The Gladden Chronicles Part 2
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The Gladden Chronicles--Part 3 free porn video
The Gladden Chronicles
by
Carleton Vincent
My summer has been busy and it's been hard to find time to sit down at
my computer but here it is at last--another chapter in the story of Ethan
Mullery's attempts to try to cope with life as a student at Gladden
Academy.
Chapter 4: Before you leap
"You're walk is improving," Melvin noticed as we made our way towards
the main entrance. "You're moving in a more feminine manner."
"Really?" I responded--surprised at this. I hadn't thought I was had
been walking any differently than I usually walked.
"Many of the changes you undergo here happen without you realizing it,"
Melvin informed.
"That's right," Evan chimed. "You start walking as though you're in the
poise vest and heels even when you aren't wearing them."
"Wonderful," I said sarcastically. "One more thing for Mitch to tease
me about." I could just see my brother prancing around, mocking me with
an exaggerated imitation of my walk and then laughing at me. Maybe he'd
have a couple friends over and they would join in with him. I could
feel my face growing warm at the thought of it.
"You've got to let it happen," Melvin urged. "Ladylike movement and
posture has to become second nature for you. Otherwise, you will slip
up and lose merits."
"Yeah," agreed Evan, "the unestrians are always looking for an excuse to
give you a deduction. So, if you ever want to earn an afternoon bus
pass, you've got to take Melvin's advice. You've got to start showing
up at school each morning wearing makeup and nail polish, too, by the
way. You won't get privileges unless you start earning appearance
merits."
The thought of spending my morning carefully applying makeup, making
painstaking efforts to ensure it looked perfect and then, when I was
finished with that tedious task, painting polish onto my nails with that
small brush, was unpleasant to say the least. Then there was the
thought of shaving my legs and underarms. Adding these tasks to my
routine would really make me feel like a girl.
At least my efforts to get caught up in my classes were paying off.
Papers were now coming back to me with 100's written on top, and I was
earning full merits each day in English, Math, Science and History. I
wasn't doing quite as well in feminology. "You must start practicing
your makeup application at home," Miss Landry advised."
It was in Dance class where I was really struggling though. I had
trouble remembering all the moves and keeping up. "You are very smart
with books, I hear," Kurkova commented one afternoon, pointing to my
head as she said this; "but you are not a coordinated child, so dance
does not come as naturally to you as it does to some of your
classmates." She had a way of giving you very direct feedback without
sounding insulting or demeaning. "This just means you must work harder
and spend much time practicing. You will get it with some extra
effort."
I made my way home along my usual route and was about a quarter mile
down the tracks when I came to a crossing where saw a pair of police
cars. They were lined up side by side in a lot adjacent to the tracks,
and the officers were talking to each other through open windows. As I
passed by them, I heard a door click. Then all at once one of the
officers was out of his vehicle. Dressed in his dark blue uniform with
a gleaming badge on his chest, he was a tall broad-shouldered man with
wavy hair and a flat stomach. "You there," his deep voice resounded;
and, suddenly, my heart was racing because I was afraid I was in
trouble. "Young lady," he added to indicate that it was me that he was
talking to. Fooled by my clothing and hair, he did not suspect that I
was really a boy. "We've been getting reports about you. A concerned
citizen has been calling in to let us know about a girl walking on the
tracks every afternoon after school, so we have been keeping an eye
out."
"I--I'm just trying to get home," I bleated out nervously.
"Trains come down these tracks pretty fast," he replied--chiding. "So
stay off of them and use the sidewalks."
I stammered out that I was sorry and wouldn't walk on the tracks
anymore. He then let me leave, eyeing me as I diverted from my course
and walked down the sidewalk. I turned the corner, stealing a glance
back to see him still standing there. Who had notified the police about
my daily walks along the tracks? It must have been someone living at
some point along my route... a parent, perhaps, who looked out the
window and saw me trudging along with my book bag and worried that I
would end up flattened by a freight train.
Of course, the question of who had called the police was not as urgent
as the question: what was I going to do now? I didn't know this section
of town. I could find my way home easily along the tracks, but doubling
back to them would be too risky. I didn't know what section to avoid
and might be spotted by that well-meaning parent again. Next time, the
police caught me they might not just let me go with a stern verbal
warning.
So I walked along unfamiliar streets making a couple random turns in
hopes of finding a street name that was familiar to me. Then I turned a
corner and ran into two boys. A jolt of terror struck me, when I saw
their faces. The possibility I had been dreading for weeks had just
materialized. I had come face to face with Brandon Dillard!
