Eric Olafson Midshipman Vol 4 Part 78 NEWPORT ACADEMY
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St. Searle's Academy: The New Class - Part 2 free porn video
When the Federal Witness Protection Program placed mobster Salvatore 'Big
Sal' Buscemi in an all-girl private school he never dreamed he was about
to become one of the girls.
ST. SEARLE'S ACADEMY: THE NEW CLASS - part 2
by BobH
(c) 2017
- 3 -
"It's Virginia Chapford!" said Sal, not quite believing what she was
seeing. "The headmistress in these school photos all the way back to
earliest ones taken in Victorian times is Virginia Chapford. And she
hasn't aged a day!"
"Welcome to the biggest mystery of St. Searle's Academy for Young Ladies:
our headmistress herself," said Kathy Cardinelli. "Not only don't we know
why she hit thirty and stopped aging, but she doesn't either."
"Really? You're sure?"
"Positive. She let it slip during a conversation years ago with the then
head girl. It's one of those bits of information that gets passed down."
"*Head* girl?!" said Sal.
Kathy laughed.
"It's what the English call the head of the school prefects in one of
their girls schools, a prefect being something like our hall monitors
only with more power. But yeah, it is a funny title, particularly since
most of our head girls probably *have* loved orally pleasuring their
girlfriends."
Sal had always frowned on any lesbianism that wasn't two hot chicks
getting it on for guys. Now she wasn't a guy anymore she would have to
reconsider that position.
"Does much of that sort of thing go on here?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. A lot of pussy is getting eaten at St.
Searle's."
"Makes sense, I suppose," mused Sal. "We all used to be men and I'm
guessing most of us were straight, so of course we're still attracted to
girls."
"It's not quite as simple as that, I'm afraid."
"What do you mean?"
"I think I'd better leave that until the orientation talk you first years
will be getting tomorrow morning. Now come on; I'm supposed to be taking
you to your room."
They proceeded to the main lobby, receiving curious looks from passing
girls who recognised Sal as a new arrival. This made her very
uncomfortable and, to her horror, she started to blush. She might be
female now but this was the first time she had ever worn a skirt. She
felt like a man forced to wear drag and it was humiliating, despite
everyone here being in the same boat.
Reaching the lobby they climbed the impressive staircase to the first
landing. There were more stairs leading to the next level but it was here
they stopped.
"In plan the school is basically a giant letter 'E' with the three legs
at the rear and garages attached to both ends, one for cars and one for
the school bus. At ground floor level most of the rooms are classrooms.
At this level and the one above they're residential. The doors directly
in front of us lead to the middle leg of the 'E', which is both longer
and wider than the two outer legs, the east and west wings. On this level
it houses the library. On the level above it contains the apartments
where the teachers live, the doors to which pupils are strictly forbidden
to pass through without permission. Both of these sit directly over the
Great Hall at ground level, which is where we all eat. The corridor to
our right leads to the east wing. The rooms off both sides of that
corridor and in the east wing itself were occupied by those of us who
were first years last year and are now second years. The corridor to our
left leads to the west wing. The rooms off both sides of that corridor
and in the west wing itself were occupied by those who were second years
last year. Now that they're third years they've moved upstairs to the
second floor, releasing those rooms to you new first years. Third years
and fourth years live on the second floor. Now for your room."
The room was larger than Sal had expected, certainly larger than the dorm
room her daughter had in college. It contained two beds, two desks, and
two closets, with a chest of drawers beside each bed. Both had a clock
and a night lamp on top, and one a plate of sandwiches. Sal looked at
Kathy questioningly.
"I'll be sharing with someone?"
"Probably. Everyone does. At the moment you have the room to yourself,
but if Flash brings us anyone else before Monday they'll be your roomie."
Kathy showed her around. First she turned and pointed to a speaker
mounted above the door.
"For announcements and your morning wake-up call," she said.
"Believe me, there's no way you sleep through it."
Next she went to the desk. On it were a laptop and a hairbrush, on the
wall behind it a mirror.
"Your desk doubles as a dressing table," she said. "Having been men
before, most of us don't have experience of managing and maintaining long
hair. You'll find a tutorial on your laptop, along with the school rule
book. Read and internalise both of these before you retire tonight.
