The Gladden Chronicles, Part 2 free porn video

The Gladden Chronicles By Carleton Vincent Ethan finds himself enrolled at Gladden Academy, the strange school on the Northeast side of town where boys are forced to wear girls' clothing. He is a clever boy, but is he clever enough to get around the rules. Note: this some minor edits have been made Chapter 3: To Spite My Face The electronic whining of my alarm jarred me awake abruptly at 6:30 am. I sat up groggily wondering why it had gone off early. Then I remembered. I no longer attended Jefferson Public Middle School. I was now a student at Gladden Academy. "No," I thought as though I could wish this grim reality away. But I knew I couldn't. It loomed before me and there was no way to avoid it. I stumbled down out of the attic and into the bathroom to relieve myself. Then I stood and looked at myself in the mirror at various angles, trying to determine if there was any sign at all that my breasts were getting bigger. I couldn't tell. I then left the bathroom and plodded back up to my room to get dressed. I fumbled my way through a new morning routine, pulling on my panties, strapping on my bra, zipping on my skirt, etc. The clothes were still alien to me and I had not yet mastered the methods for putting them on. Once I was dressed, I marched sullenly down into the kitchen, feeling the gel pads in my bra jiggle around and my skirt flap against my legs as I descended the steep staircase. I was also quite conscious of the strange clinging feel of the panties. The elastic of the leg holes pressed lightly against me just under my butt cheeks. The thing that embarrassed me most was that I actually enjoyed wearing them. I didn't want to. They were so embarrassingly feminine. But the material felt ultra soft as it held me in its silky caress. It seemed like such a garment was something that should be saved for special occasions like the big delicious chocolate bunnies that we only got to eat on Easter. But girls could wear panties like this any time they wished to. Aunt Jane was waiting for me in the kitchen, wearing her running tights. She looked up at me as I entered. "You are running late," she said brusquely. "You best hurry or you will miss the bus." My stomach flopped at the thought of going down to the bus stop dressed in these clothes. I asked my aunt to please drive me to Gladden but she refused. "I am on a tight schedule," she explained. "I have to get in 6 miles this morning and then get ready for work." I ate a quick bowl of the healthy whole grain non sugared cereal that my aunt bought for us and then, I pulled on my new coat, placed my hat on my head, and left through the front door all while she rushed me along with an insistent tone. It was going to be another warm day, but the morning air was chill and damp and the sky was a uniform grey. I walked to the corner where my bus would come with my stomach flipping around wildly. It seemed like I stood there for an eternity, agonizing over what lay in store for me that day. I was terrified. It was almost a relief when the flashing yellow lights appeared through the mist. At least the waiting was over. Moments later the bus emerged from grayness and the door swung open, beckoning me to board. I climbed inside feeling like I was a prisoner going off to the gallows. There were five students already on the bus, and they all looked up to get a look at the new student. One of curious faces peering back at me belonged to Melvin. His eyes went wide when he saw my face framed in that Dutch boy bob I was wearing. He knew me as one of the kids who never got into to trouble at school, so he was totally shocked to see me there. "Ethan?" he gasped. The bus lurched forward, and I took a seat beside Melvin, feeling some comfort at having someone I knew there on the bus to talk to. But he immediately asked me the question I dreaded: "What are you doing here?" I couldn't talk about it. I couldn't tell him the whole painful story about how unfairly my aunt judged me, or how my brother manipulated this situation to his advantage. I felt tears welling in my eyes just thinking about it, and I didn't want to start blubbering again like I did at the boutique. It would be humiliating crying here in front of Melvin. So I let his question hang there in the air. The bus rumbled on for long moments before I finally spoke. "I need to know what to expect today," I told him tensely. "Tell me; what is Gladden like? Is it as horrible as I am imagining?" "No," he said. "It's really not so bad. I mean it's real strict there. But I still--well--I sort of like it." His face turned a little pink at this admission. "How could you like it at that place? I mean we have to dress like--like this?" I gestured down at my clothing as I said this. Melvin squirmed a little. "You get used to wearing this stuff. After awhile you feel natural in it. You even start to like it." "I'm never going to like it," I declared; but, in truth, I was scared that I would. "Yah, well I'd rather go to a school where I have to wear girls' clothes than to have to go back to Jefferson. You don't know how bad it was for me there. Brandon tormented me on a daily basis. One day, he even pressed a burning cigarette into my chest while his friends held me down. I still have the scars." I winced as I imagined