There was a knock on the door, and every girl in Class Marlborough rose to her feet, their eyes turning to the gaunt figure of Miss Sharp as she swept into the room. As ever, her dark greying hair was drawn into a tight bun on the back of her head which turned this way and that as her pebble glasses missed nothing. She was followed by a second woman, a stranger, strongly built, with an ample bust and a bouffant blond hairstyle which made her stand a foot taller than the deputy head.

  "Andrea, close the door, please," said Miss Sharp as she occupied the space at the front of the room and held the lapels of her black gown, revealing the cream points of her blouse collar and the row of buttons descending in a straight line down her suit from her bust almost to her ankles. She rounded on the class.
"Girls, our loss was great when Mrs Lightbound left us recently, as you all know, but I can confidently say that her place will be perfectly filled by your new Headmistress, Miss Forcewell."

  There was an instant chorus of "Good morning, Miss Forcewell."
The reply was equally instant: "Good morning, Class Marlborough. I look forward to getting to know..."

  Her words disappeared beneath a gruff outburst of coughing. "Er," with another cough, "not forgetting 'Good morning, Mr Jennings."

  There was a ripple of giggles from the girls, quickly suppressed, as Miss Sharp and the new Headmistress turned to see the source of this rudeness.

  A tall, athletic-looking man stood leaning against the wall, a cynical curl of superiority on his lips as he tossed his board pen repeatedly into the air with the skill of an expert juggler.

  There was a long moment of silence, at the end of which Miss Sharp spoke in a low, deliberate voice. "Good morning, Mr Jennings." She kept her eyes on the cause of the interruption like a cat watches an animal in case it should suddenly take it into its head to move, and explained the situation to the new Headmistress.

  "This is Mr Jennings, Miss Forcewell. Our maths teacher and the only male at Cuntington Ladies' Academy."

  The male, who was wearing a chunky, multicoloured sweater with the pale grey pants of his suit, straightened himself up from the wall and executed a sweeping cavalier's bow, to a burst of laughter from the class.

  Miss Sharp's glasses flashed round and silence was restored. Miss Forcewell eyed the solitary male, her blond bouffant hair tilted to one side as she looked round her deputy to get a look at him.

  "Good morning," she said, "I hope it remains a good morning for you, as you continue to teach my girls."

  Her full lips pouted into a twist of resolution as her eyes closed a fraction on the male member of her staff. Then she turned towards the three rows of desks banked in front of her.

  "Continue to work hard on your maths, Class Marlborough. I would urge you always to remember the lessons for life that you will learn in this very room," and every girl rose to her feet as she turned to the door and swept out followed by Miss Sharp, leaving a smirk of insolence on the face of her maths teacher.

  It was only after Andrea had closed the door that he reminded the girls of that skill as a mimic with which he entertained them day after day. Until now it had been Miss Sharp who had been the target of his scorn. But now he had a new figure of fun as he restarted his lesson with his head tipped to one side and made an amazingly close impression of Miss Forcewell's voice.

  The girls were hugely amused and impressed, as always. Maths with Mr Jennings was a scream, and today he had everyone in tears of laughter. They shared giggling observations with each other: how Johnny - that's Mr Jennings - had fantastic observation skills and could mimic anyone from a judge to a junkie; why he wanted to teach maths in Cuntindon Academy when he was obviously gifted enough to be a star of the silver screen; and why he hadn't been snapped up yet by some rich girl who could wear him like a diamond around her neck. The hilarity of the lesson drew to a close however, as breaktime neared and a girl arrived from Lower fifth with an envelope for Mr Jennings.

  It contained a message, which darkened the Adonis's brow for just a moment, enough for the eagle-eyed girls of Class Marlborough to guess at some unfortunate change in the wind.

  "Uh-oh, Sir," observed one of them; "don't say Big Sister took offence when you interrupted her?"
"You were so right to tell her anyway, sir," said another.
"I'll bet the Sharp cow has been having a word in her ear," cried another.
"What could any of them do or say to worry Johnny Jennings?" beamed the teacher, stuffing the note into his pocket. "Long live Marlborough! Johnny for King!"
"Long live Marlborough; Johnny for King!" came back the cry, and the bell brought the best maths lesson of the year so far to a close.

