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"B" IS FOR GIRL (chapter 6: "B" Is For Bathing Belle) free porn video
"B" IS FOR GIRL
Chapter 6: "B" is for Bathing Belle
On Monday morning, as I was putting on my pinafore dress for school,
mummy told me she would be coming to collect me at hometime. "I've got a
surprise for you, Beverly," she said.
"What is it?" I asked her. Mummy made a tutting noise and shook her
head.
"If I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" she said.
Mummy tied blue ribbons in my hair, and then brushed some mascara on to
my eyelashes and dabbed a little bit of blusher on my cheeks. I hated
having the makeup put on my face.
In assembly, Mrs Templeton got Tristram to stand up on the piano stool
and introduce himself. "Hello," he said. "My name is Tristram Deveral."
Some of the children sniggered at the sound of his voice. "My family has
just moved up here from Cornwall," said Tristram. "That's why I talk
like a pirate." This made everyone laugh, and some of the boys went
"Arrr!", like pirates.
"Thank you, Tristram," said Mrs Templeton. "You may take your place
amongst the boys." Tristram climbed down off the piano stool. "We will
now sing our first hymn," said Mrs Templeton. "Number 58, "The King Of
Love My Shepherd Is". The girls will sing verse three, and the boys will
sing verse four."
After assembly we went to our first lesson. Tristram had been put in the
same class as me. We couldn't sit together, because all the girls had to
sit on one side of the classroom and all the boys had to sit on the
other, in alphabetical order.
At dinnertime it was spam fritter with mashed potato and peas, with rice
pudding for afters. Mrs Duffield put all of my dinner onto one plate,
including the rice pudding, and covered it with salad cream. I took it
from her and curtseyed. "My friend Miss Poole says you've started
ballroom dancing lessons, Beverly," said Mrs Duffield, loudly. "I'm sure
you'll look lovely in your flouncy dress and your high heels. I do hope
the boys don't stamp on your toes."
The boys in the queue behind me laughed when they heard that I was now
learning to dance with boys. I was glad Mrs Duffield didn't say anything
about Tristram being my dance partner. If the boys found out, they would
be sure to start teasing him.
When Tristram got his dinner he walked over to sit beside me, but some
of the boys pulled him away. "Boys don't sit with girls," they told him.
"Come over and sit with us instead." Tristram gave me a little look, as
if to say sorry, and then went to another table with the boys. I sat and
ate my horrible dinner all by myself as usual.
At hometime, mummy was waiting for me at the school gates. She was
holding her big sports bag. I saw Tristram being collected by his mummy
in a big blue car. He waved to me as it drove off.
Mummy had seen Tristram as well. "Tristram seems like a very nice little
boy," she said to me as we walked along the street. "Has he made friends
with any of the boys?"
"Yes," I said. "He sat with them at dinnertime. Mummy, no one knows we
dance together at ballroom dancing lessons. Please, you won't tell
anyone at school, will you?"
"Why?" asked mummy. "Are you afraid they'll make fun of you about it?"
"No," I said. "I'm afraid they'll make fun of Tris. It wouldn't be nice
for him."
"Well, well, well," said mummy. "Hope springs eternal." We walked for a
little while, until we got to the leisure centre. "Here we are," said
mummy. "I've decided to take you to the swimming baths every Monday.
I've bought you a lovely new bathing costume to wear."
"A girl's bathing costume?" I cried. "Mummy, I can't wear a girl's
bathing costume!"
Mummy held up one finger. "Of course you can wear a girl's bathing
costume," she said. "You're a girl. Now, no more arguments," she said.
Mummy paid for two tickets, and then took me into the ladies changing
rooms. There were a lot of ladies and little girls in the changing room.
Some of them had no clothes on, and I could see their girl's bits.
"Mummy, please!" I whispered. "I can't get changed in here! Everyone
will be able to see that I'm a really boy. Can't I go and change in the
boys changing room?"
"Of course not," said mummy. "The boys would laugh at you if you got
changed in the boys changing room. No, you have to get changed in the
girls changing room, with all the other little girls."
