Author's Note: Like most of my stories, this is a light-hearted cross-dressing romp. Although Seacombe Independent Girls' High School plays only a small part, I have included this as one of my SIGHS stories. If you enjoy the story, please click on the Good Story button at the end. I'd also be delighted to receive your comments by clicking on the Send Author a Message button. Enjoy.

It was supposed to be a four hour drive from London to Seacombe, but setting out after Nick Williams' mum finished work on that busy Monday between Christmas and New Year was the very worst time to travel. It was almost eleven pm by the time he and his mother, Sarah, arrived at their destination.

"I still don't see why we couldn't have set out early tomorrow morning," Nick grumbled for the umpteenth time, as they stumbled up the dark garden path. They were staying at the home of Laura Davis, an old friend of Sarah's, who was letting them use her home whilst she and her family were away. "We'd have missed the worst of the traffic and Mrs Bottom is putting us up at her place tomorrow night."

"It's Lady Bottomly of Seacombe," his mother admonished. "I've told you over and over again to address her properly. She was always a stickler for protocol when I was her housekeeper and she was in her sixties then. She's probably far worse now. That's why I didn't want to stay an extra night with her. She'll probably count the number of times we go to the toilet. But remember, she's giving this dinner party especially for your fifteenth birthday, so she deserves a bit of respect."

"Yes, Mum," Nick agreed.

A security light came on at that moment and illuminated the path up to the front door. Whilst his mother unlocked it and went inside, switching on lights, Nick turned back to the car to bring in their suitcases.

Except that there was only one suitcase in the boot — his mother's. He checked the inside of the car — the suitcase he had packed the previous evening was not there.

"Mu-um!" he whined as he went inside the house. "You forgot to bring my suitcase. What am I going to do? All I have is what I'm standing up in."

"I shall forget my own head, next," his mum said. "I remember picking it up from your bedroom, but I must have put it down somewhere else. I'm sorry about that, love. Never mind, I expect we'll find some pyjamas for you to wear tonight."

"But mum," Nick moaned, "you told me that your friend, Mrs Davis, is separated from her husband and only has two daughters. I can't wear a girl's pyjamas."

"Well," his mother brightly said, "perhaps we'll find you a pretty nightdress."

"Mu-um!"

***

Emily was the younger of Laura's two daughters and a few years older than Nick, so they worked out which was her room, and his mother flipped through her drawers. "Here we are," she said, laying out a few nightclothes on the bed. "What about a pair of Little Princess pyjamas?"

Nick snorted, and he continued to do so for all the other items his mother laid out. Eventually, he decided on a plain pair with a little heart motif.

"They'll do you very nicely," his mother said, adding, "And I think you'll find your boy bits don't fall off just because you wear a girl's pyjamas overnight. All right?"

"Yes, mum." Strangely, he felt rather excited about wearing such pretty clothes, although he'd had to protest, otherwise his mother would have thought him weird.

"You'll need to take a shower before you put them on," she said.

"But Mum," he protested, "I always take a shower in the morning, not the evening."

"Well you're wearing someone else's clothes, so you can take a shower now."

He nodded. "OK, Mum."

So he took a long, hot shower. They had much nicer smelling soap than the kind his mother normally bought, and he came out smelling rather girly. His mother had given him some nylon panties to go with the pyjamas, and as he slid them up his legs, his cock went rigid!

It was highly embarrassing, and he had to pull them up tightly to contain the bulge, but after he'd slipped on the pyjamas, he looked quite respectable, even — dare he say it — sweet! He blushed at the thoughts whizzing through his mind.

"Your drinking chocolate is ready," his mum called up the stairs, and he shyly went downstairs to the kitchen.

"Darling," his mum said, with a slightly amazed look, "You look lovely."

"I'm a boy, Mum," he said. "I'm not meant to look lovely."

"For the time being," she said, giving him a hug, "you're a girl, and a very pretty girl you make. Now drink up your chocolate."

It was strange, but after forgetting his suitcase like that, he'd normally have been grumbling at her all evening until she snapped at him to stop moaning, but somehow it all seemed an adventure, and they chatted amicably about the letter which had arrived a couple of weeks ago, which had brought them down here.

***

When Nick arrived home from school, the handwritten envelope had been on the doormat, along with two envelopes marked "Final Demand". Final demands came all too frequently nowadays, and Nick hoped that, as soon as he was fifteen, he'd be able to get a job and help out his mum with some of the bills. His mum was always saying how everything was getting more money except her salary.

But those thoughts flitted only briefly through his mind that day since, at the bottom of the pile of post was the horse magazine subscription his uncle had given him for Christmas. He had a couple of hours before his mother came home. He'd have to begin his homework by the time she arrived, but in the meantime...

***

"Do you remember me telling you about Lady Bottomly?" His mother had ignored the envelopes containing the two Final Demands and immediately opened the handwritten envelope.

"You were living with her as housekeeper when you had me, weren't you?" he replied, looking up from his French homework which he'd hurriedly started as she came through the front door. "In some huge, old house near Seacombe."

She nodded. "When Lady Bottomly interviewed me for the job, I was six months' pregnant and single so I wasn't normally top of anyone's list of applicants. Fortunately, she was totally discriminatory when it came to putting women before men. Finding her made so much difference for me. She absolutely doted on you. You were almost four when we moved up to London."

"Strange you haven't heard from her all these years."

"Oh, we have exchanged a few letters in the past, but this time she's remembered your fifteenth birthday — although since it's on New Year's Day I can't see how she could have forgotten the other fourteen. Anyway, she wondered if we'd like to go down and stay New Year's Eve with her. Apparently, Seacombe always has a parade on New Year's Day, so she says she'll hold a dinner party for you the night before and then we can all go see the parade on your birthday."

"That's nice of her. Shall we go?"