the pain and fear Melvin must have felt during this horrible incident. And I felt guilty. Maybe if I had reached out to him and brought him into my small group of friends at Jefferson, then things would have been a little better for him. And maybe if I had stood up for him earlier, then Brandon would have backed off a little. But I didn't do these things. I let Melvin hang out there on his own. The bus stopped for 5 more students while Melvin and I talked. Then it turned onto Wickham Lane climbing up a steep hill and stopping in front of Theodora E. Gladden Academy. My first day at this strange school was upon me. I followed Melvin, as he proceeded up the walkway in the morning gloom. The school building loomed ahead of us as a dark outline, its lights shining through the haze. Swales stood on the stoop by the front doors, impervious to the morning chill as she eyed each of us. My stomach flipped around even more wildly as I passed beneath her Medusan gaze and pushed through the front doors after Melvin. The school's interior was not at all what I expected. With wooden paneling and tiled floors it looked like a venerable private school where wealthy families would send their children and not an institution for delinquent boys. A big picture of the pink angelfish from the school crest appeared on the wall and there was a trophy case displaying awards for academics and athletics that the school had earned. Melvin led me through the entrance way to the courtyard where all of the other students were gathering for morning assembly under a bleak morning sky. I looked around at the students in their skirts and knee socks. "Are they all really boys?" I asked Melvin. "Yah," he said with a nod. "But some of them act... well...totally girlish," I said, unable to hide my astonishment. "It's hard to believe that they're NOT really girls." A pointy-faced boy with sweeping bangs overheard my statement. He looked over at me and said, "Every boy has a feminine side, and Swales knows how to bring that side out so that it takes over. "You try fighting it, but they have ways of getting into your head here; and, little by little, you find yourself turning into a sissy." I shuddered at the thought. "It won't happen to me," I assured myself. "This kid doesn't know what he's talking about. They can make me dress in this stuff, but they can't really change who I am." But these desperate self assurances did not completely quell the gnawing fear that I would in fact soon be a sissy just like the other students here. "This is Evan," Melvin said, introducing me to the pointy-faced boy. "He is in the 7th grade like us." "I'm the one assigned to be your sister," Evan added. "My sister?" "I'm supposed to help you get adjusted here," he explained. "Oh," I said, shifting nervously. Swales then strode into the yard followed by McNally who was carrying a polished wooden paddle out in front of her. Swales' assistant hobbled along behind. Everyone went silent at the appearance of this trio and quickly formed into lines. Melvin and Evan indicated that I should get in line with them and the other seventh graders. The eighth graders lined up to the right of us then the ninth graders and so on up to the twelfth graders. Some of the students did not line up with the rest of us, however. Instead they reported to Thornton who distributed clipboards to them. "Those are the unicorn riders," Evan told me with a quick glance up at the students with clipboards; "You've got to watch yourself around them." "That's right," Melvin said. "Swales hand picks them from the students who achieve the highest level here at Gladden. They're her eyes and ears and they don't miss very much." One of the unicorn riders moved slowly up our line. She (I refer to her a she because she seemed just too feminine to be called a he) moved with a natural ladylike grace and there was a silver pin visible on her sweater was the likeness of a medieval maiden riding a unicorn. I saw the other students in my line standing nervously she glided lightly by them. When she came to me she paused briefly and jotted something down. I was certain that it wasn't a good thing that the unicorn rider was making notes about me, and Swales watched all this with hawkish eyes and a cool smile that made me shudder. When the inspection process was completed, the headmistress led us in the Pledge of Allegiance. It was strange standing in the courtyard at this strange school dressed in a skirt and speaking those same words that I had spoken every day at school since kindergarten. It made it seem somehow like all of this was something normal. When the pledge was concluded, Swales made an announcement. "We have a new student with us this morning," she said while beckoning me to step forward. I walked to the front feeling a heavy sense of trepidation and stood beside the headmistress. She placed a hand on my shoulder and said; "Allow me to introduce Miss Eden Mullery. She has been getting into quite a bit of trouble due to lying, stealing, and fighting. But that is going to change now that she's a Gladden girl." Swales then sent me back to my place in line and her ancient assistant took the morning roll call. Evan responded with a "here" when the name Evelyn Beazley was called. Melvin responded to the name Melinda Maccoby. Once roll