember too much about the place other than the floorboards creaked loudly at night, meaning I was often on-edge at mysterious noises in the early hours, and that there was a small newsagents at the top of the road run by a kindly old man called Mr. Fitzgerald. If the house is faded in my memory, that shop is as clear as day. It wasn't a special place, just a normal corner shop with the smell of stale ink and the lure of sweets and chocolate floating through the air, but it's taken a foothold in my memory that's as sturdy as the old red brick walls that made up the shop itself. The reason for it being so firmly entrenched in my mind felt particularly pertinent as I slipped into bed still dazed by the events of the evening. One day after school I had gone to Mr. Fitzgerald's shop to find it shut, which was both a crushing disappointment to a boy desperate for a sugar rush, but also strange because it had never been shut during a weekday afternoon before. Stranger still the shop was shut the next day and the day after and I just couldn't fathom why. Well eventually someone thought to investigate and they had found poor old Mr. Fitzgerald slumped in his living room chair, obviously dead for many days. He'd never married and he lived alone above the shop, and I always remember being shocked and saddened that nobody cared enough for the old man to even know that he'd died. I simply couldn't imagine getting old and having no-one around me. Fran had always been protection against that of course. Because of her I was travelling down a far different line to Mr. Fitzgerald, filled with children and grand- children and old age pensioners day trips with my still beautiful wife that was in stark contrast to his lonely, sad road. Now though it felt our paths were meeting in the middle and God help me, I'd never felt so alone and afraid. None of this was helped by the fact that I had been imprisoned in this most humiliating of role-plays, stuck at the mercy of a woman and her daughter who were both taking great pleasure in me becoming the little girl of their house. So here I was, a twenty six year old man, with a good degree and a previously happy marriage, clambering into a femininely attired bed wearing a white t-shirt and pink shorts that, despite being made for a young girl, now sat perfectly on my small and totally emasculated frame. At first I had felt angry at Fran. How could she invite a man into our house and leave me stuck in a situation like this? As I thought about it more though, it started to confuse me. I had called her from Sara's phone, so she'd have known who was calling. If the pair of them were really involved in some relationship, and it seemed likely that they were, why on earth would she let the man answer the phone? It just didn't add up, and in-fact it gave me hope that it wasn't an obvious as Fran having found yet another lover. Perhaps he was just a mutual friend that knew Sara as well, or was just a workmate of Fran who didn't have anything to hide so thought it was OK to answer the phone while she was out the room. It may have been wishful thinking, but you've sunk as I low as I had, wishful thinking can be a useful skill. These thoughts, coupled with the trepidation at what torments I'd be subjected to the next day, filled my tired mind as I started to drift off to sleep in the room that was now adorned by pictures of unicorns and with a box of dolls sitting at the end of the bed. A girl's bedroom. My bedroom. "Julia?" My eyes opened slowly, burning slightly from the slither of light that had burrowed its way through a gap in the curtains. It felt like I'd slept for a long time, judging by the fuzzy feeling that raced around my confused mind. "Julia, can I come in?" It was Sara, and I cursed myself for finding her attractive as she came in and stood in that beam of sunlight that pierced the room. Her hair was up in a ponytail and that revealed more of her soft face which glowed in the morning sun, "C'mon Julia, it's time to get up now. You've been asleep for ages." I let out a sleepy sigh and raised my head a little, "what time is it?" "It's almost half-nine," Sara replied, busily hanging clothes on the cupboard, "I've run you a bath, when you're done come back in here so I can help you get dressed." Sara's ability to totally disregard that I was a man was amazing. In just a few short days it appeared so had come to think of me as just her daughter and absolutely nothing more. I just didn't know what to make of her. As if to prove the point, she moved toward the bed and pulled the sheets off me in a classically motherly fashion, "C'mon," she complained, "I haven't got all day you know. You've got work to do this morning so you need to get a move on." Logically, the events of the previous evening should have made me more resistant to Sara's control, which is why I hated myself even more as I simply got up and walked to the bathroom. Once in there, I locked the door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror. It was still my face that stared back, but it was also the face of a little girl who did as she was told by her Mum. What other man would put up with what I had been subjected to? With being forced into world of an eleven year old girl, a world of school dresses, hopscotch, nail polish and early bedtimes? What the hell was wrong with me? Where was my fight? "I don't hear much washing in there," Sara called through the door, "don't make me come in there and wash you myself." I slumped on the side of the bath, and with the blonde hair extensions falling into my field of vision, felt a flood of tears well up that threatened to burst through in a sea of self pity and loathing. It wasn't helped by looking down at my small, hairless legs, which hung down the side of the bath and