You'll use the laptop during lessons and for recreational web-surfing, of
course. What you won't use it for is contacting anyone you knew in your
previous life."
She opened the closet.
"Hanging in here you'll find a bath robe, winter coat, raincoat, and your
school blazer with the school badge on the breast pocket. We only usually
wear the blazer when outside the school or for special assemblies in the
Great Hall. On the floor you'll see a spare pair of your regular shoes
and also sneakers. The sneakers are only to be worn for sporting
activities"
Next came the chest of drawers. Kathy opened each drawer in turn to
display its contents.
"Several sets of underwear, shirts, socks, etcetera," she said, "and also
your sporting kit, which is basically a pair of shorts and a T-shirt with
the school badge sewn on it. Again, these are only to be worn during
sporting activities. At all other times you wear your school uniform.
Drop dirty clothing down the laundry chute on the landing located next to
the communal bathroom. Your drawers will then be restocked with clothing
while you're in class."
"Who does the cleaning, house-elves?" asked Sal, remembering those movies
she'd taken her daughter Carmela to see as a child.
"No, this isn't Hogwarts. There's a laundry in the basement, which is
also the level where the kitchens are located. There are staff who take
care of that sort of thing, though you're reposible for keeping your own
room spick and span. Right, now sit down at your desk and I'll braid your
hair for you. Watch carefully because from tomorrow you'll be doing it
yourself."
Sal did as she was told, sitting patiently as Kathy used the brush to
centre-part her hair before proceeding to braid both sides into a
pigtail, When finished, she tied a bow around each end using the ribbons
Miss Chapford had given her.
"What do you think?" asked Kathy when she was done.
Sal stared at the mirror in front of her.
"I hate it," she said, "but it doesn't matter what I think, does it?"
"No it doesn't. That's a hard thing to accept at first, but it's
something we all have to learn to do. They know from long experience you
need time alone when you first get here so they don't expect you to go
down to dinner, hence the sandwiches. Alright, that's the end of my
duties as a greeter for today. Good luck, Lucy."
And with that she slipped out of the room.
Finally, Sal was alone. Talking to Kathy, trying to figure this place
out, she had been able to put off fully facing
what had been done to her. Now there were no such distractions. She sat
down on the bed, turning her hands over and over in her lap, not
recognising them. Your body should not be unfamiliar to you but hers now
was. Sal had been male for forty-six years and a girl for twenty minutes.
Her hands began to tremble, delayed shock setting in.
"Goddarn it!" she spat, hugging herself tightly and rocking back and
forth.
She was not going to have a breakdown over this, not going to dissolve
into tears, no way was that happening. She took a series of deep breaths,
slowly bringing it under control. Getting to her feet, she slipped out of
her clothes. Then, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the floor, she strode
over to the full length mirror on her closet door. She took a deep breath
and raised her eyes, determined to face her new reality head on. Which
she did.
For someone supposedly fourteen years old she was awfully small and could
easily pass for a thirteen or even a twelve year old. She studied her
reflection in minute detail from all angles, exploring every inch of her
transformed body, bending, stretching and marvelling at how supple she
was. She bent at the waist and touched her toes, something she had never
been able to do before. Sal Buscemi had been fat even as a kid and such a
feat had always been beyond him. Yet for all she had obviously gained
physically it still felt wrong to be younger than her own daughter.
Sal Buscemi. Staring at her reflection it was clear she wasn't him
anymore. And if Miss Chapford was to be believed, she never would be
again. So it was pointless even thinking of herself as 'Sal'. That was
just self-denial and would ultimately probably do her more harm than
good. No, she was Lucy Costello now. She needed to accept that fact.
"Lucy," she said, saying the name for the first time, "Lucy Costello."
Lucy donned her bathrobe and collected her sandwiches. Sitting down at
her desk, she bit into a sandwich and opened her laptop. Time to check
out the school rule book. Usefully, the first thing that appeared on the
screen when she opened the file was a map of the school and its grounds.
The lacrosse and hockey fields she had seen on her drive up to the
school, but she hadn't realised the grounds stretched so far behind it.
There was a lake, stables, a sports hall, tennis courts, and a swimming
pool. There was room enough for a golf course, but the school didn't
appear to have one. They probably considered the game 'unladylike'.
