Annie's Birthday

by Sarah Bayen

 

I heard the lock on the door turn, and froze. There were only two possibilities as to who it might be, and neither of them were good news for me. It could either be one of the teachers getting the changing rooms ready for an afternoon lesson, or it was the girls returning to do some other mischief to me.

Getting to my feet, although still unsteady in the calf length boots I was wearing, I shuffled around to the rear of the room, where a few discarded coats, and a projecting wall more or less hid me from the door. My mouth went dry. If it was a teacher, how was I going to explain my presence here in the girls' changing rooms? I pressed my back against the wall, and tried to disappear. A teacher might just believe I was a girl, dressed as I was, but it was still going to be difficult to explain how I had come to get myself locked in here during lessons.

The return of the five girls who had put me in here was no more welcome. I had, for an instant, been flattered by the attentions of girls from the sixth form, goddesses to me at the age of fourteen. Tall, sophisticated, and oozing with sexuality that both magnetised, and shouted 'untouchable'. That feeling of flattery had soon disappeared however, as they had proceeded to drag me to these changing rooms, strip me, and then redress me in a girl's school uniform.

I had tried to ask them why, but they had just told me to shut up; or not to worry my pretty little head about it, as one of them had teasingly said, applying lipstick to my mouth as she did so. Thinking of that, I could taste the vaguely strawberry flavour of it as I bit my lip, waiting for the door to open. There seemed no sense to it; why would a group of girls snatch me, as I walked innocently along the school corridors towards my French class, and do this to me?

I breathed deeply as the sound of the key turning continued, and closed my eyes. As my ribs expanded, I felt a constriction around my chest arising from the bra they had made me wear. I had never worn a bra before, and it felt odd, and uncomfortable. Then the door opened. I would soon know who was going to come in and discover me and my shame.

It was the five girls. I recognised their voices, as a loud shout pierced the silence of the changing rooms. "There you go Annie," it said. "Your birthday present's in there. Hope you enjoy it! We'll be back for you in an hour or so!"

There was a cackle of laughter, and then the slamming of the door as it was closed again, followed by the clicking of the lock.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I heard a new voice shout. "Let me out of here you idiots! What sort of birthday present is it to lock me up in the bloody changing rooms?"

I heard the pounding of fists on the door. I empathised with their latest victim a little, because I too, had tried to knock the door open, although I had stopped quite quickly, realising that if I did draw any attention to myself, then I would be seen wearing the girls' uniform they had put on me.

The new victim, by the sound of the voice a girl, shouted and banged a few more times, and then growled and stamped her foot in frustration. I pressed myself even more firmly against the wall to hide, and tried to breath silently. My calves were aching from the unfamiliarity of the heels on my boots, and the odd angle they made me stand at. All I had to do, I reasoned, was stay quiet and still here for the hour or so my tormentors had mentioned, and I would be free. This new girl would never know I was there if I was lucky, and I was determined to be lucky for once.

I heard her pacing back and forth, and cursing occasionally. I wished she'd just sit down somewhere. The longer she kept up her wanderings, the more likely she was to see me, hiding there at the back of the room. I felt an itch on my face. The hair from my wig was brushing against my cheek. I could see a loose strand of the blonde nylon out of the corner of my eye. I hated the wig. When they had got it out to put it on me, I thought it looked like a ball of candyfloss. As silently as I could, I lifted one hand from behind my back to push it back behind my ears. My knees nearly gave way as I shifted position to free my hand, and immediately I grimaced as the pins and needles of my newly freed limb kicked in. Damn, I should never have leant back on it so hard. But that was the way I was managing to balance in those boots, by leaning my weight backwards into the wall.

I heard the girl muttering to herself, with a fair sprinkling of expletives. She was obviously no more impressed by her friends' antics than I was. I placed my hand behind my buttocks again, and pressed back against the wall to relieve the stress on my calves. I was beginning to have serious doubts about whether I could stand like this for an hour, and looked furtively around, wondering if there was anywhere I could sit down, and still be hidden.

My bum slipped a little, and the elastic on the leg of the pair of knickers they had made me put on bit into my groin. I grimaced from the pain, and tried to shuffle myself back into a different position. This only made it worse. I exhaled too loudly to alleviate the feeling, and then immediately stopped my shuffling. What if she had heard me? I stood there silent, and in agony, waiting for some response from the girl I could not see. After a few seconds, when there was none, I relaxed a little.

There was some more mutterings from the girl, and another bout of thumping on the door. "Bugger them!" she shouted, and then was silent. There were no footfalls, and no more muttering. Perhaps she had, at last, decided to sit down, resigned to her fate. My calves were really aching now. I opened my eyes, and looked down to see if it would be possible to lift one of my feet, just for a second, to relieve the pain. Leaning backwards against the wall, all I could see was the unfamiliar sight of the blue angora jumper they had put on me, and the two mounds of breasts they had created by padding out my bra. Deciding to risk it, I lifted one foot backwards. The relief this created was wonderful, and I let out a sigh.

"Who's that?" My mouth went dry once more. How could I have been so stupid? I had given myself away. "Is somebody there?"

I closed my eyes, and froze. Perhaps if I made no more sounds I would be all right. The last thing I wanted at that moment was for this strange girl to find me, and see me in this stupid little skirt. She had stood up, because I could hear the slow clack of her shoes on the tiled floor. Oh God, she was bound to find me now.

