The following day at school, Peter is summoned to the headmistresses office. She tells him his mother has called her and told her everything about his absence the previous day. As a result of his truancy, he shall be on report for the following week, and shall have detention every night this week. Peter hopes that his mother hasn’t really told her ‘everything’, but when the headmistress tells him how disappointed she is that he lied to his mother and bunked off school only to wear his sister’s clothes for the day, he realises she does in fact know everything.
He walks home an hour later than usual due to his detention and as he gets ever closer, he wishes he was as far away as possible. Before yesterday he used to fantasise about being made to dress as a girl and imagined numerous scenarios. These included having to go to guides with his sister and having to wear the same uniform. Or being cast a girl’s part in a school play, a role for which he is encouraged to dress as a girl in order to play the character. Even getting into trouble at school and having to dress in the girl’s uniform as punishment. In his imagination these scenarios were all thrilling, but as he nears the end of his street, the reality is far less so. He hopes his mother has changed her mind and that he’ll have his old room back, complete with all his models, books and clothes, but on arrival he is marched to his pink bedroom. “Right Peter.” his mother says in her stern voice, “From now on, you are to change into this as soon as your get home from school.”
On his bed is one of his sister’s old school skirts along with a white blouse.”Do I have to wear that?” he moans.
“Yes. Unless you’d rather wear a frilly pink dress.”
He sits on his bed and unties his shoes. He slips them off, one by one before placing them in his mother’s outstretched hands.
“You’ll find plenty of knickers, vests, socks and tights in your drawer.” she adds as she pulls open his top drawer. The void next to his pile of nightclothes is now packed with knickers and vests, socks and tights. He fearfully pears in as his mother removes a pair of knickers, a vest and a pair of socks. “When you’ve changed, I want you in the kitchen doing your homework where I can keep an eye on you.” she tells him as she leaves. “Can you neatly fold your boy clothes and bring them down with you, and don’t forget your shoes.” she adds, glancing at his Mary Jane’s before leaving with his school shoes.
Over the course of the next ten minutes, his mother repeatedly shouts up the stairs, telling him to get a move on. Eventually he appears in the kitchen where his mother is peeling potatoes. He sheepishly hides his lower half by standing close to the dining table, but his mother wants to see him. “Come on… I want to see how you look.”
He steps out into her full view and she looks him up and down. The pleated skirt seems to fit him perfectly, although it’s a little on the short side “Come here.” she says authoritatively. He steps one pace closer. “Come here!” she sighs, stepping towards him.
“Why!?” he asks, fearful he’s going to get a smack on his legs.
She grabs his skirt and lifts it.
“What are you doing?!” he yelps, stepping away from her.
“I’m checking you’ve got your knickers on…” she says, grabbing his skirt again and lifting it.
A shameful Peter hangs his head, remains silent and still as his mother lifts his skirt… all the way up.”When I know I can trust you I won’t have to check.” she says as she drops his skirt.
“OK.” he moans, as quiet as a mouse.
“Well, you may as well get on with your homework.” his mother says. “After you’ve straightened your socks.” she adds. “The pattern shouldn’t be twisted like that.”
He sits himself down and straightens his socks. Once he’s satisfied the patterns are straight, he looks up at his mother for approval.
“That’s better don’t you think?” she asks. He nods. She smiles. “When you’ve got used to being a girl it’ll be second nature.”
“Do I really have to dress like this all the time?” he asks, again. In no uncertain terms, his mother replies in the affirmative. He decides now is the time to stop asking. His fate appears to be sealed.
As he gets on with his study, his sister pops in and out of the kitchen and sneers at her thieving little brother. After her fourth visit, Peter sheepishly asks his mother, “Is Jenny still really mad at me?”
“Yes. But I think if you could at least tell her how sorry you are it might help.”
“I said sorry yesterday.”
“Well maybe you wasn’t convincing enough.” his mother replies. “Why don’t you give it a try now?”
“Now?” he asks.
“Yes.”
