Reluctant Diva 12
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 12 – A new friend
Duly attired in my new outfit, I set off in good time the following morning, with my school-bag in the bike basket. My coat was folded over the top of it as the weather was so warm. I hadn’t bargained on the wind however which was blustery and in my face the whole way. It made for slow going and to make matters worse my new skirt kept riding up. What with having to stop pedalling to pull it down again and my seeming inability to progress at more than a walking pace, the buses had already arrived and disembarked their load of students before I turned in at the school gates. Not wishing to be penalised for tardiness I pedalled furiously up the driveway.

It wasn’t uncommon for pupils to cycle to school, so I was surprised at the number of stares I was getting, particularly, I noticed, from the boys. Some even nudged their companions and pointed at me and I heard one or two whistles. Glancing down, the reason for this unexpected attention was immediately plain. Once I had turned in, the wind was blowing across me and had mischievously lifted my skirt around my waist thus revealing the tops of my hose, my garters and my frilly panty-girdle for anyone to see. I needed to get out of the public eye and fast, but the dilemma I faced was whether I should stop and rearrange my clothing, with an unknown degree of success, or simply pedal to the area where bicycles were parked as fast as I could. Rightly or wrongly I chose the latter course. By the time I reached the cycle racks I was wondering ruefully whether there was anyone in the entire school who had remained unacquainted with the finer details of my under things.

Hastily dismounting and locking the bike in place, I ran back to the entrance clutching my bag and coat to my chest with one hand and holding my skirt down with the other. I was the last to enter the homeroom and with only seconds to spare closed the door behind me. There were some muted cheers and even a little applause as I turned to hurry to my seat, and all the faces I could see seemed to be wearing the most expressive smiles. Talk about making an entrance!

The day went by in pretty much the same way as in the previous week. I did have an anxious moment at the start of class when Miss Baker looked me over with something like disapproval in her expression. My skirt! She was disposed to let its shortness go without comment on this occasion, much to my relief. Perhaps it was because she was reluctant to cross my scary mother! As it happened, courting censure in this way gave me the unexpected benefit of raising my standing considerably with some of my female classmates.

Shirley, outspoken as usual, accosted me with “How on earth did you get away with that skirt? I’m so envious! Mom won’t hear of me having anything even slightly above my knees.”

“Me neither!” another girl, Paula, chimed in.

“You certainly know how to get the boys’ attention” went on the former. “Kyle can’t take his eyes off your legs!” she giggled.

“Or your boobs!” agreed her friend. “That sweater. Cool!”

Established as I had become in their estimation as ‘cool’, some of the other girls followed their lead and were friendlier than they had formerly been. At lunch I was actually asked to sit at table with a group of them. With some trepidation I did as invited and even managed to boost my new-found credibility. On being asked who my best friend was, there were some awe-struck stares when I told them it was Rachel. She was well-remembered in school as an outstanding prom queen and there were photos of her down the corridor to the hall. As we chattered I noticed that when Karen walked past our table she couldn’t take her eyes off me. She looked quite disconcerted to see that I had apparently gained acceptance by a new bunch of friends. I kept my face expressionless, and when she saw I had seen her staring, she hastily turned away. Fine with me! After Saturday night I wasn’t ready to make the running in renewing our former friendship.

When it came to home time, I was pleasantly surprised to find Chris waiting outside my class to escort me down to the bicycle sheds. When I had parked my bike there in the morning it had struck me quite forcibly that this was an isolated part of school. I definitely wouldn’t want to hang around for long. The same idea about my vulnerability had apparently crossed his mind and he had waited to walk me there en-route to his ball-practice. That was sweet of him! As we made our way over, a couple of the boys from my homeroom caught us up and walked alongside too, Kyle and his side-kick Peter. I knew they cycled to school but I was uncertain what to make of their newfound attention to me. It turned out that my spectacular entrance that morning had something to do with increasing my popularity in this quarter also.

Catching my eye, Kyle remarked admiringly “Nice bike! I saw you this morning.”

“Yeah!” said his friend.

“Thanks, I like it too! I responded. “It actually belongs to Chris’s sister and she loaned it to me. Kind of her.”

