Melody Maker free porn video

1. When I was little my Gran gave me an elaborate little music box. I remember holding it my hands for a long time, looking at all of the ornate markings on the wooden case and then the tiny little dancer inside, that circled slowly. I felt sorry for the dancer. It looked like she was trying to escape, but that she was stuck in a never-ending rotation. "You're a lucky little girl April," Mum told me, "you can put all your jewellery and things in the compartments, isn't it pretty?" I didn't think it was pretty at all. "Yeah, it's nice," I remember saying, "can I go outside now? The boys next door are playing football." 2. Poor old Toby. Well, poor because of what I did to him, but also just about the most annoying creature ever put on planet Earth. I know sisters aren't supposed to like their older brothers, especially if they are only a couple of years older, but there are times even now when I want to ring his neck. In the creative writing class I go to the teacher tells us that you should be able to evaluate any person in six words, so here are a list of words I'd use to describe him; selfish, obnoxious, arrogant, petty, sneaky, manipulative. I know that's six, but so what. One for the road. If he wasn't so obnoxious it would easier to feel more sorry for him. What my Dad wanted from a first son was a boy that inherited his own build and sporty genes. Before Toby was even born he'd been bought his first Rugby strip and ball, the first step on a not so secret plan to turn his offspring into an England international. What he didn't expect therefore was a son that instead inherited his mother's genes, a soft looking blond boy who was pretty much always the smallest in the class (our Mum is tiny!) and never really showed much interest in sport. Even at 18 he'd only grown to just under five foot, and with his baby face and slight build he never stood the slightest chance of entry into any of the nightclubs that were dotted around the town. Not even the Star Bar let him in, and I'd seen 14 year old girls get in there. The frustrating thing is that I knew there was another side of Toby, one that only appeared when he let his guard down. Like when he was little and he went for the little boy next door who'd been pulling my hair, or when he'd leant me his Maths GCSE textbooks. Maths had never been my strongest suit. Unfortunately for the rest of time Toby fell into the trap that most vertically challenged males do, the dreaded small men's syndrome. Symptoms include rudeness, a tendency to be overly loud and a need to prove himself in every situation. Like when Dad needed to put up some fencing, and Toby insisted that he should carry the panels around to the back garden, despite them being far too heavy for him. "Do you want me to help?" I'd asked, a little cruelly. He'd given me a look reserved for annoying little sisters and other such vermin, before giving up and letting Dad carry the panels. "Shut up freak," he'd shot at me pre-emptively as he skulked back to his room, "lesbian." You see, that's the other thing that Toby can't stand. Not only was he cursed with our Mother's petite genes, he then had to watch as his little sister inherited her Dad's rough and tumble genes and shot up like an out of control weed. By the time I was twelve I was already five foot six, and I'd eventually stopped (or at least I think I have) at just under six foot. Tall for a girl at least. Dad, never one to miss a chance, started dragging me along to the Rugby instead, so while other girls were playing with their dolls and wearing pretty dresses, I was watching videos of great English Grand Slams and pretending Twickenham was our back garden. I joined a team at eleven, and became the star flanker in every team that I played in. This wasn't easy for me either, although by the time I'd reached sixteen I'd become more comfortable with myself. I wasn't fat but I certainly wasn't thin, and I knew I was stronger and more muscular than other girls. Hell, I was stronger and more muscular than most boys. But Rugby had started to fade in my passions by the time I reached sixteen, replaced by music and writing. What I wanted most was to be a music journalist. What an odd pair we made. Toby was a disappointment to Dad (although he never said it) and I was a disappointment to Mum, who wanted a feminine daughter to dress up and buy nice things for. Luckily for her, and me, our little sister Melody came along a few years later and proved to be the girlie girl that Mum could do those things with. She was tall like me, but had inherited Mum's blonde tone and smaller features. She really was the archetypal girl, when she was little she loved dolls and ponies, now as moved toward teenage she was started to get interested in make-up and clothes and we'd started to hear about a couple of boys on the horizon as well. Anyway, so last summer Mum and Dad decided to take a two week holiday. I had just finished my GCSE's and was initially keen to go with them, but I'd decided that it might be a bit lame, plus it clashed with my end of year dance. Melody was going to go with them of course, and eventually Toby decided that he wanted to stay home also. Mum and Dad ummed and arrhed about it for an age, before deciding that Toby and I were grown up enough to stay in the house on our own. So the holiday crept up slowly. Mum bought Melody a whole new wardrobe of clothes, much to my consternation, "You were the same April, always growing out of clothes before you've even had a chance to wear them," she told me when I complained, "your Dad must have spent a fortune on Rugby shirts for you." I watched as she held up a yellow dress in front of Melody, who gave a little squeal of happiness at her reflection, before turning to me, "yeah April, why shouldn't I get new clothes? Oh Mum, can I try on that tunic top we bought in Next?" "We'll have to sort out your old clothes when we get back though, we can't keep just chucking them in the loft," Mum warned, handing Melody a pink top, "we should give them to charity really." I didn't really care about Melody getting new clothes I suppose, not when I'd been bought a new laptop as a reward for working so hard during my exams. Plus I'd still have preferred to spend the money on albums or concert tickets, rather than dresses and tunic tops. Toby took aim though, "how come Mum never buys you clothes April? Is it because they don't make women's clothes that fit you?" "Ha ha," I spat back, "do they make grown up clothes to fit you? Or do you still have to shop in the kiddie section?" "I don't shop in the kiddie section, freak. You're going to need to start talking to me with more respect when Mum and Dad go on holiday, seeing as I'll be in charge." "Yeah right! They never said you'd be in charge!" He ran a hand through his longish blond hair, "of course I am, I'm oldest after all." Sometimes, when I feeling particularly cruel or angry, I'll call Toby my little brother. The only thing he hates more is when I say it in a little voice, turning it into "ickle brother." He'll reply with well thought out ripostes such as "I'm older than you Godzilla," or the classic "how's the weather up there , freak?" But this trip was important to Toby, because he knew it was a chance to impress Dad and show how grown up he could be. There had been hours of discussion about where Toby should go to University, he wanted to move as far away as possible but Dad was worried that he wasn't mature enough to look after himself. I think it was hard for him to see Toby as anything other than a little boy, seeing as how even now, he was the smallest of all three of us kids. I'd often wind him up about being shorter than Melody and about how technically, he was her little brother now too. Melody wound him up also. The funniest time had been the summer before when Melody was only eleven and Toby seventeen, when she'd asked if he wanted to hold her hand as they crossed