call was completed, the student president stepped forward. A tall 12th grader, he had long hair that fell about his shoulders in spiraling curls. He began making morning announcements that seemed a lot like the ones I'd heard over the speaker at Jefferson. "Lunch this afternoon will be vegetarian stew and salad," he said. "Volley ball team tryouts, start tonight after school in the gym. Members of the Pom Squad will be holding practice in the dance studio. The date of December 17 has been chosen for this year's Winter Wonderland Dance with the boys of Oakwood Academy," he continued. He sounded genuinely excited about this last event, too. "So mark your calendars and start shopping for your dress." "A dance?" I thought. "With boys? They were going to dance with boys? I had been too nervous to go to school dances where I would have to ask girls to dance. I certainly wouldn't be attending a dance at this school where I would have to dance with boys. That would be a thousand times more embarrassing." Swales dismissed us and everyone began to head back into the school building. "You should get going to your first class now," Evan told me helpfully. "Find me during lunch and let me know if you have any questions, okay?" According to my schedule, I started out the day with English up in room 205. I followed the dwindling crowd back into the building and found a winding staircase that took me up to the second floor. The teacher, Mrs. Everhart, was a young woman with a pretty heart-shaped face and long brown hair. She stood up from the large wooden desk at which she had been grading papers and greeted me with a warm smile. "Welcome to Gladden," she said. She seemed nice and that surprised me, because I had assumed that the teachers here would all be evil witches just like Swales. Everhart assigned me a desk, and, once I was situated, began the class session with a discussion of readings that had been assigned to the class the previous day. The readings were chapters from the book Orlando by Virginia Woolf. I wasn't able to participate in the discussion, of course, since I was new to the class and had not read the assignment; so I just sat there listening and trying to get a sense of what the book was about. "I'm afraid I can't award you many merits today," Everhart said apologetically as the class ended. "You'll need to do some extra reading this week to get caught up with the class so you can participate in future class discussions." "What are merits?" I asked. "You need to get merits in order to earn privileges," she replied. "In classes, you earn merits each day by completing homework and participating in classroom activities. You also earn merits by following certain behavioral expectations. Your sister will be explaining all of this to you in more detail at some point today." The teachers at Gladden were all generally pleasant like Mrs. Everhart, but they assigned much more homework than I was used to getting at Jefferson. They each warned me that I must complete all my homework to earn merits. It seemed like they genuinely wanted me to get those merits but had to be strict in their enforcement of the rules to avoid getting into trouble with Swales. I was able to complete a portion of my heavy load of homework during study period. But I still had a lot of catch up work to do. When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, I headed to the dining hall for lunch. Students sat at long wooden tables, passing around silver trays of food. A number of paintings hung on the wood paneled walls, but one large portrait immediately captivated my attention. It was a picture of Theodora Gladden herself. Her stern eyes seemed to follow me as I moved across the room to take a seat in the pink cushioned chair that Evan and Melvin had saved for me. The food that was surprisingly tasty. I even enjoyed the salad with its crisp lettuce, slices of fine cheese, and dried cranberries. As we ate, Evan explained a little bit about how things worked at the school. "Right now you are a wobble foot," he told me. "A wobble foot?" "Yah. That's your rank level. Everyone starts out at wobble foot. Melinda and I have worked our way up to the next rank: sissy second class. After that comes: sissy first class, diamond, swan, and unicorn rider. "At each level you have the chance to earn certain privileges," Melvin added. "You earn these privileges by getting merits. Once you've gotten enough total merits, you go up a rank level. Then you have the chance to earn better privileges, but you are also held to stricter standards." "Right now you've just got to concentrate on the basics," Evan told me; "you've got to wear makeup and nail polish each day; keep your legs and underarms shaved smooth, and learn how to walk and sit like a young lady." "That's right, agreed Melvin. "If you do those things, you'll earn enough merits each day to maintain your privileges." "Yuck!" I exclaimed. "No privileges could be worth having to do that stuff." Melvin shifted uncomfortably at this. There was something he had to say and he didn't relish telling me. Then, exhaling nervously, he spat it out. "Riding the bus home is considered a privilege at this school, Eden." He avoided meeting my eyes as he broke this news. "You will be forced to walk home until you do what is expected of you." "I