His mother hesitated. "It will cost us quite a lot of money: there's the petrol, and we'll have to get you some smart clothes. I think we'd better not."

Nick was rather disappointed, but he understood — or thought he did. "Of course, Mum. It's no great shakes."

"The thing is..." his mother said, and then stopped.

"The thing is?" Nick queried.

"Well, Lady Bottomly's husband died a few months ago. Sir James Bottomly. Do you remember? He was in the news."

Nick shook his head. "Not really... Oh. Was he that banker?"

"That was him. He was worth millions, if not billions."

"And you think he might have left her a millionaire?"

"They were separated well before she employed me, but he was Catholic, so they never divorced. I'm sure he'll have left her something."

"So perhaps she's thinking of a nice birthday present for the boy she knew as a baby?"

His mum shrugged. "I think it's quite likely."

"So perhaps we ought to go?"

"It's not as easy as that," his mother crossly snapped at him. "There are... things which make it difficult."

"OK, Mum. Whatever." But Nick was rather upset at the way she had turned on him. It was hardly his fault if she had problems with her old employer. All the same, it would have been nice to look forward to an expensive present."

***

"I think perhaps we'd better go," his mother had said over breakfast, next morning. "I'm sure she will be thinking of a nice present for you, if not more."

"More?"

"She might offer to help with university, for example."

"Really?" Nick had assumed there was no way his mother could afford such luxuries as allowing him a university education rather than earning a wage.

"The problem is there are complications."

"Such as..." he prompted.

She shook her head. "I can't tell you now, but if we went you'd have to be very brave about any... awkwardness," she finished, rather lamely.

He grinned at her. "When have you ever known me frightened of anything?" he asked her.

She cheered up. "You're right," she said. "We can do it."

Although what exactly they could do, Nick couldn't imagine.

***

"It's a good job," his mother said, as they drank their hot chocolate together, "that we decided your present suit was good enough for tomorrow night, so we haven't spent a lot of money on clothes which I forgot to bring with us."

"But we will have to go out tomorrow and buy something smart," he said. "As well as shirts and underwear and things."

"I'd forgotten about underwear," she said. She hesitated a little and then added, "If you find Emily's panties comfortable, would it be such a bind if you continued to wear them whilst we're here. After all, no one's going to see them."

Nick's heart gave a little jump of joy, but he managed to avoid grinning as he said, "OK, Mum. I know money's tight. It's no problem wearing Emily's knickers — as long as we don't tell anyone about this. I'd never live down the embarrassment."

She smiled at him. "Thanks, love. I think it's time we were both in bed now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mum." He didn't normally kiss her — it's not the kind of thing which fourteen year-old boys normally did, but it seemed all right to kiss her that night.

***

"Mum," he shouted next morning. "What's happened to the clothes I was wearing yesterday?"

She came to the bottom of the stairs and smiled up at him. "Oh, I put them all in the wash, love. After all, you'll need them for the journey home."

"Yes, but Mum," he couldn't work out why she couldn't see the problem, "I need to wear them today in order to go into town and buy something to wear for this evening."

"I had a good look through Emily's clothes last night whilst you were in the shower. She's quite curvy for her age but I think we'll find some suitable clothes you could wear whilst we shop.

"Not dresses and skirts," she hastily added, seeing his face, "but sweaters and leggings. I'm sure we'll find something which you'll look good in."

"But everybody will laugh at me," he gasped. Wouldn't they?

"Only if they knew you were a boy wearing girl's clothes. But last night I realised you make a very passable girl. You'll be fine."

Seeing his uncertainty, she started up the stairs, saying, "Come on. Let's find something you can wear. It'll be fun."

He opened his mouth to deny it, and then closed it. "Mum, I'm not certain about this," he finally said.

"That's OK," she said. "I am."

His mother made him wash his hair before they started, then she blow dried it, giving it a nice wave which looked quite feminine. Then they turned to Emily's wardrobe. She had all kinds of lovely clothes — lots of matching outfits in bright colours which Nick consented to try on, one after the other. But when he looked in the mirror, he could still see a boy's shape beneath.

"The problem is your shoulders," his mother agreed with him. "They're wider than your hips which is unusual for a girl." She was silent for a minute, and then said, "I did see something in Emily's sister's wardrobe which I think might help, but it was a bit of a strange thing. It was a... a sort of a body."

"You mean those all-in-one vests that you wear to pull your tummy in?"

"Well, not really, although... I'll go and get it then you can see for yourself."

She was back in a few seconds and Nick gaped at what she held out. It looked for all the world like a woman's skin-coloured torso, from neck down to...

"Oh God!" He felt himself blushing at what he could see between the legs.

"Sorry," his mum said. "I should have warned you, but since you're an honorary girl at the moment, I guess it's permitted for you to look properly. Go on, don't be embarrassed."

But he was embarrassed in front of his mother, until she said, "The important thing is that the hips and bum are padded out. I think that will make the difference."

At last, he could look at the torso without being transfixed by the... thing. "Yes," he agreed, "you're probably right.

"She has nice breasts, as well, don't you think?"

Nice breasts! They were huge, the stuff of his wildest dreams. "Er... Yes, I suppose so," he mumbled.

His mum smirked at him. "That's good, because you'll be wearing them soon."

"Wearing them! Mum, I can't wear that."

"Why not?"

"Mum, it's a..."

"Piece of plastic skin which looks like a woman's body. Nothing to be frightened of in that."

"No, mum," he lied. The thing actually terrified him.

"Come on then." She fumbled between the legs where the... thing was situated, then something clicked and the... thing seemed to separate from the bum. Clearly, it was all meant to be pulled over the head and then clipped in place between the legs to hold it all in place.

"Mum," he made his final protest. "Isn't this all a bit over the top? I mean, my clothes should be washed and dried this morning. We can go out this afternoon and buy me something to wear for tonight."

