Husband Wife and Schoolboys
- 4 years ago
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Back To School free porn video
BACK TO SCHOOL by Throne
Bobby couldn't believe what a terrible fix he was in. First he had
gotten into all sorts of trouble at the end of the previous school year.
Then he'd found out that he might be sent to juvenile detention, where he
would be victimized by bigger boys who were from rougher neighborhoods.
His only alternative had been to spend the vacation months with a willing
adult who would be responsible for him. His divorced mother, Amy, wasn't
up to that task, not after all the nasty stuff he'd done to her,
including trying to break up her relationship with her boyfriend Rick.
So he had been forced to accept spending the time with Mrs. Merton, who
had already saved several young men like himself from the ugly fate of
going to 'juvie'. Bobby's mom signed him over to her care. Amy even
seemed happy to do it.
The Summer had been horrible. Mrs. Merton declared on the first day that
the only way to save him was to squeeze all of that ugly maleness out of
him. He didn't understand until she locked up his suitcase with all his
clothes in it and showed him what he would be wearing instead. It was
all GIRL stuff. And not jeans and sweatshirts, like girls wore
sometimes, but really sissy stuff like blouses with ruffles down the
front, pleated skirts, patterned stockings, and even Mary Jane shoes.
Plus, there were items like short shorts and crop tops that would leave
lots of skin exposed.
She had been a harsh taskmistress, driving him to learn proper ladylike
posture, to walk correctly, and to speak just above a whisper, keeping
his voice high. She even thinned out his eyebrows to make them more
feminine and had him wear lip balm, which she said was so the sun
wouldn't hurt his lips, but he didn't believe that because she kept him
indoors most of the time. And toward the end of August she had switched
from clear balm to colored, so that it looked like he was wearing a hint
of lipstick.
He was utterly humiliated and horrified that someone he knew would see
him. At the same time, her relentless determination to treat him the way
she did, and make him look the way she insisted was necessary, had worn
him down. He still retained an undercurrent of defiance but anytime he
started to display it she simply reminded him that one word from her to
the authorities would send him directly to juvenile detention, and what
happened there wouldn't be pretty. So he reluctantly accepted his new
identity, dreading the first day of school. And now it had come.
"Mrs. Merton," he said, careful to keep his voice level and soft. "Isn't
there something else I can wear?"
"No, Barbie." The tall imperious woman, who wore dark clothes and wire
rimmed glasses, used that name to remind him of how he had been cut off
from boyish things. "There is not. If you attend classes the first day
looking less than fully like your reformed self, it could undo all my
good work."
He sighed and eyed the clothes laid out on his bed unhappily. Spread
over the peach colored spread were a pale green, sleeveless pullover top
with the word HAPPY spelled out in glitter across its chest, a pair of
cream colored slacks that were too tight, and running shoes that might
have been acceptable, except that they were pink, as were the short socks
that went with them. At least it wasn't a skirt and blouse. He stood
there in his girly pajamas, loose ones with short sleeves and legs, and
big fuzzy slippers on his feet. He smelled slightly of the perfumed soap
and shampoo she made him use, and his hair, which had been allowed to
grow all Summer, was cut in a pageboy.
He got out of the pajamas and looked down at his slender body. Lack of
exercise had robbed him of the limited muscle tone which he had achieved
before all this madness started. And the modest body hair he had
acquired was vanquished by depilatories. Worse, Mrs. Merton made him
wear panties, which pressed down his small genitals, so that he looked
even more like a girl. Bobby shuddered. At least her hold over him was
due to end in three months. He just had to hang on for that long and
then everything would be okay again.
He got out of the peach panties he was wearing and went to his white
dresser with pink trim. Atop it were a unicorn lamp, bottles of scent
that he was sure were meant for girls, doilies, and other unmanly items.
The mirror mounted to that piece of furniture showed him an image of
himself that he hated. He pulled the top of his panties away from his
soft tummy and checked to see that no new hairs had sprouted. Mrs.
Merton was very serious about that. He had earned himself one spanking
for neglecting to use his depilatory. The countless other punishments
delivered to his behind were for a myriad of offenses, some very real and
other judgements that he felt were not sufficient to earn him such
discipline. He slipped the previous day's panties down his smooth legs
and quickly opened the upper left drawer to see which ones were on top of
the pile, which would be the ones he was required to wear. Bobby felt
his cheeks grow warm as he saw that, for the first day of the new
semester, he would have on pink panties with tiny rainbows all over them.
He got into the awful panties and donned the rest of his horrid outfit.
