They Trained Him In Petticoats

By Laurie King

When the truth dawned that Edward would never behave properly, it was decided that he would be enrolled in a training establishment that used unusual methods. Little did he know that this would mean wearing corsets and petticoats and being trained in the manner of a refined young lady. Eventually, he forgot he had ever been anything else. A long and painful saga of one young man’s forced transformation into a pretty and very feminine young lady.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Specialist Books
• Release date: Jan 28, 2011

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They Trained Him In Petticoats

By Laurie King

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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They Trained Him In Petticoats

Copyright © 2010 by Laurie King

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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They Trained Him In Petticoats

Chapter 1

The train began slowing as it neared Riversham station. Edward know this was the name of the station because the conductor had passed through the car and announced it, and around him other passengers were heeding the suggestion that they check to ensure they had all their belongings. Edward gathered his books and the remnants of the snacks he had bought on the train and watched out the window and the train came closer to the station. The scene had changed slightly from that which he had observed the last two hours. Rural surroundings had given way to the rundown environs of this old village. He knew from experience that just outside the town grand mansions and historic farms still abounded. Listening to the clack-clack of the rails wind down, he mused about the purpose of this trip. He had left St. Arthur’s just this morning, complying with his Mother's decision that he should spend this summer with her old college chum (his Aunt Gillian) when she left on her tour of Europe with Eric Wilson, her latest companion. He presumed that this decision was, in no small part, due to the straits he had gotten himself into the last semester at St. Arthur's. It was clear that he was on very thin ice with the headmaster at St. A's. There had been the minor pranks, of course, but his involvement in the panty raid at Eastmore, and, the worse, being caught at it. During the extremely uncomfortable conference with the deans on Tuesday, he and his Mother had been advised of the suspension. He would be carried on the rolls of the college throughout the summer and Fall semesters, but would not be allowed to return until after the Christmas holiday, and then only if the college received some verification that satisfied them that his demeanor had changed. His keen obsession his graduation from this highly regarded prep college had, in no small part, motivated his Mother's decision to send him to Riversham. Aunt Gillian, she had said, was a certified teacher, which would satisfy state and college requirements that he be enrolled in college. Private tutoring, she had said to the headmaster.

To Edward she had declared another motivation which he did not fully understand: that Aunt Gillian was imminently equipped to convey refinement and discipline, a trait Mother had emphatically pointed out that he lacked. She had made vague references to English methods, an allusion which escaped him, but which she said with a wry certainty that it was just what he needed. He wanted to get back into St. Arthur's and this avenue seemed the only one open to him. But it was all of this uncertainty that weighed on his mind as the train neared the station. He knew nothing of Aunt Gillian, except a vague remembrance that he had met her at the estate in Connecticut one summer. He was to spend at least the summer with her, and, his Mother had said, dependent on Aunt Gillian's sole judgement, might have to stay on until Christmas. The uncertainty of time, couple with his ignorance of the allusions his Mother had made about the particular skills this woman allegedly possessed, caused him some apprehension. More importantly, two other facts added anxiety; first of all, his Mother had been emphatic he was to submit totally to Aunt Gillian's authority, and secondly that except for the small change he had left in his pocket, all his discretionary money had been placed in this other woman's control. Once he disembarked from the train, his options for self-determination would be minimal. The train finally creaked to a stop, and he clasped his bag and headed for the entrance. The black porter had placed the portable footfall at the base of the stairs, and he stepped down to the station platform. He was recognized before he noticed the woman. She called his name and he looked up to see a vaguely familiar face. She was an attractive woman, in her early thirties, dressed fashionably and with an air of superiority. Indeed, his first impression was that she purposely hid a softness about herself in the somewhat severe manner in which she wore her auburn hair....drawn back in a French roll. It was apparent that she shopped at only the finest stores, and he was sure he had seen her ensemble in one of his Mother's Bergdorf's catalogues just a month ago. He was equally fascinated by the young girl he saw at her side, clearly her companion, for she followed Gillian as she advanced toward him. The girl was about his own age, yet strangely dressed in a style that seemed old-fashioned and oddly pubescent.