"Assuming we can find something suitable in Seacombe," she said. "We may find nothing and have to go on somewhere else, miles away. We can't risk being late for this evening. That would be the height of bad manners. Besides..."

She stopped and smiled at him. "Admit it. This is FUN! You're enjoying it. Come on. Let's put this over your head and down your body, then you can go to the bathroom and secure it in place."

He grinned back at her. "You're crazy, but... OK." He stripped off Emily's top which he'd been wearing and held out his arms so that his mother could feed the body over his head.

***

"Well, what do you think," his mother asked twenty minutes later.

He stared in the mirror at his reflection; he was wearing Emily's bright red leggings with a matching red and white striped sweater. He marvelled at the way his large breasts jutted forward, and bounced slightly as he twisted in front of the mirror, but what really made the difference were his protruding hips and bum which really gave him the shape of a girl.

"Mindboggling," he replied. "I can't believe I'm looking at myself — but I am."

"Now let's try it with one of Emily's dresses," his mother suggested.

"Mum! No!" he protested. He'd seen the fantastic range of dresses in her wardrobe — apparently, Emily played in a string quartet and had been performing to audiences all over Britain. The dresses excited him; some slinky, others with swirling skirts. But he could never admit his excitement to his mother.

"You'd look great in them," his mum said.

"But Mum," he said. "We have to go out and buy something for me to wear tonight. Remember."

She nodded and became suddenly solemn and said, "I guess it's time I levelled with you."

"What?" he said.

***

She had made them cups of tea and sat him down in the lounge on the settee. "You remember I told you I was six months pregnant when Lady Bottomly interviewed me for the job of housekeeper?

"I'd had dozens of other interviews," she continued, "and they all took one look at me and made up their mind. They weren't allowed to say it was because I was pregnant, of course, but it's easy enough to make up any old excuse."

Nick nodded. "And then you applied for a job with Lady Bottomly."

"In the interview, she immediately started asking me about my pregnancy. When I told her your father had abandoned me as soon as he learnt I was pregnant, she was on my side. Within a few minutes, it was clear she hated all men, especially her husband, and I must admit, I played up to her a little. I was desperate for a job. Then she suddenly asked me if I'd had a scan. 'Is it a boy or a girl?' she asked."

His mother turned to look Nick in the eye. "When I'd had my scan," she said, "I'd told them I didn't want to know your sex. But I knew that, with her hatred of the male sex, it was really important to Lady Bottomly that I was having a baby girl. I had a fifty-fifty chance of being right so I rather stupidly said you were a girl." She shrugged.

"It got me the job, and Lady Bottomly had a room converted into a nursery — it was pink, of course, with pretty fairies floating around — and she bought lots of little girl's clothes. She'd have been so upset if I gave birth to a boy, especially as I had deceived her. I thought she'd ask me to leave."

"How did she take it when I was born?"

"I let her think you were a girl."

Nick shook his head, trying to work out the implications. "But we were there for almost four years. You couldn't keep my sex a secret for all that time."

"Yes I could."

Nick spoke slowly, as though trying to grasp what she was saying. "You mean I wore girl's dresses until I was four?"

His mum nodded.

"Oh God! How embarrassing!"

"I knew we would have to leave before you started school. Meeting Steve was just fortunate - or at least, I thought so at the time."

His mother had married Steve - the man Nick knew as Dad - and had an acrimonious divorce just a few years previously.

Nick glanced down at his breasts jutting out beneath his red and white sweater, and his red leggings curving around his wide bum and said, "You've never told her, have you. All these years, she's believed I'm a girl. And tonight, she's expecting to see a girl arrive in a pretty dress."

"I know I have deceived you, Nick, but I was certain that if I simply put it to you outright, you wouldn't contemplate it. You'd feel you had to reject it out of hand, regardless of your inner feelings."

Nick opened his mouth to deny it and then realised she had seen him exactly how he was. He smiled at her and nodded. "You're right," he said. "You'd never have got me to this stage. I still can't believe that this is me." He waved down at his attire. Then another thought struck him.

"Does Mrs Davis know what you're up to this weekend?"

She nodded, and said, "It's a long story, but when I first met Laura, I told her that you were a little boy, not a girl. We've periodically chatted on the phone ever since, so when her daughters started getting involved in similar things she would ring me up and tell me all about it. It's not the first time that body you're wearing — it's called a Torsolet by the way — has been used to make boys look like girls.

"When Lady Bottomly's letter arrived, I telephoned her and she suggested this. She's actually staying nearby with a friend, to leave the two of us alone here, so I can get you this far. If it's alright with you, I'll give her a ring now, and she'll come round and help with the rest."

"The rest? You mean get me to wear a dress?"

"Not just a dress. She's a beautician. She'll do your hair better than I have, wax your legs, do your nails, show you how to apply makeup. Being female is not just about wearing a dress."

Somewhere inside him, his old self protested that no boy should even contemplate such a thing, but he couldn't stop his heart fluttering with excitement about what his mother was suggesting. He smiled and said, "You'd better give her a call.

"And," he added, "I hope you're right about there being a decent present at the end of it. If Lady Bottomly gives me a nice sweater, I'll..." He left the end of the sentence open, for effect.

"You'll look very pretty in it," his mum said, and he couldn't stop his heart bounce with excitement.

***

Nick had expected Mrs Davis to ridicule him for wearing girls' clothes, but she didn't blink an eyelid - it was as though she'd seen it hundreds of times before - which actually she had as at one time she'd worked for the company who made and sold the Torsolet.

But all Nick knew was that she cast an expert eye over him and was then pushing him back to the bathroom to have his hair properly done.

"Just a little colour, which we'll be able to wash out tomorrow, and a cut will make all the difference," she said. "As for those dreadful nails, I'll give you very short acrylic extensions. Have you chosen a dress yet? Emily has some lovely ones you can choose from."