He remembered to put a spray of cologne (except that he felt certain it
was perfume in that bottle on which the label was rather unisex) on the
sides of his neck and on his inner wrists. He bit his lower lip and
hoped desperately that he could get through this one day without any
major problems. His plan was to tell everyone that he was just going
along with this stupid program to stay out of jail and that he would be
his old self as soon as it was over. Sure. His circle of buddies
wouldn't let him down.
"Here's something special for you," Mrs. Merton said after he had
consumed breakfast. She had him on a diet that he was sure was designed
to keep him weak and underdeveloped. It wasn't bad enough that he was
short to begin with. Now he looked at the 'something special' she had
gotten him. She wanted him to tell her, "Isn't it nice?"
Nice? It was a plaid book bag in loud colors with a long shoulder strap.
He wanted his old rugged backpack. This was something only a girl would
carry, and then a very silly one. He checked his temper. No need to
make fresh difficulties for himself on such a pivotal day. Instead of
saying anything, he agreed that it was nice and politely thanked her.
Acting that way had gotten to be habit with him. But not for much
longer. He put the strap over his shoulder and headed toward the door,
telling himself over and over that he could manage whatever came up.
Before he got there she stopped him, musing out loud that he needed just
one more touch to complete his outfit. She was suddenly inspired and
left the room to get something. He stood there apprehensively, assuming
it wouldn't be good. What she came back with was a long flowing scarf of
some lightweight material. It was covered with swirls of loud colors.
She put it around his neck and knotted it over one shoulder, arranging it
to hang down the side of his narrow chest. He cringed at having to wear
it. Bobby had to bite his lips to prevent himself from saying something
that would get him into trouble.
As he started off to school he saw several girls walking along in a
cluster. They appeared less showy than him, in stylish jeans and simple
blouses. He shriveled up inside as they gaped at him and talked among
themselves. There was even some giggling, which he pretended to ignore.
He reached the school property and went up the long front walk feeling
like a convict going to his execution. Some guy, who he didn't
recognize, loudly asked one of his old buddies who the 'sissy' was.
Bobby was near enough to hear his supposed friend say that he was
'Barbie', a guy who had decided he wanted to be a girl. What? In a
daze, Bobby overheard several similar remarks and was able to piece
together that a story was circulating that said he wanted to look and act
the way he was being forced too, and even to be called Barbie.
As he entered the school one of the jocks bumped into him, hard, and
intentionally he was sure. Bobby stumbled and banged into the wall. The
bigger boy grabbed him by the arm.
"Be careful, Barbie doll," he said with a sneer. "I'm sure you bruise
easy."
As the guy steadied Bobby he squeezed his undeveloped bicep with an
unforgiving grip, making the feminized boy yelp. Several onlookers
laughed. Bobby saw that two of them were guys he knew and had been
depending on to take his side. He hurried away, resisting the urge to
rub his sore arm, and went straight to where the class assignments were
posted. That was when he got another disappointing shock. Somehow he
had been signed up for, along with the basic classes that everyone got, a
bunch of girl courses. Home Economics and Sewing and Cooking. He didn't
have any Metal Shop or Woodworking, which he had been looking forward to.
Maybe he could get it fixed later. Feeling worse than before, hanging
his head, he went sullenly toward his new homeroom. Then he remembered
all the effort Mrs. Merton had put into making him stand straight, and he
squared his shoulders. Somehow she might find out if he disregarded her
instructions, even though she wasn't there. He couldn't risk it, he told
himself. The specter of juvenile detention and what came along with it
still loomed large in his mind.
He got to his homeroom and sat near the back of the class. The teacher
was Mr. Klue, who he had nicknamed Mr. Clueless. It was an open secret
that Bobby was the one who had done that, but there was no substantial
proof that could be used against him. At least it was one thing that
hadn't gone against him. The teacher called for everyone's attention,
checked attendance, and said he had an announcement to make. The
students got very quiet, curious to learn what was so important, if it
was something of real consequence or just some faculty nonsense. Bobby
hoped it was something he could latch onto quietly and turn to his
advantage. He had always been clever that way. Except for getting
caught last year and now being in this wretched situation.
"We have a special student with us today. You used to know him as Bobby
but now he prefers to be addressed as Barbie. The school district has
very definite policies about gender identity and related issues, and it
is important that everyone treat Barbie the way she prefers." He looked
directly at Bobby and said, "Barbie, dear, would you please stand up?"
Clutching the plaid bag to his narrow chest, Bobby stood up, humiliated
beyond belief. He trembled as he was gawked at by every student in the
room. There was some stifled laughter, which the teacher appeared not to
hear.