  Truth to tell, Johnny Jennings wasn't worried at all by the note, even though it was from new Headmistress Lavinia Forcewell. She wanted to see him in her study at the beginning of breaktime. Promptly.
He chuckled as he recalled the word and wandered along the corridor exchanging smiles and a joke with two of his senior girl admirers before sauntering into his private loo for a leisurely sit down. Promptly or not, he could always make time for a peak into one of his magazines hidden at the back of his locker: Schoolgirl Chastisement. He undid his trousers and got his cock in his hand as he looked at some lovely bared bottoms, gymslip raised and panties down, ready for spanking over the headmistress's knee. Those lovely schoolgirl pleats, and starched white shirts and hair in pigtails. He was stiff in no time, but decided not to wank to orgasm; he'd have a better one with all his other spanking mags this evening. Anyway, better call in and pay his respects to the new Head.

  He wasn't the only one who had been summoned. Miss Sharp was there too, without her school gown this time, and looking smart in a grey two-piece suit topped with the points of a white blouse collar. Miss Jenson was there too, Miss Overend and Miss Henderson, the big PE teacher. The new headmistress was sitting behind her desk and sat back in her chair as Johnny Jennings came in.

  "Mr Jennings," she said, lifting her chin so that he got a good view of her thin, glossed red lips and pointed nostrils, "you're here at last. You had better listen carefully, since this concerns you and your future at Cuntington Academy... which is now MY school."

  The way she said 'MY' made him jump, and she gave her head a decisive twist to one side, making her silver and white earrings dance above the collar of her salmon pink blouse. There was no doubt in Johnny Jennings's mind that she was looking at him as she said it. He looked sideways to catch the eye of Marion Overend, whom he got on well with in the staff room, but her eyes were on Miss Forcewell.

  "I thought I had better make this clear to you, Mr Jennings," she went on, now looking threateningly at him from beneath her eyebrows, "because of your little pantomime in Class Marlborough, when you showed me disrespect."

  The maths teacher snorted a cross between a denial and a laugh and looked at Marion again, but the English teacher's eyes remained steadily on the new Head. His heart skipped a beat as he looked back.

  "Disrespect, Mr Jennings, from the solitary male in an all-female school. I take extreme exception to that. I wonder if you know your place in my school, you insolent little dick-head?"

  Johnny Jennings missed a few heartbeats and looked round at the other women, who were suddenly standing behind him, somewhat closer than a few moments earlier. Miss Jenson was the needlework teacher and in her mid thirties, at least ten years older than him. Her lips were pressed together with resolution. Miss Sharp was beside her, looking him in the eye with sheer menace. He rounded on Miss Overend, but her place had been taken by the statuesque Barbara Henderson in her stretch top and pleated gym skirt: very short but very wide to encompass her solid girth. He suddenly decided he would have to fight back.

  "Ha! My position?" he chuckled, laughing the situation off. "My position is in front of the girls, that's me. I can get them to do anything... Miss Forcewell. They love me. They adore me, as you will find out, ma'am."

  It was Miss Forcewell's turn to snort. "Well, we'll see. I am going to show you your position, Jennings," she continued, "and then we'll march along and show your 'position' to Class Marlborough. I dread to think what infantile male chauvinism you've been forcing on my poor girls." Her eyes turned to the women on either side. "Ladies... strip him down to the skin!"

  Johnny Jennings made for the side of the Head's desk which was nearest to the door, but before his foot had returned to the floor, he was seized by eight hands, pulled back by the hair, the arms, the trousers; in fact he was lifted off the floor by Miss Sharp who had grabbed his left leg and had it above the height of Miss Forcewell's desk so that he floundered in a sprawl amongst the four women as his shoes were plucked from his feet and thrown aside.

  "Get off me! Hey! You can't do that! Leave my pants alone! What are you...? OW! My head! Leave... Stop it! DON'T pull my pants down, do you hear!"

  His protests began reasonably, almost politely, but grew to a pitch of panic, until it was just as well that his sweater was over his head for he was screaming and shouting for all he was worth as his bare legs and pelvis wriggled in vain in the hands of the women teachers. His athletic prowess and strength abandoned him, to be replaced by a feeble lack of backbone. His shirt was pulled roughly from his arms and he lay, spread-eagled and subdued, exposed to the gaze of his four assailants.