"Actually," Nick said, "I'm starting to feel awfully sweaty beneath this Torsolet. I don't think I can wear it for much longer."

Mrs Davis smiled at him. "There's a special gel we put on your body to stop the sweat," she said. "Take it off for now, and we'll sort that out later. But don't worry, your mother is going to take a really pretty daughter to dine with Lady Bottomly tonight, and no one will know anything different."

***

"Oh, Nichola, how delightful to see you, after all these years," Lady Bottomly said, standing up to greet her guests as Emma, the housekeeper, showed them into the drawing room. "What a pretty girl you've become."

"Thank you, Lady Bottomly," Nichola said with a shy smile. She had been coached for hours on the best way to speak, and the right facial expressions to adopt for a girl.

"Sarah," Lady Bottomly' gaze switched to Nichola's mother, standing behind her. "You're looking delightful."

"Thank you, Lady Bottomly," she replied. "You haven't changed a bit since we last saw you."

"Would you like a sherry, Sarah?" Lady Bottomly asked. "Emma has a selection of soft drinks for you Nichola, if you let her know what you would like."

She pointed to the timid-looking, middle-aged woman wearing a black dress and white apron, who had opened the front door to them and shown them into the drawing room. Emma picked up a tray with two glasses of sherry, and she gave them a nervous smile as she stepped forward and held the tray out for Lady Bottomly and Sarah to take a glass. Nichola had a sudden impulse to ask for a gin and tonic, but remembered the large present possibly on offer, and instead said, "Could I have a lemonade and lime, please?"

So the small talk commenced with all the easy familiarity one might expect between the wife of a baronet, her former housekeeper, and a boy dressed as a girl. They talked about the weather, the following day's parade, the subjects at school which Nichola most enjoyed (it was good, Lady Bottomly said, that a girl liked science and maths), and the conversation seemed almost on the point of drying up, when the housekeeper came in and whispered that dinner was ready to be served.

"Before we sit down for dinner," Lady Bottomly said, "I would like to give Nichola her present this evening, rather than waiting for her birthday, tomorrow.

"I should warn you," she added, "that it is rather large, so I hope you won't think it out of place, Sarah."

"Oh, you shouldn't have got her anything big, Lady Bottomly," Sarah said. "I'm sure Nichola will be delighted, whatever it is."

"It wasn't a question of buying anything, Sarah," Lady Bottomly replied, "but Sir James has willed this house and all its contents to me, so it seems sensible to pass things on where they'll be most useful."

As she led the way out of the room and across the hallway, Sarah gave Nichola a triumphant glance which said, "I told you so."

Lady Bottomly led the way into a small room set towards the rear of the house, and turned to smile at Nichola. "Nichola, I know how much pleasure this gave you when you lived here, so I'm sure it will give equal pleasure to your own children, when they are born." She stood aside and indicated the object standing against the wall.

It was a huge dolls' house.

At the look of horror on the face of her mother, who luckily was standing behind Lady Bottomly, Nichola's instantaneous thought was to burst into laughter. Fortunately, she managed to restrict it to a lovely grin, as she gushed, "Oh, Lady Bottomly. I'd totally forgotten it, but now I can remember playing with this dolls' house, all those years ago. Thank you so much. I'll really treasure it."

She leant forward, gave Lady Bottomly a kiss on the cheek, and then added. "The only thing is..." she turned to her mother and said, "Mum, do you think there's room for it in our house?"

Her mother shook her head, but before she could speak, Lady Bottomly darted in. "It's all right. It all dismantles and packs away into a trunk. Emma will pack it up for you and it will be ready to go when you leave tomorrow.

"In any case," she added, with finality, "at some stage I will have to sell off this house, so I might as well start getting rid of the things I no longer need. You must take it."

So it was decreed, leaving Sarah wondering how they were even going to get the monstrosity into the car, never mind find somewhere to store it in their tiny, modern house. Nichola, meanwhile, was remembering the pleasure she had gained as a toddler when she had been allowed to play with the magnificent house. At the same time, she was wondering what Nick was going to tell his friends about this whole escapade when he returned to school on Monday. Fortunately, he hadn't hyped up the visit too much, only telling his best friend basic details, without emphasising that he had hoped to gain a university education out of his host. Nichola gave another look at her mother, who was looking extremely morose. She gave her a grin to try to cheer her up.

They moved to the dining room and Emma served them to soup, a rather thick and stodgy liquid, without much taste, followed by a roast beef, remarkable only for the amount of gristle it contained.

Sarah hardly spoke over dinner, thinking about all the arrangements she'd had to make and the way she'd had to deceive Nick, just to get him down here, all for a bloody dolls' house. Lady Bottomly seemed to pick up on her unhappiness and was affronted by it, so strangely, it was Nichola who led the conversation over the meal. She chattered about the excitement she used to feel when she played with the dolls' house, and about her own feelings, returning to the house after all these years. It was amazing, she told them, how just an hour ago she couldn't remember a thing about this house, but now the memories were flooding back.

It was after they had finished their main course, and both Sarah and Lady Bottomly were getting quite fed up with the endless chatter coming out of Nichola, that Emma came in to clear away their plates and told Lady Bottomly that a Miss Harper had telephoned and left a message for Lady Bottomly to ring her back urgently.

"Well if it was urgent," Lady Bottomly said, "why didn't you come in and interrupt me?"

"But you have always instructed you weren't to be disturbed by telephone calls during a meal, Lady Bottomly," the poor woman protested.

"Except in emergency," Lady Bottomly overruled, standing up, and adding, as she left the room. "This is clearly an emergency."

"Yes, Lady Bottomly," Emma said to the closing door.

As soon as Emma had taken the dirty plates from the room, Sarah said, "What a total disaster. We've come all this way, only to get that horror dumped on us. I suppose we can take it to the rubbish tip on the way home."

"Mum," Nichola protested, "it's my birthday present. I used to really love playing with it when I was young. Couldn't we keep it for a short time?"

