Bailey s BrotherChapter 11 Bailey Caught Red Handed
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The Bailey Option free porn video
"I'd like to apply for the Bailey option, m'lud" asked my solicitor.
"For both defendants?" asked the judge.
"Yes, m'lud."
The judge looked Charlie and me up and down twice. We were both typical
fifteen year olds, except somehow we'd got into trouble.
"Application provisionally granted," he said. "You know the
requirements of the Bailey option?"
"Yes, m'lud."
"And when do you think that you will be ready? With all the
requirements in place?"
"By this afternoon, m'lud."
"In which case I shall adjourn proceedings until 3 o'clock," said the
judge. He banged a gavel on the desk in front of him and stood up.
Everyone stood up as the judge left the court room. A warder took my
arm and steered me away from the room without the chance of looking at
my fellow defendant Charlie or my family. He took me into a cell. A few
minutes later my mum appeared.
"What was that about the Bailey option?" I asked her.
"Didn't the solicitor tell you, Harry?"
"No."
She looked uneasy and took a deep breath. "Well you have been sentenced
to three years in a Young Offenders' Institution. That would normally
mean three years banged up with some of the most vicious young people
imaginable; psychopaths, villains, nutters. Two years if you are
lucky."
"You said normally?" I asked.
"Yes the Bailey option is an alternative punishment method to reduce
the number of youngsters in these so-called academies of crime. It was
brought in following a proposal from an MP called Angela Bailey. Some
people said it was a way of saving government money. Others said it
would never work but on the few occasions it has been used, it has been
successful. That's why Charlie's parents, your dad and I all had no
hesitation in applying for the Bailey option."
"If it keeps me out of prison and away from those psychopaths, it must
be a good idea. What do I have to do?"
"Well that's the catch. The Bailey option says that for the length of
your sentence, you have to live as a girl."
The penny dropped. I'd have to live as a girl. So would Charlie.
"You will have to be a girl, 24/7," mum continued. "You will go to
school as a girl. You will wear skirts or dresses at all times - no
jeans."
"No," I screamed.
"Darling," said my mum. "It has to be better than being locked up in a
cell all day with a violent delinquent."
A tear slid down my cheek.
"At this very moment, your father is taking all your old clothes to the
dump. When you get home, you will find your wardrobe and your chest of
drawers full of new clothes - girls' clothes like bras, panties, tights
and petticoats."
I felt sick. I really did.
"And this afternoon we have arranged for the prison doctor to give you
a hormone jab. The hormones will stop you growing facial hair and you
will grow neat little round titties. You will need a booster jab every
month or so, of course."
I felt even worse. Titties? My throat felt all dry and though I tried
to speak I couldn't. My stomach felt nervous and my hands clammy. She
couldn't be serious, could she?
"Only when the judge has seen that you have had the jab, that you are
dressed as a girl and he has evidence that all your boy clothes have
been destroyed will he allow your release."
"But, but, but, ..." I tried to say.
"Look, Harry, perhaps you should have thought about this before you and
Charlie broke into that Post Office."
Of course she was right. We shouldn't have broken in and stolen the
money in the till. And why did Charlie have a knife with him? He was
normally such a sensible friend. And now we were to get our punishment.
"I bought you some lovely lacy panties yesterday, a couple of bras and
some really pretty dresses. You'll love wearing them."
Was she out of her mind? I'd love being dressed as a girl? I'd prefer
prison. Honestly, I would.
"But, but, but, ..."
"No buts, Harry, although from now on I'm going to call you Harriet.
From now on you are Harriet Jackson, OK?"
"I er I ..."
"I'll come back at 2.30 to get you dressed in time for the court
reconvening at three. Bye."
She kissed me on the cheek and hurried out. The door slammed behind her
and I had nothing but my thoughts until a horrible lunch arrived around
one.
As promised mum was back at 2.30. She carried a small hold-all from
which she removed a pair of white panties, a white bra, a pair of false
boobs, a pair of black opaque tights (to hide my hairy legs but mum
said I'd have to wax them), a denim pleated mini-skirt and a pale pink
top. This was the moment I'd been dreading.
"Do you want me to help you or do you want to get changed on your own?"
she asks.