am going to have to walk home? Like this?" Melvin frowned, clearly feeling bad that I would have to walk home that afternoon. After all, I had stepped in to save him when he had been forced to walk home. It was unlikely that anyone would be ready to defend me, though, and there was a pretty good chance I would run into trouble just like Melvin had. After all, Dillard had told me that he and his friends were going to jump me. That meant that they would be looking for me. I felt my stomach tie up in knots as these thoughts spun through my head. After lunch, we all had History together. It was quite unlike any history lesson I'd ever had before. Miss Krause lectured to us about atrocities men committed during the colonial period and also about a few famous women of that time. When the bell for change of periods rang we proceeded to the locker room for gym class. Coach McConaughey, the gym teacher, was a fiery red-haired woman. She strode into the locker room after the second bell when we were all in our gym skirts and sports bras. She took attendance and then led us all out into the gym where we split up into two teams and played a round of volleyball. We then ended class with a mile and a half run through the neighborhood, pulling on fleece lined pink jackets that said TG Academy across the back before trooping out a side door. The run was a very uncomfortable experience at first. The autumn breeze felt cold on my bare legs. Then there was the fact that running caused the gel pads in my sports bra to bounce rhythmically. I was also bothered by the nagging fear of being seen by someone I knew. It was unlikely that I would in this part of town but even the slightest possibility of it was enough to trigger anxiety. But I eventually warmed up as my blood got pumping, got used to the gel pads' bouncing, and forgot to worry about being recognized. We made a turn off Hemingway Boulevard, heading down an alley and past an old abandoned warehouse by the train tracks. Melvin glanced over at the blackened side of the dilapidated building. "That's how Evan got sent here," he said as he trotted along beside me. "Is that true?" I asked Evan. "You are the one who torched the old warehouse last summer? Everyone in town was talking about that fire." "Yah," said Evan flatly. "The Judge told me I was a danger to society and that drastic action needed to be taken. Then she told my parents that, unless they agreed to enroll me at Gladden, I would be sent to Wernersville." Like Melvin, he seemed pained by the memory of his day in court. "He went before Judge Delsasso just like me," Melvin added. "Almost everyone here was sent here by Delsasso," Evan said. "I wasn't," I reflected. As we talked, Coach McConaughey looped us through the streets of the neighborhood and we spilled back out onto Wickham. We stopped talking then, straining at the effort of the half mile climb back up to the school. I felt exhilarated when we were finished, and, for a moment, my troubles seemed less important. After rinsing off briefly in the shower and getting back into my uniform, I headed to Feminology down in the lower level. Instead of desks, there were rows of vanity tables in the classroom. The teacher, Mrs. Clara Landry led me to my seat where makeup supplies were set out. "This is your starter kit," she told me warmly. I looked at the collection of little bottles and brushes, nervously wondering what I was supposed to do with them. "You'll be working with it today in class," she said, sensing my confusion. Then, Mrs. Landry flipped my workbook open to a lesson on Basics of Blusher Application. "I know you don't want to learn this," she said sympathetically, "but you must. This is one of the skills you need to master before moving to sissy second class." I read through the lesson, learning the 7 steps for applying blush. Students worked independently in this class and both Melvin and Evan sat nearby working on a more advanced lessons. Mrs. Landry checked in on each of the students to see how they were progressing. After I had gotten through my reading and passed a brief quiz on it, she instructed me to practice what I had just learned. I looked down at the compact, nervously. Then, after a moment, I picked it up fumbling with it before getting it open. Mrs. Landry stood there, watching as I looked into the mirror, making a fish face, and brushing along my cheekbones the way the lesson described. "That's pretty good," she said tentatively, "for a first attempt. But you went a little heavy." She then pushed a jar of makeup remover towards me and told me to go to the bathroom, wash my face in the sink, and then return so that I could try it again. Taking the remover with me, I went down the hall to the bathroom. Pink marble tile covered the floor of the bathroom, and there was a row of elegant white pedestal sinks along the wall with large oval mirrors above each of them. I went to one of the sinks, spread the makeup remover on my face and then washed with soap and water. I dried myself with a pink paper towel. My face was now free of makeup, but the sound of running water had made me feel like I had to go. There were no urinals in the bathroom, only stalls. I entered one of them and closed the door behind me. The toilet seats were padded with pink cushions and could not be