"Must be imagining it," she muttered. "Sod this, I might as well have a piss."

The relief I was about to feel about her assuming she had imagined my sigh was strangled at birth. The door to the toilets was only five yards away to my right. I was hiding down the last row of racks, but would clearly be visible if she went there. I felt my cheeks burning, and dared not look as she clacked across the floor, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her swan through to the toilet and shower area. A door opened and closed, and I heard the unmistakable sounds of urination.

What was I to do? I had been lucky when she been on the way in, because no doubt she had been looking straight ahead. When she came out, she would not be so preoccupied, and would almost certainly see me. I decided the best thing to do was to walk up this last row, and into the penultimate one. That way, the discarded coats and things that hung on the last rack would still hide me from her new angle.

Tilting my weight forward, I lifted myself off the wall. My legs ached furiously, and the pins and needles returned in both hands. I didn't have much time. The gush of her wee was diminishing now. She would soon flush the chain, wash her hands, and come back through. I forced my legs into motion, unsteady on the heels, and cursed the quiet click they made on the floor. Perhaps she wouldn't hear me. She was still making enough noise of her own.

The chain flushed, and I heard the door of the cubicle being thrown open as she stepped out. I had nearly reached the end of the rack. Would she be able to see me through the archway while she washed her hands? I cursed myself for not checking the layout before, but, even dressed as I was, it had seemed kinky to check out the girls' toilets.

She was being quicker than I had thought, and I was being slower. Thinking quickly, I decided to return to my original hiding place, as I heard her turn a tap to wash her hands. Turning gingerly, because of the heels, I felt the tights I was wearing slip across my thighs. She was muttering to herself again, cursing her friends for ruining her birthday. I had more or less completed my 180-degree manoeuvre, when my left ankle gave way. As a reflex, I held out my left hand, and as I stumbled, it clattered against the metal grill of the rack, setting off a sound that, to me, was as loud as a church bell.

"Who the hell is that?" I heard from the toilets, as I struggled to get my feet back under me. The game was up now, as I heard her feet clacking towards me. She appeared, framed by the tiled archway, and glared at me in surprise.

"Who are you?" she demanded. I felt the blood rushing to my face, as I regained my balance. "What are you doing here?"

Slowly I turned again to face her. She was going to laugh at me as the other five girls had done, ridiculing me for wearing the girls' school uniform, even though I had hardly put it on out of choice. Then I saw her, and recognised her immediately. It was Annie, Annie Langsbourne. She caught the same bus as me to school, and was, to my mind, absolutely gorgeous. Three years older than me, and an inch or two taller, she was a vision of beauty for me every morning. She had even spoken to me a couple of days earlier, as we had waited for the bus. I couldn't remember what she had said, I had spent the entire conversation gazing wistfully at her face, and her hair, and her body.

"Are you all right?" she asked me, with concern replacing surprise on her face. I nodded, waiting for the gales of laughter that would come with recognition. "God, you gave me a fright! Have you been hiding there all the time?"

My mouth was as dry as the bottom of a budgie's cage, and although I opened and closed it, no sounds would come out. Eventually I managed a cursory nod, which made the hair on my wig bounce stupidly around my face and shoulders. Oh God, if I recognised her, she was bound to recognise me! I was going to be humiliated in front of Annie Langsbourne, the most beautiful girl in the school.

"You do know we're locked in?" she asked, walking into the main body of the room. "My mates shoved me in here and locked the door!" I nodded again, and wished that the tiles on the floor would part to enable the ground to swallow me up. "And it's my birthday too! Some bloody birthday present they've given me."

"I'm sorry," I managed to whisper hoarsely. She looked at me curiously, and I immediately regretted my apology. In exactly what way was I to blame? Tilting her head to one side she shrugged.

"Well it's not your fault." She studied me for a moment. "Do I know you?" she asked.

Blood flooded my cheeks again, as I rapidly shook my head, causing my unfamiliar blonde tresses to shake around again. "No, I'm new," I managed to say. Stay calm, I told myself; she thinks you're a girl for the moment. With a bit of luck you may be able to fool her until her friends get back.

Then it hit me. Until her friends got back, and then what? They would immediately tell her that I was a boy, and relive what they had done to me to get me looking like this, and she would laugh along with the rest of them. My situation was hopeless.

"Well we might as well make the most of it," Annie went on, walking back through to the main body of the changing room where she had been before her trip to the loo. "You haven't got any cigarettes have you?"

"No," I squeaked in reply. Normally I cursed my newly breaking voice for these unexpected octave leaps, but, in the hope of being a convincing girl, I was for once pleased with it.

"Pity," she responded. She sat herself down again, and pulled her fair hair back behind her head, and re-fixed it into a ponytail. "I could do with one after what those bastards have done. What's your name anyway?"

My name! God, what was I going to tell her? I could hardly say my name was Stuart and keep up my gender pretence. What would she believe? She looked over at me, obviously puzzled by my delay in reply.

"Oh I see. It's Sally," she observed. I had forgotten that the girls had put a necklace around me; one of those that girls sometimes wear with their names on. My name was Sally. "Well don't just stand there, come over here and sit down," she went on. "We might as well make ourselves comfortable until they get back."

With some trepidation, I stepped forward from the racks to the benches in the main bit of the room, and sat myself down diagonally opposite her. The further away I was, I reasoned, the less likely she would be to recognise me. As I sat, my ridiculously short skirt clung to my buttocks, and rode up my legs, revealing both my knickers, and the horrendous little petticoat they had made me wear.