She was a disarmingly pretty girl with long hair drawn back into a cascading pony-tail which was capped by a straw boater bonnet with a blue bow. She wore a patent shoes and a dress which was flounced out by petticoats evident to a degree at the hem. Her dress was a fancy one, the kind that girls wear only to formal or festive affairs. Her comportment intrigued him most, for she seemed reserved and shy, and clearly somewhat obsequious to the bidding of Gillian. He was introduced to her and found her name was Beth. She seemed ill at ease, starting first to curtsy to him, then gingerly proffering her white gloved hand to his own. The greetings were stilted, though Gillian was cloying yet authoritative in her reception. With an air of superiority, she pressed a red cap into conveying his baggage and they set off through the terminal to the expensive car she had imperiously parked in the No Parking zone at the curb. His bags loaded, he climbed into the back seat of the car and his gaze alternated between the two females in the front seat and the countryside they emerged into. Gillian's comments were few, though she made reference to his trouble at St. A's and the apparent conversations she had had with his Mother about finding some 'temperance' (as she put it) in one's behavior. Gillian concluded that, with time, all problems could be solved. He lapsed into silence and the car moved down a smaller road into farm country. In time, they arrived at Gillian's home, a large white Victorian house situate on many acres. She parked the car near the door and bade him gather his bags and follow her. The girl was no help, though she did hold the doors and steadied him as he struggled up the few stairs to the porch and into the foyer. Gillian suggested (or was it more directed") that Beth escort Edward upstairs to his room to stow his overnight bag (his trunk was to follow) and then for the two of them to return downstairs to the study. Beth obediently complied, pausing at the foot of the stairs to await him. At the head of the stairs, she opened a white door and he entered, passing the girl and not noticing the room itself. It was only after he was inside that the incongruency of the room hit him. The room was all pastel blue, but that was not its alarming feature. The four-poster bed was canopied, with a delicate flounce of sheer tiered fabric. Ruffles of eyelet and lace flounce cascaded from beneath the mattress, the bed itself covered by a bedspread of matching satin. Dainty shams of a wispy material sheathed the profusion of pillows at the headboard.

The furniture was white and gold French provincial, chest of drawers and nightstands. A petite vanity draped with the same material sat beneath a large lighted mirror. Another three-sided mirror, like those in clothing stores, was implanted into the wall. He was sure that Beth had directed him to the wrong chamber, but when he queried her about this, she diffidently assured him that there was no mistake. Appalled to be quartered in these dainty surrounding, he nevertheless deposited his small bag and followed Beth downstairs to where Gillian waited.

Chapter 2

Beth left Edward at the parlor door and he opened it and entered to find Gillian seated in an overstuffed chair leafing through what appeared to be a sheaf of letters. At his entrance, she peered at him over the half-moons of her reading glasses. It is considered polite and refined, young man, to knock before entering a closed room. I...I'm sorry. I thought you had asked me to ... His words trailed off in response to the gesture of dismissal in the wave of her hand. Never mind, we'll get to that later, she said, Sit down, signalling the straight-backed Shaker chair near her own. He sat, chastened by the sharpness of her admonishment. She continued to flip through the papers, pausing to read here and there, flipping backwards and forwards as though to confirm or recollect some point. The room was silent, except for the rhythmic sound of the clock pendulum and the rustling of the papers. Finally she laid the papers in her lap and removed her glasses, massaging the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. The sigh that accompanied this action conveyed a sense of exasperation, he thought, and he gelt unnerved at the continued stillness in the room. While she still kneaded with her fingers, she broke the hush that pervaded the parlor.