Sarah suddenly grinned at him. "The really great thing to come out of this is that I've found a lovely daughter who I never knew I had."

"Don't be silly, Mum," Nichola said, but she couldn't understand why her mother's words gave her such a thrill of pleasure.

"Ah, Nichola," Lady Bottomly said, as she returned to the room. "I don't suppose you ride, do you? In my day, every child learnt, but I suppose you city girls don't get the chance."

"Yes, I ride," Nichola said. "It's one of the activities we can do at school and I really love it."

"Excellent, child," Lady Bottomly approved. "I'm certain you have never ridden side-saddle, but you'll pick that up in no time."

"Side-saddle?" Sarah queried. "Why does she need to ride side-saddle?"

"Miss Harper is the headmistress of SIGHS, the local girls' high school. One of her girls, Gemma Watkins, was going to ride in the parade tomorrow to represent the original Lady Bottomly of Seacombe, and Miss Harper tells me she has now taken ill and can't do it. Unfortunately, all the other girls from SIGHS who are competent riders are already taking part in other parts of the parade, so I'm hoping that Nichola will be able to fill in. It is, after all, a great privilege to represent the first Lady Bottomly." She turned to Nichola. "Will you do it?"

Would she do it? Try stopping her. Ever since Nick had his first ride, he had been obsessed. But with the series of lessons arranged by his school coming to an end and money being so short, there was simply no hope he could do any more until he had a proper job. Now, Lady Bottomly was asking him if he'd like to try riding side-saddle. "Oh, yes, Lady Bottomly. I'd love to try side-saddle."

"Excellent," Lady Bottomly said. "I'll go and tell Miss Harper to arrange a lesson for you tomorrow morning."

***
"I can't do it," Nichola said to her mother, who was waiting for her in the car outside the riding school, the following lunchtime. "It's just impossible."

"But you've always been great with horses," Sarah said. "You've really taken to riding so well. Is side-saddle so very difficult?"

"Riding side-saddle was great," Nichola said. "It looks so precarious but once I was mounted, it's quite stable. I rode Sampson, who is quite used to it and very well-behaved. Miss Bennett, who's the riding instructor at SIGHS, says I'm a natural." She grinned with pleasure at the compliment. "It's quite disconcerting, though, riding with breasts. They keep bouncing up and down, just as the rest of my body is going in the opposite direction."

Her mother grinned at her. "It's one of the things a shapely girl like you has to live with. But why do you say you can't ride in the parade?"

"All the girls from SIGHS taking part in various parts of the parade were there, doing a final practice, apart from Gemma Watkins, whose part I'm taking because she's supposedly sick."

"Supposedly sick?"

"Everyone was saying she wasn't sick at all, but that she was refusing to do it because Lady Bottomly and Miss Harper were insisting she dress up in Victorian clothes."

"But she was taking the part of the original Lady Bottomly. Of course she had to wear Victorian clothes because that's when the baronetcy was created. What's wrong with that?"

Nichola pulled a face. "They're insisting she wears a corset — a symbol of male oppression over females." She shook her head. "I can't do it, Mum."

She was plainly repeating words she had been told several times over the course of the morning, and Sarah had to repress a smile. "Firstly, don't forget that you are a boy, so you wearing a corset can hardly be said to be male oppression over females; quite the reverse, in fact. Secondly, even if it was an instrument of oppression, don't you think it's right that we show what women had to go through? It's no good trying to hide such things and pretend they never happened.

"Thirdly," her face really did break out into a smile, now, "I'd be willing to bet you that if the fashion industry decreed that corsets were back in fashion, all those revolting teenagers would be going out tomorrow and buying them. Am I right, or am I right?"

Nichola gave a grin and nodded. "I suppose so. But I still don’t want to wear a corset."

"When we first talked about this trip," Sarah said, "we agreed you'd have to be courageous. Perhaps this is the moment when you have to show you can be as courageous as a Victorian lady, when she rode side-saddle.

"Anyway," she added, "it will be fun."

Fun! She'd used the word several times that weekend, and now it had popped out again. Nick had never known his mother gain such enjoyment out of life — for that matter, he couldn't remember ever having such fun himself. The other girls had terrified Nichola about the corset; now her mother's words had shown her a different aspect. Yes, perhaps it would be fun, or perhaps even exhilarating.

***

Lady Bottomly was waiting for them when they returned to the house, and she insisted that Nichola should get partly dressed for the parade before lunch.

"It's no good having a huge meal and then expecting to squeeze into your corset," she told them. "We'll get you into your underwear, and then you can decide for yourself how much you can eat. Victorian ladies never had to worry about overeating whilst they were wearing a corset."

She took them upstairs and into a room next to her bedroom which was her dressing room. Nichola had been expecting a wonderful array of Victorian gowns; instead, it was equipped with modern bedroom furniture, not dissimilar to the self-assembled furniture in their own home.

"Here we are," Lady Bottomly said, reaching into a wardrobe and pulling out a plastic bag. She emptied it onto the bed, and amongst a collection of frothy white garments was that symbol of female oppression, a garment of white linen, cords and whalebone. Her mother gave a sympathetic grin to the shudder which ran through Nichola, but which was actually due to Nichola's excitement. She gave a nervous smile back at her mother.

"I'll leave you to it, now," Lady Bottomly said, much to the relief of Nichola and Sarah, who were wondering how well a naked Nichola would stand up to critical inspection. "The dress for Nichola to wear is in that wardrobe." She pointed. "You'll need to ensure her waist is tight laced sufficiently to fit."

Sarah opened the wardrobe and inspected the blue dress hanging there. "We'll, it's rather different to the one you wore last night," she said. She pulled it out of the wardrobe and held it up against her. I don't think you'll have any problem with the length of this," she said.

"But mum," Nicola said. "Look at that waist. I'll never fit into that."