barely touched the ground. The tears began to flow as I realised that I was too pathetic to even stop this slide into girlhood, never mind keep my wife happy. Sara, who it seemed was standing outside the door waiting to hear me get into the bath, was quick to call in again, "ten minutes is all you have Julia, so you'd better hurry up." Suddenly, the self-pity was replaced by anger. Anger at Fran and her infidelities. Anger at Bethany and her bratty daughter. Anger at my unfair and disproportionate punishment. "Leave me alone," I cried, "I've had enough of all this rubbish. You can't turn me into a girl." I was feeling braver now and I raised my voice to shouting levels, "I'm still a man you know, no matter what you and my wife might want to do to me. I won't let you humiliate me like this any more. It's over Sara, do you hear me?" I expected an immediate response from Sara, but she said nothing. Instead, I heard her shuffle away from the door and head down the hallway, which was all a bit confusing. Perhaps she had decided that I needed some time to calm down, to remember the situation that I had caused myself by breaking her daughter's nose. But a steely resolve was building, and when I looked again in the bathroom mirror it was only me staring back, despite the silly long blonde hair and girlie t-shirt. Lost in these thoughts, I didn't notice the door handle raise up and the door open. "What the hell," I yelled out, "I locked that door, how did you get in here?" She didn't respond, but I saw the key in the other side of the door as it flew open. Sara stormed towards me, and I felt myself cower a little, flying in the face of my new found assuredness. "I don't have time to play games this morning," Sara said, shaking her head, "if you can't take a bath on your own then I'll have to do it for you." The woman grabbed my right arm strongly, and I realised in horror that she was going to undress me, "Sara, what are you doing! I won't let you do this." "Be quiet," she replied disdainfully, while she effortlessly pulled the t-shirt I had been wearing over my head, "it looks like I'll have to wash you like I would a little baby," she added, pulling down the shorts as well. Remembering my new found resistance I tried to fight back, but it was in vain. She was too strong for me, even in my angry state, and had no problem man-handling my small frame in the same way as a mother would with any naughty child. The sheer embarrassment of having the woman pull me onto her lap to take down the knickers I had been dressed in was almost too much to bear, and it immediately washed away any feelings of strength I'd built up. "Now, are you going to get in the bath like a good little girl or am I going to have to pick you up and put you in there?" I could feel tears welling up again as it became apparent that I'd have no way of stopping her picking my naked body up, and the thought of being scooped up like a toddler was enough to make me get into the bath. Chastened, I sat docile as she wordlessly washed my entire body and hair like any mother would do with a soppy little girl. As she did it, I kept thinking about what Fran would think if she saw me now, especially in comparison to her new man who was probably tall, strong and handsome and would certainly never take this kind of humiliation at the hands of a pretty young woman like Sara. Once out of the bath, I was led by the hand back into "my" bedroom, and instructed to put sit on the bed and pull on a pair of white knickers, which I did without argument but with a uneasy realisation that I was beginning to get used to the feeling of wearing knickers now. At first I found the feeling of the lace trim against my legs and waist very, very odd, but it was already starting to feel like the norm. "Put this on as well," Sara demanded, passing me a white vest top with pink trim and a tiny flower on the chest, "and then come and sit down at the vanity table." I looked at the vest in my hands for a moment, cursing myself for being so spineless. More so than even the knickers or dresses, these vests were becoming my least favourite item of clothing because they hugged my chest and waist tightly, meaning I couldn't forget for a second that I dressed like a girl. But I pulled on the item of course, and rolled it down until it covered my whole upper body. No doubt it was made for a girl of nine or ten, and yet it still fitted me perfectly. Once sat down at the vanity I sat quietly as Sara dried off my hair extensions with a dryer. It took forever, and I spent the time wondering if Fran was going to show her face, and whether I wanted her to. While I was thinking about this I hardly noticed Sara put my new hair into two large pig-tails and secure them with pink ribbon that she produced from one of the drawers. It was clearly more juvenile than what she had done yesterday, and looked like the way a four or five year old girl would have their hair. "Sara, that's a bit much," I complained feebly, "can't you put it like you did yesterday?" I noticed a hint of a smile of her face for the first time. "I think it suits you perfectly," she replied, fiddling with the last ribbon, "it's a perfect hairstyle for little girls who can't be trusted to do as they're told. It makes you look adorable." I don't know about adorable, but it did have the effect of somehow making me look even younger and smaller. I still didn't think I would pass in the outside world as an eleven year old girl, but they were definitely dragging me closer to it. "Now then," she continued, her voice sounding softer and more like it had yesterday, "I was going to let you wear a more grown up skirt and blouse today, but after your outburst this morning perhaps I need to go and find that gingham dress." "No please," I responded, dreading