the road! Toby nearly exploded with rage as we all laughed, even Mum and Dad failing to contain themselves. So it was a big deal for Toby to prove that could be trusted. So on a hot early July afternoon Mum, Dad and Melody headed for the airport in high spirits. We were given a stern list of things that we could and couldn't do, no parties, only one friend over at a time, stay out of Mum and Dad's bedroom, no alcohol. A chequebook was left, but with a warning that it was only to be used for shopping or any emergencies that arose, "I'm putting you in charge of the money Toby," Dad had said, "don't let me down." The threat was implicit, but clear enough to us all. Fuck up, and you're going to the local university next year. I didn't care too much about money, I had my own nice little savings account anyway in case of emergencies, so I was hoping that Toby might just make a terrible mistake and get into trouble. Perhaps decide he could get away with a week in Dubai or something similarly stupid. They left on a Saturday, and for the rest of the that day and most of the Sunday I barely saw Toby. My friend Emma came round on the Saturday afternoon and we watched a couple of films, but Toby stayed firmly in his room. It was a bit of a surprise actually, as I suspected that he had a little thing for Emma. A lot of boys did though, given her sparkling long blonde hair and striking blue eyes (and even more striking chest). Emma had been my best friend since nursery school, despite very different interests. She was a bit like Melody I suppose, very feminine but also tough, with a penchant for the colour pink and always showing up in a different outfit. She'd just finished her exams as well, but had decided on a career as a beautician. This wasn't good news for me, as it generally led to me being a guinea pig for every treatment that she wanted to try out. That day was no different, as I spent the evening with my face in some weird face-mask that was supposed to freshen the skin, but just looked to me like slimy cucumber. "Toby is a bit odd, isn't he?" Emma had mused as she lathered my face in the evil concoction. "Too right. He's the oddest thing I've ever met." We both laughed. "No I mean how old is he now, eighteen? Shouldn't he be taller by now?" "I don't know. Mum and Dad took him to the doctors last year, but they said he was just a late bloomer. Apparently," I lowered my voice," and don't tell anyone this, but Mum let slip to me that he didn't start puberty until he was fifteen." "Wow," Emma replied, "do you know if he's ever had a girlfriend?" "Not that I've heard about. He hangs around with a group of right idiots though." "Oh I know who you mean - those boys that sit at the bottom of the stairwell between lessons?" Emma winced ever so slightly, "they make my skin crawl." Emma was having a tough time of it at home. Her parents, who had always been a really loving couple, had started arguing and fighting all the time, and I knew Emma couldn't stand to listen to it. It made me realise how lucky I was that my Mum and Dad seemed to be so happy, even if it meant I had to see the ugly sight of them kissing or holding each others hand. It all meant that Emma was spending a lot of time at our house. Emma stayed the night but had to go to the salon in the morning where she was training. I was glad she stayed over, because our house has a habit of being a bit creaky in the night and I felt better for her being there. Plus it was really windy, and I jumped a few times as a couple of windows rattled in the blustery conditions. There had been a time when I'd shared a room with Melody, before it had become clear when Mel was around six or seven that her dolls and horsey stuff didn't sit well with my Rugby gear. So Dad had cleaned out the small guest room, meaning that all three of us had our own rooms. Toby's room was biggest, a fact he never failed to ram home, especially to Melody in her boxy little room. I knew she had eyes on an upgrade when he moved out. I had a sneak around Melody's room the next day, curious to nose around seeing as she kept it very private when at home. It was still a girlie paradise, with an ornate little vanity table against one wall and cupboards overflowing with clothes, but the tone had definitely changed to one of a teenage girl, with lots of little bottles of nail polish lined up on one of the shelves and posters of serious looking boy-bands on the wall. I sat on her bed for a while, wondering why I'd never been interested in all this girlie stuff and whether it made me as odd. I tried to imagine it being my room, wearing all of the feminine clothes in the cupboards and using all of the sparkly pens in her pencil case, wondering which boys liked me and when they'd ask me out. I'd never had a serious boyfriend. I think I scared most of them off by being taller than them and definitely better at sport than them. They were often cruel to me, and while I'd try to laugh it off you have to be pretty tough not to let it get you down sometimes. I remember hating myself at 13 or 14 because I just couldn't get interested in all of things that Emma and the other girls liked. And when I did spend time painting my nails or anything like that it would just feel silly. I picked up a piece of pink fabric from the vanity table and ran it through my hands. I wasn't sure what it was, perhaps a headband or a scarf, but it was very pretty. Too pretty for my tomboy hands, certainly. Placing it back on the table, I shut the door on my way out and headed back to the sanctuary of my own room. 3. It was even windier that night, but I wrapped myself up in my large blue quilt and felt quite snug as I drifted off into a deep sleep. I don't remember the details of the dream exactly, but at some point someone kept saying my name over and over again with increasing panic, "April, April, April....'. Eventually I worked out that it wasn't the dream at all, but a small voice coming from the doorway. "April, there is definitely someone trying to get in the house." I groggily opened my eyes to see Toby standing in the doorway in his black pyjama bottoms and white t-shirt, looking even smaller than usual, "what are you talking about? It's just the wind." "I don't think so," he replied, sounding like a child, "there's a weird noise outside the back door. We need to go and see what it is." "By the back door? There's CCTV there, just go and check the screen." He didn't reply for a moment, before another loud noise made him jump and move to the edge of my bed, "will you come with me?" I sighed loudly, "you're 18 years old Toby for crying out loud," I swung my legs out of the bed and into my slippers, "stop acting like a child." Still, I was secretly proud that he'd come to me for help, and made a mental note to remind him of it mercilessly. "You won't think it's funny if there really is someone outside," he whispered as we went down the hall to the small CCTV room that sits next to Melody's room. Dad normally locks it when he's at home, but he'd left the key in the door for us. It was quite stiff and Toby strained against it, trying to turn it 180. "Here, let me," I said eventually, wanting to get back to bed. I lifted his hand off the key and gave it a strong thrust to the right, where it clicked into place. The door swung open and Toby looked at me, annoyed. "I could have done that, my hands were cold that's all." We looked at the screen that showed the area outside of the back door. It had started to rain quite heavily so it was hard to make too much out, "look Toby, I really can't see anything. I'm sure it's just the wind." We watched a few times and the camera swivelled on its axis, showing the start of the patio, both sides of the fence and a little bit of the back room, "see, nothing there. Can we go back to bed now?" But Toby was undeterred, "I'm telling you, there was definitely someone out there. I swear I could hear voices. Let's go down and