lifted into an upright position. I was, therefore, forced to turn around and sit down. "Better," Mrs. Landry said, after I had returned to my seat and reapplied my blush. "But you'll need to keep practicing so it's good enough to earn you merits." I was reading through my next lesson on applying eye makeup when the final bell of the day rang. Mrs. Landry told me something that sounded important; but I had trouble concentrating on what she was saying, because I was suddenly feeling very nervous about the walk home. It was a little over 2 miles to my house from here, I guessed. And the route would be fraught with hazards--like Brandon. I swallowed hard at the thought of running into him in this uniform. "What would be the safest route to walk?" I wondered, as I got my things out of my locker. If I went the more crowded routes there would be witnesses. So, if I ran into Brandon, he wouldn't be able to do anything to me. But I would be much more likely to run into someone else I knew. Like my friends. No! I couldn't risk that. I had to take a back route. One where Brandon would not be likely to look for me. I left the building, feeling a pang of jealousy as I saw Melvin and Evan standing in line to board their respective busses. Deciding to start down the route I had run on earlier during gym class, I passed by them and walked along Hemingway. With a heavy book bag that said TG Academy on it, I passed the old warehouse scorched on one side by my new friend, Evan. Then I turned down the train tracks and began walking down them. The tracks curved along the border between my town, Dunwich Park, and our neighbor to the north, Seabury Hollow, and would bring me west through a forest preserve before eventually veering close to my neighborhood. It was a longer and circuitous route home, but I didn't think Brandon would look for me out this way. I started running to cut down the time of my trip, my heavy book bag flapped against my side as I trotted along, and I had begun sweating into my nylon bra by the time I made it to my neighborhood. I was forced to start traveling by sidewalk at this point. By now the public school kids would all be home, which increased the chances that they might see me. I lowered my head and walked at a brisk pace, brushing past some younger kids as I walked to my street. They wouldn't be likely to know me, since they were still in primary school. Luckily, I made it to my gate without running into anyone from Jefferson. "You have to pull me out of that school," I begged Aunt Jane, as I mixed breadcrumbs into a bowl with ground beef that evening. "Swales is crazy. I mean, she is going to make walk all the way home until I learn to make myself up like a girl." "Well then I guess you had best get busy and learn what you need to know," she said. "But this is cruel and unusual punishment." "Hardly," she disagreed. "But the walk is something like 3 miles," I said, exaggerating a bit. "Plus, I'm walking all that way in girls' clothes." "Then I should think that you'll be all the more motivated to do what is expected of you." It was clear that nothing I could say would sway her opinion and that continuing to try to debate the matter with her would just get me into trouble, so I dropped it. An hour later, the meat loaf we baked together was eaten, and, having changed into her gym clothes, Aunt Jane was leaving through the front door. "I had better not learn that you were misbehaving while I was gone," she hissed at me before leaving. Then she was gone. Mitch snickered at me and then went up to his room to watch TV. I had to find a way to smuggle a set of boys' clothes with me to school, I thought as I sat at my desk finishing up my heavy load of homework. Then I could duck into the old warehouse on my way home and change. A pair of track pants and a t-shirt would be easy to scrunch up. I tried shoving them into my book bag but they created a visible bulging. I had to find another place to hide them. Then it came to me. The lining of my jacket! I could zip them into the lining of my jacket. I quickly ran downstairs knowing that it wouldn't be long before Aunt Jane got home from the gym. I brought my jacket up to my room and flattened it out on my bed then I lay a pair of track pants and a t- shirt inside along with an empty draw string bag where I could stuff my girls' clothes after I changed. I flattened out all of these items as much as I could and then zipped in the lining. This would work, I assured myself. The next morning, I donned my coat and headed out the door. I could feel the extra weight of the track pants, shirt, and bag in the lining as I walked to the bus stop. But there was not a noticeable bulging. After being deposited in front of the school by the bus, I walked in the front entrance with Melvin, passing by the headmistress herself. I tried to act as naturally as I could, and she paid me no special notice. My plan was working, I thought, but then, when I was lined up in the courtyard for the morning's inspection with the other students, the headmistress walked directly to me. "It is a rather warm morning, isn't it?" she said, seeming almost to have seen my cleverly made plans in my mind. "Y--yes," I managed. "Then why do you have the lining zipped into your jacket?" I got nervous and fell apart at that point, stammering