The second page was a listing of school teachers alongside their mugshots
and the subject or subjects they taught. All of them were female save for
John Thompson, who was listed as both 'Self-Defense Instructor' and
'Weapons Master'. That last was an intriguing title, though all it
probably meant was that he was in charge of archery lessons. Still, nice
to see Flash was more than just a glorified chauffeur. The female
teachers ranged in age from early-twenties to mid-sixties, and all of
them were fine-looking women. Was it possible, Lucy wondered? Could all
the teachers at St. Searle's be former pupils? It would certainly make
sense in terms of keeping what went on here a secret. Could the cleaning
staff be ex-pupils, too? Not everyone who passed through here was going
to be bright enough to make the most of the opportunity after all, so it
was certainly possible some had then been offered those jobs. If this was
the case, it would mean the only person in the whole place who had
actually been born female was the headmistress.
The third page was a surprise. It contained Lucy's new biography. She was
not pleased to discover the full name she'd been given: Lucinda May
Costello. Her birthday - presumably chosen at random - was in June, and
she was born and grew up in Portland, Oregon, a place she had never
actually set foot in. Predictably, there was a whole file of stuff on
Portland and the Pacific northwest she was expected to memorize.
On the fourth page were the school rules, and beyond that associated
information she had to learn. By the time she had done so, and had
assimilated all the stuff on Portland, it was time to turn in. She had
been supplied with a night dress but Lucy had always slept in the buff so
she slipped between the sheets and, exhausted by the events of the day,
was soon sound asleep.
- 4 -
When she was woken by the klaxon sound emitting from the speaker over her
door, Lucy groggily sat up and reached down to scratch her scrotum.
Startled to full wakefulness by the absence of her penis, she let out a
low groan and buried her head in her hands. So it hadn't been a dream.
She really was a girl now.
"All first years to report to the main lobby in your sports gear in ten
minutes. Tie your hair back with a ribbon before doing so. You are not
required to braid it until you return."
Lucy glanced at her bedside clock then glared at the speaker.
Six-forty am? She never rose before ten. Grudgingly, she dressed then
made her way down to the lobby, where a lot of other young girls with
their hair tied back were assembled. Facing them was a formidable-looking
middle-aged woman holding a clipboard and wearing a track suit, a whistle
on a cord around her neck. Lucy recognised her from her photo as Jane
Kraski, the sports mistress. As Sal, Lucy had once opined that all female
sports coaches looked like hard-faced dykes. Not at St. Searle's. No,
though more heavily built Miss Kraski bore a striking resemblance to
Charlize Theron. It was ridiculous how attractive everyone here was.
"Good of you to finally join us, Miss Costello," she said, ticking Lucy's
name off on the clipboard as she took her place with the others. "Right,
now we're all here we can begin. You've all read the school rule book so
you all know who I am. Good morning, girls."
This was greeted with a few mumbled 'good mornings' in reply.
"No, that won't do. I expect a full-throated response. Let's try again.
Good morning, girls."
"Good morning, Miss Kraski!" they chorused in response, compelled to do
whatever a teacher requested of them.
"That's better. Now I'll shortly be taking you for your morning run, but
before we get to that I need to give you your orientation talk."
Morning run? Was this something they'd be expected to do *every* morning
before breakfast? Lucy groaned inwardly at the prospect.
"Though we refer to this as an orientation," began Miss Kraski, "it's
more accurately the new 'birds and the bees' talk you now need. After
your transformations you each found a set of clothing waiting for you.
Some of you may have wondered how we knew your correct size beforehand.
There's no great secret to this; you're all the same size."
This caused a murmur of surprise, with girls looking at those around them
to confirm the truth of this.
"You won't stay that way, however. As you grow some of you will get much
curvier with larger - in some cases much larger - breasts. Others won't.
Some of you will develop into the tall, leggy, small-breasted young women
favoured by the modelling industry. Indeed, half the top fashion models
in the country were once pupils here, whatever their official biographies
might say. Another change that will happen is you will become attracted
to boys."
"No way!" said someone.
"I'm afraid so. While those who created the figurine did so at a time
when consent wasn't something they worried about, it's obviously better
to have females who have the potential to become willing sexual partners.
The speed at which that attraction develops is different for everyone,
but it *is* everyone. Which is why here at St. Searle's we strive to turn
you into young ladies and make you ideal potential wives. In fact once
upon a time, when such things were more fashionable and women's options
more limited, the school operated a marriage bureau."