  His athleticism had not left him, for the simple reason that he had never had any. Johnny Jennings' big shoulders and barrelled chest were the result of his clever habit of wearing those chunky jumpers that built him up splendidly in the eyes of the girls, and even of one or two of the less discerning female staff.

  But not only was his puny delicacy revealed; the disappearance of his pants had dispelled any claim he might have had to manly equipment. As he lay on the floor, only too aware of what the four women were looking at, he tried his best to turn over onto his stomach.

  "What the hell is that?" cried Barbara Henderson, her brawny forearm squeezing his neck into her bust as she looked down the length of his trunk.

  "I don't believe it," giggled Fenella Jenson. "It can't be real."

  Marion Overend burst into a long, spluttering raspberry as she laughed with scorn. "It's his penis," she cried, helpless with laughter; "I'm sure it is."

  Miss Sharp crouched between Jennings' outstretched legs and held his penis in her spindly fingers, then lifted it, and him with it as the others raised him from the floor until he was standing immovably between them in front of Miss Forcewell.

  "I ask you, Lavinia," smirked Miss Sharp, "have you ever seen a male organ as puny... as laughable as this?"

  Miss Forcewell's face broadened into a grin as she inspected it in her deputy's fingers and slowly shook her head. "No, never," she admitted, and burst out laughing. Every woman in the group burst out with her, looking more closely at it and realising the hilarity of the smallness of Johnny Jennings' genitals. His penis had grown, as pointed out by Miss Sharp, as it stiffened in her fingers. Not upwards, and not fully erected. It was half stiffened, so that it pointed straight ahead towards the bosom of Miss Forcewell's blouse as she sat forward with her elbows on her desk.

  "I think it's paying you its respect, Lavinia," giggled Miss Sharp, and they all laughed anew as the male shrank with humiliation in their hands.

  "Of course it is, and it better had do, Jennings," said the Head as she rose to her feet and opened the cupboard door behind her. "And to help you remember your strict obligation to me as your employer," and she withdrew from the cupboard a ladies' jacket in pale blue silk and hooked its hanger onto a hook at the top of her notice board, "I will be dressing you more suitably as a member of my all-female staff in my all-female school." She stopped at the cupboard and turned her face to him for a moment. "I presume you want to continue in my employ, Jennings?"

  The open-mouthed teacher managed a reply in the face of the shocks which were following each other thick and fast.

  "Well yeah. Of course I want..."
"Goo-ood. So you will be wearing the clothes I choose for you as you go about your teaching. It's very simple."

  She brought out a second hanger, this time with a little white blouse with short sleeves and a perky little Peter Pan collar edged with blue trimming that matched the jacket.

  "Can you take my jacket, Fenella, and make the alterations we agreed on," she said, sliding it from its hanger and handing it across the desk to Miss Jensen. "I think we can make it rather more feminine than that."

  The needlework teacher sniggered as she took it. The jacket was in smooth, lightweight silk with two pairs of large buttons an inch and a half across down the front and a wide circular collar, while the shine of its blue satin lining flashed into sight as she turned and walked to the door.

  "I think we can make the new female member of staff a very feminine jacket, Miss Forcewell," she said and left the room.

  Still on the hanger, hooked by loops at the waist, were the pants of Miss Forcewell's trouser suit. They were wide at the hips, since the new headmistress was a little on the plump side, and tapered smoothly to fairly narrow ankles where each leg finished with an under-shoe loop. She demonstrated their soft flow as she slid her hand down the back of one leg, showing how light they were, but as she reached the foot she opened the cuff to show the satin lining the same as in the jacket.

  "But... you're not going to expect me to wear those pants, surely?" piped up the male teacher. Miss Forcewell's expression sharpened into contempt as she drew open a drawer in one of her cabinets.

  "You certainly will wear them, you worm, and you will wear these as well," and she took out an armful of white rayon lingerie and laid it on the desk.

  "But you can't. I won't. This is ridiculous." He tried twisting his hands to release them from the women's grip. "Get off me, will you. Listen, you can't let her do this. What will the girls think of me?"