look." "What? C'mon Toby, I'm knackered. You just go down and look." "It'll be safer if there is two of us, it'll only take a minute. Can you grab something to bring down?" I smiled, "Oh OK, let me just grab one of my lacrosse sticks. God's sake Toby, we can't have this every night they're on holiday." We creeped down the stairs, me in front of course. I stood outside of the back room for a moment, ear to the door and hand on the door knob, but not hearing anything untoward I slowly went in. Toby sneaked in behind me. "See, I told you. There's nothing here." "Just open the back door and look around quickly. You know, just to make sure." "Oh right, you want me to do that? Big man you are Toby." He looked at me with a hint of guilt in his eyes, like he was betraying some big secret. He knew that I was more likely to able to defend myself than he could, simple as that. It must have been embarrassing from him to plead with his little sister to help. I felt momentarily sorry for him, so I opened the back door and looked around. It was eerily quiet for a few seconds. The rain made it difficult to see much at all and it was cold, but I walked the length of the patio as Toby cowered in the door way. I was just about to turn back for the house when something crashed against the fence, which made us both jump. Well, I say jump, it made Toby give a little squeal and leap in the air. I could just about see his face and it as clear he was immediately ashamed that he'd done it. I slowly walked over to where the noise had come from, proud of myself for being so brave. For a second I wondered what I'd do if there was someone sneaking around the garden. Or more than one person perhaps. I squinted through the rain, but still couldn't see anything. "What's there," Toby called from the doorway, "do you think I should call the police?" I sighed, "there's nothing here silly. It must have been a bird or something. C'mon, I'm going back to bed." Toby could barely stand to look at me as I re-entered the back room, slightly sodden and head spinning from tiredness and the cold. Suddenly I felt angry with him as I looked at him standing in his dry pyjamas, "don't say thank you or anything. God, look at me! I'm soaked." "Don't go overboard," he replied coldly, "you wouldn't have been able to do anything if there was someone there anyway. Weakling." I was incredulous! "Oh right, but you didn't mind sending your little sister out into the cold to look, while you stood in the doorway like a little boy!" "You just barged out there, I'd have gone out there if you let me. You always have to be the hero though, don't you. Just because you want to be a man." The barb about me "wanting to be a man" was a well-worn insult, one that hardly even bothered me any more at least not when Toby threw it my way. "It's about time you started acting like a man. God, Melody would have been more use to me tonight than you," I mimicked his squeaky voice, "oh April, please come and look outside in-case there's a scary monster out there! Please April, I'm only a 18 year old boy, I can't look after myself!" "Just shut up," he spat back, a disgusted look plastered across his face, "as if that's how I sound. I'm going back to bed now Godzilla." 4. If I'd have expected contrition or gratitude from Toby the next morning I'd have been disappointed. Instead he breezed past me as I sat on the sofa, wordlessly plonking himself down on an armchair while he ate cereal straight from the box. He looked tired though, his blond hair messier than usual and noticeable bags around his eyes, and I wondered how easily he'd got back to sleep and what it was that had kept him awake. Was it the noises from outside or the thought that he'd so embarrassingly gone running to his little sister for help? Not wanting to twist a knife into the wound too deeply (there'd be time in the future for that I reckoned) I left him sitting in the living room on his own and headed back upstairs. Truth be told, the night before had made me feel pretty good. There was definitely something about the role reversal which was appealing to me - perhaps a relic of my Rugby playing days and the idea of wanting to show I was equal to any boy. It got me thinking about Harry. Harry was the snotty older brother of the fly half in our under 15's school team, and he'd stand on the touchline during all our matches and practice sessions and laugh riotously every time one of the girls dropped the ball or missed or a tackle. It was the kind of guffaw which I hate more than any. The kind that says, "look at these girls trying to play sport. Why are they wasting their time?" Naturally all of the girls in the team grew to hate Harry pretty quickly. Even Ashleigh, his sister, used to throw some pretty vitriolic things back his way. Then one day, Harry made the terrible mistake of wondering onto the playing pitch during one of practice sessions. Trying to impress a friend, he tip-toed on doing an impression of a ballerina. Later we found out this was to mock Ashleigh because she used to be a dancer, and obviously in general to show how soft we probably all were, but at the time we were all a bit bewildered. While the other girls looked at Harry, I took my chance. Fortunately I was only a few feet away, so I ran at him full tilt and reached him before he'd even had a chance to notice that he was being thrown up into the air by the post powerful tackle I could manage. I remember his face on the way down, the mixture of shock, pain and confusion was a beautiful thing to see. "Sorry," I said breathlessly as he hit the ground, "I thought you were playing." "What did you do that for!" He cried out, trying to get to his feet as quickly as possible, before having to bend back down to catch his breath. The girls, and most of the parents (including my Dad, who looked very pleased indeed) were laughing very loudly and Harry's face went a deep red. "Tackled by a 14 year old girl," Ashleigh laughed at her brother, "how shameful." "Maybe you should get off the pitch now," one of the other girls chirped in, "back on the sidelines where you belong, like a cheerleader." We all laughed at the cheerleader comment, and Ashleigh called out to him not to forget his cheerleader's skirt next time he came, as he limped off the pitch. I felt really funny inside for days afterwards. I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but the look of confusion on this face as I slammed into him was one I couldn't get out of his mind. God, I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I could barely stop thinking about the idea that I was more powerful than he was even though I was a 14 year old girl and he a 15 or 16 year old boy. I guess it was the same kind of feeling that I was experiencing now. Toby had reduced himself to the level of my little brother the night before, and I found it exciting. I suppose it was that excitement that led me to head toward the CCTV room later that morning. I had realised, as I sat on my laptop idly looking at news websites, that it would be great to see what the cameras had picked up and how Toby looked, hiding in the doorway. I sat down with some anticipation in front of the screen that showed the back door area and looked for the tape from the evening before. They record on 24 hour loops before wiping clean, so I greedily grabbed the tape and started rewinding. Sure enough I felt a tinge of excitement as I watched back the events - at first you could only see my outline in the dark and rain, but eventually the camera panned slowly around to where Toby stood, hovering submissively like a little boy. He even had his hands guarding his face, making him look even more childish and weak. In fact, with his slightly too long blond hair and small frame, you could make a case for saying he looked like a frightened little girl, rather than a boy! I realised very quickly that I'd want to watch the tape again, so I carefully lifted it out of the deck and tucked into my jeans pocket, replacing it with a new tape from the cupboard. No-one would ever know I had it. It was a another "Harry" type moment to remember, but this time I had it to watch back until my heart was content. 