Clueless in Miniskirts, Part One

" I can’t believe this!" Sheila exclaimed. "A C-minus in math!? How can that absolute prig of a teacher give me a C-minus?"

"Me, too—especially after the way he stares at our legs and boobs," Rachel agreed.

The two teenyboppers stared at their report cards, ignoring their hamburgers and fries, as they commiserated at the local hangout. "Yeah—Ross is such a secret pervert. Always trying to seem so proper and in control, as if we don’t feel his eyes on us all the time," Sheila said.

"Hey, girls." It was Ms. Conners, the gym teacher who greeted them. "Why so down?" They showed her the report cards. "Ross gave you each a C-minus? I’ve seen your classwork and tests—what’s he thinking of?"

"I think he’s thinking of seeing what we’ll do to get our grades back up," Rachel suggested.

"You don’t mean—" Ms. Conners began.

"Yes, I do mean that he wants some kind of sexual payback," Rachel insisted. "He pretends to be the model of decorum, but…"

"…but he stares at all you girls as if he can’t wait to get his hands on you," Ms. Conners laughed. The girls stared in surprise. "You think I never noticed? Oh, girls, it’s not you Chris Ross wants—it’s your clothes! He’s a transvestite!"

"A what?" both girls asked.

"He likes to dress in women’s clothing…and it seems he has a fixation on the teen-age look," Ms. Conners explained. "I used to date him, about two years ago, and I caught him at it one time. When I asked where he got the clothes, he said he’d used grades to blackmail a student into lending him her outfits, from the little bras right up to the little skirts! I thought he’d learned a lesson when I threatened to report him, but I guess he’s back to his old ways!"

"What can we do?" Rachel asked. "If we report this, it’s just a rumor."

"Leave it to me," Ms. Conners replied.

Becky Conners called Chris Ross that evening, asking him to stop by to discuss a possible interdisciplinary project between his math classes and her gym classes. When he arrived, Becky was dressed in an outfit she knew would keep his attention focussed everywhere but schoolwork.

Her long blonde hair hung straight to her shoulders, in a style much younger in appearance than her usual look. She wore a pink sweater with a matching pink miniskirt that ended a full seven inches above her knees. She wore pink satin sandals with criss-crossed ankle straps and four-inch heels. In other words, she was the model of the type of girl Chris Ross longed to be himself.

Sure enough, when Chris arrived at 7:30, he gasped at the sight of his former girlfriend and colleague in her teen-aged appearance. "You like?" she asked, teasing. "Of course, you do. I knew you would."

"What’s going on, Becky?" he asked, nervously.

"I’m afraid this has nothing to do with any interdisciplinary project, Chris. Although, it might have something to do with disciplining you," Becky answered. "I know that you’re back to your old tricks of blackmailing the girls in your classes to supply clothes and help make you over. I’ve talked to Rachel and Sheila."

Chris gulped. "Are you going to report me this time?"

"No, nothing so mundane," she replied. "Do you remember that therapy seminar we both attended, back when we were going together? The one with the introductory course in hypnotism?"

"Sure."

"Well, I kept up on my studies with that instructor…and she filled me in on a little secret," Becky told him. "You see, once a subject has been given a trigger for a hypnotic state, it never really disappears. It just lies dormant and gets buried…but it can be reactivated, in the right circumstances—like when the subject is highly aroused.

"Just like you are now, sweetie."

Chris looked down at his crotch. Yes, the image of the beautiful Becky in his beloved teen-aged clothing, and the thought of being controlled by her—as he’d once dreamed he’d be—had his cock swelling in his trousers.

Becky looked him in the eye. "Class is in session," she said…and Chris’s eyes fluttered shut, his head and shoulders slumped as he dropped back into the hypnotic trance he had first experienced more than two years ago.

"OK, girls," Becky called, "it’s safe to come out now."

Rachel and Sheila entered from the bedroom, giggling, but astonished by what their mentor had accomplished. "What now?" they asked.

"Time to get him dressed, of course!" Becky laughed.

One hour later, they had completed their task. Chris Ross’s short dark hair had been covered with a mass of auburn curls that fell to his shoulders. His face had been lightly made up to bring our its feminine side. He wore a choker collar and an orange crop-top sweater that left his midriff exposed. Below that came a black miniskirt, black thigh-high ribbed tights, and black pumps with a chunky four-inch heel and half-inch platform soles.

"So, now what?" Sheila asked. "Do we just send him out of here, so he can be embarrassed by his clothes?"

"That’s much too easy," Becky argued. "His mind is open to all sorts of interesting changes." She turned to her transformed colleague: "Chris, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you, Becky," he answered, dully.

"Very good. Now, I’m about to give you some very important instructions. You will listen and do everything I tell you." Becky turned back to the girls. "We’re about to create our own little ‘Clueless’ teeny-bopper!"

More to come