Annie watched this with curiosity, and raised her eyebrows. "Careful," she said. "There's no need to be nervous of me." Blushing furiously, I grabbed the hem of the damn thing, and pulled it down back into place. There was no way she could be allowed to know I was a boy after this, not now she had seen that I was wearing knickers and a petticoat.

"What are you doing in here anyway?" Annie demanded, pulling out a file from her bag to attend to her nails. "Were you skiving off lessons or something?"

I felt a surge of gratitude towards her for giving me such a ready-made excuse. "Yes," I replied quickly. "It's nice and quiet in here."

She looked up. "Well normally it is. Looks like I've ruined that for you."

I gave her a thin smile in reply. "It doesn't matter." Our eyes met for a moment, and I felt hers running over my face and body. I quickly looked away. Eye contact was bad news if I was going to avoid detection.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked at last. "You look a bit familiar, as if I've seen you before."

"I don't think so," I hurriedly replied. "Like I said, I'm new. This is only my third day."

"And you're skiving lessons already?" she asked with a note of disbelief. I looked down at the ground, still wishing that it would swallow me. "Still, we all do it sooner or later," she went on with some sympathy, and then returned to filing her nails.

This kept her occupied for a couple of minutes, while I sat at the opposite end of the benches in abject terror. Why had this happened to me? Why had they decided to pick on me to dress up like this, and then subject me to being locked up with the best looking girl in the school? I looked down at my thighs, showing beneath the hem of my skirt, and my knees, before my legs plunged into the calf length boots I was wearing. Every inch of them was covered in black nylon, the nylon of the tights they had forced onto me. I felt them clinging to me from the waist down to my toes.

When they had finished with me, some half hour or so before, they had simply laughed and then locked the door and left, taking my boy's uniform with them. I had thought then, that maybe I should take all of this stuff off. There was nothing to stop me removing the skirt and the rest of it, and then just waiting for them to return. But somehow the thought of being there naked when they returned was worse than the thought of being there dressed as a girl.

I hadn't known how long they were going to be. I had sort of hoped that having done what they wanted to, they would quickly lose interest, and return my trousers and things to me, and move on to some other mischief. As it was, it had been over half an hour before they had thrust Annie through the door.

"I wish they'd left us a radio or something," Annie said, slapping the nail file back into her bag, and looking across at me. I quickly riveted my eyes to the floor in front of me, and felt my mouth drying out once more.

"Listen," she said, standing once more. "Tell me it's none of my business if you want, but why are you wearing a wig? Has all your hair fallen out or something?" She moved across to sit down closer to me, so close that I could feel the heat from her body. My mouth simply would not work, and I felt my eyes widen wildly. A couple of my eyelashes chose that moment to stick, glued together by the copious mascara the girls had put on me.

"Oh I'm sorry," Annie suddenly said, with genuine sympathy. "I didn't mean to upset you." She placed a hand on my shoulder, causing me to shudder. "It must be horrible if your hair falls out, I can imagine." To my relief she took her hand away again. The bra and knickers gripped me firmly in their elastic and nylon embrace, and I felt as if I might faint at any minute.

"It's a nice wig," she went on, looking up at my head at the blonde candyfloss thing the girls had placed there. "It's like one my friend Kelly had. She wore it to a party a couple of months ago. In fact, it's more or less exactly the same," she went on, examining it more closely. "Do you mind if I touch it?"

"I'd rather you didn't," I piped in a high-pitched squeak. I glanced at her. She looked a little disappointed by my refusal. I tried to think quickly for a legitimate reason. "It sometimes slips a bit," I said hurriedly, "and it takes a long time to get straight again."

She nodded, and then smiled.

"Kelly got her boyfriend to wear it once," she confided to me, giggling. "He looked quite good in it actually, although he wouldn't thank me for saying so." I stared fixedly at my hands, and clasped them together. They had painted my nails a ridiculous pink, and put little transfer pictures of flowers on each one.

"Nice nail varnish," Annie observed, following my eyes, and adding to my embarrassment. Oh God, what was I to do? She was bound to discover the truth sooner or later; I could not keep this up. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel the pulse in my neck as the blood rushed up my body to colour my cheeks.

"Whose class are you in?" she asked.

"Mrs. Jenkins," I replied, honestly.

"Oh then you must know Stuart Barnes!" she exclaimed. I nearly fell off the bench at the mention of my name. "He lives in the same village as me. We get the bus in every morning."

"I don't think I've met him," I muttered through trembling lips.

"Oh you must have done!" she said, prodding me in the ribs. "He's a real dish! If I was a couple of years younger, I'd have him, that's for sure!"

My heart fluttered at this point, and my breathing became even more erratic. She thought I was a dish! Oh God, this made the situation even worse! Once her friends told her who I was, and what they had done to me, she wouldn't think I was a dish any more; just a figure of ridicule; a boy who had been made to wear the girls' school uniform.

"Actually," she went on, "you look a bit like him," Although I was looking pointedly forward, I could feel her eyes staring into the side of my face. This was it; she was bound to find out now. "Turn around so I can see. Come on, I want to see your face," she went on.