5. "Hold still, I need sort the back out," Emma said, a hint of tiredness in her voice. She had the patience of a saint normally, but I'd pushed her to the limit. "It looks ridiculous Em. My shoulders are too big for a dress like this." She shook her head, "don't be silly. You liked it when we you tried it on in the shop. What's the difference now? Have a look in the mirror, you look great." I moved in front of the full length mirror in the corner of my room. A tall girl stared back at me who looked hugely uncomfortable in such an ornate dress. It just didn't look right. Didn't look like me. Plus, it was bloody pink! "No, my shoulders are definitely too big," I swivelled around, "and God, look at my backside! I can't wear this." "You're being silly," Emma sighed, "you always do this when you have to wear a dress. What about last year, when we had the dance? Did anyone say anything to you?" I remembered it well. Emma had forced me into a purple maxi dress and I felt stupid all night long. She told me I looked like a princess, but I felt more like the evil stepmother. A big, fat ugly stepmother. Emma was smiling now, "Callum didn't think you looked too bad last year, judging by what I saw you two doing after the last dance." "Uuurrghh, he kissed me when I wasn't ready," I replied, secretly feeling pleased that she'd remembered, "Callum is a loser. I'm only going to find losers if I look like a Rugby player in drag." She waved away my concerns with a feminine swish of her hand. It was OK for Emma with her perfect figure and normal length legs that weren't full of muscle. She looked a million dollars in her red skater dress that she'd bought, "you know what you need? Some pretty accessories. Would it be silly to ask if you had anything in here? What am I talking about, of course you don't. Hey, what about Melody? I bet she has some nice things." We walked to her room with me feeling incredibly silly in the dress. As someone who'd only ever really worn jeans and shorts, any kind of skirt still felt alien to me. I found it constricting, and didn't like the exposure one bit, even on the prom dress which wasn't particularly short. "Wow, Melody is such a little madam, isn't she?" Emma could clearly sense a kindred spirit, "look at all this nice stuff. Oh, and so many clothes." I sat down on the bed, "Mum just buys them for her all the time. She even bought her a new wardrobe for the holiday, all this stuff will probably just get chucked out." "You can't let them chuck all this out," nothing upset Emma more than wasted clothes, "some of it might fit me. Or we could keep it for my niece, she's nearly six now." "Really, Chloe is nearly six! Doesn't seem that long ago that she was born. We're getting old, aren't we." Emma wasn't really listening though, instead she was eagerly rummaging through Melody's plentiful belongings and oohing and ahhing at every "cute" item, "this is really pretty," she said, picking up the long piece of pink fabric that I'd held it my hands the day before, "that might go well with your dress." "Really? I didn't even know what it was." She quickly wrapped it around my neck, "it's a scarf, silly. Plus, if you really are worried about your shoulders it might help with that." She found a matching scarf in white and put that on my also, before also slipping on a pink tinged necklace that I'd never even seen Melody wear. It felt odd wearing my little sister's stuff. "You're going to look amazing once I've done your make up and hair." As if to prove the point, she took a sparkly pink barrette and placed it in my hair, just above the fringe. The dance wasn't even for two weeks, but Emma could hardly contain her enthusiasm. Nothing excited her more than getting dressed up or dressing someone else up. "Oh my God, I didn't know they made dresses to fit giants." I turned around to see Toby standing in the doorway, with a nasty smirk on his face. I noticed that he'd changed into his best jeans and t- shirt, obviously hoping to catch Emma's eye. He'd even brushed his hair and it smelt like he'd put aftershave on. He certainly locked his eyes on my friend quickly, the red skater dress she was wearing clearly piquing his interest. "Now, don't be mean," Emma said nicely, before I had a chance to respond, "she looks great." He made a derisory grunt, "yeah right! I don't know why you try and wear women's clothes April. I bet everyone at the dance is going to laugh at you." He sat himself down on the bed, looking me up and down before turning his attention the room, which Melody would very rarely have let him in, "God, it's tiny in here. You should see my room Emma, it's twice the size of this." "I think it's nice in here," she replied, still fussing with my accessories. "hold still April, let me put these earrings in properly!" "Yeah, it's OK for Melody I suppose. I need space for my gym stuff though, so it wouldn't work for me." It was my turn to give a derisory snort, "gym stuff! What are you lifting, feathers?" "Yeah right Godzilla, I've started bench pressing some good weights now." I could see Emma give a sly little grin in my direction. I'd told her about the night before of course. I wasn't going to let Toby know that she knew, it seemed a bit mean, but I decided that he'd asked for it, "well, you could have put that to better use last night, couldn't you? Rather than hiding in the doorway and letting me do the work." His face went bright red, "I don't know what you're talking about." "You liar! You should have seen him Emma," I mimicked a little child's voice again, "oh please April, come and help me! There's a mean person outside." "That's not true. You just make this stuff up to try and make me look stupid and yourself look good. It didn't happen Emma." Emma threw her hands in the air, as if to say "doesn't matter to me'. She was still more interested in dolling me up. "Why would I make this up," I continued, "anyway, I've got the tape from last night. We can go and watch it again if you like." A look of surprise spread across his face, "what! No, you couldn't have. Those tapes wipe after a day and I bet you wouldn't even know how to find them." "Oh what, the CCTV would be too complicated for me because I'm a girl? Well, believe that if you want. It looks really funny when the camera pans around to show you standing in the door while I'm out in the cold and rain. You know, you look like a helpless little lamb." "Aah, that's sweet," Emma chirped in, trying to sound caring, "you shouldn't feel bad about asking April for help. She is really strong. I always get her to open stuff for me or come with me when we go to the shops." "Yeah but you're a diddy girl Em," I laughed, "what's his excuse?" This was all too much for Toby, "she's a liar," he leapt off the bed and into my face, "give me that tape now. I demand that you give me it." "You demand it? Ha ha. You know what, I wonder what Dad is going to think when he sees you sending me out into the garden? I can't wait to show it to him. It's not going to help much with your chances of proving how much of a man you are, is it?" Then, Toby did something that he had never done before. Planting two hands on my bare shoulders, he pushed as hard as he could, shouting, "I'll show you who's a weak little boy. I want that tape back." The force of the push was surprisingly strong, but it still only made me rock back on my heels slightly. As a Rugby player you get used to taking force, and I'd felt a lot worse, "give me it," he continued, pushing me again. It was the cowardly kick to my shins that forced me to fight back. Without needing much effort, I grabbed his right hand and twisted it around his back, causing him to cry out in pain, "what are you doing Toby? Trying to impress