out a jumble of words. Something like: "I--I don't... uh... it was..." That's when Swales motioned to McNally, the security guard. The athletic woman jogged over. "She's hiding something, I think, Swales said. Then at Swales instructions McNally relieved me of my jacket. She held it up while Swales unzipped the lining and discovered the clothing and book bag I had stuffed there. A number of nearby students gasped. It was clear from their reaction that I had committed a serious infraction. I squirmed nervously. "Why ever would you be bringing boys' clothes to school?" Swales demanded. "I--I wasn't going to wear them until after school was over." "Oh, I see. Well I suppose this is a different matter," she said with a cool smile that did not reach her eyes. "Tell me--when were you going to put them on?" For a wild moment, I thought that maybe I wasn't in trouble. "I--I was going to change before I walked home," I told her earnestly. "I see." "S--so I'm not in any trouble?" "My dear child," she said with the gleaming eyes of a spider that had just trapped an unwitting fly in its web. "I'm afraid you are very much in trouble. You see: you are a Gladden girl. And from the moment you leave your house in the morning until the moment you return in the afternoon, you are expected to be in your uniform. You have just admitted to me that you have intended to break this basic rule. Therefore, you must be punished." McNally then handed Swales the polished wooded paddle. "Three strikes should suffice, since this is just your first offense," she decided. "And you shall also receive 25 demerits." The paddle landed on my backside with a swift sharp whap. The stinging pain made my eyes water. The delicate girls' clothing seemed to provide little protection. The second whap seemed to sting even more. The third and final whap struck a moment later and my backside felt raw with burning pain. When it was over, I returned to my place in line, my head hung low. I could feel the eyes of everyone upon me and felt painfully embarrassed. How, I wondered. How had Swales known? I went through my morning classes, feeling glum. During lunch I ate my tomato basil soup and vegetarian bean sprout sandwich sullenly, responding with only short answers when Melvin or Evan attempted to strike up conversation. Then, when we were finished eating, I received a printed sheet from one of the unicorn riders. There was a bar graph on the paper showing my current totals for merits in 5 areas. I earned some merits for academics and for follows rules. This was only because the demerits I had received that morning had not been entered yet. Tomorrow, I would be in the negative numbers. After History, we went into the locker room and changed into tights, leotards, and ballet slippers. The dance instructor Mrs. Kurkova appeared a short while later and led us all into the dance studio. I moved clumsily through the steps of the dance routine we worked on. "You will need to practice these steps at home, of course," Kurkova told me plainly. In Feminology class that afternoon, I worked on a lesson covering feminine movement and posture. Mrs. Landry trussed me up in a corset like garment, which she called a poise vest, and fitted me with a pair of heels. "These will help train you to move in a properly ladylike fashion," she explained. She then had me spend the class period walking and sitting. "Take short steps and swing your hips," she admonished me at several points. "Remember to mind your skirt when you are sitting or standing," she added. "And your slip must not be visible at any time." I found myself walking with a straight back, short steps and swaying hips when I left that class even though I was no longer wearing the poise vest or heels. I took the same route home along the train tracks. Once again, I saw no sign of Brandon, but, when I got back into my neighborhood I saw some girls walking half a block away from me on the other side of the street. It was Bobbi Randolph and her friend Kristen Grey. They had sat behind me in English class back in Jefferson, but they showed no sign of recognizing who I was now. Dressed as I was, they likely thought I was just some private school girl they didn't know. I detoured down another street, not eager to learn whether they would be able to recognize me with a closer look. Fortunately, I didn't see anyone else as I followed my detour route and arrived at my street. I opened my door and quickly slipped into my house. Then, after hanging up my jacket, I plodded heavily up to the attic and opened my bedroom door. Much to my dismay, I was greeted by the sight of my brother and one of his friends in my room. Mitch had my underwear drawer opened and was holding up a pair of my panties by the lacey elastic waistband, showing them to his friend with a big leering grin on his face. I immediately felt my face grow hot. I just couldn't believe him! "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded angrily. "Just showing Ricky your pretty panties," he mocked. The kid named Ricky had buck teeth, freckles, and ears that stuck out. He snickered at me. "Do you want to try a pair on yourself or something, Mitch?" I shot back hotly. I had been being subjected to a multitude of humiliations already that week and now Mitch was heaping more upon my plate