the thought of being put in that awful dress again, especially if Fran came around, "for crying out loud Sara, not that dress." The woman smiled as she stared at me for a moment, "well, maybe if you promise to be a good girl today and not have any more of those little hissy fits like you did in the bathroom....." "I won't Sara," I replied, knowing I was being played like a naughty child but almost not caring, "I swear I won't." "So you'll be a good girl then?" "Yes," I replied, feeling silly. "Well, say it then." "I'll be good, I promise." Sara laughed, "no, say you'll be a good girl." "Oh come on Sara....." "Ok then, I'll go and get that dress." I sighed. There was something about referring to myself as a girl which felt like an admission of defeat, and I was desperate not to do it. Sara headed to the door, "see, you're already being naughty. I'm going to get that dress." "OK, OK, I'll be a good girl," I said in a panic, "I'll promise." Knowing that I, a twenty six year old man, had just shamefully begged to be dressed in a little girl's grey pleated school skirt and blouse, I sat on the bed and took the garments from her without further argument. Not only were they treating me like an eleven year old girl, I was starting to behave like one too. I considered that perhaps they were right after all as I stepped into the skirt and felt it fall down to a few inches above my knee. Perhaps being such a failure as a man meant that I should be wearing these clothes, clothes that had been previously worn by the thirteen year old girl asleep down the hall, that were now too small for her yet fitted me like a glove. How could I ever claim to be a man again? "Now then, I've got my friends coming around for our book club at about one so you need to get cleaning. Start in the kitchen and make your way upstairs like yesterday." "Hold on," I replied, slipping on the last flat black shoe that Sara had given me to wear, "you didn't say anything about people coming around." "Yes I did, I mentioned it yesterday while you were playing hopscotch in the garden." I didn't remember that, "well anyway, you can't let people see me like this. They'd think we're both weird." Sara stepped back, obviously considering my point, "you might be right actually. I know Anna would think it was fun but I'm not sure about the others. Maybe you should stay in your room." "I think so," I replied, feeling relieved that she agreed, "how many people are coming?" "Only four, they're all Mums I know from the school. We've started to try and read a book a week," Sara was headed for the door now, "but with all the excitement and fun this week, I just haven't had a chance to read mine. Never mind though, it's really just an excuse to have a glass of wine and a natter." I watched her head down the hallway and into her room to get ready, and realised that in spite of the humiliations that she was putting me through, I was starting to find her more attractive than anyone else I'd ever seen, Fran included. So for the next couple of hours I cleaned. As it had done the day before, I found the cleaning actually helped me take my mind of the situation and restore some normality to my life, for a short time at least. This was in spite of the fact that I was wearing a girl's school uniform of course, and it still felt odd to feel the wind blowing up my legs when I moved. I feared it was one of those sensations that I might just have to get used to. Bethany naturally took great delight in my appearance, giving an evil laugh at my childish hair, "Your hair's really pretty," she mocked in a little girl voice, "did you do that yourself?" I didn't reply and Bethany, sensing that she wasn't going to get a rise out of me, headed back into her room. Knowing teenage girls, I wondered how much longer it would be before she got bored of mocking me and making Sara hold me to the punishment and moved onto a new interest. I hoped it would be soon. At about half-twelve I became mindful of the women arriving so I went to find Sara who was sitting in her room applying make-up at her vanity. She looked amazing in a summery purple dress and her make up done nicely, and I had to fight a feeling of arousal as she turned to face me. "Are you all done then?" I nodded, "I've done all of downstairs and most of upstairs. Just in here and Bethany's room to do still." "Ha, don't bother with Bethany's room. She'll never let you in there." That was a relief. I'd been wondering if she'd expect me to clean the girl's room, and I didn't know if I could have stood the ignominy of tidying the room with Bethany standing over me. "You can do in here later," Sara added, "but you should probably grab something to eat now and then go into your room for the afternoon. Like you said earlier, I'm not sure how some of this women would react if they saw you." I didn't need to be told twice. I raced downstairs and made a quick sandwich (smaller than usual - my appetite had dwindled in the last few days) and then headed back into the relative sanctuary of my room. I listened as the women arrived one by one, and shuddered at the thought of any of them seeing me. What would they think of me? They'd almost certainly think that I was enjoying the punishment, because it would be too hard to believe that a man existed who would put up with such torments. Perhaps they'd just laugh and mock me, but maybe they'd be horrified at Sara for doing it. Maybe even, it was a possible route out of all this. For a second I considered going downstairs and trying to shame Sara into letting me go, but just the very idea of a new group of people seeing me kept me in the room. So instead I made myself more comfortable on the bed, finding myself carefully smoothing the back of the skirt as I did so (!), and switched on the small