Emma? You could have really hurt me if I'd fallen backwards you know." "Watch you dress April," Emma cried, "don't rip it." "Let my arm go, freak." I twisted it a little harder, "not until you say you're sorry for kicking me." "No way." A little harder again, "come on little Toby. Don't make me hurt you more. I want you to say, I'm sorry for kicking you April and for being a naughty little boy." He didn't like this one bit, and took the opportunity to lash his left foot backwards, connecting with my shin more firmly this time, "Oww, stop kicking me!" I twisted even harder still, "you know what, for that, I'm going to make you apologise to me on your knees. Kneel down, now." "I'm going to get you back for this," he spat, "just you wait." Clearly not able to stand the pain any longer, he buckled down onto the floor. I knelt down also, to keep his arm firmly locked behind his back. "That's better. Now, tell me how sorry you are." "Go to hell," he shouted, swinging his free arm wildly and hitting me in the side of the stomach. I was really angry now, "you shouldn't hit girls there. It looks like I'm going to have to make sure you behave yourself." It was then that I remembered the white and pink scarves. Taking the pink one, I forced his arms together and tied them with the strongest knot I could manage. "Stop it," he cried, "what are you doing?" Then, without replying, I took the white scarf and wrapped it around his ankles. I pulled at the fabric with as much force as I could muster. It was surprisingly strong. There was no way he could pull it off. All he could really do was flop on the floor, like a fish out of water, head facing the carpet, "you know what. I'm going to leave you in here to think about what you've done for a while. Emma, don't you think it makes sense for him to stay in the little bedroom for a while if he's acting like a spoilt little boy?" "Hey, don't get me involved in this," she replied, "but you're right. He really shouldn't hit you like that." "Let me up, you lesbian freak. I hate you!" Ignoring the insult, I grabbed the pink barrette out of my hair that Emma had placed in there earlier, "here, this will look nice in your hair. It's getting awfully messy you know," I clipped onto the top of his head, much to his disgust, "that's much better." I felt that excitement course through my body again. There was something about that hair clip in particular. The idea that it had just been in my hair, and before that in little girlie Melody's hair, but now it was in his hair? Well, I can't really explain it, but it felt delicious. "C'mon Emma," I continued, trying to suppress my excitement as best I could, "let's leave the little boy in his little room for a while." I locked the door on my way out. 6. We didn't leave him tied up for too long, after half an hour or so it started to seem a bit mean. I was surprised at how quiet and, well almost docile, he was when I took the scarves off to let him up. He didn't even comment when I told him that he was to stay in Melody's room for the rest of the day in order to think about what a bad little boy he'd been. "You can watch television but not too loud," I warned him, "Emma and I are trying to watch the television downstairs. Understood?" He didn't reply, but he did shoot me a look of pure evil. I wondered why he didn't just storm past me and go back to his room. Perhaps the idea of being constrained physically again by his little sister was too much to bear. Plus, he knew I had that tape. I loved the idea of him being stuck in Melody's small room all afternoon, like a naughty child. I looked in on him a couple of times, on each occasion he was just laying on top of his little sister's pink duvet, watching the television without word. I let him take the hair clip out eventually, although I did make a fuss of doing it very gently, as though I was trying not hurt him. "What do you think he's thinking?" Emma asked me later, as we sat down to eat our take away Pizza. We'd sent some up to Toby, which he'd accepted without acknowledgement. "I've got no idea. Perhaps he's crippled with rage? Literally so angry that he can't even react." Emma smiled a little, "it was pretty funny when you tied him up like that. What made you put that barrette in his hair though?" I shook my head slowly, as if to indicate that I no idea. "Still," she continued, "you seem to taught him a lesson. I don't think he'll try and hit you again, that's for sure." I let him go back into his own room late in the evening. "But you'd better starting being well behaved Toby, or I'll send you back to the little room." "Whatever," he spat as he left the bedroom, "you don't scare me, freak. You only caught me unawares today. You couldn't do that to me if I was ready." The next day Emma and I headed into town. She wanted, as usual, to buy herself a couple of outfits, and I wanted to mooch around the cool second hand record shop that they'd just opened. We spent most of the day idling around the large shopping centre and an inordinate amount of time in Emma's favourite clothes shops. "You know, a skirt like this would look great on you," Emma told me, holding a short, flowery concoction against my jeans, "you've got better legs than you think." It was common for her to try and force me into feminine clothes, which I'd always reject with a hollow laugh. "What's the matter with you this morning April? It seems like you're miles away.." "I'm not sure," I lied. Truth was, I could barely stop thinking about the events of the day before. About Toby being reduced to the status of my naughty little brother, and the power that gave me. How docile he'd been as I'd gingerly removed the cutesy clip from his hair. He feeble he must have felt as his little sister tied him up, "I'm OK though." "Hmm, not sure I believe you. You know what might cheer you up? If you let me practice hair extensions on you tonight." "Oh come on Emma, do we have to?" She bounced up and down, "please? I really want to try a few things out. Caitlin, you know the girl I told you about in my class, is so good at them and I don't want to second best. She's got an unfair advantage though because she's got a younger sister to practice on. So can we, please?" "Not the blonde ones again, is it? They don't match my tone at all Em. I look weird." "Doesn't matter," she replied, cheerily, "we can take them back out again. I'll buy you Chocolate?" She knew how to win me over. We headed back on the four o'clock bus and ambled back to the house in good spirits. I actually forgot about Toby for a little while as we chatted on the way home about what sixth form was going to be like and how worried we were about exam results. Emma was more interested in the part time beauty course anyway, so she didn't care that much. We headed up to my room straight away to put away the CDs that I'd purchased, passing Toby's room as we did so. His door was slightly ajar, and I could hear some terrible trance music emanating from the vicinity. "Oh my God," Emma said, stopping abruptly outside my room, before repeating, "Oh my God." "What is it?" I drew level with her and nearly fell over in shock. My room, which I always kept as neat as a button, had been torn upside down. Every poster had been torn from the wall and ripped, every sports trophy thrown on the floor, every item of clothing pulled from the wardrobe. "What the hell has happened?" Emma stepped gingerly inside, "Oh God April, have you seen your laptop?" A cold feeling filled my stomach as she held it in front of me. The screen had been totally smashed to pieces and it had been clearly doused in liquid. I flipped the lid shut, to find "bitch" scrawled in red felt tip. "TOBY!" I screamed, storming out toward his room, "TOBY, what the hell have you done!" His smarmy smile was almost too much to bear as I threw his door open. I could feel tears coming, "what did you do to my laptop?" "Serves you right," he sneered, "I told you you'd be