Then Mr. Klue went on, "We will all respect her desire to be treated
every minute of every day as a girl." He paused for effect and the
added, "If we behaved otherwise it would seem like we were... clueless."
A murmur of amused reactions ran through the room but the teacher again
ignored it. Bobby was left standing for another quarter of a minute,
which seemed to him like five minutes. At last Mr. Klue told him to
retake his seat. Bobby sank down to what he hoped would be anonymity,
but he wasn't that lucky. Far from it.
One of the girl's, Nancy, who had a surprisingly adult bust, leaned
across the aisle and said, "You can hook up with me at lunchtime. I'll
help you fit in."
He nodded and gave a wispy 'thanks', aware that he was still speaking
like a girl. A very wimpy one. He sighed and then the bell rang for
first period. He checked the copy of his schedule that he had taken off
the bulletin board and saw with displeasure that it was Miss Renberg's
literature class. He had given her a nickname, too. Renbag. Kind of
dopey but he'd had fun doing it. Now he was afraid that she too knew its
source, that all the teachers would have at least that much, the ugly way
he had renamed them, to hold against him. When he got to the class and
was given his book, she made a point of calling on him first, being sure
to use his new name and to say it distinctly. There were plenty of
students who hadn't been in his homeroom and the process of being
eyeballed took place all over again.
When Miss Renberg, a pudgy middle-aged spinster, had him standing, she
asked him to turn to a certain page. It was a love poem and she
requested, politely but with a possible hint of nastiness that he was
sure he detected, to recite it. There were snickers from spots around
the room but, like the previous teacher, she acted as if she couldn't
hear them. He had to read the poem slowly, repeating the most romantic
passages, trying them different ways which she suggested, and by the end
having endured deep ignominy. When he was permitted to sit there was a
scattering of applause from around the room which, he noted miserably,
came in part from guys he had been optimistic about. With the teachers
and so many of the students already plainly against him, his status was
dropping fast.
Next came Home Economics, and the teacher there singled him out to come
to the front of the room to be taught crocheting. The rest of the
students were all female and they seemed to already know how to practice
that craft. Bobby struggled along, attempting to begin a scarf with
strips of bold colors. He kept messing up, especially because he was so
aware of being stared at. By the end of the class he was a perspiring
wreck. That one was followed by history and geography, with both
teachers subtly making him understand that they were there to make a
spectacle of him in front of his peers.
At last lunchtime arrived and he went to the cafeteria, hoping to start
over. Nancy, the busty girl, got hold of the strap of his bag and tugged
him along to her table, where she joined the group with which she
associated. Bobby recalled belatedly that they were the 'bad' girls. He
sat uneasily between two of them, who busied themselves fussing with his
hair, putting plastic barrettes on either side, and applying eye make-up.
He tried to protest but when Nancy pinched his inner thigh he settled
down at once. The others all ate but they didn't give him a chance to
get into the line for food. Nancy offered to go for him, took his lunch
money, and then seemed to forget her offer, more interested in fussing
with his scarf and getting him excited by the way she touched him, even
though she wasn't doing anything overtly sexual.
Near the end of the period she said she had something in her shoe and
asked Bobby to check it. He didn't know how he was supposed to do that,
with her feet under the table, until she told him. "Don't be a jerk,"
she said firmly. "Just get under there, take off my shoe, and see what's
in it."
He looked around and, as he had expected, many of the other students were
watching the scene he was in. He slowly sank below the table. As he
started to untie Nancy's shoe, she began to inch up the hem of her skirt.
He ogled her plump thighs and quivered from the nearness of all that
temptation. Bobby got the shoe off and turned it upside down, but
nothing came out. He whispered that information to her and she decided
that she must have been wrong, that it was the other shoe that contained
a problem. Flustered, feeling like an idiot, he started on the second
shoe. Up went her skirt, several more inches, and he was gazing
openmouthed at the crotch of her panties. He trembled uncontrollably.
Off came the other shoe, with the same negative result. When he told her
this time, she snapped at him to stay where he was because there was a
lunchroom monitor coming. That would be one of the teachers, he knew,
and could mean trouble for him, something that he absolutely didn't need.
Bobby cowered at the stocking clad feet of Nancy. She brought one up and
felt around blindly with her toes until they made contact with his chin.
Then she worked the foot so that its sole was against his face. He
breathed in the strong scent of her lower extremity, salty and tangy but
not entirely unpleasant, too fearful to move.
He heard Nancy say, "Hello, Mr. Klue. You got lunchroom monitor duty,
huh?"