"Whatever."
She helped me by taking my clothes as I undressed. I knew I wouldn't
see them again. Then she passed me the girly clothes one by one and I
put them on. Then she gave me two rings, a bracelet, a girl's watch and
a pendant necklace. She gave me a pair of strappy sandals with a thin 2
inch heel. Finally she removed a dirty blonde wig from the hold-all and
put it on my head. She brushed it several times until she was
satisfied.
Then she put a dab of blue eye-shadow on my eyes lids and some lipstick
on my lips. I was ready. I wanted to have a mirror to see what I looked
like but that would have to wait. There were no mirrors in the cells.
"You look great," mum said. "It'll be fun having a daughter. You and I
can go shopping together."
I couldn't think of anything much worse. Then the doctor arrived to
give me a jab in the arm. It didn't hurt much. The cell door then
opened and we were summoned to return to the court room. In my
unfamiliar shoes I just about managed to walk to the dock and sit down.
As I sat down the skirt rode up from three or four inches above the
knee to mid-thigh. I tugged it down as best I could. It would be even
more embarrassing if it rode up more and my underwear showed.
A teenage girl appeared in the court room followed by a warder. She
moved in my direction looking very pretty with shoulder length blonde
hair and wearing a short pastel blue floral pattern mini-dress. Only
when she was close to me did I realise it was my co-defendant Charlie.
"Oh my god, Charlie, you look amazing," I said.
"Do I? Thanks. I've no idea what I look like. By the way I'm Charlotte
now," he said. "You don't look so bad yourself, Harriet."
"Thanks. I haven't even had the chance to look in a mirror yet either
but I suppose I'll get plenty of chances to do that over the next three
years.
"You will."
Charlotte sat down. I couldn't think of her as anything other than a
she. Like mine her hem rode up as she sat down, except she did not have
so much room for manoeuvre. Her hairless thighs were beautiful and I
got a glimpse of panty as she straightened her dress.
The judge came in and we all had to stand up. We then sat down again,
once more both holding our hemlines tightly. A couple of times I caught
myself glancing at Charlie's lovely thighs. Our solicitor made a
statement to the judge and handed him a few photos. The judge than
asked us both to stand again before he declared that he was satisfied.
"Case complete," he said. "I am releasing you under the Bailey option.
You are free to go. Good luck."
We all stood again and after the judge had left Charlie and I left the
dock to join up with our families.
"Bye," said Charlie. "See you soon."
"Bye."
Mum whisked me down some stairs. I held her arm tight as I was not easy
to go down the stairs in my new heels. We went out of a side door and
dad was waiting for us in the car, engine running. Mum slipped into the
front passenger seat and I got in the back. This was unfortunate as I
couldn't get in without my skirt riding right up and revealing my
panties to anybody nearby. Embarrassed I straightened my clothing out
grateful that neither mum nor dad had seen me. I then tried to work out
a way of getting out without repeating the same problem. I then
realised that I had to keep but knees together and swing my legs out.
The journey home continued in complete silence. Half an hour later the
car pulled up on our drive. I got out quickly as I was worried that the
neighbours would be watching as Harriet made her first appearance.
Still twenty seconds later I was safely behind the front door.
"You better go up and have a look at your bedroom, Harriet," mom said
to me.
I slipped away up the stairs and went into my bedroom. It had changed
spectacularly. The walls were painted baby pink, the bed and curtains
were in a matching pink flowery pattern. My football posters had gone
from the walls to be replaced by pictures of ponies.
They must have been planning this for ages, I thought as I noticed a
long mirror hanging on the wall by the door. I stood in front of it.
OMG - I looked just like a girl.
I then walked over to the wardrobe. My boy shirts had all gone of
course, to be replaced by girly tops, skirts and dresses. There was a
blazer and tie for St Theresa's - a girls' school in our town as well
as several white blouses and a navy blue pleated school skirt. I
guessed that I'd be going to a new school - at least that wouldn't be
as embarrassing as going back to Harry's school.
I looked in my chest of drawers. Gone were my socks, pants, sweatshirts
and jeans. In their place were panties, bras, tights, socks and
petticoats.
