The Quick Change Artist

Vignette. Alan rocks a new look.

Readme ▼

When I was a 14 year old boy, school bullies made me put on a panty girdle and told me this was now part of my school uniform. Much as I hated having to do so, I wore a girdle every school day until I left, four years later. At least my humiliation was relatively private.

A warped idea came into my head and I just had to write about it. What if such a scenario had been more public—excruciatingly public, in front of the most unsympathetic audience possible? And what if a girdle was only part of the deal?

As Mr Stonehouse left the room and the door clicked shut behind him, Alan's heart leapt in his chest. He turned round and looked, panic-stricken, at Jeff, who was sitting in the back row with the rest of the wastrels. Jeff simply grinned and nodded. This was the moment, and Alan was well aware of the consequences of disobedience. His mouth was bone dry with terror as he stood up and turned to face the class. What happened now had to happen quickly. He'd have around ten minutes before Old Stoneface returned.

All eyes were on him. The class could almost smell his fear and were immediately curious about why the class nerd was on his feet and looking so nervous. He clapped his hands to get their full attention and, with shaking hands, opened his bag. Reaching in, he pulled out an old-fashioned open girdle and held it up for all to see. Jaws dropped as the class stared, amazed, at this formidable-looking item of corsetry. The girdle was high waisted, heavily panelled and was fastened by a combination of hook-and-eye fastenings and a zipper down the left hand side. Six garters dangled from it. What the hell was going on? What was he planning to do with that thing?

He laid it down on the teacher's desk and then pulled out a bra, again brandishing it for his classmates to gawp at. The bra was the retro longline type, with a cuff several inches deep below the usual cups, and it had half-a-dozen hook-and-eye clasps. On putting that down beside the girdle, he continued to empty his bag, showing the fascinated teenagers in turn a pair of lace-topped black stockings, a full length slip, a white blouse and a black knee length pencil skirt. The last item to appear was a pair of black high heel shoes.

Once the bag had been emptied, he took off his blazer and hung it over the back of his chair. It was only when he started pulling his pullover over his head that the brighter ones put two and two together.

"Oh my God," breathed one of his rapt audience, his voice carrying in the silence, "he's going put it all on!"

This elicited a few astonished gasps from the crowd and the murmuring ramped up considerably. Alan dropped his pullover on his desk, loosened his tie and, with noticeably trembling hands, started unbuttoning his shirt. Grins started to appear on people's faces as they began to anticipate what was going to happen, and half the class were now recording the performance on their phones. The teacher's pet had apparently lost his mind and was going to dress himself in women's clothes! Right there, right in front of everybody! This was going to be one of the best study periods ever!

Alan's eyes were shining with as yet unshed tears, and his bottom lip was quivering.

"He doesn't look too happy about it," said Rick, another back-row regular.

"I wouldn't be happy either, if I knew I was going to end up wearing all that shit," said Roger. "Did you see that girdle? Where do you think he got it?"

Jeff remained silent, smirking knowingly. He'd found most of these clothes when his family were clearing out his late gran's house, and he immediately knew at that moment just who they would fit. He closed his eyes, recalling the look of horror on Alan's face when he'd presented him with his gran's clothes and told him what he was going to have to do. He wished he'd filmed it, but it would have been evidence. This way, if the nerd pointed the finger at him he could deny it.

The shirt joined the pullover as Alan kicked off his shoes, unfastened his trousers, dropped them and stepped out of them. All his male clothing was stuffed into the bag.

You could have heard a pin drop as he picked up the girdle. He stared at it for a moment, revulsion writ large on his face, then bent over and gingerly stepped into it. As he slowly pulled it on, his eyes started to bulge and his mouth dropped open in shock as he felt it tighten around his backside, hips and upper thighs. The back row boys howled with laughter at the horrified expression on his face.

"Is it tiiiiiiight?" asked Susan in a comic voice, triggering more hilarity.

Rick cheered. "Go for it, Einstein! Get that saggy arse girdled up!"

Alan sucked in his belly, fastened the clips with a struggle, pulled up the zip and relaxed his stomach muscles. The front panel firmly supported his once flabby belly and Alan couldn't help pressing his hands against it, fingers splayed wide, eyes almost popping out of his skull.

"Christ!" he whimpered, now on the verge of tears, "Jesus Christ!"