Chris nodded to them both. They looked impressed to even be noticed by a member of the junior football team.
“Yeah!” repeated the second boy.

“So…. will you be cycling to school all the time?” Kyle was taller and more confident than his friend.

“I guess” I remarked indifferently.

“You can ride along with us if you like.” It was strange to be thus in demand after such a long period of neglect but it felt nice all the same.

I looked at Chris to see if he approved. He merely shrugged.

“Okay” I answered coolly as we reached the racks. Chris helped me unlock my bike and held it while I loaded my belongings. By the time I’d said my goodbyes to him the others were waiting to set off. They let me lead the way and followed.

The wind was still blustery but I was starting to feel much more at home on the bike. I was able to control my wayward clothing with one hand while steering with the other. Sometimes the breeze got the better of me but in the main I won. I felt sure that my companions were treated to no more than the occasional glimpse of the top of my hose before our ways parted. As I rode the last few blocks on my own I reflected that I didn’t mind their stares at all. If the boys were interested in my legs so much the better. I needed to hang on to as many friends as I could, by whatever means!

When Mom came home she couldn’t hide her curiosity about how my day had gone. Her interest seemed to be focussed on the potential reaction to my apparel from my teachers, and when I recounted how my little skirt had passed without comment I detected a transitory look of surprise on her face, as if she couldn’t believe my luck. I went on to tell her how its brevity had worked in my favour and that I was now considered by some of my classmates as trendy enough to sit with. She dumbly regarded me while I mentioned how the wind had caught my skirt while riding into school. “It was so embarrassing Mom. Everyone must have seen my undies!”

There was a definitely a glint of triumph in her eye at this as she remarked “Well if you will choose a skirt that’s so short and full to wear in this sort of weather, you must take the consequences.”

Slightly crestfallen, I decided against relating how my immodest display had secured me friendships among the boys too. She went upstairs to change out of her work clothes, leaving me mystified. Why did it seem like she was happy if I were uncomfortable or humiliated? I thought we might be on the same page now. It remained a puzzle.

It had been curious that mentioning Rachel’s friendship to my classmates had increased my standing with them. I went over to the bookshelf to fetch the photo album. I knew that it held a picture of her when she was prom queen and sure enough there she was, a happy smile on her pretty face and looking like a teenage movie star. She had matured since into a beautiful young woman but it struck me how much more serious was her expression these days. I guessed the cares of growing up were taking their toll, and I was glad she hadn’t outgrown her teasing sense of humour. Idly I flicked back through the pages dedicated to the Bennett family and I was startled to find a photo of my friend wearing the exact same skirt I had worn today. She must then have been a couple of years older than me but was noticeably smaller and slimmer. Whereas I perforce was wearing her passed-on garment high on my waist, in the photograph it sat on her hips and as a result the hem was level with her knees. So that was how she got away with wearing it.

Going upstairs to change my clothes I was struck with further misgivings. I went to my closet and compared the skirts which she had passed on to me. They were all of a muchness in size and length and would therefore be short on me as she no doubt had realised. My best friend had revealed her mischievous streak once again! She might have warned me! Actually I didn’t mind her playfulness in the least. I knew that her teasing originated from a sense of fun that I treasured. I reckoned it was totally different to the underlying desire by which my mother seemed to be motivated…. to embarrass me at every turn. As I mused on this the paper with which Rachel had wrapped my parcel caught my eye. In my haste I had laid it on my dressing table. When I picked it up to crumple and put in the trash, to my surprise, a roll of paper fell out. Curiously I smoothed it out. It was a poster and contained a frontal photo of a handsome guy wearing just the briefest of swimming trunks. His muscles rippled and there was much more than a hint of his other ‘endowments’! I realised to my horror that my body was actually experiencing a tingling down there as I gazed at it. Eww! How could I?!