I have been reading through the material your Mother sent me. It is clear that you have been less than exemplary in your first semester at St. Arthur’s, she said, slipping the glasses back on and picking up the papers. Dean Hartwick's letter to your Mother is quite specific and equally condemnatory in detailing the circumstances of your suspension. He lists, by my count, some eight infractions in just three months. Removing the glasses again, she gazed at him scornfully. Are you hell-bent in being thrown out of there?, she queried reproachfully. Not at all, Gillian. In fact I want very much to graduate. I can explain... She interrupted this unavailing attempt at explanation as though it were inconsequential to her. Well your deportment places the likelihood of your graduating seriously in doubt, young man. It says here that absent some documentation of a substantial change in attitude, your access to an Ivy college by way of St. A's is improbable. I know Dean Hartwick, partly by reputation, and he is not one to overstate matters. Perhaps you'd do as well to consider a public high college and a state university. Of course not, he protested, I want to get back into St. A's. I acted foolishly, but I... Ahh, some progress; she broke in, accepting even token responsibility is to be applauded. But these acts of yours are juvenile, Edward, and they convey a serious lack of self-discipline and obedience to established rules. Surely you can appreciate a college as old and traditional as St. Arthur's demands and enforces rules for a purpose. She paused, examining the letters again. Look at these...'absent from dormitory at 3:00 a.m. and later detained by township police'...'open participation in and encouragement of a rebellious demonstration in the dining room'.... She peered over her glasses at him again before she added 'a food fight!' ...participation in an extended course of deliberate harassment of one of the oldest and most distinguished members of this faculty....' My God, it goes on and on. Doffing the glasses again and using them now as an accusatory pointer directed at him she added It is in no small measure that your late father's generosity to his alma mater prompts their equally generous offer of a second chance. But I can assure you that the demands laid down for achieving that second chance are not permissive in the least."

His ears burned perceptibly as he sat mutely through the litany and then the commentary on his behavior. Finding it difficult to persist in returning her stare, he averted his eyes in chagrin as she went on. Tell me please, what prompted these childish acts? Rebelliousness? Pubescent childishness? Were you attempting some feeble defiance of the authority and the rules through some misguided act of independence? Tell me, Edward, what prompted this asinine behavior?' They weren't my idea, Gillian. I just went along with... Again she cut him off, haughtily and abruptly this time. Just went along. Good God, young man, it's indecent. Those men at that college are charged with imparting discipline to you young fools every bit as much as they are to teaching you Latin. I trust your Latin skills are superior to your proficiency at self-control. The comment was gratuitous and demeaning, and he gazed again at the floor as she continued her harangue. She stood above him now, having moved from the chair to be a nearly overbearing presence before him. Self control is everything in a young man who aspires to success--true success in this world. Most young men your age seem to realize this in spite of themselves. You must develop a deep and profound respect for the rules of the institution in which you find yourself. Initiative is one thing, but the performance outlined in those letters is moronic and bizarre. Open and willful neglect of convention and tradition will never be tolerated in the circles you aspire to. Do you understand that? She glowered down at him and his return of her gaze was fleeting as he meekly nodded assent. She stood silently a moment and then returned to her chair and settled herself gracefully yet seeming somehow domineering at the same time. Again she perused the documents. Finally she laid them down, removed her glasses and spoke deliberately and obdurately. I must take it then that your excuse for this insolent behavior is to be excused because you yielded to the macho pressures of your crowd, some of whom have been expelled. Clearly you have let your distorted sense of ego and identity get in the way of your common sense.

The lecture was beginning to wear him down. Twice now he had resisted the urge to rebut her insinuations, but he was restrained again by his Mother's insistence that he accede to Gillian's direction and possible reproach. I suspect, she went on, interpreting his silence as agreement, that must be the case. And if it is true, it is a trait you must disabuse yourself of. Blindly following the rabble out of a misguided sense of male bonding is ridiculous. More importantly, it is a repudiation of convention that people of breeding hold important. It is not any individual action, but the pattern of them that makes me believe you lack significant sensibilities. She referred again to the top sheet of the Dean's letter and quoted 'exhibits an insolent disregard of refined behavior....' Would you not agree with that assessment? I don't know, he relied feebly. You don't know! she scoffed in return. Well I do, and my experience with boys just like you compels ME to agree with the observation. Now if you are so intent on graduating from that college, what solution do you propose for a modification of your attitude and conduct? He deemed the question rhetorical and knew his only answer would be another lame I don't know, so he simply shook his head. I ask that question, she continued because I am something of an unwitting player in your betterment. Your Mother is an old friend, and Dean Hartwick's concurrence in you're being sent here indicates he places some importance on my reassurance to him in the Fall that you have become civilized enough to return to classes." There it was, he thought: the commission for this woman to