With extreme hesitation, and trembling I turned my face to her, and closed my eyes, waiting for the explosion of ridicule. Instead, there was silence for a while, and then she said. "Yes, you do look like him; quite a lot actually, especially around the eyes. You'd think you were related our something. You're not are you?"

I shook my head rapidly, and the candyfloss wig jiggled about on my head. She was looking at me with considerable curiosity, looking as if she was trying to solve some sort of puzzle. I had to try and throw her off the scent.
"So Stuart Barnes is a dish is he?" I asked in a gasping voice. She was not thrown by my questions, but continued to look at my face, and then at my chest and legs, getting closer to solving the puzzle. "I hope your friends get back quickly," I went on breathlessly, with my cheeks on fire. The tights gripped the bottom half of my body relentlessly.

She grabbed hold of my hand, and lifted it up to inspect it. I reeled in anguish, but could not summon the strength to resist. "I recognise this ring!" she exclaimed, looking at a pink plastic heart that adorned my left index finger. "Kelly's got one like this." She stared up at my face again, and I felt my mouth trembling again under her gaze. "Kelly's wig and Kelly's ring!" she exclaimed. "She's put you up to this hasn't she?" She stood up in front of me, as I quivered under the imminence of discovery. "You're in on this with them aren't you Sally?" she accused, standing with her hands on her hips. "If that's your real name!"

"I don't know what you mean," I stuttered, looking plaintively at the door, wishing that it would open, and let her friends in to save me.

"Yes you do!" she exclaimed. "You're in on this, you have been from the start!"

I stared up at her in fear, and tried to shake my head; but fear had rendered my neck muscles solid.

"They said my birthday present was in here," she went on. "You must know something about it. What's it all about?"

"I don't know," I heard myself wail, as I shut my eyes again.

She refused to take her eyes off me, and stood in front of me, daring me to explain what was going on. I couldn't speak. I knew she was moments from knowing the truth, that truth that would ruin my reputation around the school forever.

"Please Annie," I whimpered. "It's not my fault."

"What's not your fault?" she demanded. "Come on, tell me."

I felt the sting of tears welling into my eyes, and tried to squirm away from her intense gaze. This only served for my skirt to rise up too high again. I looked on in horror as her eyes fell on my newly revealed petticoat.

She was silent for a few seconds, as I looked pitifully up at her. Then she suddenly said, quietly. "Oh my God, I know what it is!" She bent down till her face was level with mine, and then grabbed hold of my chin, forcing me to look directly into her face. "You are, aren't you? It's Stuart!"

"No!" I tried to say, but there was just a strangled noise from my throat. It was hopeless. The game was up. I looked across at her. She had backed away a pace or two, and was holding her hands up over her mouth, with wide eyes staring down at me.

"Oh my God how embarrassing!" she exclaimed. My head sunk; didn't I know it. She giggled nervously. "Oh God, I told you I thought you were a dish!" she went on. "You must think I'm a right cradle snatcher!"

I was confused. She had just realised that I was a boy she knew, not the shy schoolgirl I was dressed as, but rather than think of what that meant for me, she was embarrassed because she had revealed that she thought I was a dish.

"Still, " she said, recovering herself a little, "I have to say, you do look good! Stand up so I can see you better." Reluctantly I did as she had asked, still unsteady on the heeled boots I had been made to wear. She walked around me, with her chin in her hand, observing me from all directions. My face was beetroot red, and chilli hot by now. "You look fabulous!" she eventually proclaimed. "Well done! You certainly had me fooled. Was it your idea or theirs?"

I stared at her in disbelief. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Was it your idea or theirs for you to dress up like this to fool me?" she explained patiently. I couldn't believe it. She now thought that I had come up with this ridiculous plan, rather than her mad friends. I had to put her straight on that, if nothing else.

"I had nothing to do with it!" I gasped.

She looked at me dubiously. "Well you could hardly have had nothing to do with it," she observed. "It's you that's here, dressed like that."

"But it wasn't my idea!" I exclaimed. "They just caught me in the corridor, pulled me in here and did it to me. I didn't even know you were coming until they threw you through the door!"

She looked at me with narrowed eyes, proclaiming that she didn't entirely believe me. "You mean they just dressed you up like this, and didn't tell you why?" Her tone was still incredulous.

"Yes," I confessed, hoarsely. I didn't know how to make her believe me. She walked around me again, looking at all the parts of the ridiculous costume I had been made to wear.

"Well I'm not sure I believe you," she said at last. "But you do look good, I have to give you that. You had me completely fooled."

I felt myself blushing again. She continued her survey, and giggled again. "Actually, if you are right about it being their idea, then this may actually be my fault."

"Your fault?" I asked.

She giggled again. "Yes. You remember you and I had that conversation at the bus stop the other morning?" Of course I remembered! What fourteen-year old boy would forget it when the best-looking girl in the school suddenly started to talk to him? I nodded, still anxious under her inspection. "Well," she went on, a little conspiratorially. "I told my mates about it, and how dishy you were!" I found myself blushing again. "What I actually said, if I remember," she said, "was that you were gorgeous. They started teasing me about it, so I tried to cover myself by saying you'd make a pretty good looking girl." She giggled again, while I looked at her hopeless and confused.

"I don't know why I said it," she went on, looking a little shamefaced about this confession. "I think it was to stop them thinking I fancied you too much!" I continued to look at her blankly. "I'm sorry!" she said sharply, as if I had criticised her. "But they were taking the piss! So I told them you'd look good as a girl, and that I would love to see you dressed up as one. They must have taken me at my word!"