Lady Bottomly had left them a tape measure, and Sarah used it to measure the waistline of the dress and then wrapped it around Nichola. "Just over four inches," she said. "I think that's probably just doable on first use. Let's give it a go. Strip off."

"Mum, I'm really not sure about this," Nichola said.

"We, we either get it to fit or give up," Sarah said. "So at least let's try. Now, off with your clothes, young lady."

Nichola stripped down to her panties and bra, smiling as she realised how unthinkable that would have been just a couple of days before.

"You'll need to remove your bra, as well," Sarah said. "They weren't invented until the last century. For that matter, I don't suppose panties were, but if you do come arse over tit off the horse, you'll need to be wearing something to protect your modesty."

"Yes Mum," Nichola said, as she obediently unclipped her bra and let it slide down her arms, "but if everyone's staring at my panties, I don't think I'll have much modesty left."

"The original Lady Bottomly probably didn't wear any drawers, and she managed to retain her dignity, so I wouldn't worry too much. Now, let's put this chemise on you."

She held the white garment above Nichola's head and slid it down her body. Then she picked up the corset. "We have to loosen off the laces as much as possible before putting it on," she explained, "so we can tighten it up afterwards."

She worked the two halves of the corset up and down, whilst pulling them apart. Then she wrapped the garment around Nichola's waist and fastened it together at the front. She tugged it a little, here and there, and then turned Nichola to face the mirror.

"I think you should watch the magic happen as we tighten it up," she said. "Then you'll appreciate why women today still wear corsets."

She started to draw in the strings and Nichola felt it tighten around her stomach. It wasn't painful, as Nichola had expected it to be, although as it started to draw her figure into a classic hourglass shape, it was slightly uncomfortable.

"You're not screaming with pain, yet, young lady," Sarah remarked, as she paused to feed through the slack in the laces.

"What?" Nichola said, having been mesmerised as she stared in the mirror. "Er, no. I was just amazed at my shape."

"A bit more pulling and I think we'll be pretty well there," Sarah said.

"Really?" Nichola said. "Why that was easy-peasy. I don't know what those girls were complaining about."

"Wait until you've worn it for a few hours," Sarah said. "Then you can brag about it."

"Yes Mum."

***

Lady Bottomly had been right about Nichola's lack of appetite over lunch, but even without the corset, Nichola suspected she wouldn't have eaten much, so anxious was she to get on with the next stage. Ostensibly, she was keen to get back to the riding, but privately, she was at least as keen to finish dressing and see what she looked like in her Victorian garb.

When her mother took her back upstairs to the bedroom and tried on the dress, she wasn't at all worried that her corset needed to be further tightened. She was going to fit into that dress or bust the corset. Seeing the determination on her face, Sarah decided to draw the line, or actually to cease drawing it, pretty soon.

In fact, they managed to button up the dress with just a little more tightening of the corset, with Sarah being satisfied it wasn't going to damage Nichola's insides. If Nichola started to make a habit of it, she thought, she would have to take care she didn't get carried away — especially in an ambulance.

Of course, Nichola should have put on her woollen stockings and boots before putting on her corset, so Sarah had to do it for her. As Sarah forced her feet into the boots, Nichola protested.

"Mum! I can't possibly walk in these boots. They're far too tight."

Sarah smiled and said, "I'm sure the girls you spoke to this morning who protested so much about the corset, often wear boots and shoes as tight as this. I'm afraid we don't have any choice."

"They lent me some wellies at the riding school this morning," Nichola said. "I'm sure they would lend them this afternoon."

"A Victorian lady would not be seen dead in a pair of wellies," Sarah said. "Do you want to give up?"

"No way."

Sarah smiled again. "A Victorian lady would never say, 'No way'."

"We are not amused," Nichola said. "Fortunately, it's not a speaking part." She tentatively stood up and tottered about in her boots, coming to rest in front of the mirror again. A surge of excitement ran through her that was totally beyond description, but almost like... She blushed and turned away.

"I think it is time," she said, "that we took our carriage to the stables."

***

Seacombe Parade was designed, like so many other events in Seacombe throughout the year, to attract more visitors into the town, who would eat, drink, go to the sales and buy some of the abysmal paraphernalia which filled the gift shops. Fortunately, it was a delightful day, the weather had been mild and the sun came out, giving a spring-like feeling to the air. The anoraks and raincoats disappeared, and tee-shirts came out. It was the kind of day the Town Council wished it could conjure up every day, for when the sun shines, people not only spend money, they return over and over.

The parade started at two pm, and having to get corseted and dressed had taken rather more time than Sarah and Nichola had expected, so there was barely time to get to the large car park where the parade was being assembled, locate the horse box from the riding school and get saddled up and mounted. It was made more difficult because the girls from SIGHS had sent her to Coventry for reneging on her decision not to wear a corset, and it was left to Miss Bennett to help her into the saddle.

Then she was being called to take her place in the parade, following a brewer's dray from the local brewery, and the Town Crier who would do his, "Oh yea! Oh yea! Oh yea! Make way for Lady Bottomly of Seacombe," thing.

So she really had no time on her mount before setting out to realise the problems introduced by her different style of dress. The tightly fitting corset was no problem; indeed, she had by then got quite used to it and had been rather enjoying the admiring glances her hourglass figure was bringing from young and old men alike. (Was that weird, or what? After all, 'she' was actually a perfectly normal boy, who happened to be wearing a dress, so why should he appreciate glances from males?)

No, it was the absence of her bra which caused her problems. She had noticed that morning the difficulty that Gossard had in preventing her large boobs from travelling in the opposite direction to both her horse and her body. But the corset she was now wearing simply flared out at the bust, squeezing in the lower part of her breasts, thereby pushing the upper parts upwards and outwards, and doing absolutely nothing to stop them lurching further upwards with every step taken by Sampson. And of course, what goes up, must inevitably come down. Whilst the camisole she wore beneath the corset initially made a measly attempt to restrain her flying breasts, the material quickly rode up so that after a few minutes, her breasts seemed totally unfettered.