I spun around and bolted away from them. "It's a boy from that sissy
school!" I heard Brandon cry out to his friend, Stu Longley. "Come on!
Let's get him!"
I kicked it into high gear, and they started to fall behind. Brandon
and Stu were a pair of stoners who liked to brag about how much time
they spent smoking weed. They didn't make it 400 meters before they
were both bent over gasping breathlessly.
A boy from that sissy school, Brandon called me. That meant that he had
learned something about Gladden. He knew that the students were boys
dressed as girls, it seemed. It was lucky that I had managed to react
quickly and get away. If he and Stu had caught me... If they had gotten
a better look at my face and recognized me...
Worries gnawing at me savagely, as I found my way to a place I
recognized and was able to get home from there. Dropping my bag off in
my room, I went through what had become the daily ritual of washing the
makeup I had had to apply in Feminology off my face. Then I rubbed the
strong smelling nail polish remover on my nails until there was no trace
of pink enamel. When I was a boy once again, I went back up to my room
and worked on homework until Aunt Jane got home. At that point, I went
down to the kitchen and helped her with the pot roast that had been
slowly cooking in the crock pot that day. After getting it set out, I
called my brother to dinner.
When the meal was finished, I began clearing the table. I bent over,
reaching to get the serving dish and my jeans slipped down without my
realizing it. "I see London, I see France, I see Ethan's pretty
underpants," I heard Mitch say in an annoying sing song, as he tugged at
my lacey elastic waistband making it snap. I felt my face grow hot at
this taunting. Since he had destroyed my boxers, he had been pulling my
waistband out of my jeans at every opportunity; and I was getting really
tired of it. I wanted to spin around and slug him, but I locked down
this urge.
Melvin's words echoed through my head: "...retaliating doesn't seem to
be working too well for you." He was right, of course. It wasn't
working well for me at all. It was just making things worse.
Mitch and I were like a cartoon cat and mouse, going back and forth in
an endless battle; and I was playing the part of the cat. I would get
the upper hand briefly; but I would always end up getting the worst of
it. Inevitably, Mitch would manage to drop an anvil on my head. I was
getting tired of that. I had to change the way I reacted to my his
taunting. But holding back like this made me feel like I was just two
feet tall and utterly powerless. He could do and say anything he wanted
to me, and I couldn't do anything about it. In essence, I was letting
him usurp the role of older brother.
Completing the rest of my daily chores, I went back up to my room and
dumped my makeup supplies out of my purse onto my desk top. "I will do
what I have to do to earn merits for appearance," I thought. "But I'm
only doing it to get an afternoon bus pass."
I looked into the mirror, carefully brushing blush along my cheekbones.
"Wow," I heard Mitch exclaim. Startled, I turned around and saw that he
had entered my room and was spying on me. I was so focused on what I
was doing that I had not heard him coming up the stairs. "You're
actually spending your free time practicing your makeup," he said.
"It's just like you're really a girl." He sneered as he said this to
show how shameful it was to be like a girl.
"I'm only doing this, because they're making me," I said defensively.
He just laughed at this and told me I was a sissy boy. My face grew
warm, and I wanted to hit him; but I squelched my anger once gain.
When it was seven o'clock, I descended down from my attic room to the
second floor. After commandeering a can of shaving gel and a pink razor
from the shelf on the linen closet where Aunt Jane kept extra bathroom
supplies, I went into the shower and shaved my legs and underarms. I
didn't have much hair there, but it was still weird when what little I
had was gone; and my legs and armpits were left completely smooth and
bare.
The next morning, I got up a little earlier. I would need extra time to
put on makeup and nail polish. I got dressed first, struggling with my
bra, buttoning on my blouse, and then zipping on my skirt. Then I sat
at my mirror and applied blush, eyeliner, and lip gloss. I brushed on
nail polish next. I was waving my fingers in an attempt to speed the
drying process as I came downstairs. Aunt Jane beamed when she saw me.
"You are looking very pretty this morning," she said. It felt strange
having her gush over me like this. Usually, she only acted this way
towards Mitch. Her attitude towards me typically ranged somewhere
between reserved indifference and harsh disapproval. I found myself
smiling back at her, feeling a little giddy at this unusual bit of
positive attention.
It wasn't only my aunt who was pleased by my efforts. That day, I
received enough merits to obtain a satisfactory ranking in the area of
appearance. My ladylike posture and movement ranking was also a
satisfactory, but I was not awarded am afternoon bus pass. "I don't get
it," I said in frustration. "You told me I would get privileges if I
started putting on makeup and walking like a girl."