  Miss Forcewell had come round her desk and now stood in front of him as he talked at her.
SLAP! Her blow caught his face unexpectedly, and a red weal appeared instantly on his cheek. It brought tears welling into his eyes as she picked up a skimpy suspender belt, reached her arms round his bare waist, and fastened it for him at the front. "Sit the fool down, ladies, while I put him into his stockings. He'll be dressed as a female in every respect," and she looked into the blurred eyes of her maths teacher as they peered up at her. "And you, Jennings, are going to learn what to say to my girls, and how to say it. Or else!"

  It was a surprise to Class Marlborough after break when Miss Sharp walked into the room to announce that they would be having a second maths lesson of the day, "only this time, girls, you are to get a lot more out of it than earlier this morning."

  "Why, Miss Sharp?" asked one of the girls. "Are we to have Mr Jennings again?" They were astute enough to realise that he might have burnt his fingers with the new Headmistress.

  Miss Sharp lifted her eyebrows and drew in a deep breath, which the girls knew meant "Yes, but wait and see," especially as the faintest of smiles hovered on her lips. A moment later the door opened and in marched Miss Forcewell.

  The sureness of her step, the finality with which she planted her handbag in the middle of Mr Jennings' desk, and the way she planted her sensible, laced shoes firmly apart in the middle of the room told every girl that this lady was in charge. Her crisp silk blouse sizzled in its bold sleeves, while the large, corrugated deltas of her collar emphasised the firmness of her bust. Her midi-length chocolate skirt was divided by three box pleats with a smooth, decorative button above each. She clasped her hands together over the front of her skirt and spoke in a calm voice to the girls ranged in three banks in front of her.

  "Girls, when I last saw you, I felt sorry for you, because you saw a demonstration of male piggery such as you should never have to suffer... let alone here, in the all-female world of Cuntington Academy. I give you my word, girls, that it will never happen again, and to show you why, I present to you, your new, reformed maths teacher."

  There was a stumble at the door, and into the room stepped Johnny Jennings, now wearing the white blouse and blue silk pants, his arms held by Miss Benson on one side and Miss Henderson on the other as his high heels click-clacked unsteadily towards Miss Sharp and Miss Forcewell.

  Silence engulfed the room, except for the tap-tap of his heels, until Mr Jennings was placed where Miss Forcewell wanted him, looking down in front of the girls. She flicked her hand and the two female teachers stood back.

  "Mr Jennings is very sorry indeed," she said, stepping next to him and looking him up and down appreciatively, "for being a male, and he wishes desperately that he could be female, like us." She tilted her head to look into his lowered face. "Isn't that right, Mr Jennings?"

  There was a single nod of his black hair.

  "Do you want to be female? Answer me."

  "Yes, Miss Forcewell." His squeak could easily have been made by a mouse.

  "Of course you do." The Headmistress lifted her nose and surveyed him again, then turned him by his shoulders so that he faced her and used both hands to sweeten his Peter Pan collar. It was edged with half an inch of pale blue satin, and a similar edging decorated the short sleeves which were sharply creased at front and back. "He's wearing his little nylon blouse," she told the class, "to try and feel more feminine. Pretty isn't it girls?"

  The stunned silence of all twenty girls was interrupted here and there by a "Yes, Miss Forcewell." Were the girls supposed to speak? They were open-mouthed, exchanging looks of shock... and amusement.

  "And I lent him my own silk pants," went on the Headmistress.

  Her fingers slipped into the top of the waistband to adjust his waist using both hands, then turned him back to face Class Marlborough. Miss Sharp passed her a handful of white lace, which she held by two corners and it dropped into a spread of lace-edged nylon frills.

  "Turn," she ordered, and he turned to face her as she used her knuckles to lift his chin. Miss Sharp flipped up his collar and the Head attached one corner of lace to a little button under it, while the other corner looped over a corresponding button on the other side of his throat, so that both women could turn his collar down again and arrange it prettily.

  "Face the girls," said Miss Forcewell, "and show them your jabot. You're trying to look feminine, aren't you, Jennings?"

  There were titters of laughter, quickly stifled, as he forced out a "Yes, Miss Forcewell."

  She panned her look around the girls. "Mr Jennings has something to say to you, girls," and she turned to listen to him herself. The male teacher clenched his hands in the sides of his silk pants and spoke.

