Monday, June 2, 2008

Clueless in Miniskirts, Part Two

"Chris, I want you to remember, remember back to the time when you were a teenager, the same age as the kids you teach here at school. Picture yourself at that age." Becky waited a moment. "Can you see yourself, Chris?"

"Yes, Becky, I see myself at 16," the transformed math teacher answered.

"Excellent. Now, I want you to go to the mirror and look at yourself as you are now." Chris went to the mirror and saw his reflection in the teenybopper outfit. "Is that you at 16?"

"No, Becky, I was a boy," Chris responded.

"No, you were not," Becky corrected him. "You were a girl, just like the girl you are today." Chris blinked and shook his head. Becky repeated the phrase. "You were a girl, just like the girl you are today."

Chris blinked again and said, "I was a girl."

"Of course you were a girl, silly," Becky laughed. "You’ve always been a girl, really? Haven’t you?"

"I’ve always been a girl," Chris repeated, no longer questioning the reprogramming Becky was doing to him.

"And what kind of girl were you?" she asked. Chris shook his head—he didn’t know anymore. "Why you were a little ditz queen, weren’t you? A lovely little thing named Christy with no more important duties than shopping and looking pretty and sexy, right? After all, that’s how you learned you got turned on by mini-skirts and heels and crop tops and all, right?

"You are turned on by them, aren’t you?" she asked.

"Yes," Chris answered.

"You’re turned on, now?"

"Yes."

"Very good," Becky said. "Now, do you remember how you were as a teen ditz?" he nodded. "Then when I wake you from your trance with the phrase class dismissed, you will be that girl again, until I tell you Chris has a clue. Then you will return to the normal man you thought you were, although you will continue to have your love for teen clothes and being dressed in them by me.

"And whenever I say to you Christy is clueless, you will again be 16-year-old Christy, the airhead fashion doll," Becky continued. "Oh—one more thing: You will no longer bother any of the girls in your classes about this. And even as Christy, you love only me. You are devoted to me, eager to please me in any way I ask."

"I am devoted to you, Becky," the now-renamed Christy responded. "I’ll do anything you ask."

Sheila and Rachel giggled at their math teacher’s total loss of control to the beautiful gym instructor. "Shhh!" Becky insisted. "It’s time to bring our little teenybopper to reality." She turned again to the cross-dressed teacher. "Class dismissed!" she announced.

Chris’s eyes fluttered and then he saw his beloved Becky. "Oh, thank you, Becky darling!" he exclaimed, in a breathy feminine tone. "I don’t know how I ever lost touch with who I really am like that!"

Becky grinned. "That’s quite all right, Christy love. But now that we have you back the way you belong, Rachel and Sheila have agreed to help take you shopping. We have to rebuild your wardrobe!"

Two hours later, the two girls, their gym teacher and the entranced and controlled Christy had scoured the local mall, picking up every sexy, leg-revealing, tummy-showing, high-heeled and teen-targeted item in the place. They had maxed out Chris Ross’s credit card in the process.

Becky and the girls had insisted that Christy try on every outfit, and delighted in revealing to the sales clerks—many of whom had attended their school and knew Mr. Ross—exactly who it was buying these attention-getting ensembles. The clerks invariably laughed and told their own stories of fighting off Ross’s advances, without then knowing his secret.

Now, with the shopping completed, the four of them sat in the food court, picking at French fries and diet sodas. Christy, now in a white linen dress with a short, tight skirt and matching cardigan, and sexy, strappy sandals, sat primly with her ankles crossed and her knees together. Becky leaned over and whispered to Rachel and Sheila.

"Christy," Rachel began, "you’ll never get noticed sitting that way!"

"Yeah," Sheila said. "No one can see your legs or those hot sandals you have on!"

Becky looked Christy in the eye. "Christy, I want you to turn sideways in your seat, and spread your legs to the aisle, so everyone can see them. I want you to hike your skirt up, so your lovely thighs are showing."

Anything Becky wanted was like a command to Christy. She turned and—half-demurely, half-brazenly—posed as Becky instructed. A group of boys across the way stopped what they were doing as they noticed her long shapely legs.

Becky smiled. "Christy, those boys seem to find you irresistible. Let’s give them something to really watch." She moved her chair directly next to Christy’s, took the boy-girl’s head in one hand and guided his pink-painted lips to her own red ones, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. Simultaneously, she pushed her other hand under his skirt, and rubbed his crotch through the satin of his panties.

Moments later, the teenaged boys got up from their own table, blushing and staring back at them. "Wow! Those guys really went nuts when they saw you French kiss Christy like that! I thought they were going to cream their pants!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Christy did." Becky said, grinning.

The following day, Saturday, there was something of a commotion at the local country club. A beautiful young girl, her hair swinging in the breeze, looking cool behind her shades, strolled around the pool. Her long bare legs, perched on white sandals with three-inch heels, rose to the incredibly high hemline of her white tennis dress, so short that her matching white panties were revealed with every step.

No male of any age could keep his eyes off her; every woman and girl envied her.

All except for three—Becky, Rachel and Sheila relaxed on their chaise longues, amused at the reaction their creation was getting.

"Christy love," Becky suddenly called out, catching the teenybopper’s attention. "Chris has a clue!"

More to come

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