"Sure did, Nancy. Everything all right here?"
There was a brief silence. Was she gesturing him to reveal Bobby's
location, to get him into deep trouble? Maybe to have the school contact
Mrs. Merton? His heart beat wildly.
"No," she answered at last. "Everything's okay. Have you seen Barbie
around?"
"I haven't," he told her. "Shouldn't she be here?"
Bobby hated hearing himself referred to with female pronouns. His back
was starting to feel the strain of being crouched down so low.
"I think she should. Hope the girl's all right. Me and my friends will
try to help her. I'm sure that being... whatever we should call her...
isn't easy."
"Nancy," the teacher said seriously. Bobby tensed, trying to breath
evenly despite the foot pressed hotly against his features.
"Yes, Mr. Klue?" she responded innocently.
"The correct way to say it is 'my friends and I'. Not 'me and my
friends'. Right?"
"I'm sure it is, Sir," she said respectfully. Bobby still thought there
was some kind of secondary communication going on, and that it would be
to his detriment, whatever it was. "Thank you, Mr. Klue."
"No, Nancy. Thank YOU. And I'm SO glad you and your friends will be
doing everything you can for Barbie." He split the name into two well-
separated syllables, as if taunting the boy hidden under the table.
"Take care now."
Nancy brought her other foot up, got one on either side of Bobby's head,
and rubbed her insoles repeatedly against his cheeks. When she at last
told him to get back up into his chair, his hair was mussed, his face
flushed, and the colored balm on his mouth in need of a retouch. She
made it clear that she was going to fix that last problem, producing from
her voluminous purse a tube of lipstick labelled Pretty in Plum. To
Bobby's dismay she applied it thickly to his lips, which she made him
pucker exaggeratedly. After she was done he worried that she had given
him a clown mouth. But when she showed him his reflection in her compact
mirror, his lips were dark and bright, but neatly done. His eyes, sadly
for him, were OVERdone, so that he would have to spend the whole
afternoon looking freakish. He considered cleaning up his face in the
lavatory -- Boys or Girls?-- but decided that if he did that he would
infuriate Nancy and suffer terrible reprisals.
The rest of the day went downhill, with many students making cruel
comments to him, one of the members of the football team using him to
demonstrate how to perform a tackle, doing it in slow motion, but still
with plenty of contact, which made Bobby blush furiously. Finally it
was over. His bag was now full of books, he was still wearing that
garish 'face paint', and there wasn't a single person to defend him. He
exited the building and turned toward Mrs. Merton's house when someone
called him. It was one of the girls from Nancy's group, Trina, who was
tall and athletic and wore her hair short. She had on jeans and a
sweatshirt with some professional team's logo across the front. Bobby
stopped walking, with a sinking sensation that he was about to endure
more disrespect and mistreatment.
"Hey," said Trina. "I saw that you didn't get any lunch. That's not
right." Some of the other girls from Nancy's crowd were gravitating
toward him, wearing mischievous expressions. "So we'll have to do
something about that. Won't we?"
He cleared his throat delicately and said, "Uh... yes?"
"Right. Now the guys from the football team are always eating protein,
you know, to get strong and build muscles and all that crap. Like
yogurt, because it's so healthy. So I'll bet if we asked them, they'd
have some protein to share with you. Some yogurt. You know, because you
missed lunch and like that."
He felt sick and said that he wasn't hungry but she turned a deaf ear to
his words. Instead, with more of the group from Nancy's table gathering,
including Nancy herself, they steered him toward the athletic field where
the football team was about to start practicing. Bobby wanted to break
away and run but knew it was hopeless. He resigned himself to more poor
treatment, lots of teasing, and maybe even being pushed around some. But
he steeled himself and decided he could take it. What more than that
could the athletic guys do to him?
At the field he was confronted by Flash and Tank, who were the team's
quarterback and top receiver. Nearby he saw Butch, the lineman who had
intentionally banged into him that morning. All of them were bigger,
stronger and faster than him. The first two players hooked their arms
through his and walked him to the bleachers, taking him behind them where
they would all be hidden from sight. Trina explained to the guys and
Nancy and the other late arrivals about Bobby's need for protein.
"I'm sure he's really hungry," she said with a devilish sneer. "No
matter how much yogurt you feed him it won't be enough."
Butch had gotten close enough to listen in and he came forward to grab he
back of Bobby's neck and hold him in a viselike grip. The hulking player
said, "We wouldn't want to see Barbie go hungry. I'm sure that Flash and
Tank and me could make her feel a lot better. With, like you said,
yogurt. I've got a big tube of it with me right now. And I'm sure the
other guys each have one. How about if you girls give us some time alone
with our new friend?"