Wondering why she had included it, I remembered how Rachel had dwelt on the bodily attributes of the young pharmacist she admired. That helped me get past my initial disgust and made me smile. With all her little foibles she was a wonderful friend and I resisted my first impulse to toss the poster in the trash along with the wrapping paper. Sharing such an ‘interest’ with my idol made our friendship feel somehow intimate and I decided that I ought to give it a place on my bedroom wall. I pinned it up next to another poster which she had given me the year before. That had been her little joke on my fourteenth birthday. It was a photo of the naked rears of some body-builder guys stretched out in the sun under the caption “Hot Buns”. Despite my protests, my mother had of course insisted on it being placed above my bed. The sight had disturbed my sleep ever since!

Later on in the night I woke in the middle of a vivid dream. Rachel and her gorgeous body had featured in it all too prominently. I flicked on my bedside light and lay for a while trying to calm myself. Dully I found myself gazing at my posters. As I studied them again, a deep longing crept over me. I was experiencing that familiar tingling down there, most unusually since my altered medication. I tried to ignore it but it was no good and I remained sleepless. At last in desperation I went to the bathroom and took out my douche and a jar of lotion from the cabinet. Provocative images from my dream, of Chris, of the body-builders, then the guy in the poster alternated through my mind. When I returned to bed I was able to sleep at last.

To explain how I could even think of making use of this tantalising device, well…. Following that first introductory session, the humiliation I associated with douching didn’t diminish, but my ‘time’ each month became associated with at least as much pleasure as shame. Eventually, all I had to do was just think about it and I’d become excited. Far from making a fuss about this my mom seemed to hold the view that what was happening to me was quite natural for a ‘girl’! This mental jump was incomprehensible to me considering how violently she had objected to my doing…. well, the sort of things that teenage boys get up to in secret. Those practices were totally unacceptable to her but now, she didn’t seem to care. She just ensured I had plenty of pads and panty-liners to protect my girlish under-things, though as time went by they became less and less necessary.

It’s clear to me now that the hormones I had been taking for some months were having a more intense effect on me. The increased dose of ‘vitamins’ and the daily anti-androgen had really kicked in. What was most noticeable was the way my body kept developing with shrinking waist and swelling butt, hips and thighs. My body hair was almost non-existent and my prominent boobs were tender all the time. Constantly wearing a bra gave the benefit of support which was much-needed in that area. Another consequence was that my poor little member kept diminishing in size as well as sensitivity. I half-expected it to shrivel away to nothing any time soon! To get a response down there, the only effective stimuli I could count on were my douche sessions. At least the new avenue of pleasure which had opened was some consolation for the closure of the other one. Totally confusing!

I was faced with a dilemma when getting ready for school next morning. I was anxious to retain the popularity which my unintended flouting of the dress-code had brought me. If I broke the rules too obviously, one of the teachers might object and I might then have to suffer the indignity of being called out before the class and sent home to change. That was definitely something to avoid. However, acceptance by my school mates was something I valued more, despite the risk of censure. If I obeyed the strict dress code by wearing one of my own skirts and blouses, I’d prove to be an also-ran in the class credibility stakes. While, I didn’t want a reprimand, on balance it was less to be feared than losing my new-found friends. I made my choice and searched through the hand-me-downs Rachel had passed on to see if I could come up with another winning combination.

In the hope that my arrival would be a little less dramatic I set off a little earlier, wearing a dark grey pleated skirt which had formerly graced my friend’s lovely body. Its hem was well above my knees but the waistband was stretchy. My thinking was that if I eased the skirt down so that its waist sat on my hips, the overall length would be just about acceptable to the teaching staff. I would then hitch it up again when the inspection was over and it should be short enough to give the impression that I was some kind of trend-setter.

The blustery weather had subsided and as I rode along I made better progress. I wasn’t far from school when I was hailed. “Hi Jennifer!”

Hearing Kyle’s voice I looked over my shoulder and greeted him and Peter with a smile. “Hi guys!”

I slowed to let them catch up with me. It felt good to be able to count on some friendly company. To get the bike going again and ascend the last rise that led to the school gates I had to stand on the pedals. Although I expected that the boys would overtake me easily, they remained following a few yards behind me and it wasn’t until we arrived at the school itself that I twigged what the reason might be. Ruefully I realised that owing to the shortness of my skirt, for the last few blocks my companions had been treated to a free view of my panty clad butt! Teenage boys of their age were unlikely to pass up such a golden opportunity as I well understood. While they probably regarded me as more of an object than a real friend, all in all their attentions were very welcome, especially to someone in my vulnerable situation.