There was a lot of uneasy murmuring at these revelations. Lucy's heart
was racing, and she felt faint. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't.
The idea that she would ever willingly have sex with a man, let alone
marry one, filled her with revulsion.
"However," continued Miss Kraski, "it's not as if you forget what it was
like being a man and being attracted to women. When no males are
available, every girl here is happy to have sex with other females. So in
that sense everyone at the school is bisexual."
That was something, at least. It also explained all the 'eating of pussy'
that Kathy Cardinelli had claimed went on here.
"You will all have monthly appointments with the school nurse, who as
well as checking your general health will take your measurements as you
grow. You will be issued larger clothing as necessary. In the event of
injury or illness requiring more treatment than is available at the
school you will be taken to a clinic a few miles from here secretly owned
by the school and staffed exclusively by doctors who are ex-pupils.
Something you may not have noticed is that none of you has any city or
regional accents anymore. There's no such thing as unaccented English,
but you all now speak with as close to a generic American accent as it's
possible to get. Why does the figurine level out accents like that? We
don't know, but from the school's point of view this is extremely useful
in that it makes it even harder for any of you to figure out where the
others are from and who they may have been in their earlier lives. Now,
as well as making up their own beds and tidying their rooms, first years
are also required to perform that service for fourth years - being spared
that task is one of their privileges. So as soon as we get back from our
run you will shower, put your uniforms on, return here to the lobby, and
be assigned a fourth year room that will be your responsibility for the
next twelve months. Last one back here gets the room of the pair known to
be the untidiest. Alright, everyone outside. When I blow my whistle fall
in behind me. We'll be jogging around the perimeter of the estate."
Lucy didn't like the sound of that. From what she could tell
the estate was about a mile across, which meant the perimeter would be in
the order of three miles or so. She hoped they were doing no more than
one circuit of it.
It was only 7am but it was early Fall, so while the sun was up it was
still a little chilly as they assembled outside. Miss Kraski blew her
whistle and they set off on their run. A redhead fell in beside Lucy.
"Hi, I'm Meghan Delaney," she said. "I got in the day before you did.
Even though classes don't start 'til tomorrow, most of the other first
years had been here a week or two by then so they'd already started to
form cliques."
"Lucy Costello," said Lucy, holding her hand out as they jogged. Having
not met any of the other first years yet she had no idea whether or not
this Meghan Delaney was someone it would be useful to know, but you had
to start somewhere.
"So I see Kathy Cardinelli was your greeter, too," said the other girl.
"Uh huh. Seems nice."
Oh, she is. Probably why they gave her the job. A year ago she was in the
same position we're in now, probably just as resentful about it too. I
mean, what gives them the right to do this to us, anyway?"
"Power," said Lucy. "They can, so they do. That's how the world works.
That's how it's always worked."
"I suppose," said Meghan, shrugging. "Anyway, if Kathy was as resentful
as us a year ago, she's certainly started to embrace it now."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I got in really late my first day, I got to see her twice. The
second time there was something different about her. It took me a few
seconds to realise what."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"And?" said Lucy, irritably. "What was it?"
"She had plucked her eyebrows. Apparently you're allowed to do that when
you're a second year. 'Allowed' you'll note; it's not compulsory. Can you
imagine doing that to yourself?"
"Fudge, no," said Lucy, with feeling.
"Me neither. A year from now we may - heck we almost certainly *will* -
feel different. I also got talking to her about music and she started
gushing about this boy band I'd never heard of whose pictures she has all
over the wall in her room. When she mentioned their lead singer she
smiled and sighed and stared dreamily into space. Not much doubt there
as to what she fantasizes about when she's alone in her bed, don't you
think?"
They were both silent for a long time after that.
As their run progressed, Lucy estimated the number of first years at
something over thirty. Assuming similar numbers in the other years that
made for around one hundred and twenty pupils. Small, but possibly not
too unusual for a private academy like St. Searle's.
To Lucy's surprise she found exercising exhilarating. As a fat child and
an even fatter adult she had never seen the appeal, but with younger
limbs and being skinny for the first time in her life she felt almost as
if she was floating so effortless did it seem. The fact that they were
doing a circuit of the estate was also useful since it enabled her to get
the lay of the land. A map was one thing, but seeing what things looked
like and how they related to each other on the ground was important, too.