portable telly that was positioned on the wall opposite. There was nothing on of course, it was daytime television after all, and I quickly became bored and turned it off. It was then that I spied the two boxes of dolls that Bethany had mockingly "given" to me yesterday. Bereft of anything else to do I began to rummage through the plastic dollies and marvel at all of the different types you could buy. There were air-hostess dolls, horse- riding dolls, dolls with sports cars, not to mention dolls in wedding dresses and cheer-leading outfits. It made me wonder just how much money had been lavished on Bethany over the years. With every whim given into to it was no surprise that the girl acted like a spoilt brat. There was one doll that took my attention above all others. It was a Barbie doll, I was sure of that, and judging by the elaborate frock and tiara it was obviously some kind of princess version. It was the kind of doll that most little girls would cherish, but Bethany had slashed holes in the dress and drawn all over the face in black marker pen. It seemed a shame that she would want to destroy something that someone had taken the time to buy her. Of course, this was the moment that Bethany decided to walk in, "Oh look, you're playing with your dolls, how sweet." "No I wasn't," I protested, quickly throwing the princess doll back into the box, "I was just looking at them "cause I'm so bored." "Oh yeah, you're hiding from the book club bitches aren't you. They don't ever read the books you know, it's just a bunch of bored housewives sitting around and getting drunk. None of them have ever worked a day in their lives." The girl positively spat out the last sentence, in that hateful way that teenagers excel. Quickly she turned her attention back to me, "Which dolls are you playing with then? The princess doll?" "Give it a rest Bethany," I complained, sliding away from her slightly, "I was just looking at them." "Yeah right," she laughed, picking up the princess doll herself, "I saw you looking at the pretty princess. Is that how you'd like to dress up, hey? In a big pretty frock like this dolly here?" I channelled all of my energy into not getting into an argument with the girl, because it was pointless. I had to try and rise above her mocking and taunting so that she'd get bored more easily. "I think it's time for you to get changed out of your uniform anyway," she said eventually, standing up as she did so, "let me see what I can find for you wear." "No Bethany, I'm just going to stay like this." "No you're not," she laughed, "unless you want me to lead you downstairs to all of the drunken women in your little school uniform of course?" "You wouldn't dare," I replied, feeling angry again. I was going to argue more but she was already gone, headed into her room to find the next humiliating outfit to dress me in. That outfit turned out to be a short denim skirt with white lacing protruding from the hem and a white t-shirt with a picture of a sparkly unicorn splashed across it. It was dreadful. "This was my favourite outfit when I was nine or ten, so you should thank me for letting you wear it," she said, handing me each item with a wicked smile on her face, "and you have to wear these pink tights as well." Meekly, and just wanting to avoid an argument, I pulled each item on once she'd left the room to let me change. The skirt was the worst thing, it was so obviously a little girl's skirt with the flower embroidered on the bottom right and the white lacing that added a humiliating extra girlie touch, that I decided straight away that it was the worst thing I had been made to wear. Plus, when coupled with the unicorn t-shirt, thick pink tights and pink ribbons that still held my hair in place, it produced by far the youngest looking outfit of the whole ordeal. Bethany was delighted of course, "you look so amazing," she said with a grin, "you know, I really don't think people would suspect you were anything but a little girl now." "I don't know about that," I argued, "I think you can still tell by my face and height." She moved toward me to closer inspect, "nah, little girls can be really tall now. I was about your height when I was still in junior school. And you have such a delicate face, I've never seen a man with a face like yours. So," she flopped down on the bed, "what shall we do now?" "I don't know Bethany, can't we just watch some telly or something?" The girl stared off into the distance for a moment, deep in thought, "that's not a bad idea actually. But not TV though. Hold on a second." I looked at myself in the mirror as she left the room. It really was such a girlie outfit, the kind of thing that a even a pre-school girl might wear. I hated it intensely. "This will be fun," Bethany said excitedly as she came back in and handed me a DVD. "Barbie's Dream Wedding, oh come on Bethany. You don't want to watch that." The case of the DVD was bright pink, with the eponymous hero wearing a princess dress not unlike the one the doll from earlier had been wearing. "No, I'm going back into my room to watch some telly, you're going to watch this on your own. I thought you'd like it after picking that doll as your favourite earlier." "I'm not going to watch this rubbish," I replied, throwing the DVD onto the bed next to me, "you can't make me." Calmly, and with that evil smile on her face, the girl picked up the disc and put it into player, "yes you are going to watch it, and I'm going to test you afterwards to make sure you paid attention. If you get the answers wrong," she thought about this for a second, "then I'll make sure everyone downstairs knows you were watching a Barbie DVD and bring you down to meet them all." "I hate you," I spat, "you know that right?" "I'm sure you do, but it'll teach you to beat