The whole episode began to make sense. She had felt embarrassed at finding me attractive, when I was so much younger than her. So she had told her friends she thought I'd make a good girl to hide it from them. They, in their turn, had decided to serve up a little birthday surprise for her, by kidnapping me, and making me wear the girls' school uniform. Knowing this didn't make me any happier.

"They weren't too rough with you were they?" she asked me with genuine concern. I shook my head. "Only they can get a little carried away at times."

She stared at my skirt, and let out a little laugh. "Sorry," she said. "But you do look good."

"I'm not sure about that," I muttered. "I expect I look ridiculous."

"Actually you don't," she said, looking up at me and smiling. "They've done a really good job on you. Apart from the wig, which is pretty obviously artificial, you make a very realistic girl." She smiled, as if she had delivered me some compliment. I pulled something of a face back at her. "They haven't overdone the make up or anything," she said. I could hardly agree with her. It had taken them what seemed hours to put all that stuff on my face. "You look fabulous!"

I scowled again, and tried to look down at my feet. My boobs got in the way, and I daren't lean over any further in the heels.

"Oh come on Stuart!" she said, "Don't look so sorry for yourself! It could have been a lot worse!"

"A lot worse!" I echoed, in disbelief.

"Yeah," she went on. "They could have made you look really stupid, like a drag queen or something. Or even put you in a bunny girl costume, or something like this. At least they went to the trouble of making you look like a proper girl, someone who'd go to this school."

That was all very well for her to say. She wasn't standing there in front of the best-looking girl in the school, dressed as the opposite gender. "Hey I've just remembered!" she suddenly exclaimed, grinning wildly at me. "When you sat down just then, I'm sure I saw you were wearing a petticoat weren't you?"

"No," I protested, feebly.

"You were!" she insisted. "I saw it!" I felt my cheeks flush again. "You're wearing a petticoat!" she repeated, and laughed to herself at my predicament. "Show me it again, I didn't get a good look before!"

"No," I said, rather more nervous than authoritative.

"Come on," she insisted. "It'll be a laugh, seeing a boy in a petticoat!"

"No," I muttered again, hanging my head in shame.

"Oh pretty please!" she persisted, coming over to me, and looking me directly in the eye. "Pretty please Sally! I want to see your petticoat!" She laughed again, and I felt even more embarrassed than before.

"No," I went on, "Let's just wait until your friends get back. Then hopefully I can change back, and we can forget about all of this."

"No!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Oh no, we can't just forget about this, it's just too good!" She clapped her hands together, and jumped up and down a little. "It's not every day you get a boy dressed up as a girl delivered to you. I want to make the most of it!" I began to feel uneasy at her growing excitement. She looked at me coquettishly for a moment. "Come on Stuart," she pleaded, fluttering her eyelashes at me. "Show me your petticoat. It is my birthday after all!"

I cringed with shame. She was the most beautiful sixth-former in the school, and here I was, stuck in front of her, dressed as a girl! But since she was so beautiful, it was increasingly difficult for a poor fourteen-year old boy to refuse her request.

"Don't be shy," she cajoled. "I've seen it before remember, I just want to get a better look!"

Something cracked inside my head. "All right," I spluttered. "Just for a second."

She grinned manically at me, and stood back a little so that her view wouldn't be impaired. Breathing heavily, and making the bra cut into my ribs in the process, I grimly held the hem of my skirt for a moment, hesitated, and then lifted it up a few inches.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, her hands going to her mouth again. "That's brilliant! No, no no no no! Don't let your skirt back down yet!" she urged me, as my hands tried to pull the hem down again. She stared fixedly at the hem of my newly revealed petticoat, with amazement in her eyes, and walked around a little to get the full effect of my shame.

"Oh but that's so good!" she exclaimed, giggling again. "You look so lovely in a petticoat, no wonder they called you Sally!"

"That's enough," I managed to say, and quickly tugged the ridiculously tiny skirt back into place, covering the even more ridiculous petticoat.

"Oh!" she said, with disappointment in her voice. "I hadn't finished looking at it yet!"

"Well it's enough," I repeated, smoothing the skirt down with my hands in an attempt to ensure it wasn't still revealing anything of the garment underneath. I glared at her defiantly. As if this wasn't shameful enough, her sudden enthusiasm to see how much like a girl I had been dressed was cutting deep into me.

The disappointment suddenly disappeared from her face, and was replaced by an evil grin. "It was so girly!" she told me. "All nice and pink with frills around the bottom. Gorgeous!" She grinned at me like one possessed, and I hung my head down. "I like your boobs too!" she exclaimed, moving closely to me. "I'm going to have a feel!"

"No Annie, don't!" I pleaded, but to no avail. She could advance much quicker and more reliably than I could retreat in those damn boots. Pouncing like a preying mantis, before I could bring my arms up to defend myself, she latched her hands onto my bosoms.

"Oh that's very nice!" she cooed, as she gently massaged them with a circular motion. Her face was only inches from mine, and she still carried that manic grin. "I like this!" she exclaimed. "It makes a difference doing it to someone else, instead of having it done to me. I like this birthday present."

My knees were turning to jelly, not just because of the boots either. Being sexually accosted, even as a joke, by the best-looking girl in the school was quite an experience. "You can stop now," I said, after a minute or so, my eyes still locked to hers.