sorry. Now you believe me." "Why," I shouted, "of all the things you had to do. I just can't believe you'd do this." He was shouting too now, and leapt off the bed to stand toe to toe with me, "I wanted to find that tape! Where the hell did you put it? Stupid lesbian, give it to me!" He went to grab me again, but even in my tear fuelled state I was too quick for him. With all my strength I slapped him hard across the face, causing him to recoil in surprise. Then, I grabbed both his arms again and started pulling him. We both knew where to, "I'm going to punish you so badly this time. You thought yesterday was bad, wait to see what I'm going to do to you now." "Let me go!" He shouted, struggling futilely against my much stronger grasp, "I'm not going in that room again!." His tiny frame, not even five foot I reckoned, was much too small to stop him from being pulled along. I'd never been so full of anger as I threw him into Melody's room, "you call yourself a man?" I spat, chucking him on the bed, "you can't even stop your little sister manhandling you. And then going into room and destroying all my stuff! What kind of man would do that?" "You deserved it," he yelled. I was still crying a little, but more in anger now, "you really are no better than a little boy." I grabbed him once again, pulling him onto my lap as I sat on the bed. "What are you doing?" He cried out, legs flailing wildly and red-faced, "let me up!" "This is what happens to naughty little boys," I replied, calmer now, that little feeling of excitement stirring inside in spite of my rage. I hit him ten times on the back of his jeans, each time illiciting a little yelp of pain from my thoroughly emasculated brother. By the end he'd stopped thrashing around, and lay limply across my lap. I moved him onto the bed, "get in," I snapped, "under the covers." He meekly climbed inside, "I don't want to hear any noise from you for the rest of the night, understood?" He didn't reply, instead looking on angrily as his head came to rest on Melody's lace-edged pillow. "I said, do you understand?" "Yes," he murmured. The surge of power made my head spin, "say you'll be a good little boy for your big sister." He didn't reply immediately, but it was obvious he would, "I'll be a good little boy," he said, quietly. "No, say you'll be a good little boy for your big sister." "I'll be a good little boy for my big sister." "That's better," I patted his head. God, I was still so angry with him for breaking my laptop, but the sight of him being controlled and regressed in such a way left me so excited. I looked around the room and spotted a large pink teddy bear against the wall. Thrusting it next to him, I said, "here, teddy can keep you company." 7. We spent an age tidying up my room as best we could. Emma wanted to get Toby to do it, but I simply couldn't stand the thought of him in my room. I wasn't too bothered about the posters, I'd been thinking about taking them down for a while, and the clothes weren't damaged, but I had no idea what I'd about my laptop. I really need it for coursework and stuff. Emma told me that I should make Toby replace it, but I knew he had no money. It was as we finished cleaning my room that I knew I wanted to teach Toby as much of lesson as possible. So, we decided that he should stay in Melody's room until such time that he'd learnt his lesson, and I informed him that his room had been locked. Emma wanted to stay over, so we opened up the living room couch into a bed. Surprisingly, it was Emma that suggested my new little brother's next fall from grace. She was sorting out her cosmetics, sitting cross legged on the front room floor, when she found the blonde hair extensions that we spoken about earlier. "Do you want to do them now?" I asked her, as she started laying them out on the floor, "I haven't washed my hair today but it should be OK. Hey," I picked up a strand of hair, "are these a different colour to the ones you had before?" "Yeah they are," she replied, "Caitlin gave me them. They're a bit lighter than usual." She held them against me, "they're much lighter than your tone actually." "Well, you can still do them though, it doesn't really matter." She didn't respond for a moment, instead staring at the hair with a strange look on her face, "you know what, they are exactly the same colouring as Toby though. Hey, you don't think he'd let us try them on him, do you? I'd really like to see how I'd get on attaching them to shorter hair too, apparently it's a whole different thing." Needless to say, I found the idea very appealing, "that would be so much fun to see. Let's go and get him." I found him still cuddled up under the Melody's pink duvet. I didn't tell him anything as we went downstairs, and he didn't say anything to me. "No way," he replied, when Emma told him what she wanted to do, "absolutely no way. I don't care what you say, there is a not a hope in hell that you're going to put those things in my hair." "But why not," she replied, "you don't have to leave them in, and it will be good practice for me." She put on her most coquettish voice, "it would really help me a lot Toby." He pointed at me, "put them in her hair then." "No, I need shorter hair to try. Plus, they pretty much match your colour tone exactly." "You did say you'd do whatever you were told," I warned, "don't you think you owe us after what you did?" He stood up, "I don't care. There is no way you're going to put girl's hair extension on me." "They're not girl's hair extensions," Emma lied, "lots of boys have longer hair now." But my brother was unperturbed, leaving the front room in a huff and heading back upstairs. "I'd really love to try it," Emma said wistfully, "it'd have been great." She might have been ready to give up, but I wasn't. We followed him upstairs and back into Melody's room, where we found him sitting on the bed. I sat next to him. "Now, you said you were going to be a good boy for me, didn't you?" "I don't want her to put those on me," he whined, "they're for girls." "It doesn't matter really," I could sense that he was caving, "Emma, go and grab a chair from my room for Toby to sit on." He looked up at me, "if I do this, will we be even? I mean, can I go back to my room." "Well, maybe. But I think you should focus on making it up to me, and this would definitely help with that." "OK then," he whispered. It was amazing how quickly our relationship had changed. No longer did we seem to be sister and brother. It was as though he had become the child and I the parent. Emma was very happy, "yay! Well sit yourself down then, and I'll go and get the stuff." I sat on Melody's bed as my friend went to work. He hadn't been happy in the slightest about the pink sheet she draped over him. I had to stifle a giggle as I realised that she was planning to glue the extensions in, rather than using clips, but it seemed that Toby had no idea of the difference. She started by brushing his hair and putting and pulling as much back as possible with a crocodile clip, "these are 19 inch extensions, so they'll come out quite long on you," she told him. "Goodie," he replied, sourly. I watched for a while, but the process was long and quite boring. I did like seeing the mass of hair start to fall down past his shoulders and on to his t-shirt, which created a very feminine image. It was so odd to see my brother surrounded by so much hair. I'd never really had long hair, but Melody had always had hers very long. Emma worked in sections, making sure each piece was glued in firmly before moving on, "it's going to feel quite strange for you at first," she told him, "the weight is really different to short hair. You get used to it." "I don't plan on getting used to it, you're going to take these straight back out again, right?" She didn't reply, and shot me a look as though to warn against telling him. Knowing Emma, she saw a great opportunity to try out some hairstyles, in the same way as she'd