"Jesus ain't gonna save you," Jeff muttered to himself. "You're on your own, pal."

"Alan!" His friend, Brian, who'd been watching events in a state of shock, finally spoke up. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Take that damn thing off!"

"Shut the hell up, Brian," said Rick, "you're spoiling the fun. Anyway, with a body like his, he could use a good girdle."

It was now obvious to everyone that Alan definitely wasn't into what he was doing in any way, shape or form. Someone was obviously forcing him to do it, but who cared? It was top notch entertainment. The fact that he was clearly doing it under duress made it even more enjoyable. What must it feel like to be made to put on a girdle in front of everyone? No wonder the geeky little shit looked like he was about to start crying!

"Come on, girdle boy—now show us what you look like in a bra!" shouted James, usually one of the quietest kids in the class.

Openly sobbing with the shame and humiliation, Alan picked up the bra and put his arms through the straps. More sniggering ensued as he struggled to fasten it behind himself. Janice stood up, a cruel grin on her face, stepped behind him and quickly fastened him into it. His boy boobs has made a decent job of filling the small cups of the bra, giving him a small but noticeable bust.

"Nice rack," she said, swatting him loudly on the backside before returning to her seat.

Alan tugged down the bra cuff to straighten things up. It overlapped the girdle waist all the way round, completely encasing him in brilliant white retro corsetry.

"You sad, sick bastard!" cried Roger, tears of laughter running down his cheeks.

"Shut your mouth, Roger!" shouted Brian, "Can't you see he doesn't want to do this?"

"That's what makes it so funny. Did you see the look on his face when he fastened that girdle? I thought I was going to do myself an injury!"

Alan sat down awkwardly and started to slip on the stockings. He easily fastened the front and side garters, but struggled with the two rear ones. Janice was right there again, though, more than eager to lend a hand.

"Alan! Don't!" Brian made one last effort to pull Alan back from the brink, but to no avail. He put the slip on over his head, put his arms through the straps and let the sheer garment drop. It clung to his body, the corsetry clearly showing through the flimsy material, with the lacy hem just above his knees.

Brian stared in disbelief as Alan put on his blouse and started buttoning it up, struggling slightly with the unfamiliar button and eye arrangement that was the mirror image of what he was used to. He then shook his head and looked away, realising his friend was determined to see it through to the bitter end. Alan stepped into the skirt and tucked the hem of the petticoat between his thighs to stop it riding up when he pulled the narrow skirt up. He then tugged the skirt on, wiggling his hips to help the process, tucked in the blouse, and then reached behind himself and pulled up the zipper. Brian knelt down to help Alan into his new shoes and spare him the further humiliation of trying to bend over in his restrictive new underwear.

Alan was dressed as a woman. His belly was now considerably reduced and his backside was a smooth mono-buttock thanks to the tight girdle under his figure-hugging skirt. A noticeable bust helped enhance the femininity, though he was clearly still a boy in women's clothes.

As the show was apparently now over, the crowd gave him a sarcastic round of applause, Brian stepped back as Alan stood, arms out either side as if to say "What do you think of that?" His face crumpled as he burst into tears as, teetering awkwardly in his high heels, he gave a slow twirl to show them his new attire. The class roared their amusement, ignoring his obvious distress. Brian leaned over to him, a baffled look on his face as he whispered: "What have you've done, Al? What the hell have you just done?"

Wiping away the tears with the heels of his hands, Alan turned away and, smoothing his skirt under his backside, sat down at his desk, gasping once more at the effort of bending over while wearing a high-waisted girdle. He picked up a book with shaking hands, pretending to study as if the preceding few minutes had never happened, while videos of his transformation were sent winging through the ether to all manner of destinations—from personal phones to social media sites—thus ensuring the widest possible audience. Barely a minute after he'd returned to his desk, Mr Stonehouse returned to a room filled with the babble of gossiping and giggling.

"Settle down," he said, yet to notice the fact that his star pupil just a few feet away was now dressed as a woman. Normality slowly started to return. The pupils returned to their books, but most were unable to stop themselves from glancing at Alan, hardly able to believe what they had just witnessed and just waiting the fun that would ensue when the class ended and he'd have to come out of hiding at that desk and show himself to the class, to the school... to the world.

The end of period bell rang out...