  "I am so sorry..."

  The Headmistress's hand reached across his jabot and lifted his chin into the air.

  "Don't talk into your blouse, Jennings. Show proper feminine politeness by looking at the girls."

  There were gasps of amusement in front of him as the class saw how red he was becoming, but he spoke at once, with a tremble in his voice.

  "I am so sorry for not realising that this was an all girls school. I... I want to feel ever so feminine in my new clothes, girls." He chanced a quick look at the Head and knew he had to continue. "I want Miss Forcewell to make me a female..." he paused, almost choking in his struggle to go on; then forced himself: "and I want her to call me... Jennifer."

  There was an outburst. Miss Forcewell's blouse swelled with satisfaction and she shared a smile with a convulsing Class Marlborough. Even Miss Sharp allowed herself a titter of laughter at the forlorn figure who stood in front of the girls in his white blouse and blue silk pants, head lowered again, with his hands in fists of anguish against the glossy silk at his thighs.

  It was a while before Miss Forcewell drew this little tableau of hilarity to a close. She raised her hand to restore quiet and spoke to Mr Jennings.

  "Well, Jennifer," she said, drawing more laughter but stopping it with a look, "you have a maths lesson to teach, so we shall sit here in Class Marlborough and watch our new female member of staff doing her job."

  Chairs were provided by the girls for the four women to sit round the front of the room and the bloused and silk trousered teacher made his way in small steps to the board. He was almost there but stumbled on one of his high heels and barely stayed upright, which brought a burst of laughter as if it were a comedy show. He fumbled a board marker into his hand from his desk and began.

  "To continue our investigation of calculus..."
"Sir!" A voice rang round the room and the teacher knew where it came from.
"Yes, Andrea?"
"Jennifer," replied the girl, bringing whoops from her friends, "you're wearing a bra, aren't you? I'm sure I saw it through your blouse, when you turned round."

  A giggling discussion broke out on the banks of desks as the teacher whimpered nervously for quiet. Miss Forcewell intervened.

  "You had better take a look, Andrea. I'm sure Jennifer would like to have her new clothes examined and admired."

  The bleat of dismay he aimed at Miss Forcewell was met by a defiant stare of coldness as Andrea and her friend, Isabel, closed in on their teacher.

  "Turn him round," came the order from the Head, and they each took an arm and twirled him on the spot. It should have been obvious from the semi transparency of the nylon that there was indeed a bra under his blouse, but that wasn't enough.

  "Why, Jennifer," cried Isabel, as if sharing a pantomime discovery with the children in the audience, " your blouse buttons down the back!"

  The class laughed.

  "Isabel," said Andrea, taking over: "it buttons down the back and the front, like a girls' blouse."
"Or a baby blouse!" added Isabel, and there were screams of laughter at the maths teacher as he stood with his back to the girls.

  "Undo the back of her blouse," came Miss Forcewell's voice over the din. "We need to see her bra," and a moment later his blouse was unbuttoned from the neck almost to the waist as the class laughed at the hooked band of his white rayon bra. "Maybe Jennifer needs a baby blouse," continued the Head; "I'll make a note. But is she properly dressed under her trousers, I wonder?"

  The two girls hesitated, looking to Miss Forcewell. Was she giving them permission to... undo his silk pants? The teacher gave a bleat of realisation and turned his head to Andrea.

  "No, Andrea. Don't. Please," he gasped.

  "Go ahead, girls," declared the Head. "Undo his trousers and let's take a look."

  A moment later there was uproar as the maths teacher buried his face in his hands and stood with the white satin lining of his pants gathered where his knees were pressed together, revealing a pair of gleaming white French knickers with suspender clips tugging on the tops of chocolate brown seamed stockings.

  Miss Forcewell enjoyed the ecstatic laughter, and allowed Class Marlborough to enjoy the scene for a full minute, before she rose from her place and strode across the room to the half undressed teacher.

  "This is clearly an ideal time for your punishment, Jennifer, which you so richly deserve. So turn this way and bend yourself across the desk. Miss Sharp, a cane, please. Girls, take an arm each and hold him down."