done on me so many times. "Right, we're pretty much done," she said, brushing the last little section into place, "now stand up so I can see how it looks." He sighed as he stood up, a mass of blonde hair cascading around him. My immediate impression is that made him look much smaller, as though the hair dwarfed his little frame and made everything look even more dainty than it had done. He didn't like it when I wolf-whistled, that was for sure, "very good Emma. I can't believe how long it is on him though, almost half way down his back. They look so pretty." Emma was busily humming around him, brushing every loose piece of hair she could see, "it's really good stuff. Human hair is so much better than synthetic." "Yeah yeah great," Toby groaned, "can you take them out now." "Oh no," she replied, "you can't just take them out straight away, you'll damage the scalp." "What! You can't leave me like this!" I jumped in, "it'll be OK for a few days, no-one will see you. Plus, I bet Emma would like to play around with it, wouldn't you Em?" She flashed her eyes at me, barely able to contain her excitement at having a new hair dolly to play with. "I thought you'd take them out straight away! God, I look ridiculous," he looked in the mirror, "I suppose some boys have hair this long." "Maybe, but it's pretty obvious that this is girl's hair," I added, twisting the knife, "it suits you though. It looks a bit like Melody's hair." "Oh, she has lovely hair," Emma added, "so soft and light. My hair used to be that colour but it's gotten darker as I've got older. It's only normally younger girls with this tone of hair." I snorted at this, and Toby's face went redder still, "oh look, you're making him blush Em. Anyway, it's getting late. Time for you to go to bed Toby." "What? It's only about 9 o'clock. I'm not even tired." "You need your beauty sleep," I mocked, "I'll go and get some pyjamas from your room." Emma made him sit on the chair again so she could "get his hair ready for bed" as I left for his room, getting the key from the secret hiding place as I did so. The lock on his door was stiff as well, we didn't really use these keys often, but I got in eventually. It was a total tip of course, and it smelt of boy, so much so that after a few seconds I realised I had no intention of spending an age looking for pyjamas for him. He could sleep in his underwear, I decided. I actually started to feel a bit sorry for him as I headed back to Melody's room, but walking past my own room quickly rid me of that emotion. I could see my precious laptop on the bed still, broken beyond repair. It had been my life the last few months, and I couldn't believe he'd do that to me. It was with this renewed anger that I headed back into the room, finding Emma just finishing off putting his new long hair into a sleek ponytail, "there, it won't tickle you too much now," she told him, swivelling him around to face the mirror on the vanity table, "you can't tell they're extensions at all, can you?" "He just looks like a girl," I spat, "how embarrassing." Toby didn't say a word, but looked sheepishly down at the floor, "I couldn't find anything for you to wear in your disgusting room. God, how do you let it get so filthy? You'll have to just wear your underpants to bed." "Oh, his hair will drive him mad though," Emma interjected, "it's going to tickling him all night against bare skin." "Well he can't wear his t-shirt and jeans to bed, can he?" "I'll be fine," was his reply, "it doesn't matter." Emma wasn't satisfied though, and she made for one of Melody's drawers, "well, something out of here will do for tonight, surely?" She rummaged for a few seconds before producing a long, pink t-shirt. It was clearly a nightshirt, judging from the small teddy bear embossed near the heart. "I can't wear that, it's Melody's for God's sake." This was great. Could we really get my older brother to wear such a thing? "Well, it's only for tonight. I think it makes sense." I told him, loving the slightly scared look on this face. "What do you mean, makes sense! It's a girl's nightie! I can't wear that." I took the offending garment from Emma and sat next to, what had until recently been, my older brother. He didn't much look like it any more, "well, perhaps, and this is just for tonight, we'll just pretend that you're my little sister, rather than my little brother. I mean, you already have the room and the hair after all." "But I'm an 18 year old boy," he whimpered, looking a million miles from the braggart who had destroyed my room and hit me in the stomach. "Well yes, technically you are. But you are sleeping in a 12 year old girl's room, in a girl's bed and with girl's hair, so I think you can be my little sister for one night." He looked at me for a long time. Part of me couldn't believe he was about to let us put him in Melody's nightie, but another part of me was absolutely certain he would. And I was right, as he meekly took the pink nightdress from me and bowed his head. We stepped out of the room to let him change. It was still a bit shocking to see him in the nightie when we went back in, blonde hair falling gently down in his back, held in place by a white hair band. The hair definitely made his face more girlish, while the nightie further accentuated his small stature. On Melody I remembered it being quite short, perhaps a couple of inches above her knee. On Toby, it washed around his knees and almost drowned his tiny frame. He looked like a little girl wearing her big sister's clothes, although I didn't say this to him of course. "Well done," I said, sitting next to him on the bed as he climbed in. Emma headed downstairs with her hair equipment, leaving us alone, "I was about to say good boy, but that might be stretching I now, right?" "Just let me go to sleep," he replied, sounding like a tired child. "You're right, it's time for youngsters like you to be asleep," I stroked his hair gently, "especially little girls who've had such a busy day. You know, I never realised how much you look like Melody until now, you could definitely pass for her sister, no doubt about it. Anyway, sweet dreams poppet." I walked out of the room slowly, taking in every second for my own enjoyment. I couldn't quite believe that it was my brother laying in the bed. 8. Sleep didn't come easily that night, given the ambrosial blur that washed over me. Not wanting to go into my room, I shared the sofa bed with Emma and we spent a long time talking about what had happened. She found it all very entertaining too, but I could sense that her motivation was far different to mine. I wondered if it was another diversion for her. She'd told me the night before that she thought her parents arguing had become much worse, and that she thought her Dad would move out soon. In the morning we ambled down to the supermarket to get a few things. It took us twenty minutes to walk there but it was a bright morning and it was nice to get out of the house for a little while. We left Toby in his room, he was never an early riser. "You know, I wonder if he'll let me try a fringe out on him today," Emma mused, putting a box of cereal into the trolley, "I really want to give that a try. Plus, it's be interesting to see how it works with his small face." "I don't know, I can't imagine he'd be too keen Em. But it's odd, sometimes he just goes along with things." She appeared to be deep in thought for a moment, "you know, it's almost like it's linked to the room. When he's Melody's room he pretty much does what he's told, when he's outside he fights everything. Perhaps it's a mental thing." I'd thought about this myself, "well, it's funny you say that. I remember hearing something a few weeks ago that said some people are just more suggestible than others ? it's how hypnotists know who to pick for shows and stuff. Maybe he just can't help doing what he'd told when he's in that room?" "I don't know April, that seems pretty mad. I think