"You lost a lot of conduct merits due to your infraction," Melvin
explained. "That brought you down into the negatives with respect to
your merit totals. You have to work your way back into positives in
that area before you get privileges."
"So don't break any more rules," Evan admonished. "And maintain
satisfactory rankings in all the other areas. If you do that, you
should be at positive merits in a couple weeks."
"A couple weeks!" I replied anxiously. "I've got to get privileges now.
I mean--I was safe walking along the tracks. Brandon wasn't looking for
me there. But now I can't take that route anymore. I have to walk the
sidewalks, and every afternoon is going to be a game of Russian
roulette. I'll never know if I'm about to take a wrong turn that brings
me face to face with Dillard or one of his friends. My luck is
eventually going to run out. And you know what they're going to do if
they catch me. They're going to take a look under my skirt. They're
going to see that I'm wearing panties."
Melvin frowned. I could tell he felt really bad about my predicament.
Then he seemed to come to a decision. "You helped me out," he said, a
firm resolve suddenly taking him over. "Now I'm going to pay you back.
I will sneak out the west exit this afternoon after the fifth period
warning bell. So hurry up and go to the headmistress' office now and
tell her I'm planning to cut out and ditch afternoon classes. She'll
send McNally over there to lay in wait sh she can catch me in the act.
Students here are awarded bonus merits for turning in a classmate who
break the rules, and, the bigger the infraction, the more merits they
get. Ditching classes is a serious offense, so you'll get enough merits
to bring you up into positive numbers for snitching."
"What will happen to you?" I asked.
"I'll be punished, and I'll get a big merit deduction. But I'll be
okay, because I have earned a good stockpile."
A short while later I was standing in the front office, watching Mrs.
Thornton's bent form hobble to Swales office door. Then her claw-like
hand reached out and turned the ornate brass knob to admit me into the
stale confines of Swales office. The headmistress looked up from her
large desk. "What may I do for you, Miss Mullery?" she asked in her
husky contralto.
She probed me with her piercing gaze. My mouth felt bone dry and my
voice cracked, as I told her what Melvin and instructed me to say. A
pang of guilt at letting my friend take a fall for me stabbed at my
insides. And I worried that Swales would somehow see through the rouse
and it would all be for naught. I wanted desperately to get out of
there.
"Why ever would you turn in your friend like this," she asked.
I was prepared for this question. "I'm worried Mindy will get herself
into bigger trouble out there," I said. "I know she'll get punished for
ditching but at least she'll be safe."
"I see," the headmistress replied. "How truly admirable of you." Was
there a sardonic inflection in her voice? I could not tell. It seemed
that she paused, regarding me for a moment; and I was certain that she
would tell me that could see through our ploy. But then she dismissed
me abruptly, telling me to get to class. It seemed like the plan was
working. She had bought my claims that I was there to turn in a
misguided friend out of concern for his well-being.
It was halfway into history class when a student helper came to the door
with a bus pass. "This is for Eden Mullery," he said. The teacher
pointed me out to the helper who laid the pass on my desk and then left
with a swish of his skirt. I looked down at the goldenrod piece of
paper with the words Bus Pass printed across the top. Below that, my
name was written. Thornton's signature validated its authenticity.
This was my ticket for passage aboard the bus. I could ride home in
safety tonight. And I would be eligible to earn a pass every afternoon
from now on, since I was no longer at negative merit numbers. But a
heavy weight pressing against my chest as I placed the pass into my book
bag.
When the bell rang, I went to the locker room and began changing into my
gym uniform. Melvin was nowhere to be seen. I went out into the gym
with Evan and the rest of the class where we played badminton. I was
matched up against an eighth grader who went by Amy while at Gladden. I
didn't know what his real name was. Amy kept whacking the shuttlecock
at me and I struggled breathlessly to hit it back across the net.
That's the way I spent the next 20 minutes. We then put away the
rackets and were pulling pink running tights up under our gym skirts
when Melvin finally showed up. He flashed me a weak grin before
grabbing his own tights and pulling them on. After we all pulled on our
fleece jackets, we trooped outside for a run. Evan and I worked our way
over to Melvin.
"So what happened?" I asked him as we trotted down the street.
"Exactly what I thought would happen," he said evenly. "I got a merit
deduction along with a punishment. It's no big deal, though."
"What is the punishment?" Evan probed.
"Nothing big," he said.