For a while, Nichola was incredibly embarrassed, noticing the stares as they went into the first road, with a scattering of people lining the roads. But then she thought, so what? Let them all stare at her.
So she was quite enjoying herself when she noticed Mrs Davis with a girl who was presumably her daughter, Emily, whose clothes Nichola had been wearing all weekend. She gave them a wave and a grin. Laura waved back, but Emily gave her a rather strange grin.

"What's she up to?" Nichola wondered, "and why's she holding that little remote control in her hand?" It was the kind you commonly get with ghetto-blasters and Nichola was still wondering about it when Emily deliberately pointed it at her and pressed a button.

Zing! The nipples on her Torsolet suddenly went erect. She could see them pushing out the material of her dress. But not only were they erect, she could feel them. How zany was that? She could feel her false nipples as though they were her own. But not just feel them. They were painfully sensitive, almost as if they were giving her electric shocks — which actually they were. Every step that Sampson took rubbed her false nipples up and down against the material of her camisole, which in turn resulted in a strong tickling sensation in her own nipples. It was both hurting her and driving her wild with excitement. She wanted to clasp a hand to her breast, to alleviate the torture and to massage it, but in front of the crowds could not.

Then she became aware of another source of sensitivity — in her groin. With every pace taken by Sampson, her bottom shifted slightly in the saddle and Nichola could only describe the feeling generated as though someone was massaging her groin - not sufficiently to bring her to climax, but enough to make her incredibly excited.

She wanted to adjust her position in the saddle to increase the feeling, but in the side-saddle she stood no chance. She couldn't even squeeze her thighs tightly together for after all, was not the side-saddle designed to prevent a woman gaining more pleasure from having a stallion between her legs than her husband?

She passed a group of boys who all shouted out at her; things like, "Cor, what fantastic knockers!" or, "We can see your nipples," or even, "I could fuck that."

Nichola couldn't help her gaze flicking downwards to the boy who said that and being seriously shocked at the massive bulge in his trousers. She had done that! The idea made her laugh with joy and, as she passed by, heard one of the boys say to the other, "You're in with her, mate." She made a note not to encourage any more boys, otherwise she'd have a queue of them waiting at the end of the parade — waiting for a boy dressed as a girl! She laughed again, but this time made certain she was not staring at any males as she did so.

In fact, that incident served to ensure she avoided staring directly at any more males, for she realised old blokes were just as bad as young boys. She really was becoming like a Victorian lady, she thought.

***

Surprisingly, that was exactly what Lady Bottomly was thinking at that precise moment, as she stood by the side of the road and watched Nichola approaching. Nichola really was playing the part well; she even looked quite like the first Lady Bottomly of Seacombe, for she, too, had been a busty lady, chosen by the first baronet for the considerable size of her assets — and it wasn't the size of her dowry that had been large. Considering Nichola had only a few hours practice riding side-saddle, she appeared totally natural in the saddle, as she did in her costume.

Gemma Watkins so-called sickness had been heaven sent; Lady Bottomly been expecting it, of course, for she had observed the insolent way the girl had made such a fuss about wearing a corset, but it certainly could not have come at a better time.

For Lady Bottomly had been wondering how to test Nichola just a little further. There was no doubt she had behaved impeccably about being given the doll's house as a birthday present. She'd expected Nichola to snort and swear offensively, as would any other modern boy. Instead, she had behaved as the delightful young lady she was trying to be.

It had always amazed Lady Bottomly that Sarah should have left her in charge of the baby without realising that a change of nappy would be necessary; and no matter what pretty dresses you may clothe a baby in, they all come off, at all too frequent intervals, to expose the baby's real sex.

Why the stupid girl hadn't told the truth straightaway was a mystery. But having discovered the secret, Lady Bottomly thought it important that Sarah should volunteer the information, rather than have it forced out of her. The longer it went on, the more difficult it became to expose the truth, so it had been a great relief to Lady Bottomly when Sarah had eventually got married, and taken her boy off so he could start leading a normal life.

Now the boy was fifteen, Lady Bottomly had thought that perhaps the truth would out — hence the invitation to spend the New Year at her house. Certainly, no fifteen-year-old boy she'd ever known — and thankfully, there had been few — would have dressed up as a girl. At first, when the pretty-looking girl had entered the room Lady Bottomly thought she must be an imposter — perhaps a sister — but when Nichola started talking about her early memories at the house, it was obvious she really was the genuine article. So Lady Bottomly had to reluctantly take off her hat to the boy, or perhaps — and the very idea shook her to the core — was she really a girl? Had his early cross-dressing conditioned him into having a sex change? Lady Bottomly sighed. Perhaps her failure to tackle the problem when it first arose had started this whole chain of events.

She might have philosophised for some considerable time, but just then, events took their own course. She had noticed the noisy group of teenage boys, passing around a whisky bottle and not even bothering to wipe the neck before guzzling it down. The problem arose because one of them was trying to light a cigarette and glug from the bottle at the same time. The whisky came into contact with the naked flame, ignited and, as the flames burnt his hand, he threw the bottle away from him into the road, to smash directly between Sampson's feet, creating a small fireball.

Nichola had been studiously avoiding looking at that group of boys and had been smiling at some ladies on the other side of the road, so the first she knew was when Sampson reacted by leaping like a scalded cat towards the women, and then bolting forward, trying to put as much distance as possible away from his burning ankles.

Nichola's reaction was instinctive, squeezing her legs together around the top and lower pommels of the saddle to keep herself firmly seated. Then, as they galloped past the Town Crier and the brewer's dray and up the side of the rest of the parade, she concentrated on getting Sampson under control.