up girls, won't it? Now, sit in the chair nicely and watch the pretty film," she said the word pretty in that little girl voice again, "and here, don't forget your dolly as well," she handed me that God-forsaken princess doll once more, "if I come in here and you're not holding that doll you'll be in trouble, understand?" "I'm supposed to be an eleven year old," I complained, "not a bloody baby." "Ha, how precious," she laughed, "eleven year old girls still watch Barbie and play with dollies. Now be quiet, it's starting." She shut the door behind her and left me to the mercy of Barbie and her dream wedding. It was moments like this that really brought home just how far I'd fallen in such a short space of time. Four days ago I'd come into the house as a man, and now here I was sitting on a pink chair wearing a ridiculously girlie outfit and watching a Barbie film while holding a doll. The film was terrible of course, Barbie spent most of it twirling around in dresses and singing songs, and I just couldn't believe that I was watching it. I ached to turn it off, but fearing reprisals for doing so, I kept it on until the bitter end. I needn't have bothered though, because Bethany didn't come back in after the film. So instead I put the doll back into the box and laid on the bed. I tried to doze off, but my thoughts were filled with unease that the women were still downstairs and seemed to be getting louder, fuelled as they no doubt were by expensive wine and God knows what else. Finally, at around three I heard some of them leave, and I actually relaxed enough to slip into a half-awake slumber that made me forget about the situation for a merciful few moments. In this slumber, I hardly noticed the door open. It was Bethany again, only this time, to my absolute horror, there was another girl with her. "Oh my God," the girl said, her hand clasped across her mouth in amazement, "he can't be a man!" "He is," Bethany replied, looking pleased with herself, I dressed him one of my old outfits from years ago." "Bethany," I cried, futilely trying to pull the covers over me to cover the ridiculous outfit, "what the hell are you doing!" "Oh don't worry," she replied, "this is only Louise. She's Anna's daughter - I knew she'd been cool with it." Louise was older than Bethany, maybe 15 or 16, and a few inches taller. She had jet black hair and was wearing heavy eye make-up and tights with holes in, as well as a t-shirt over her school blouse that advertised some band I'd never heard of. There had been "goths" when I was at school, but they'd never have been allowed to dress that like that. "This is so messed up," the girl laughed, "I've never seen anything like this. Do you think he's got a fetish or something?" "Maybe," Bethany replied, "but it's a punishment for breaking my nose. Mum said if he was going to fight with girls then he needed to be treated like one." "He broke your nose! What a lowlife." I wanted to defend myself, but I was too shocked to speak. How could she do this to me? "I've just made him watch a Barbie DVD," Bethany said proudly, before turning to me, "did you watch it all like a good little girl?" I didn't respond, because Louise moved in close toward me to inspect my appearance, "You're so delicate," she said, shaking her head, "are you a sissy or something?" "No," I replied quickly, still feeling terribly uneasy around the girl, "they're making me do this." "I've heard about men like you," she continued, ignoring me totally, "you know, men who like to be dressed up like women or little girls. It's pretty kinky stuff." "I don't like it," I said again, "it's a punishment." "Hmm, but you're going along with it. I don't know many men who'd allowed themselves to be dressed up in a little denim skirt like this," she flicked the skirt with her long, black nails, "and be forced to watch a Barbie DVD." "I honestly don't think he does like it," Bethany interjected, still smiling, "that's what makes it more fun." Thankfully Louise stood up and headed toward the wall. To my amazement she lit up a cigarette and opened the window. I looked at Bethany, who seemed totally in thrall of the older girl. "Hey, I'm not judging you anyway. If you want to be dressed up like a little girl I think it's cool," the black haired girl said, flicking ash out of the window. "I don't want to be dressed like this," I said again, "and you shouldn't be smoking at your age." The girl laughed, "give it a rest. I don't need lessons on how to live my life from the man in the girlie unicorn t-shirt, thanks very much." Bethany chimed in, "yeah, if Louise wants to smoke then why shouldn't she? Who are you to judge?" "This is all pretty interesting actually," Louise said, staring at me, "you know, some people say that boys and girls are born exactly the same but the social expectations make them conform to gender stereotypes." Bethany nodded, "yeah, I've heard that too." "This is actually a really interesting experiment in gender and social behaviour," the older girl continued, "how will a man react to being forced to the other end of the social spectrum? How will he deal with going from being a twenty-something man, the kind of person at the top of the social ladder, to being a soppy pre-teen girl who'd sit right at the other end of the social spectrum? Will his actions change straight away? Will his internal thoughts change if he's subjected to the same stimuli as a young girl? Very interesting." "You're so smart Louise," Bethany gushed, shaking her head, "I'd never thought about it like that." "Yeah, I'm interested in that kind of stuff," she replied, throwing her completed cigarette out of the window with an exaggerated flick of the arm, "society puts us into these little pigeon holes and expects us to conform to that all our lives. It's so lame." Bethany nodded in agreement, although it was clear that she didn't really understand what the older girl was talking about. To her, this was simply an exercise in revenge and a novel thing to do. Louise picked up the Barbie DVD that sat on the vanity table, "how far are you guys taking this? Does he have to wear knickers and a bra as well?" "I don't think he's worn a bra yet," Bethany replied, "Mum put in one of those little vests." "No, you should make him wear a bra. If you're going to do it you need to do it the whole way." Bethany smiled, "but he's flat chested. Ooh, I know, I'll see if I can find a training bra in my old stuff." The girl bounded out of the room excitedly, buoyed by the idea of finding yet another method of humiliation. This left me alone with Louise, who had sat down on the chair by the vanity table. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I found myself slightly intimidated by the girl. Of course, being dressed like I was, coupled with the fact that she was easily half a foot taller than I, only added to the feeling of smallness in her presence. But I still felt ashamed that I could feel in any way frightened of a 16 year old girl. "How would you describe how this all feels then? You know, being made to live like a girl?" I cleared my throat, "It's, well it's weird obviously." The girl laughed, "I bet. God, I'm trying to figure out how you can stand the embarrassment of being treated like a little girl when you've been a man! It must be unbearable when Bethany orders you around." "It's not fun," I replied, "but I have to go along with it, what choice do I have?" "Yeah, but do you feel any different? Weaker, perhaps?" "No," I lied. "Really, I'm surprised," the girl stood up, as though to emphasise her height and age, "I mean, you seem to be a little bit scared of me, and I'm just a iddy-little girl as well really. Would you have felt frightened of me when you were still a man?" "I'm not scared of you," I said, trying to hide the surprise in my voice that the girl had worked out how I felt, "I'm just ashamed of how I look." "Oh come on, you've been acting like any little girl would around a bigger girl. Look at the way you're sitting," she pointed to the way I had my legs folded underneath me and my arms crossed, "you're even sitting in a submissive fashion." "No I'm not," I argued, but the girl was right. "Yes you are," she laughed, "you're scared of me! God, even my little sister's friends aren't scared of me and they're only nine years old." "I'm not scared of you," I said again, changing my posture to try and prove the point, "like I said, I just feel silly." "You could probably pass for one of my sister's friends," she smiled, "actually, I've just had an idea." The girl leapt from the chair and headed downstairs. I had little time to consider the conversation though, because Bethany re-appeared only moments later. "Where's Louise gone? Anyway, I found this training bra for you." She handed me the cotton bra. It was pink with white piping and straps, with a small little bow on the front and what seemed like slightly padded cups. "It's the kind of bra that little girls who aren't ready for a proper bra wear. This was the first one I ever had," she took the bra from me again and looked at it fondly before handing it back, "I loved this bra, it made me feel so grown up. Well, go on then. I'll leave the room so you can put it on." "Do I have to?" "Stop whining like a baby," she replied, going out the door, "and hurry it up." I sighed and slipped the silly unicorn t-shirt over my head. I had been wondering when I'd be subjected to a bra, so it was no great surprise. Still, it added a whole new feminine aspect to my appearance once on, both in terms of the white straps being slightly visible underneath the straps of the t-shirt and because the padded cup of the bra caused two very small lumps to protrude through the shirt. This was even more noticeable when I looked in the mirror side on, and only served to enhance my metamorphosis from man to pre-teen girl. Bethany took great delight in this of course, and made me sit down at the vanity table so she could adjust the bra straps "properly" because they were still showing, "You don't want to show the world your bra," she informed me, as she snapped the strap into place, "it's not very ladylike." "This is so ridiculous," I argued, feeling extra sorry for myself as I looked down to see my legs enclosed in girlish pink tights, "aren't you bored of this yet? How much longer are you going to keep this going for Bethany?" The girl took hold of one the pink ribbons holding my hair and twirled it around her finger as she considered the question, "oh, I think there's a bit more fun to be had with this yet. I got tonnes of old clothes and I think you're going to get to see a lot of them." Knowing that Bethany's interest was a key factor in my release I wanted to press the issue further, but was stopped by a call from downstairs. "Oh Julia," came Sara's slightly drunken sounding voice, "can you come down here for a moment please?" I felt my blood run cold. I couldn't go down there, not with some of her friends still around. I turned to Bethany, who was smiling of course, "what do they want me to go down there for? I can't be seen like this." "I don't know, you'll have to go down to find out. It's only Anna left anyway, you know, Louise's mum." The idea that there was only two drunken women down there didn't really help that much, "I'm not going down, no bloody way. Look at me for crying out loud!" "Ah, what's the matter? I think you look really pretty." "Leave it out Bethany, I look stupid." Sara's voice drifted upstairs again, sounding a little more impatient this time, "are you coming Julia?" "C'mon," Bethany laughed, "let's