Mother passed me my skirt and I stepped into it. When I’d tried it on in the shop last week, my boyish bulge was clearly visible. But today, thanks to my constricting and somewhat uncomfortable control knickers, I’m completely flat. It’s hem landed an inch above my knees, and clad in my glossy nude stockings, my legs looked slender, shapely and shimmery. The skirt not only hugged my hips and butt, but my thighs and legs too. I had a little moan that it was too tight, adding “I can’t even stride properly.”

My brother said that it will help me take shorter steps as it’s best to avoid walking at full stride with high heels on. “That’s what the teacher said in etiquette class anyway.” he added.

“And she’s absolutely right.” my mother said, before telling me to tuck my blouse into my skirt. Once done, I slipped my stockinged feet into my new court shoes and finally I was dressed. Both Mother and Vincent told me how nice I looked and I coyly smiled and blushed and thanked them.

Vincent only spent ten minutes doing his own make-up and unlike mine, his was subtle and natural looking. He brushed his hair back into a neat, low ponytail and asked Mother if he looked OK. “Very nice.” Mother said. I agreed and wished that I too had been pained in a similar understated palette. “Right, you go and get dressed Vincent whilst I do Andrew’s hair.” Mother said.

I’d almost forgotten about my hair. In fact I’d sort of forgotten about the rags and hairnet that covered it as I’d worn them since early yesterday evening. Mother sat me down, removed my hairnet and began removing the rags one by one. “Oh this is going to look so nice.” she said after a few minutes. “I bet you can’t wait to see it.” she added.

“I can’t wait for today to be over!” I thought as I sat patiently whilst the rags were removed. I’d been petticoated on so many occasions but sitting here and now, it feels like the first time I’ve been ‘really’ petticoated. After a good ten minutes, the final rag was removed and Mother handed me her small vanity mirror once more. What was once an unkempt mop of hair is now a mass of curls that seem to float weightlessly around my head. Mother told me that it looked better than she’d ever hoped. “I think we can safely assume that you’re going to be one of the prettiest petticoated boys at Vincent’s graduation.” she proudly told me. “Why don’t you go and have a proper look in the hallway?”

I wasn’t looking forward to seeing myself but there’s no point in not seeing myself. My first thoughts regarded my blouse. I’d have much preferred it if it wasn’t quite so see through as it seemed to frame my bra in such a way it drew the directly to it. I turned to get an idea of how it looked from behind and again, the straps and band of my bra is clearly visible. My charcoal grey skirt and black high heels looked OK as although feminine, were smart and seemingly understated. My make up however screamed pink & girlie and the addition my voluminous curly hair suggested that I may even pass as a real girl… or even a young woman for that matter. But my ivory blouse with its high collar and little puffed sleeves, both trimmed with lace, worn over my pure white flat-bra said ‘sissy’. Nothing more, nothing less, just sissy.

Vincent joined me and I couldn’t help but envy him. His skirt and shoes were similar to mine in style, although his skirt is black and a few inches shorter than mine. His legs are clad in thin black tights, or more accurately, ‘barely’ black. His blouse looked more like a fitted white shirt rather than anything too ‘blousey’. Of course he’s dressed like a girl too but I’m definitely the girliest. In fact, my younger brother looks more grown up than I do!

Mother made us a cup of tea, which I really needed to help calm my nerves. The first thing I noticed was how my lipstick left it’s mark on the rim of my cup. Mother told me that that does tend to happen, before putting the stick of candy pink lipstick in front of me, along with the transparent gloss too. “Vincent have you got a vanity mirror Andrew can borrow?” she asked, before she started rummaging in the under-stairs cupboard. Vincent went to his room and returned a minute later. Mother emerged from the cupboard saying “I had a feeling I’d find it in here.” as she held a large pink purse.