I cringed when I saw a makeup kit on the chest of drawers. I turned
back to the wardrobe and took out a school blouse and tie. I put it on
the bed. Then I took out the blazer and the pleated mini-skirt. At the
bottom of the wardrobe I found a pair of black patent Mary Jane shoes.
Now I can't explain this and I don't know why I did it but the next
thing I remember was taking off the sandals, tights, the denim skirt
and the pale pink top. I put on the school uniform; the blouse, the
tie, the skirt, a pair of black knee-high socks, the shoes and finally
the blazer.
I picked up a hair brush which was on top of the chest of drawers and
brushed my hair in front of the mirror. If I had to be a girl for three
years, I wanted to look like a girl and not a boy in a skirt.
I looked at myself from different angles. I tugged the hem of the skirt
down. I snarled. I grimaced, I smiled, I grinned. Did I smirk? I hope
not. "Not too bad," I thought. At least I wouldn't get people pointing
at me saying, "Look at that boy in a dress."
I went back to the wardrobe and pulled out a dress. I hated it. It was
so girly. To start with it was pale pink. Secondly it diaphanous -
almost see though but it had a sewn-in pink lining to preserve modesty.
It was filmy and would bounce up and down with every step. Thirdly it
was a girly shape, gathering under the boobs and flairing out in what I
think is called a babydoll style.
Fourthly the material was printed with little pale yellow flowers on
it. Ugh. I was so girly. I hated it. You'd never get me to wear a dress
like that but strangely I felt compelled to try it on. I took off the
blazer and undid my blouse. I peeled it off and stepped out of the
skirt. I put these clothes on the bed and kept on the bra, panties,
socks and the Mary Jane's of course.
I then pulled the dress over my head and pulled it into position. There
was a zip under one arm that I did up with a little difficulty. I
adjusted it again and tied a little bow at the back.
I walked over to the mirror. The dress was filmy. It did bounce as I
walked. Strangely I liked the feeling. I stood and looked at myself. I
hated the dress and yet if I had a girlfriend I would have liked her to
wear it. It was so feminine. The babydoll shape which came down to mid-
thigh practically screamed, "Feel my legs."
The whole outfit of dress, socks, shoes and wig went so well together.
But maybe my lipstick needed touching up. I was thinking like a girl. I
looked in the makeup kit on the chest of drawers. There were three or
four different lipsticks there. I chose the one that was closest to
what I had been wearing and scraped it over my lips.
I walked back to the long mirror. I was so girly.
Then I noticed my computer on a small desk in the corner of the room. I
spent hours on this computer - not doing my homework like mum and dad
thought, but playing games online and chatting with friends like
Charlie. I powered up the PC, sat down and soon the start-up screen
loaded. I quickly noticed that the icons for all the games had been
removed. All the games had been deleted even Solitaire.
I loaded the messenger program. I saw straight away that my identity
was no longer Harry Jackson 35 but Harriet Jackson 35. My only contact
was Charlotte Taylor 131. I could guess who that was, but she wasn't
online. My parents had been planning this for weeks.
To pass the time I loaded Internet Explorer and started Googling. I
needed to find out about girls' fashions and St Theresa's school. I
found that a couple of fashion sites had been added to my favourites. I
followed the links and was soon reading about the latest styles of
shoes, tops, skirts, hemlines and so on. Time passed quickly. I must
have been surfing for over an hour. I completely forgot that I was
wearing a girly dress when there was a quiet knock on the door and mum
came in.
"Hi, Harriet," she said. "Dinner will be ready in five minutes or so.
You'd better come down." This was one of the things I'd been dreading.
Going downstairs and seeing my brother and sister. They would tease me
horribly.
"Good, you've found your computer," mum added. "And you're wearing that
lovely dress. I'm glad you like it. Katie (my sister) chose it for you.
You'd look better in tights than those socks. You'll find some in the
top drawer. Be down in two minutes. And I see you've found your school
uniform. It will be so much better at St Theresa's. But you and
Charlotte will have to start Year 10 again in September. See you in a
few minutes."
I pulled off the Mary Janes and the girly socks. I took a pair of
tights from the drawer as instructed and slid them carefully up my
legs. Another glance in the mirror and I was off downstairs for my next
trial.
To be continued?
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