The next morning his mother woke him to check he’d kept his night-timers on. He squirmed when she said, “Good girl.” and told him “they’re not so bad.” He wanted to retort but, seeing as she’d placed his own school clothes on the stool, made sure he didn’t annoy her. Being treated like a girl at home is one thing, being sent to school as one is another.
As he walked to school, he imagined a world where it wouldn’t make any difference if his mother did make him wear a skirt for school. He imagined what it would be like, dressing as a girl in public and nobody batting an eyelid. He wondered if he’d wear tights or socks and imagined how his hairless legs would feel in the breeze.
He had much the same thoughts as he walked home after his detention, and not surprisingly his skirt, knickers and knee socks were waiting for him when he arrived home from school. Reluctantly, he changed into them and went to the kitchen, almost certain his mother would check beneath his skirt again.
Once his homework was complete, he knocked on his sisters door so she she could chose his clothes for the rest of the day.
The same routine went on for the rest of the week and each time she takes great pleasure in choosing him the frilliest, prissiest, most girlie outfit she can, which isn’t hard given the selection.
On Saturday morning, his mother and sister prepared to paint his old bedroom. “Peter said he’d help too mum.” Jenny said as they moved the furniture to one side of the room.