"Well done, Nichola," Lady Bottomly called out as Nichola and Sampson shot past her. It was all the more amusing because, as they galloped past the other riders from SIGHS, two of their horses panicked and reared, unseating their riders, and then galloping after Sampson. That brought a guffaw of delight from Lady Bottomly. It was just a pity that the nauseous Gemma Watkins was not one of the girls picking themselves up from the road, but even that little tyke wouldn't have the effrontery to cry off sick and then take part in the parade.

Nichola slowly calmed Sampson down until he was trotting and, by the time they arrived at the car park, she could lead the other two horses over to the horse-box where Miss Bennett was waiting.

"What happened?" she cried.

Nichola wasn't really certain but she filled her in as best she could. Her first impression was that a terrorist bomb had been thrown, but Lady Bottomly arrived a few seconds later and was able to fill them in.

"Well done, Nichola," Lady Bottomly repeated. "Well done." She paused a little, uncertain how to phrase the delicate words. "I must say that you have really impressed me, both yesterday and today. I know things can't have been easy for you, but I'm delighted the way you have responded to the challenges you face. You're an excellent example to your sex." Another pause.

"You told me last night that you attend a comprehensive school in London. The thought fills me with dread. I think I probably didn't play fair with you and your mother, all those years ago, so I'd like to make it up to you. I will pay for you to transfer to the local girls' independent school. SIGHS has an excellent reputation, and I'm certain you will gain admission to a good university. I'll be happy to support you."

"Oh Lady Bottomly," Nichola exclaimed. "I don't know what to say." It was her turn to hesitate. "I mean, it's very good of you to offer, but there are... reasons why I can't go to a girls' school."

"In any case, Lady Bottomly," Sarah had appeared from nowhere and had clearly picked up the last few sentences, "we couldn't move back to Seacombe because our home and my job are in London.

"Besides which," she added, "Nichola is absolutely right that there are reasons why SIGHS would not accept her, so, as she says, it is a very generous offer but we must refuse."

"Dear Sarah," Lady Bottomly spoke with a knowing smile, "you always did leap in before finding out the facts. Emily, my housekeeper, gave her notice this morning. That makes five housekeepers who have resigned over the course of the last year. I know I'm a difficult person to deal with, but you always managed admirably. I also appreciate that in order to get you back I'm going to have to match your present salary, and throw in free accommodation for you and Nichola.

"As for Nichola's suitability for SIGHS, I know for a fact that they already have a lot of experience dealing with people with gender dysphoria. I'm sure they would be willing to accept Nichola, provided she meets their academic standards, and Nichola certainly impresses me as a bright girl."

"Gender dysphoria?" Both Sarah and Nichola spoke the words at the same time, and they then looked nervously at each other.

"I know that Nichola was born a boy, but you brought her up as a girl," Lady Bottomly said. "I suspect that was due in part to my own attitude, and I want to make up for that. In any case, with my husband dead, I now have not one single relative alive. Perhaps I see Nichola as the daughter I never had. I obviously don't expect you to answer on the spot, but go home, have a think about it, and let me know."

"You knew?" Sarah was agog. "You knew all along? Then why didn't you say something? All those years of hell I had to go through, dressing Nick as a girl, all for no reason."

"It was your secret, Sarah. It was down to you to come clean. I dropped several hints, implying Nichola looked more like a boy than a girl, but you never took the opportunity to come clean.

"In any case," she added, "look at Nichola now. Can you honestly say that she hasn't turned into a wonderful daughter of whom you should be proud?"

"No," Sarah replied. "Of course not, but..."

"Then give her the opportunity of going to a good school, and following it with a good university education. And, Nichola, I'm happy to throw in extra riding lessons. You're a natural in the saddle and I think you'll go far, if you're given the opportunity."

Sarah looked at Nichola and Nichola looked back. "What do you think?"

Nichola shook her head. "I don't know what to think. It's all a bit much."

"Of course, it is," Lady Bottomly said. "Go home and think about it over the next week or two. I'll have to employ a temp as a housekeeper, but let me know soon, won't you?"

"Yes," they both replied.

"In that case, you'd better go back to my house and get changed," Lady Bottomly said.

***

"What do you think?" Sarah repeated to Nick the following evening.

They had gone to Lady Bottomly' house to remove the Victorian costume, and then gone on to Laura Davis's home, where Nichola had returned to being Nick. Then they had started the long journey home. Nick had fallen asleep almost immediately, and had gone straight to bed as soon as they arrived. Now, they had both had the day to think about it.

"It was really fun being a girl for a time," Nick admitted. "I felt differently about everything, particularly myself. I'd... Well, I'd like to try it again sometime."

He hesitated, and Sarah prompted, "But..."

"But I don't want to become a girl for the rest of my life. I mean, I like looking at girls, I think they're attractive, and I think life would become even more confusing than it is now if I had to become a lesbian, just in order to meet girls."

"And have sex with them."

Nick flushed. "Yes."

"I think Lady Bottomly was right, though, about your current school. I'm going to find a good private school for you."

"Mu-um. We can't even pay the gas bill. We can't afford a private school, and I don't think Lady Bottomly is going to pay the school fees for a boy."

"Oh! Didn't I tell you?" Sarah said, knowing she had not.

"Tell me what?"

"That dolls' house she gave you. I remembered Lady Bottomly telling me it had originally been a gift to the first Lady Bottomly from Queen Victoria. Apparently, it's one which Victoria used to play with as a child. So, I took it round to Sotheby's. They got very excited about it."

Nick stared at her, his mouth opening slightly, waiting for her to finish.

"They think it will fetch about seventy thousand pounds in an auction. That should pay for a little schooling, as well as the gas bill.

"And also," she added, as Nick's mouth continued to open and close like a goldfish, "one of those Torsolets, and some clothes to go with it, so that I can meet up with my daughter as often as I wish."