"Don't you like it?" she asked, with a tone of false surprise. "It's good, when it's done well. Don't you think I do it well?" She put on a hurt face, and my heart missed a beat.

"You do it very well," I conceded, "But they're not real, so I can't really feel anything."

"They feel real enough to me!" she exclaimed, renewing her efforts, and grinning wildly at me. She giggled to herself for a second. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say I could feel your nipples going hard!"

As far as I was concerned, it wasn't the hardness of my nipples that was bothering me. The knickers I was wearing suddenly felt much tighter and more constrictive than they had before.

She eventually let go of my boobs, and put her hands on my shoulder, looking at me with a demonic grin on her face. I felt myself shaking, unsure of what might happen next. "Now then, what shall we do with you?" she asked, more to herself than me, and still looking into my eyes. Compared to how I felt, she seemed so in control of herself, so self-assured, in the way that only a seventeen year-old girl could.

"I think you've done enough," I ventured. "You and your friends anyway."

She smiled anew at this. "I don't know about that," she told me, moving away a little, pacing around me like a lion sizing up a helpless antelope. "It is my birthday after all."

I felt my knees wobbling underneath me, and cursed myself for not being to hold myself steady in these damn boots. She could sense my discomfort, and it seemed to amuse her considerably. "I know what I'd like for a little present!" she suddenly announced, clapping her hands in front of me. "What I'd like," she went on, emphasising every syllable as she spoke, "is to see your knickers!"

My eyes widened at the thought. Those bloody girls had made wear a horrendously feminine pair. They were tight and pink, with pictures of flowers all over them, as well as frills around the waistband and the legs. As if to remind me of how embarrassing they were, they seemed to choose that moment to pull tightly against me through my tights. "No," I hissed in reply.

"Oh come on!" she urged me, jumping up and down in animated anticipation. "I bet they're lovely!"

"They're horrible."
She tilted her head to one side for a moment, as if to consider my comment. "I thought I caught a glimpse of them earlier, when you were struggling to keep your skirt down," she reminded me. "I bet they're a girl's pair aren't they?"

I flushed again. "I don't know." I stuttered. "I didn't see when they put them on me."

What had I been thinking of when I was on my own in there, before she had joined me? I might have been right not to strip back to naked, but at least I could have taken off all the offensive underwear they had put on me! Too late now, though, my goose was cooked.

"I don't believe that," she said, breaking into her manic grin again. "I bet you did see them, and I bet they're really pretty!" Her eyes sparkled as she stared at me, daring me to comply with her wishes. "Come on, let me see them!"

"No!" I said again, wishing I could sit down, to relieve my feeble legs.

"I'll show you mine as well if you like," she said, teasingly. She giggled. "It'll be like in Junior School. Didn't you ever swap looks at girl's knickers behind the bike sheds?"

"No," I said again, lying.

"Well I often let the boys see mine!" she went on. "Come on, it's easy. I'll show you!" She proceeded to unzip her trousers, and unclip the waistband. She then pulled the flies apart to reveal her underwear. My eyes were magnetically drawn to her, and she knew it. She grabbed the top of her knickers and pulled them up a little, so I could see more clearly; a cotton pair in white, with some sort of logo on that I couldn't read. Her eyes flashed once more, and the grin stayed on her face. "There, can you see them?"

I nodded in reply, my eyes riveted to her gaping flies, and my mind fixed on what nirvana might lie inside.

"Now it's your turn," she said, triumphantly, but retaining her position with her knickers on show for me.

"I don't want to!" I protested.

"Oh come on, it's easy!" she said, gushing with enthusiasm. "All you have to do is lift your skirt up again." Then she had a bit of revelation, judging by the look that came across her face, She grinned, mischievously; "That and your petticoat!" I winced as she reminded me of the horrible nylon thing I was wearing. She obviously misunderstood my pained expression. "Don't be shy!" she coaxed. "I've shown you mine after all, look!" she said, and by way of emphasis thrust herself forward at me. I staggered sideways, nearly falling off my heels in response, and felt hot and dizzy at the sight.

"Well you seem happy enough to look at my knickers!" she accused me accurately. "Now let me look at yours!"

I could see the equity in what she was suggesting, and ordinarily, in boy mode, I would have willingly complied. Dressed in a girl's school uniform however, the prospect was far less appealing. "I'd rather not," I mumbled.

"Oh but that's just so unfair!" she exclaimed, holding her hands aloft, so that her trousers gaped even more. "If I'd have known you'd be such a spoilsport I'd have never let you see mine!" I wobbled on my heels again. Her trousers were falling off her hips now, revealing so much exquisite flesh that my mind was on fire. She glared across at me, and put both hands on her hips in a defiant stance. "Come on," she said, with a note of command. "I want to see your knickers!"

I winced again. "Well, promise you won't laugh," I pleaded.

"Laugh? Why should I laugh? I expect they're absolutely beautiful!" she asserted firmly.

I hesitated. Was this promise worth anything? There was no doubt in my mind that the sight of me in girl's knickers was unlikely to rouse her to anything other than absolute mirth. However, unless I agreed to her request, she was going to keep goading me with it until I collapsed under the twin strains of fancying her so much, and balancing on my heels.

"All right," I muttered dejectedly. "You can have a look."