by revealing the shameful secret of my punishment to his friend. I was determined to humiliate him in return. "Is that why you've got your hands all over them? Maybe I should give you a little makeover, since you seem to like girly things so much." I pulled my compact out of my purse brandishing it at him. "No way!" he exhorted. Wrestling him down to the floor, I patted his cheeks with the compact giving them a nice rosy hue. "Now you're a girl just like me, Michelle," I said. Ricky laughed hysterically at the scene before him. Mitch tried to wash the makeup off but couldn't since it was water resistant. He was getting alarmed with wild fears that maybe it was permanent. His friend kept laughing at him and calling him Michelle until Mitch kicked him out of the house. While all this was going on, I went into the bathroom and scrubbed my own face, using makeup remover. I emerged from the bathroom, a boy once again. Hearing me in the hall, Mitch sprang out of his room. "How did you get that stuff off your face," he demanded. "That's a secret," I taunted. "Tell me!" "No, Michelle. I am going to make you stay a girl instead." "I'm going to get you for this," he snarled. I laughed at him, feeling triumphant over the fact that I had paid him back a little. But this feeling would not last long. When Aunt Jane got home he ran down the stairs to show her what I had done. "He was showing a pair of my panties to his stupid friend," I said chasing behind him to tell what he was leaving out. "He's lying, Aunt Jane," Mitch insisted. "He just jumped on me out of the blue and did this." Aunt Jane believed the little liar of course. "It seems the moment you are out of girls' clothing you go back to causing trouble," she scolded. "You shall find yourself wearing dresses around the clock if you do not learn self control." My aunt then told me to start setting the table for dinner--a chore that had been assigned to Mitch on that particular evening. "You shall be doing Mitchell's chores in addition to your own for one week," she informed. "What?" I cried in dismay at this injustice. "If you do like doing Mitch's chores, then I suggest that you learn to be nicer to him," my aunt said brusquely. "Now start setting the table, or I'll bring you upstairs and put you in your dress." This was just too much! I was not going to do Mitch's chores, and I was not going to let my aunt put me in a dress. Those were thoughts that echoed in my skull as fire rushed to my head. "No," I told my aunt defiantly giving her a look that told her there was no way she was going to make me do anything. But my moment of defiance was soon shattered when my aunt gave me a spanking. Yes. She actually pulled me over her knee and whapped my behind with a hairbrush like I was just a little kid. I fought her, of course. I wriggled and squirmed in an effort to get away but she was very strong and was able to keep me pinned securely down on her knee. "Stop struggling," she admonished, "or this will go on longer." There was nothing I could do but obey her. I hung there limply and let her whack me a few more times. When she finally let me back up, I saw Mitch glowing as though he were lit up by a black light. "Now come on upstairs," my aunt barked grabbing me roughly by the arm. Offering up no further resistance, I let her take me up to my room. When we descended back down the stairs twenty minutes later, I was wearing the dress. "If you give me any further trouble this evening, I will bring you back to Miss Malia's and purchase you more dresses," my aunt told me. "Now start setting the table." Be nicer to Mitch. That was Aunt Jane's admonishment. Ha! It was the kind of utterly clueless advice that adults were always doling out. I could not be nicer to Mitch. The mere thought of being nice to him literally made me nauseous. I hated him. It was his fault I was at Gladden after all. He was the one who planted the idea into Aunt Jane's head. These were the thoughts that buzzed around inside my head each morning as I donned panties and zipped on my skirt. "He mocks me on a daily basis," I muttered angrily as our bus rumbled on along its daily route. Unable to hold it inside any longer, I had finally confided in Melvin, telling him about my home situation. "And he gets away with it. When I try to pay him back, I'm always the one who gets punished." "You've got to ignore the teasing," he advised as the bus pulled up in front of Gladden. "Act like it doesn't bother you. If he can't get a rise out of you he'll stop." "How am I supposed to act like it doesn't bother me when he's up in my room showing my panties to his friends?" "Well--retaliating doesn't seem to be working too well for you," Melvin pointed out. The week proceeded on with me nervously creeping out to the bus stop, painfully embarrassed to be out on the corner in a skirt and terrified that someone might look out their window and recognize me. Each morning my breakfast churned around in my stomach making me feel nauseous. Then the bus would come and I would quickly board. Then I would be delivered to Gladden, where the headmistress waited at the door to greet me with her sharp eyed appraisal and disapproving frown. Her unicorn riders would scribble notes as they passed me during inspection indicating that I was still not up to code. I then