"But," I said, "what about my hair? It might come off when I'm in the
pool." My own hair had grown a little bit more, but it was still very
short. It wasn't long and wavy like my girly hair I wore every day.
"Don't worry about your hair," said mummy. "Come with me." Mummy took me
into one of the toilets at the end of the changing room. "You can get
ready in here," said mummy. "No one will see your peepipe. Now take off
your clothes."
I took off my shoes and socks, and then my pinafore dress and my tie and
my blouse and my frilly knickers and the cotton knickers underneath.
Mummy put all my clothes in a carrier bag, and handed me a pink bathing
costume. "Put this on," she told me.
I stepped into the bathing costume and pulled it up around me. It was a
bit like my ballet dress, only there was a little frilly skirt instead
of the big tutu my ballet dress had.
"I've sewn a special pair of knickers into the costume," said mummy,
"like I did for your ballet dress. The special knickers will keep your
peepipe flat. The cute little skirt will help to hide your peepipe as
well. Now, give me your hair."
I took off my hair and gave it to mummy. She put it into another plastic
bag, very carefully. "Here," she said. "This is a bathing cap. Put it on
your head and you'll look like any other pretty little girl."
The bathing cap was pink, like the costume, and had little plastic
flowers sticking out all over it. I pulled it on to my head. It covered
my ears, and was very tight.
"There," said mummy. "Now you're ready." Mummy opened the toilet door
and took me back out into the changing room. Some of the ladies looked
at me and smiled, and I felt very embarrassed.
"What a cute little bathing costume," said one of the ladies. "And such
a lovely bathing cap, too!"
Mummy got changed into her own bathing costume. "I've brought my camera,
Beverly," she said, taking her camera out of her sports bag. "Stand
against the wall and I'll take your picture for the album." I posed for
two or three photographs, and then we went through to the swimming pool.
A few boys and girls from school were there, swimming around or standing
by the side ready to jump in. When the boys saw me come from the ladies
changing rooms they started to point at me and laugh. I felt really
silly and stupid, and I wanted to ask my mummy not to make me go in the
water. But I knew that mummy would be angry with me if I did, so I just
got into the water and started swimming.
After a few minutes, mummy asked me if I was enjoying myself. "No, I'm
not," I told her. "I feel stupid having to wear this pink bathing
costume and cap. All the boys are laughing at me."
"Of course they're laughing at you, Beverly," said mummy. "They all know
you're a little boy who wears lacy dresses and frilly knickers all the
time. They all know you go to Brownies in your little Brownie dress and
beret, singing girly songs and doing knitting. They know you go to
ballet lessons and dance around like a fairy in your little pink tutu.
They know you dance with boys at ballroom lessons in your pink ballroom
dress and high heels. And now they know you go swimming in a pink
bathing costume, and get changed in the ladies changing rooms with all
the other little girls."
"But mummy," I said, "I'm trying really hard to be a good girl. You said
I'm nicer than I used to be, so why can't I go back to being a boy now?
Why do I have to be a girl until next summer? I promise I'll be good."
"I've told you," mummy said. "I want to be sure you've learned your
lesson, and I need to know you won't slip back into your old ways when
you stop being a girl and go back to being a boy. Yes, you are nicer now
than you used to be, but I still see flashes of the horrible, naughty
little boy you once were. The idea behind getting you to become a good
girl is to make you forget how to be a naughty boy."
"But I can't help being naughty, mummy," I said. "And anyway, girls can
be just as naughty as boys, can't they?"
"Yes they can," said mummy. "And if they're as naughty as you used to
be, then it's up to their mummies to punish them."
"But how can I forget how to be a naughty boy, mummy?" I asked.
"Simple," said mummy. "By concentrating on being a good girl."
"Yes," I said. "But how?"
Mummy looked at me. "Beverly," she said. "Earlier, when I collected you
from school, you asked me not to tell anyone that Tristram was your
dancing partner. I asked you if it was because you were afraid the other
children would make fun of you. Do you remember?"
I nodded. "And I said no, it was because I was afraid they would make
fun of Tristram. And then you said something about hope."