go down and see what they want." "No," I said firmly, "I won't be humiliated even more." "It's just Anna silly, she'll love this." "I don't care," I replied, mindful of the way my bottom lip had stuck out slightly making me look like a pouting girl, "three people seeing me like this is more than enough." "You're being silly," and without further warning the girl grabbed by the arm and started dragging me downstairs. At first I pulled back as hard as I could, but she kept propelling me forward. I could have dropped to the floor I suppose, but that gesture seemed far too girlie for me to consider. So instead, feeling tears fill my eyes, I let the teenage girl lead me downstairs by the hand to the waiting women below. We found the three of them, Sara, Louise and her mum Anna, sitting in the front room. The two older women had half full glasses of wine and I could see plenty of discarded bottles around the room too. All three of them laughed when Bethany pulled me into view, and I had to try my hardest not to cry again at the sheer embarrassment. "I can't believe it," Anna said, hand to her mouth. She was slightly older than Sara, probably late 30's, but obviously belonged to the same well-off social group. Her hair was blonde and hung down to her shoulders, and I could see that her face was perfectly made up, to the point where gloss shone brightly from her lips. She wore a plain black dress that fell to her knees, with expensive looking black high heels tapping against the carpet as she studied me further. "It's amazing isn't it," Louise chimed in, "I mean, there is no way you'd know that he was a twenty-something man." "Too right," Anna replied, looking shocked, "look at his little legs in those pink tights! He's so diddy." All of the women laughed at this, and I could feel my face going redder and redder which probably didn't help me look any older. Neither did the fact that I realised I was still holding on tightly to Bethany's hand, in the way a little sister might do when she's scared. "I think it's an awesome punishment," Anna continued, "I wish I could get Jack to wear my clothes sometimes. Now that would be fun." "Jack would never," Sara laughed, "he's too manly. Isn't he about six foot six? I'm not sure he'd want to dress up in his wife's clothes." "Oh I could still find him a nice gown or something, " Anna said, and the women all laughed again before turning their attention back to me, "but this one is amazing. Oh, and that denim skirt is just too much. I don't think Ellie would even wear something like that, and she's only nine." "And he's just watched a Barbie DVD," Bethany added, unhelpfully, "he chose it himself and everything." The women laughed loudly at this. "No I didn't!" Anna was almost wiping tears from her eyes now, "you made him sit and watch a Barbie film? How wonderful. What happened in it?" I stood in defiant silence. No way I was going to answer such a humiliating question. "Ah, you're a shy little girl," Anna said eventually, "that's OK, I won't hurt you. Look at the way you're holding your big sister's hand, how sweet is that." I pulled my hand away quickly, averting my gaze from Bethany's smug glance. I couldn't believe I'd managed to find another woman so low on compassion and sense that she couldn't see how twisted this all was. No doubt the alcohol was a factor in this, as both women appeared to be pretty drunk. "Why don't you come and sit with me," Sara said softly, patting the small space next to her on the chair. She still looked lovely, if a tiny little bit dishevelled, in her purple dress. "No, I'm fine standing, thanks." "Don't be silly," Bethany said, grabbing my arm again, "go and sit with your Mummy." And so, I was soon sat snugly next to Sara, so close in fact that I could smell the alcohol on her breath and feel her soft, smooth legs rub against me. It might have been arousing in a different circumstance but I was far too ashamed to feel anything else. As I sat quietly the women chatted for ten minutes or so, with Bethany more than happy to take centre stage and tell the story of my "brutal" breaking of her nose. Anna shook her head almost throughout, her blonde hair bouncing and the wine in her glass shaking as she did so, and it all served to make me feel even more ashamed. "I just can't fathom how a grown man could let himself get into a fight with a teenage girl," Anna said at the end of the story while staring at me, "what were you thinking?" "I've said I'm sorry," I replied, trying to sound more defiant than guilty, "I didn't mean to, obviously." "Give him a bit of a break," Sara said, stroking my shoulder softly, "at least he's been man enough to do accept his punishment." "Man enough! That's a good one," Louise said suddenly, giving a mock laugh as she did so, "you haven't really punished him anyway." "What do you mean?" Sara asked, sounding a tiny bit offended, "what could be a worse punishment?" Louise moved her mouth to start a response, but instead gave an exaggerated sigh and shrug, "forget I said anything," she replied eventually. Sara seemed confused but quickly moved onto the next subject after taking in more wine, "hey, where is Ellie tonight?" "Oh, she's gone to a friend's house after school," Anna replied, "she's made this new friend, Amy her name is I think," she looked over to Louise who nodded, "anyway Ellie thinks this girl is the greatest thing ever and wants to spend every moment with her." "Ah, that's sweet," Bethany interjected, "I had a friend like that when I was nine." "Well I'm not too sure about this girl anyway," Anna continued, her voice lowered to a totally unnecessary conspiratorial tone, "she's really bossy. Poor old Ellie of course, well you know how shy and quiet she is, does everything this girl tells her to." "They're only