After we parked our bikes up, we walked back to the entrance together. I was secretly delighted when Kyle asked if I would ride along with them again on the way home. I considered for a moment, as if it mattered little to me, before coolly agreeing to meet up with them at the end of the day. Once this was settled we parted company. Minutes later I was accosted by Shirley and her friends who were making their way over from their school-bus. I could see that the leader of this little group was eyeing me up and down. It was some relief when the result was apparently favourable, and she and her friends fell in beside me as we walked to the entrance together.

Shirley’s opening remark was made with an almost accusatory tone. “You’re getting very friendly with Kyle.” As he was one of the taller and more athletic boys in my homeroom I wondered if I detected a hint of jealously behind her observation.

“He’s okay” I replied trying to assume an air of indifference. “I only know him because he rides to school as well.”

She stopped and looked at me thoughtfully as if evaluating my answer.

Trying to be a friend in need I hazarded a suggestion. “You could ride in, too. If you wanted to, that is.”

She considered a moment before declaring “I might just do that.” She sounded happier at the idea.

“That would be awesome” I smiled at her, and was rewarded by her linking arms with me.

Glancing down as we resumed our walk, I noticed that her skirt was nearly as short as mine today. I tried not to smile, and when I followed her up the steps I saw the reason for its abbreviated length. She had turned the waistband over on itself a few times. It gave me quite a thrill to know that one of the leaders of my peer group was trying to emulate ‘my’ style of dress. When we joined the line which had formed to enter the classroom, I put my bag on the floor and giving a meaning smile to Shirley, took the stretchy waistband of my skirt in both hands and wriggled it down onto my hips. The hem now came just above my knee. The significance of my action wasn’t lost on her but headstrong as always, she merely shrugged and tossed her head. It was clear that she had no desire to be so obvious as to follow a lead from me.

We entered the class and I could see Miss Baker giving me her full attention once more, checking on the suitability of my attire no doubt. She seemed satisfied and I made my way to my seat. My new-found friend wasn’t so fortunate and was called over to the teacher. When she finally was allowed to take her place, she wore a sulky expression and her skirt had resumed its regulation length. Fearing my comparative success might spoil our budding friendship I tried to give her what sympathy I could.

“That was so unfair!” I mouthed across the room.

With another shrug of her shoulders and a grin, Shirley signalled her indifference. Cautiously I was inclined to hope that our being on good terms hadn’t suffered unduly from my more favourable treatment at the teacher’s hands.

At the end of the day I set off with Kyle and Peter to walk down to the bike sheds as arranged. I was surprised when who should be waiting for me outside my classroom but Chris. This was extra kind of him. I knew he had football practice that night so he was in danger of missing the start of it. I whispered to him that I would be okay but he turned to walk with us anyway. While the other two led the way he slowed his pace a little and I kept in step with him giving us the chance for a tete-a-tete.

Our situation held promise of something more, but we both seemed a little tongue-tied. My thoughts ran riot. Perhaps he was going to ask me out. What would I say? What am I thinking? I don’t date guys! We walked on for some minutes in virtual silence. I could see the other two had turned and were waiting for us to catch up and the moment had gone. Reluctantly quickening my pace again I reminded him “Your practice. You’ll miss it!”

He checked his watch and nodded apologetically “I’d better run.”

“Yes, go. Bye!”

Thus bidden he dashed away while I caught Kyle and his friend up. “Sorry guys! Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Feeling flustered and a more than a little frustrated I quickly got myself ready to ride home. I just didn’t know what I wanted. Dating a boy. How could I even consider that?! In my haste I mounted the bike, forgetting to keep my skirt under control. It didn’t go unnoticed and I saw that both boys’ eyes were glued to my rear end once again!

“No problem” said Kyle, failing to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice!

I wasn’t too upset, however. In fact it made me feel a little better. Got to keep them interested!