he's just scared of you." "No," I replied, shaking my head as we pushed the trolley along, "I'm not sure it's that either." I'd done a little research myself, but was hesitant to share it with Emma. My friend knew though when I was hiding something. "What are you not telling me?" "Well, I was looking online the other night and I found this thing. It's really odd, like mum's who punish their sons by putting them in dresses and stuff. Apparently it makes a lot of boys better behaved." "What? Sounds a bit weird. I don't think many Mum's would do that to their sons." "I suppose you're right. Still, maybe clothes maketh the man. Perhaps it harder to be a brat in a pretty dress?" "There's lot of badly behaved girls though. I mean, Chloe is pretty naughty some times, but she wears pretty clothes." Emma had dragged us to the make up section, and was trying out a lip gloss as I replied, "yeah, but it's not the same for girls. We're talking about putting a boy in girl's clothes. It must be so embarrassing for them. I mean, think about the look on Toby's face last night when you took out that nightie. I thought he'd die." "That was pretty funny," she laughed, gently brushing pink gloss across her lips, "he looked pretty cute in it too, apart from his legs being a bit hairy. Ooh, do you think he'd let me do a waxing?" "That might be taking it too far," I grinned, "even for a suggestible boy." No trip to any shop with complete for Emma unless she'd visited the clothing section, so we went there now. She spent a while looking through the dresses, holding the odd one up against her jeans and t- shirt before putting it back on the rack. For all of Emma's looking, she was pretty discerning, and supermarkets weren't the place she'd normally buy her clothes, "the women's clothes are always a season behind here," she moaned, "it's good for kids stuff though. My aunt gets Chloe's stuff here." "Yeah, Mum nearly always brings something back for Mel when she goes shopping," I added, "as if she hasn't got enough." We ambled into the girl's section where Emma starting looking around. "It's funny, I really like some of this stuff," she commented, holding a grey sweatshirt in the air, "I wonder what size they go up to?" "Maybe we should get something for Toby," I laughed, "I bet he'd fit into girls 11-12 pretty easily." Emma's eyes lit up, "ooh, do you think so? How much fun would that be? If we could get him to wear this sweatshirt I could try out some really cool hairstyles. We could get these as well," she picked up a pair of black leggings and laughed, "it wouldn't matter about his legs then. Oh, we have to try this!" "Oh God, do you think he'd do it? Really?" "Well, I want to find out," she placed both items into the trolley, "I'll even pay for them. Actually, hold on." She left the trolley and came back holding a pair of cheap, imitation black Ugg boots, "I bet his feet are tiny, right?" 9. We formulated a plan on the way home. We couldn't just throw the clothes at him, he'd never go with it, but with a little persuasion in Melody's room? Who knew? I let him come down to breakfast, but made him keep the nightie on. He didn't seem to care that much, I found his lack of shame surprising. Indeed, he seemed quite brash again, "I want these extensions taken out," he demanded, "can they come out now?" "Maybe," Emma replied slowly, "I'd need to look at your scalp after breakfast though, make sure it has settled down." "And I want to get back in my room," he added, "I've had enough of Melody's room." "Well, I don't know Toby. I'm still pretty annoyed about my laptop." "I'm sorry, OK! God, it was a rubbish laptop anyway." I looked at him for a moment as he ate a spoonful of cereal, his blonde hair slightly messy from the night's sleep and the pink nightie swamping him. I knew there was no way I was letting him off so easily. "I tell you what, Emma and I will run a bath for you, you do need a bath you know, and then if you don't piss me off after that I'll think about it, OK?" "Fine," he spat, "I'm going to watch the tele for a while. God, this thing," he pulled at the hem of the nightie, "is so uncomfortable." Emma and I gleefully put as many of Melody's girlie bath salts in the water as possible as it ran. I called Toby upstairs when we were nearly ready and told him to take off the nightie. He did so, throwing it on the floor. "No, no. Put it in the wash-basket." I pointed to the pink edged wicker basket in the corner of the room, "you don't want to mess up this pretty room, do you?" I handed him a large fluffy purple towel and he wrapped it around his waist. "No, you'll get cold like that. Here, I'll show you a better way," I slid the towel up his torso until the top sat above his nipples and the bottom a few inches above his knee. "This is how girls wear them," he complained, but I stopped him before he could pull it down again. "It's just to keep you nice and warm. Now, the bath's ready. Spend at least half an hour in there. I've left you a flannel so make sure you wash all over," I paused for a second, "good boy." "Hold on, what about this hair? What do I do about that?" "Oh good point," I turned to Emma, "do you have shower cap?" He didn't like it much when she produced a pink plastic cap and piled his plentiful hair into it. The two of us then rushed back into my room to get the leggings, sweatshirt and boots, before putting the in Melody's top drawer. We decided we'd stand more chance if it looked like a spur of the moment thing, as though we were just pulling clothes randomly from her collection. He came back in half an hour later, looking and smelling much better. In fact, he smelt just like Melody. "Isn't that much better, hey?" "What did you put in there? It made me quite sleepy. Plus, it's made my skin feel really weird." "It's just called being clean darling," I laughed, "you smell lovely." "Did you bring me some clothes? I dried myself in the bathroom so I want to get dressed." Emma and I looked at each other. I didn't know about her, but I felt nervous. Still, it was worth a try, "I'll have to put your clothes in the wash, they're all too dirty. You can't wear dirty clothes if your nice and clean." "Well I have to wear something! Just get me an old pair of shorts or something for now." "Well hold on," Emma interrupted, "why don't we just use something out of here for now." She walked over the drawer, "oh these'll do. It's not too girly." He clocked the sweatshirt and leggings, "but you said I could go back in my room! It's not fair!" "Now now," I replied, "I didn't promise that. Just stick these on for now until we get some clothes ready for you." "But they're Melody's! I can't wear her clothes again." "It's just leggings and a sweatshirt," Emma ventured, "and it's only us here." "No!" He said with a pout. I swear he stamped a foot as well. This childish behaviour made me realise we just needed to be a bit more forceful. "Now stop being naughty," I said angrily, "they're only clothes for crying out loud! Now, do I have to dress you in them myself? Is that what we need to do, hey? For me to dress you in front of Emma?" He sighed loudly, "just give me them. God, I swear if you ever tell anyone." Emma gleefully handing him both items, before stopping her tracks, "hold on though. You really need wear something under those leggings," she went back to the drawer and produced a pair of black knickers. Both Toby and I looked at them. They were certainly more girlie than anything I would ever wear, with a little bit of lace around the waist and a tiny little bow on the front, "yes, these'll be hidden under the leggings," Emma went on, putting them on the bed. None of us said anything, there didn't seem to be much need. We left him to get dressed, standing outside in a state of excitement, "I told you, it's the room," I whispered, "once we get him in there he'll just do anything we want." "I couldn't believe it when we took the knickers without saying anything!"