"Sure. Just make sure he gets plenty of yogurt. We don't want her to
get an upset stomach, so be sure it's not that flavored kind. Just plain
white yogurt."
"And not cold," Nancy chimed in. "That might upset her system, too.
Make sure it's, oh, I don't know... body temperature."
As the girls strolled away, gabbing and laughing, Bobby got a disturbing
feeling that what had been said had two meanings. The three big studs
had him penned in, Butch still maintaining that crushing hold on his
neck.
Bobby's eyes pleaded for mercy but he didn't expect any. Someone
mentioned how tight his slacks were. Another one said how pretty his
hair looked. The third made a suggestive comment about his lipstick.
Then they were all talking about his attention getting plum-colored
mouth.
Half an hour later the three football players emerged from under the
bleachers. The spotted Nancy and her group and went to them.
"That was really something," said Flash. "The wimp sissy got all scared
and started confessing to lots of crap she did when she was still Bobby.
Including getting her hands on our playbook and sharing it with somebody
from Allman High, which explains why it was so hard for us to beat them
last year. And she owned up to messing with stuff in the chemistry lab,
the art room, and just about everywhere else. If somebody leaked all
that news, our little yogurt sucker's ass would be doomed."
"Well then," said Nancy, "we'll all have to be careful not blab a word to
anyone."
"Right," agreed Trish. "Not to the teachers or the other students."
"Or our coach," Butch added. "Coach Cleat would be really steamed if he
found out about that playbook."
"Damn right," agreed Tank.
Just then Bobby came staggering out from concealment. He was disheveled,
with a nauseated expression on his made-up face, lipstick badly smeared.
His bag was on the ground and he dragged it by the long shoulder strap.
As he neared the group, Nancy laughed at him.
She mentioned, "Honey, you've got some yogurt in the corner of your
mouth."
"You do," said Trisha. "And more under your nose. More of that sticky
messy yogurt."
"But don't worry," Nancy went on. "Us girls will be looking out for you.
I was thinking we could loan you out to the gals at the vocational
school, the ones in the beautician classes. I'm sure they'd be thrilled
to have such a pretty volunteer every Saturday for the entire afternoon,
and they could make you even more attractive. You know, to guys."
Bobby blanched but by then he was so defeated that he just nodded in
agreement. Flash said that Barbie was the team's new good luck charm and
had to be at practice every day. And that all the players would make
sure she got lots of healthy yogurt to eat. Nancy said that she and her
friends would look after him in the cafeteria, and handle his lunch money
so no one could steal it. Butch had the brainstorm that Barbie could
even be the team mascot, wearing a sexy kitten costume, performing at pep
rallies, and wearing that outfit to classes on game days.
With his head spinning, Bobby couldn't stop thinking about how much more
terrible his life had gotten in just one day. He would still be living
with Mrs. Merton, school would be a daily nightmare, the beauty course
girls (who were notorious sluts ) would own him every Saturday, and the
football team, well, he didn't want to even think about them. Nancy gave
his rump a pat and told him she and her friends would walk him home.
"We want to make sure you're with somebody all the time. Never alone.
That way you'll be safe while you get used to being a girl. It's real
good that you're getting in touch with your feminine side, like they say.
I'm sure you'll be totally girly, 24/7, especially with everyone -- and I
do mean EVERY-one -- helping out. You'll be able to wear skirts and
dresses and everything to school It'll be so much fun for you, Barbie
girl. Right?"
Still feeling unsteady and like he might throw up, Bobby tried not to
break down and cry. He said, "Yes, Nancy." And then, just to be safe,
"Thank you, Nancy."
"Don't thank me. Or us. We're happy to do everything we can to you. I
mean, for you."
"And one other thing," Tricia said. "I found out that if you get into
any trouble, you won't be allowed to leave Mrs. Merton in three months.
You'll have to stay with her for the entire year. So we'll all be sure
to not let you do anything wrong. Or mention all that stuff that you
confessed to under the bleachers. Because we sure wouldn't want you to
get stuck at Mrs. Merton's for an extra nine months. We sure wouldn't."
He swayed slightly, feeling faint, and responded in a wispy voice, "Thank
you, Tricia. Thank you very much."
"No problem, Princess Barbie. That's what friends are for."
*********
(If you like this one, you might also enjoy my story DEVLIN from 2013.)
Lianne
- 09.04.2020
- 7
- 0