babies still," Sara responded, "I wouldn't worry." "I'm not worried, I just hope she doesn't turn into a bully." "You're exaggerating Mum," Louise argued, "she's not that bad. Ellie can look after herself anyway." Anna ran her finger around the top of her wine glass and smiled, "you're so harsh now that you're a big scary goth. I remember when you were a sweet little girl like your sister." "Give it a rest Mum." "Oh you don't want to talk about when you used to be a little girlie girl do you?" Anna turned to Sara, "it's all heavy metal music and weird poetry now, but she used to be such a little madam you know." "Yeah well, you don't know half the stuff I used to do at school," her daughter raged, "I've never been the little angel you think." "Yeah yeah," Anna grinned, "such a big tough girl now, aren't you." Belying her previously cool exterior, Louise's face had turned red, "I don't know why you always have to try and embarrass me. Look at him anyway," she pointed in my direction, "he could pass as one of Ellie's little friends." Sara laughed at this, "you might just be right you know. I mean, maybe not nine years old, but not much older." "You're mad," I argued, "even if someone couldn't tell by looking they'd know by the way I talk." "That's only because you're not trying," Louise replied, with an evil grin washed across her face, "you know, I think if Ellie came round she wouldn't think you were anything other than a girl." "Nonsense." Sara, who had been lounging on the chair, suddenly sat up straight, "oh that's so delicious. Imagine if she treated him a like a little girlfriend." All the women laughed at this, and I felt a sinking in my stomach at the way the conversation was headed. Sara had immediately seen it as an idea to humiliate me further and I was starting to wonder if that was her big kick in all of this. "That'd be hilarious," Anna laughed, "I could just see him playing nicely with Ellie." Louise had cheered up now, "what would be even better was if Ellie and Amy come round and we make him play with both of them. Whatever they wanted to do he'd have to go along with it." Bethany liked this, "oh, that's a great idea. You've got all of those pretty dolls upstairs as well so I'm sure you'd find lots to do." "What? No way!" "Sssh Julia," Sara ordered, stroking my shoulder again, "God, do you really think they'd believe he was a girl?" "I think so," Louise replied, "maybe a couple of years older than them, but why would they think any differently?" "Don't be crazy, they'd know I was a man straight away." Sara disagreed though, "oh yeah, what would make them think that? Your little pig-tails or your lovely frilly denim skirt? You know, I think they just might believe it. We might have to do a little bit of make up, soften the jaw, draw the freckles on again, but I think it might work." "We could try," Anna said, thinking about it, "I mean, it's still only half-four. I could ask Amy's Mum to drop the pair of them off here for the evening." I'd heard enough. There was just no way that I was going to be made to sit with two nine year old girls as their equal. I had to try and retain a modicum of respectability, as hard as that was becoming, "I won't do it. It's just not right." "Oh shush up," Sara replied disdainfully, "it's just a bit of fun." "Fun? What part of being made to play silly games with a couple of little girls do you think would be the fun part?" "Oh we have to try this," Bethany begged, "I'd love to see it so much." I was feeing adamant now, "well tough. That's just going too far." "Shall I call them then?" Anna asked, taking her phone out of her expensive looking handbag. I turned to Sara in one last attempt to make her see reason, "please don't do this. It would just be too humiliating for those girls to see me like this." Sara let out a little sigh, looking beautiful as she did so, "I tell you what, we'll make a deal. If we you do this and they don't twig that you're a man," she paused for a second, "I'll let you go." "Mum, no," Bethany cried. "You'll let me go? Honestly?" "I swear it," she answered, "but you have to convince them totally. If either suspects you to be anything other than an eleven year old girl then you lose." "You'll really let me go? I mean, let me go tonight with my old clothes?" "Mum, what are you doing? He's hardly been punished at all yet." "Yes, you can leave tonight." I thought about it for a few moments. Could I really fool these two girls into thinking I was one of them? Could I really be so convincing? More to the point, could I stand the humiliation of trying? Sara pressed for an answer, "what do you say then? Shall we get them over here? Are you sure you're OK with it Anna?" "Why not? It's just a bit of fun. Plus, I don't think Ellie will have a clue that he's not a girl. I mean, look at him!" At this point I felt I had nothing left to lose. My wife had abandoned me, I had no job, no house and now no semblance of male hood left at all. Surely I could stand a few final hours of degradation. "OK, I'll do it. But you have to promise you'll let me go." "I already have," Sara groaned, but not hiding the anticipation in her voice, "but you'll have to make an effort if they're going to believe it. And I want to watch that." "Oh, can Bethany and me get him ready," Louise asked excitedly. Sara nodded her approval and the girls fairly leapt across the room to grab me by each arm. "C'mon little Julia, let's get ready for your big play date," Bethany said mockingly, "you'll want to look pretty for your girlfriends." "Yes, and we're going to have to give you a quick lesson on how an eleven year old girl should act," Louise added, "you'll love that." My feet hardly touched the ground as they led me upstairs, with the sound of Anna making the call ringing in my ears.