He didn't elaborate and we let it drop.
The rest of the day dragged on and the final bell finally sounded as I
finished a lesson in Feminology on choosing clothing colors that match
your complexion. I followed the flow of students out the front door and
saw the line of busses won the street waiting for us with engines
idling. Melvin was up ahead of me. I saw him pass by our bus and
continue on down the sidewalk. He did not have a bus pass. His
privileges had all been revoked when he lost merits.
My friend would be the one risking an encounter with Brandon and company
this afternoon. But the consequences would not be as bad for Melvin if
he ran into that pack of thugs as they would for me. That's what I
decided. Brandon already knew that Melvin was going around in a skirt,
but he had not yet learned that I was. If this changed... if Brandon
and his buddies caught me...
The bus door was folded open, waiting for me to board. I stepped
towards it but felt like something was pushing me back. Some strange
feeling that seemed to form into substance created a force field between
me and the bus. The feeling was guilt.
It would only be one afternoon, I told myself. Tomorrow, Melvin would
be able to earn his bus pass again. It was a good trade. He gave up
one day on the bus and had saved me from having to spend two whole weeks
walking. But these rationalizations sounded hollow in my head as I
watched Melvin's dwindling form trudge down the sidewalk. Someone
brushed past me and boarded the bus. I turned and ran after Melvin.
I found myself on a street named Meyers. Small box like houses with
white siding lined the street. Chain link fences were rusted, and I
began to fear that I was hopelessly lost. "Where was Melvin?" I
wondered. He had been too far ahead of me, and I had lost him. Walking
for blocks without any sign of him, I realized I had taken a wrong turn.
There was a big black dog with powerful bear trap jaws in one of the
backyards. He jumped up on the fence, startling me. His booming rapid
fire barks made me squirm. I continued past his yard stiffly but then
stopped dead in my tracks when two shadowy figures stepped out of the
alleyway just ahead of me. When I saw their faces, I gasped. What
rotten luck! I had once again come face to face with Brandon Dillard and
Stu Longley!
I spun around, pretty sure I could get away from them the way I had the
day before. But, unfortunately for me, another one of Brandon's friends
had stepped up behind me without my realizing it. I bumped right into
him. Devin Panache was the third ruffian's name. He was taller than
me, with a triangular face and curly brown hair. Like Dillard and
Longley, he was usually in some kind of trouble at school. With a smirk
on his face and mischievous gleam in his eyes, he didn't seem to care
much about what the teachers thought of him and laughed off the
ineffectual punishments they meted out. Before I could react, his hands
were clamped down on my wrists. "Got you," he said--triumphant.
"I can't believe it!" Brandon exclaimed. "It's that same kid we saw
yesterday. After managing a lucky escape from us, the dipshit goes and
wanders right into our neighborhood the next day."
"Looks familiar," Devin said, peering at my face as I struggled wildly
to pull free. He responded to my attempts at escape by maneuvering me
into a tight bear hug. Twisting me around, he pinned my arms snugly
against my padded chest. I wriggled and kicked in a continued attempt
to work myself free, but then Stu socked me in the stomach and knocked
the wind out of me. "Hold still, sissy," he rumbled.
Brandon grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger and looked at
my face. "No way!" I heard him say. "It can't be!" Then he burst into
a fit of wild laughter.
"What?" Devin demanded. "You know him?"
"Shit yeah! This is fucking epic man!"
"Who is it?" Stu rumbled. He was tall like Devin but with hooded eyes,
horse teeth, and a long chin.
"Ethan Mullery, dumb ass," Dillard spat. "This is fucking Ethan
Mullery. He went to school with us at Jefferson but then disappeared
several weeks ago."
Brandon then looked at me with a disdainful sneer. "So you're going to
the sissy school just like your little pussy friend Melvin, huh?" he
said. "Tell me: did you beg your aunt to send you there? Did you say;
'Oh please auntie, let me go to the school where I can wear a skirt and
act like I'm a girl!'" He mimicked me moving about in an exaggerated
sissified fashion as he said this. Devin and Stu burst into laughter at
this.
"My aunt is forcing me to go to Gladden!" I cried.
Brandon laughed off my claim. "No way!" he said emphatically. "You
chose to go to the sissy school." His tone made it clear that choosing
to go to a sissy school was absolutely the most shameful thing a boy
could do. "We saw you through the window of my house, prancing down the
sidewalk all ladylike just like you were really a girl." His tone
indicated that he was offering up what he considered to be iron clad
proof that I had chosen to go to Gladden. "No one was around to force
you walk that way. You were doing it because you like acting like that.