  The male teacher had his board marker taken off him by a grinning Isabel and the two girls held his bare arms and pulled him forward so that he leaned, blouse front down across the desk top, treating the class to a half-undone blouse and a white pantied bottom. As Miss Sharp scurried back into the room, Miss Forcewell took two handfuls of his panties and pulled them down beyond his stocking tops. The hilarity was reaching new heights as the Headmistress took the cane and bent it between her hands before lifting a hand for silence.

  "Girls," she declared, "Jennifer must learn that I will not tolerate impudence. She will suffer for it in her bottom." She placed the end of the cane across the bared buttocks and a wail of apprehension rang out from the other side of the desk, bringing a roar of laughter from everyone. The cane rose in the air, and swept down with a loud bite across the mounds of flesh. "She must expect to be disciplined," went on Miss Forcewell with another swipe, "for any signs of disrespect," WHACK! "and all forms of disobedience." THWACK!

  The beating continued with cries of pain mingling with bursts of laughter, until the Headmistress had administered about twenty strokes, after which she returned the cane to her deputy and slipped her hand into the neck of her blouse to restore her bra straps to their positions. She was a little out of breath. "Ah," she said, catching sight of the corridor through the open door "get her dressed again, girls. I see her new desk has arrived," and she motioned Matron Watson to wheel it into the room.

  The wretched male was restored to his feet and was refastened into his blouse and pants by the girls as all eyes devoured the apparatus that appeared awkwardly through the doorway. It was clearly a chair, wrapped in pink, but it wasn't on the floor. Miss Henderson and Miss Benson helped to manoeuvre it inwards, top first, until the wider base was pushed in on two wheels and then erected inside the room.

  What a treat the girls were having today. How they laughed. It was a high chair, the size and shape of the chair used by a tennis umpire, but wrapped round and round in cerise pink satin so that not an inch of wood remained visible. A ladder of five steps allowed the occupant to climb up the front and turn onto the seat, at which point the revolving tray could be clicked into position across him, like a mini-table. The girls marched their teacher forward by the wrists so that he stood beside it, where he looked it up and down as if he was in serious pain.

  "Turn this way, Jennifer," insisted the Head, and from her handbag over her arm she produced a pair of earrings in pale blue amethyst set in silver which she clipped onto the bottoms of her employee's ears.

  "I will not have my female staff looking thrown together," she asserted, drawing a necklace set of the same stones from her bag. There were three chains of beads hanging from a silver chain, which she laid over his shoulders and fastened under the back of his collar. She arranged them over the frills of his jabot.

  "And here is Miss Jensen with Jennifer's new feminine jacket, to complete her trouser suit," cried Miss Forcewell over the laughter.

  The needlework teacher delivered the jacket with a smile on her face. "This should be jolly feminine, Miss Forcewell," she grinned. "I had material left over so we've managed to make a little something else for the new female. One of the girls will be here with it as soon as they've finished."

  The Head took the garment and turned to its miserable recipient as she opened it out. From being a thigh length, ladies' tailored jacket, it was reduced to less than half the length. It had a very wide, circular collar and no sleeves. It had become a little bolero top in pale blue silk, lined with blue satin, and the class roared their approval as she showed it to them.

  Mr Jennings shook his head, his eyes bleary with tears. Perhaps he was appealing to them as his friends, but every face was beaming with laughter.

  "Bring her here, girls," said the Head, and the new 'woman' was helpless to prevent it. Andrea slid one of his arms into the coatee and Isabel threaded in the other, for Miss Forcewell to stand in front of him and draw it together. It was an ideal fit, with a shoulder-wide jacket collar. The buttons had been re-arranged, so that one pair of buttons allowed his bolero to be overlapped at his breast and fastened with two buttons alongside each other. On one wing of the collar were two buttonholes, causing Miss Forcewell to lift the other side and find two buttons which would fasten across if his collar were turned up across his face. She had to see the effect.

  The two girls lifted the back of his pale blue collar, which was stiffened into a circle, and she buttoned the front so that it stood out in front of his chin and stood high behind his hair, cupping his face and head in a tall, wide spread of blue silk. She signalled with her fingers for him to pirouette, which he had to do, and the class was treated to the underside of his collar which was lined with the satin.

  "Doesn't she look fetching?" she shared with the girls with a beam on her face, as she plucked the edges of the bolero collar as it stood around his hair.