"Good!" she squealed, her eyes widening, and falling to my waist in anticipation. "Come on then, let me see what they're like!" I grimaced, and gingerly let my hands fall to the hem of the skirt once more. I hesitated, still unwilling to face the ultimate ridicule of exposing my girlish knickers to her. "Come on," she urged me on. "And don't forget to lift your petticoat as well!" She was so obviously excited by the prospect that I could almost feel the intensity and heat of her gaze. I slipped my hands under the hem of my skirt, and managed to grasp the flimsy nylon of the petticoat, which felt cold to the touch. I looked up at her, but her eyes were fixed just below my waist, with a kind of wild look to them that unnerved me. I bit my lip, shut my eyes, and slowly raised my hands to let her see what she wanted.

I held my breath waiting for her reaction. It wasn't long in coming. "Oh you look so adorable!" she screamed, clapping her hands in glee once more. "Oh God Stuart, they're fantastic!" I opened my eyes, and saw her bouncing up and down on her toes, with her hands in front of her mouth, and her eyes intently fixed on my groin. "I wonder whose they were, or perhaps they bought them for you especially!" she went on.

She started circling me again, and I felt vaguely ridiculous, standing there, holding my skirt up for a girl whose trousers were almost falling down. "Hang on a sec," she said, suddenly darting towards me, and bending down to look even closer. "You've got another pair on as well haven't you? A pair underneath your tights!" She stood up, and only a foot or two from me, beamed into my face. "Two pairs of knickers! You don't do things by half do you?"

I grimaced, as I remembered the agonies I had suffered when the girls had put those underneath knickers on me. I had tried to refuse, but there were too many of them, and they had threatened to put them on me themselves unless I did as I was told. I didn't realise at the time that there would be another pair on the way. They had reassured me that all girls wore two pairs of knickers. Annie's reaction, and the look of wild excitement on her face told me something different.

Before I knew it, her hand was on me, gently lifting the over knickers up on one side. "Hey!" I protested.

"I'm just trying to see what the other ones look like!" Annie assured me, as she stared directly into my eyes, before allowing her gaze to drop once more. I gulped and closed my eyes once more. I remembered only too well what they looked like; they were white, with pastel pink lace detail all over them. I could feel them press against my skin as the memory of having to put them off came back to me.

"Aw!" she exclaimed, obviously seeing them through my tights. "They're even more beautiful!" She giggled excitedly, and fixed me with her wild stare once more. "Gosh, they didn't hold back when they dressed you up did they? That's as girly as they come!"

My knees nearly buckled, as the feel of her hand near my crotch sent powerful erotic waves coursing through me. That, and the feelings of shame and embarrassment as she joyously drunk in how femininely I was dressed, made me feel as if I was a ship on a storm tossed sea.

"Are you all right?" she asked, as I swayed backwards and forwards a little.

"Yes. Just a bit dizzy," I managed to say. "I need to sit down."

"Just a minute, I want another look," she said, still holding my over knickers a little away from me at one side. "What's that down there?" she asked. "There's something poking out the side!" My knees crumpled at this point, and I had to put my hand out to steady myself.

"God, you'd best sit down!" she said, helping me across to one of the benches. "You look really pale, even under all that make up!"

As I collapsed onto the bench, she grabbed my skirt and petticoat, so that when I sat, they were crumpled up around my waist, with my knickers totally on view. Even in my dizzy state, I started to try and straighten myself up. I didn't think I could take much more examination.

"No leave it!" she insisted. "Let me see what that thing was."

I knew perfectly well what it was. One of the girls had slipped it into the white knickers before giving them to me to put on. As Annie bent down in front of me to lift up my over knickers once more, I leant back in defeat against the wall, and looked briefly at the ceiling, hoping against hope for some release.

"Let's have a look," she said, with her head swinging around to one side, and her fingers in my groin once more. "Oh my God, I know what it is!" she screamed, jumping back, and clasping her hands to her mouth in surprise once more. "It's a panty pad isn't it? You're wearing a panty pad, that's just so brilliant! I bet that was Wendy's idea wasn't it? I bet she got you to wear that!"

"I don't know," I replied glumly, which was true. I had no idea of the name of the girl who had come up with this particular brainwave to insult me. All I knew was that the pad was excruciatingly uncomfortable rammed in between my legs.

Annie chortled to herself again, as I sat myself upright. To my surprise I saw that her hands were now rummaging about in her own knickers rather than mine. What was she doing? She had a furtive look of excitement on her face that made me distinctly uneasy.

"Can I pull my skirt down now?" I asked. "I feel a bit exposed like this."

"No!" she replied, her eyes dancing between my face and my groin. "Leave it like that. I like it!"

"Well I don't!" I complained.

"It's not your birthday," she pointed out. "Just stay like that and let me look at you."

She quickly looked behind her, and sat down on a bench opposite me, her jeans flapping open. Her hands slipped inside her knickers once more, and she hunkered down a little lower. She closed her eyes, and then opened them once more, to gaze at my exposed groin.

"I'm not sure I like this," I said.

She was silent for several moments, and then, pausing briefly in her task, looked at me angrily and said. "You don't have to like it! Just shut up for a minute, and let me get on with this!"

The next few minutes passed extremely slowly for me. At times, it was as if I wasn't there, she was so engrossed by what she was doing, leaning backwards, and groaning and gasping. Her legs bounced up and down, and she bit her lips, and rolled her head. I thought of moving, to give her some privacy, and to cover myself up a little, but as soon as the thought came into my head, her eyes opened, and she glared fiercely at me, and then my exposed knickers.