"That's right," said mummy. "I said hope springs eternal."
"But what does it mean?" I asked.
"It means that you learned an important lesson in how to be a good girl,
Beverly," said mummy. "And if you can keep learning lessons like that
for the rest of the year, then you will have become a very good girl."
"And then I can go back to being a boy again?"
"Yes," mummy told me. "Then you can go back to being my little boy."
We kept swimming until the man blew his whistle and mummy said our time
was up. We got out of the pool and went back to the ladies changing room
to get changed. We went into one of the ladies toilets so that I could
take off my bathing costume and cap without anyone seeing. Mummy helped
me to put on my girl clothes and hair again. Then, when we were both
dressed, we went back home on the bus.
After tea I went to my bedroom and played with my dollies. I told
Penelope, my favourite dolly, what mummy had said to me at the swimming
baths. "Mummy said I had learned a lesson about how to be a good girl,"
I said. "I'm not sure what the lesson was, except that it has something
to do with Tristram, but it feels nice to know I've done something to
make mummy pleased with me. She's never been pleased with me before.
It's so hard being a good girl, Penelope. But I have to try."
I did try, too. I tried very hard.
At Brownies, I started to like singing the songs about being a girl. All
the other girls forgot that I was really a boy. After a few weeks I was
awarded my knitter's interest badge at Brownies for knitting a toilet
roll cover shaped like a fairy. "Beverly," said Mrs Duffield, "I want
you to ask your mummy to teach you how to sew, and we can get you
working towards your embroidery badge." I liked it when I went to
Brownies with my new knitters badge sewn on to the arm of my smart brown
dress. I wondered how many more badges I would be able to get before I
had to go back to being a boy.
At ballet lessons, Miss Poole told me I was a natural ballerina, and
that I was able to pick up some quite complicated steps very quickly. In
October, just before Blackberry Week half-term school holiday, she said
that, because I was so good, I would be performing three dances in the
pantomime in January. Two of them would be the forest fairy dance and
the village children dance. "Beverly," said Miss Poole, "I'm going to
teach you a special routine for your first ballet exam, and you can
perform it in the pantomime as a solo." I thought I looked very pretty
in my pink tutu and tights, and I liked the way I felt when I danced on
my tiptoes like the other girls.
At ballroom dancing, Mrs Wilsthorpe told me she was impressed with how
quickly I had learned to waltz, and said that me and Tristram made a
very good-looking couple. She also told me and Tristram that we would be
doing our first ballroom exam after the Christmas holidays. "You are
both very talented," she said, " and I think you are capable of much
more. I've spoken to each of your mummies, and they've enrolled you both
in my Latin dancing class on a Monday night. It starts in the first week
of January." I felt beautiful dancing in my ballroom dress. Tristram
said he liked dancing with me, and said he was glad he had chosen me to
be his partner.
At school, Mrs Templeton told me that the teachers were happy with my
"significant and laudable modifications in behaviour and revitalised
application to studies". I think she meant that I was not being so
naughty any more, and that I was working well in my lessons. The boys
had almost stopped making fun of me about being dressed up as a girl,
too. By the time it got to the middle of December, with a week to go
before we broke up for the Christmas holidays, even Nicky and Ronnie
seemed to have got fed up of bullying me. I played hopscotch and
skipping ropes in the playground with the other girls nearly every day,
and I made friends with Tracy Otley.
Mrs Duffield was the only one who still seemed to hate me. At Brownies,
when she was being Brown Owl, she made me join in all the girliest games
she could think of, and sing all the girliest songs, and I knew she
wanted to make me feel silly and stupid. And in school she kept giving
me cold school dinners covered with tomato ketchup or salad cream. She
also kept asking me about what I was doing in ballet and ballroom
dancing, so that the other boys and girls would laugh at me. But
everyone had got used to seeing me dressed up as a girl, and didn't
laugh at me as much as time went by. I always made sure I curtsied when
Mrs Duffield gave me my dinner, and I always ate everything on my plate,
even though it was horrible.