It was a beautiful estate, there was no denying, with plenty of trees and
well tended flower beds, lawns, and sports fields. At one point a couple
of fourth years in full riding gear galloped by on horses, clearly
enjoying themselves.
At the end of the run, panting and sweating, they made their way to the
communal showers on their floor of the school. Lucy was self-conscious
about being among all these naked teenage girls despite now being one and
tried to avert her eyes as much as possible. That this was something she
was going to have to get over became clear when it resulted in her taking
longer than everyone else. She was the last to exit the showers, the last
back to her room to braid her hair and get dressed, and so the last down
to the lobby where Miss Kraski awaited her, frowning over her clipboard.
"Last again, Costello," she said, handing her two keys to add to the ring
holding the key to her own room. "Rooms 223 and 224, Shondra Prentis and
Laura Cole. Hop to it."
*Two* rooms," thought Lucy, as she reluctantly climbed the stairs to the
second floor. That didn't seem fair. Then again, she'd always believed in
never giving a sucker an even break. In allowing herself to be last down
she was the sucker, so she deserved this. Oh well, it was early days yet.
She would learn from her mistakes.
When she knocked on the door of 223 it was answered by a vision of
loveliness who took Lucy's breath away. Tall, black,
stunning, she was dressed in the school uniform but it looked so much
sexier on her. It wasn't just the addition of heels and dark pantihose
either, but the way it hung on that curvacious body, the tiny skirt
accentuating her long, shapely legs.
"Ah, you must be our maid for the year," she said, smiling as she opened
the door wide. "I'm Shondra Prentis."
"L..Lucy Costello," croaked Lucy.
"I remember having to do this when Laura and I were first years," she
said. "We resented it then, but when you're the ones getting maid service
it doesn't seem so bad, as I'm sure you'll discover yourself in a few
years time."
The room's other occupant - a brunette - was sitting at a dressing table,
finishing up her make-up, a cigarette smouldering in an ashtray amid a
large array of cosmetics.
"Laura Cole," she said, not looking around as she applied her eye-liner,
"glad to finally have you here to tidy up for us, squirt."
Her make-up done, she nodded in approval at her reflection and stood up.
"All done," she said, taking a last drag on her cigarette before stubbing
it out. "Time for breakfast, babe."
She headed for the door, giving Shondra's ass a squeeze, and the pair
left the room hand-in-hand, giggling as they made their way to the
stairs. Lucy watched them go, listening to
the tapping of their heels on the wooden floor slowly recede, sighing
wistfully when they were out of sight. Was that what the future held for
her, she wondered? Would she become as giggly as that pair, who clearly
revelled in their femininity? It didn't seem possible.
The room was certainly untidy, with discarded shoes, underwear, and
hosiery everywhere. To Lucy's surprise it held not two single beds but a
double one. Nor was that the only surprise it had in store for her. When
she checked out the closets they contained not just the same school
clothing Lucy's did but also an array of expensive looking dresses, and
lots of shoes, most of them high heels. Lucy opened a box on one of the
dressing tables and her eyes went wide. In it was money. A *lot* of
money. She counted it. Ten grand. How on earth had two schoolgirls
managed to accumulate such a sum? The answer lay in the room next door.
After Lucy had made up the bed, put everything away, and dropped dirty
clothing down the laundry chute, she locked the door behind her and went
into 224. This too had a double bed, one surrounded by scarlet wall
drapes. On a tripod, pointing at the bed was a small video camera and
several lights on stands. Behind the camera were dressing tables
containing a number of wigs, a lot of make-up including what appeared to
be facial prosthetics of the sort designed to change your appearance, and
a variety of sex toys. Hanging from a rack adjacent to the dressing
tables were a lot of different costumes, including some serious S&M gear.
This explained the money.
Shondra and Laura were running an online sex show business!
This was incredible. Did the school know about it or not, Lucy wondered,
realizing as she did so what the answer must be. They had to know, which
meant St. Searle's wasn't the sort of school she had assumed it was.
No, it wasn't that sort of school at all.
**********************
To be continued....
**********************
Note:
We shift focus next time when the school acquires two new pupils who
become twin sisters.
Haven
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