You must like wearing this frilly blouse and skirt, too." He pulled at
the ruffles on my blouse as he said this. "Tell me--what do you have on
under that skirt? I bet you're wearing panties." Brandon then grabbed
the hem of my skirt and began to lift it. With my arms trapped I was
helpless to stop him. My skirt came all the way up, and I felt like the
delinquent was yanking opening a curtain, behind which my most shameful
secret was hidden.
"Panties!" he shouted to his friends when he saw what I was wearing. I
could feel the cool afternoon breeze on me. My sense of embarrassment
was painfully overwhelming; and the sickening thought hit me that this
was it. My worst fear had been realized.
"I can't believe it!" I heard Brandon exclaim with a mixture of
astonishment and amusement. "He's really wearing panties! Pink satin
panties!" He pulled at the lacey elastic of my leg band and let it snap
back as he said this.
"They force me to wear these!" I cried out, feeling tears well up in my
eyes.
"No one could ever make me wear those panties," Brandon countered.
It felt like my world was falling down around my ears. I had held onto
the hope that I might eventually be able to convince my aunt to send me
back to Jefferson. That hope had kept me going. But I could never go
back there now. The story that I was going around in a skirt and
panties would quickly circulate through Jefferson, and it would be over
for me. I would never be able to face any of my former classmates
again. I imagined myself back at my old school. "He went to a school
where he had to wear panties," they would whisper as I walked down the
hallways between classes. "Do you think he still wears them? Of course
he does." It would be too utterly humiliating to bear.
It was at that point that a contralto voice resounded from the street.
"Stop that! Leave my student alone!"
I couldn't believe it! It was Swales herself. She had stepped out of a
black sedan and McNally was at her side, holding a walkie-talkie. I
caught a glimpse of Melvin behind them. He was sitting in the back of
Swales' sedan looking out the window. "Forcibly restraining a girl
while lifting her skirt to get a look at her panties is classified as an
assault," the headmistress said coldly. "The three of you are going to
face serious charges."
"This isn't no girl," Stu bellowed.
"Well I will swear that she is a girl," Swales said with a dangerous
smile. "I am certain that my word will carry more weight with the
police than yours. They are on their way now, by the way. Officer
McNally here has contacted them on her walkie. So, if I were you, I
would clear out of here."
Brandon and his friends did not need to be told twice. They scrambled
off quickly, and I tumbled down onto the sidewalk. When I looked up I
saw Swales standing over me. I looked up at her feeling stunned by
everything that had just transpired. There were many questions swirling
through my head as she reached down and pulled me back up to my feet.
The foremost in my mind was: why was she here helping us out?
"I am not easily fooled, Miss Mullery," she told me. "I knew full well
that you and Miss Maccoby were trying to pull something over on me. I
let you believe you were getting away with it, because I was curious to
see if you would really let your friend walk home while you rode safely
on the bus. But you didn't. At the last moment, you went after her.
There is something redeeming in you it seems. Something to build on and
to shape. But still--you have lied to me and broken rules and for that
you must face consequences. You shall share the same punishment as Miss
Maccoby, but neither you nor your friend will receive any merit
deductions for this little rouse. Now get into the back seat with Miss
Maccoby. I shall take you both home."
I was stunned. It seemed like Swales was actually pleased with me and
that she was showing me some leniency. "Thank you, headmistress," I
managed.
Any positive sentiments I had for Swales were short lived, however, once
I learned what punishment Melvin and I faced. One day a week, McNally
loaded Melvin and me into a van and took to Miss Dee's salon where we
were subjected to electrolysis treatments. For six weeks, we received a
series of painful pinprick shocks that permanently removed the hair on
our legs and underarms. "At least we won't have to shave anymore,"
Melvin offered up as we rode back to Gladden after one of our sessions.
This did not make me feel any better. I looked down at my smooth
hairless legs feeling miserable. "First, I lost any hope of ever going
back to Jefferson," I said glumly. "And now--even if I could convince my
aunt to take me out of Gladden and enroll me in the catholic school
system--going to Saint Raymond's is out of the question. I mean, even
though no one there would have heard about my time at gladden wearing a
skirt and panties, the minute I stripped down to change for gym class
everyone in the locker room would see these smooth hairless legs. That
means my only option is to resign myself to staying at Gladden."
"It won't be so bad," Melvin said. "You'll get used to it."
"That's just it. I don't want to get used to it."
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