On the Thursday afternoon of the last week of term before we broke up
for Christmas, I learned another important lesson in how to be a good
girl. At afternoon playtime I was playing Queenie Queenie with Tracy,
Fiona Rawtenstall, Heather Flint and Joyce Preston. We were playing near
the gap in the wall that divided the juniors playground from the infants
playground. Fiona was Queenie, and tossed the ball over her shoulder. I
caught it and hid it behind my back, but Fiona guessed I had it straight
away and so I was out.
As I was watching the other girls playing, I heard a "psst!" from the
gap in the wall. I turned round to see who had made the noise. It was
Thomas Duffield, Mrs Duffield's little boy.
"Are you Beverly Bathenthwaite?" he asked me, grinning.
"Yes, I am," I said. "And you're Thomas Duffield. I used to bully you
because of your lisp."
"Yeth," lisped Thomas, still grinning. " I uthed to hate you, becauthe
you were alwayth tho horrible to me. You uthed to make me very upthet.
But now you jutht look thtupid and funny. Why are you wearing a dreth?"
"My mummy reached the end of her tether with me," I said, "because I was
such a very naughty little boy. She's making me be a girl for a whole
year."
"That'th very funny," said Thomas, giggling. "I think you look very
thilly. My mummy thays you wear frilly knickerth ath well. My mummy
thays you play with dollth, and that you're learning to danth like a
girl. Are you a thithy?"
"No," I said. "I'm not a sissy. I wear dresses and frilly knickers and
do all the girly things because my mummy makes me."
"But why ith your mummy making you be a girl?" Thomas asked. "Why
doethn't thee jutht thmack your arthe?"
"She used to smack me," I replied. "She tried all ways to make me be
good, but nothing ever worked. Mummy thought that by dressing me up as a
little girl, I'd learn to be good. Then, once I've learned to be a very
good girl I can go back to being a boy again."
"Do you like being a girl inthtead of being a boy, and wearing dretheth
and knickerth?" Thomas asked me.
"No," I said. "Of course I don't. But I've got used to it now, so it
doesn't bother me so much any more. And anyway, I don't have any boy
clothes to wear. Mummy threw them all out when she turned me into a
girl. I have to wear girls clothes and play with girls toys all the
time."
"Well," Thomas said, "it thervth you right for being tho nathty to
otherth. My mummy thays you detherve everything that'th coming to you."
Just then Mr Nairn rang the bell for the end of playtime, and Thomas
turned away. "Thomas!" I said.
"What ith it, little girl?" said Thomas.
"I... I'm sorry for bullying you."
Thomas just grinned, and ran off into the infants school.
The next day was Friday, and it was the last day of term before we broke
up for Christmas. We were all very happy, and the teachers gave us
little quizzes and games all day instead of proper lessons. It had
snowed in the middle of the night, and when we went outside at playtime
we had fun making snowmen and throwing snowballs.
At dinnertime, I went to get my dinner from Mrs Duffield. She looked at
me with a funny look on her face, and I thought she was cross with me.
"Hello, Beverly," she said. "I understand my Thomas spoke to you
yesterday at playtime. What did he say to you?"
"He told me he thinks I look silly," I replied. "and asked me if I liked
being a girl and having to wear dresses and knickers."
"And what did you say?"
"I said I didn't like it. Thomas told me it serves me right for being
nasty to others."
Mrs Duffield reached for a plate. "Thomas told me you said you were
sorry for bullying him," she said. "Is that true?"
"Yes," I said. "And I really am sorry. I'm trying to be a good girl
now."
Mrs Duffield's mouth twitched at one end. "Here's your dinner, Beverly."
She handed me a plate of steak and kidney pie, chips and peas, with no
tomato ketchup or salad cream or anything else on top. "Merry
Christmas."
"Thank you, Mrs Duffield," I said, and gave her a curtsey. "Merry
Christmas to you, too." I went to a table and sat beside Tracy and
Fiona, and started to eat my dinner.
And it was hot, like everyone else's.
To be continued...
Lizbeth
- 15.02.2021
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