I was embarrassed, as much for her as for me. Once the unstoppable tide of lust had swept over her, she was bound to feel ashamed of doing this in front of me, a boy three years her junior. I also felt dirty, stuck there with my skirt around my waist, while she enjoyed herself, using me, or the vision of me, without involving me in that pleasure at all. It was like I was some bizarre photograph in a magazine, rather than a real person.

I have to confess that the sight of her pleasuring herself aroused some lust in me as well. I tried to fight it, especially with my knickers on full view, and therefore any movement down below entirely visible. As I felt myself stirring, she looked up once more, gritted her teeth in a parody of aggression, and glared at my exposed knickers once more, before sinking backwards, and rubbing more furiously.

I tried to take my mind off the current situation by thinking of other things, but it was difficult. Was there any way I could have avoided being here? I hadn't run when the five girls had stopped me in the corridor, conceitedly thinking that they were interested in talking to me. Once they had grabbed me, it had been more difficult to escape. Should I have been able to fight them off though? I was a boy, after all. But at the time it had seemed like a game. They had frogmarched me through the school, and out to the girl's changing rooms, and I had not really resisted. Five sixth form goddesses were paying me attention, and that was good enough for me.

Once we were in the changing room, the situation changed. They locked the door, and there was no real escape, however fast I might run. It still took me some time to realise what they were doing, as they pawed at my clothing, and gradually removed my boys' uniform, item by item. I hadn't really resisted even then, in a misplaced sense of vanity, until they had got to my underpants. Maybe then I should have fought harder, but it was difficult to find the will to resist five girls intent on stripping me. I didn't know at that stage what they intended to do next. If I had, I might have resisted more.

Then there had been the knickers, and the panty pad, as Annie had called it, which had been inserted in them, before they were handed to me. Perhaps I should have refused to put them on, that might have been wiser. But they had spent the previous five minutes laughing at my newly exposed penis, and exclaiming how small it was, and how hairless, and, rather than consider the import of putting a pair of girl's knickers on myself, I had been all too anxious to cover myself up.

After that the game had been up. They put a bra on me, and then made me put on the tights. The second pair of knickers, and the petticoat quickly followed, then the angora jumper and the skirt. I acquiesced in all of this, assuming that they would only want to get me into the stuff, and then out of it again quickly. I had sat more or less where I was now, and zipped myself into the boots, before they applied make up to me, and then the wig. I hadn't noticed, but they had picked up all my boy's clothes, even the shoes, and put them in a bag, which, once they had finished, they ran off with, locking the door behind them. Maybe I shouldn't have let it happen, I thought, but I had.

Annie suddenly let out a scream, and jumped around as if electrocuted. I had never seen a woman orgasm before, and wondered if she had hurt herself in some way. "Are you all right?" I asked.

She shouted out once more with some obscenity, and then collapsed back onto the bench in a crumple heap, breathing heavily, and removed her hands from her knickers. "My God, that was good!" she said.

Thinking I might get away with it, I surreptitiously pulled my skirt and petticoat down to cover myself up, and placed my legs rather more decorously together, and to one side, to ensure that she couldn't see even the slightest glimpse of what had so excited here before.

"They'll be back in a minute," she announced, standing up, and doing her flies back up again. She looked across at me. "And if you say one word about this," she hissed in warning, waving a finger in my face, "One word about me tossing myself off in front of you, you'll be in big trouble."

"I won't say anything," I responded. It hardly seemed to occur to her that I was not in a position to boast about what had happened, sitting there dressed as a schoolgirl. She walked across to me, and to my amazement, took my head in her hands, bent down, and kissed me firmly on the lips. "You are hot!" she whispered, a smile returning to her rather flushed face. "One hot chick!"

There was a knock on the door, and a muffled. "Can we come in?"

Annie straightened out her hair, and shouted. "Yes."

A key turned in the lock, and one by one my five former tormentors streamed in. "Did you like your present Annie?" one of them asked, beaming at both her, and me.

Annie smiled, and nodded. "Yes," she said, levelly. "It was a wonderful surprise!"

"We thought you'd like it!" another announced.

"What about the wrapping?" another asked, to a chorus of laugher.

Annie looked down at me and smiled. "The wrapping was the best part!"

"Now come on, let's get going. It's half five, and we ought to be down the pub!" another of the girls exclaimed. There was a chorus of agreement, and two or three of the girls came across to pat Annie on the back.

"Shall we let him have his clothes back then?" one of them asked, holding up the bag that contained my passport back to normality.

Annie tilted her head to one side. "I'm not sure. He looks quite sweet like that, don't you think?"

"Yeah!" her companion enthusiastically agreed.

"Still, sometimes its best to keep special things for birthdays I suppose," she went on. "Yeah, let him have them back."

Her companion threw the bag to me, and I caught it. All six smiled at me, as I frantically opened it to make sure everything was there.

"Actually," one of them said, musingly. "It's my birthday next month."

There was a chorus of giggles amongst them.

"And what would you like as a special present?" Annie asked her, still staring at me.

The other girl blushed a little, and then grinned with the same manic grin Annie had used so often that afternoon. "I think I'd quite like an hour or two with little Sally here," she exclaimed. They all laughed again.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Annie said, still looking at me, and winking. "Can't it Sally?"

  

  

  

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