sat through classes, straining under the heavy pile of work my teachers doled out. After completing my extra load of chores, I would spend the rest of my evening with a book in front of me. Then it would be bedtime, and the cycle would start over again. We concluded out discussion of Orlando in English and began reading a book entitled Passion of a New Eve. In History class, we continued to cover the revolutionary war with emphasis given to atrocities committed by men on both sides. "Men make war," the teacher said knowingly, "and war brings out the worst of their barbaric tendencies." In Feminology, I rounded out my makeup application skills with a lesson on eye makeup. I then moved on to a lesson on nail polish. I had to practice these skills each afternoon at my vanity table. I also continued to practice walking in the poise vest and heels each day. My legs felt leaden, as I clopped down the hall. I was tired and my muscles ached from all the running I was doing. I plodded slowly along the tracks on my way home, unable to manage even short bursts of running. Then, when I finally got back to my neighborhood, I almost ran into my friends Shane and Sam. I heard them coming around the corner and quickly dove into some hedges, getting scratches on my face and legs in the process. They were no doubt very curious about what had happened to me. It had now been a whole week since I had started at Gladden. They would be wondering why my seat in all my classes at Jefferson had been empty. They would be wondering why I missed our weekly game sessions on Saturday afternoon. I didn't want them to know that I was now going to the same school as Melvin. I couldn't bear the humiliation of having them look at me the way they had looked at him. So I sighed with relief, as they walked by not having noticed the noise I'd made in my wild move to hide from them. But what was I going to do? This was my second close call. It was only a matter of time until my secret was discovered and everyone at Jefferson knew I was spending my days in a skirt and panties. When I got home, I found Mitchell sitting at the kitchen table eating an after school snack. He shot me a wicked grin when I passed by on my way to the stairs. I looked back at him suspiciously, wondering what he was up to. Then I went up to my room and found out. I opened my underwear drawer, looking for a pair of boxers to change into, but there weren't any there. There were only pairs of shimmering lace-trimmed pink panties. I dug around under the smooth layer of satin hoping that the boxers were just hidden on the bottom of the drawer, but they were simply not there. I was certain I had several clean pairs. I then went to my laundry basket and found that there were no boxers to be found in there either. There was only one explanation for this. Mitchell! I stormed down the stairs and into the kitchen. "What have you done with my underwear?" I demanded angrily. "What are you talking about," he replied with a maddening little smirk that said he actually really did know. "My boxers are, all gone," I hissed, sounding like a steaming kettle. "Well then I guess you're just going to have to spend the afternoon in panties." "Tell me what you did with them!" I said, slugging him in the arm. "Go ahead and hit me again," he dared. "I'll tell Aunt Jane and then you won't just be wearing panties. You'll be spending an evening dressed up completely as a girl." "Just tell me where they are, you little weasel." "I don't know," he said. "You're going to get it for this," I warned. "Aunt Jane's finally going to see what a nasty little brat you really are." I went upstairs then, changing into my jeans and t-shirt, washing off my makeup, and messing up my hair. I looked like a boy again, but I was still wearing the panties under my jeans. When I heard Aunt Jane entering the house a half hour later, I went downstairs to tell her what Mitch had done. "Did you do something with his boxers," Aunt Jane asked calmly. Mitch responded by leading us out back to the garbage can and pulling off the lid. Inside were all my pairs of boys' underwear. Aunt Jane pulled one of them out. They had been thoroughly shredded with Mitch's pocket knife. "These cannot be worn," she said in a matter of fact tone. I pulled out a few more pairs, examining them. "They're all totally shredded up," I said with dismay. "Yes," Aunt Jane agreed. "They are ruined." "We've got to go to the mall," I said. "Whatever for?" she replied. "I need new boxers," I cried--wondering why this wasn't obvious. Aunt Jane shrugged. "What do you need them for? You've got a whole drawer full of panties up in your room." Mitch smirked. "But I don't want to wear them all the time. I want boxers for after school and on weekends." Aunt Jane snorted at this as if I were being totally unreasonable. "Well I am not going to take a trip to the mall to spend money on underwear when you don't really need it." I exhaled in frustration. "Then I want Mitch to be punished for destroying my property." "You do not dictate who does and does not get punished in this house," Aunt Jane returned sharply. "I am the one who makes that decision, and I happen to believe that you had this coming. You have been bullying your poor little brother at every turn. Now he has finally dealt you some payback."