  The maths teacher tried to release his hands, perhaps to intervene, but Andrea and Isabel held on, looking round the front of his collar and grinning in at him.

  "You do look pretty, Jennifer," they said. "We can't wait to see you in your feminine chair."

  There was a commotion in the corridor and three girls bustled in at the open door.

  "Miss Jensen," called one of them, stopping in her tracks on seeing that the room was full of girls and teachers; "Miss Jensen, we've finished it for him."

  Miss Forcewell wasn't fazed. "Come in girls, and see our new teacher... not a 'he' but a 'she', as you can see.

  The girls' eyes widened like saucers, and they were followed by a dozen more, arriving at a run and piling into the room. They gave Miss Jensen their folds of pale blue silk.

  "We cheated a bit," confessed the needlework teacher. "After making his bolero collar, there wasn't enough blue satin left so we lined it in white," and she handed it over to the Head.

  As Miss Forcewell took it, she allowed it to slide out into its full shape: a woman's sun bonnet with wide wings, all fashioned in the blue silk of her jacket and lined throughout in white satin, with white streamers hanging far below.

  There was ecstasy on her face. "Beautiful," she said, and turned to the new member of staff. "Undo her collar, girls, and I'll put her into her lovely new bonnet."

  There were gasps of admiration and peals of laughter from Class Marlborough and Class Cornwall, the new arrivals, as Miss Forcewell wrapped the bonnet around the miserable face of Johnny Jennings, arranged it evenly with its wings, and drew the ribbons together under his chin. When the ties were done into a large glossy bow, she drew the front of his coatee collar together again as the girls behind him held it up round his bonnet, and soon he was rebuttoned into a wide collar of pale blue silk to match his bonnet. The white bow sat sweetly on the front of his stiffened collar, the ribbons hanging fetchingly down his bolero and blouse.

  "I think," announced the Headmistress, "it's high time to have Jennifer sitting in her high teaching desk; don't you, girls?"

  There was a wild chorus from forty mouths or more of "Ye-e-esss!", and laughter when the bonnet shook from side to side inside its high blue collar.

  Miss Henderson took over from the girls and frog-marched him slowly and stumblingly up the ladder, where she turned him so that he had no option but to sit between the arms. His high heels hooked onto one rung or other of his ladder, with his blue trousers looped inside each instep, and his little table was swung across his blouse and clamped in place. Miss Sharp passed the PE teacher a length of white ribbon, which she wound round and round his forearm just above his wrist and fastened it into a bow on top, followed by a second ribbon on his other arm, his bonnet turning to left and right to see what on earth was happening to him. Then Miss Forcewell put her hands up to bring the whole company to order.

  "Our new female teacher is getting used to being feminine," she said, drawing her face into a frown, "but there is one thing needed that will convince her that she is now a woman."

  The room fell into a hush as she looked at girls and staff.

  "She needs to know how a woman feels," she said as she stood alongside the high chair, with the teacher's seat on level with her eyes. She fed her fingers under the seat of his pants, as if to check the shape of his buttocks in her silk pants. Above her, the teacher's mouth blurted with surprise as Miss Forcewell looked up at him with mischief playing on her lips.

  "Ah-ha," she grinned. "Has Jennifor got a little slot in the middle of her pants then, ready for insertion?" Then her jaw set with determination. She withdrew her hand, grasped a lever at the back of the chair, and pulled it down.

  A squeal escaped the teacher as the two sides of the seat hinged down and his buttocks fell, impaling him on a centre bar capped with a butt plug. His ribboned arms fell too as his arm-rests dropped from the elbows, and his blue silk legs dangled and stiffened as his satin panties filled his anus by three fat inches.

  The room exploded with laughter, with ecstatic comments ringing out: "She's got a butt up her pussy!" and "Look at her legs reaching for the floor or a bar or something."

  Miss Sharp and Miss Henderson were fitting enormous bows of pink satin to his chair, above his shoulders and on the the front and back of his desk at the level of his butt support, and when they were finished, Miss Forcewell stood in front of her new teacher, planted her foot on a treadle, and trod repeatedly, racheting his seat higher and higher, until his feet were on line with her eyes.

  "Doesn't she look lovely inside her white bonnet?" smiled Miss Forcewell, turning to the girls for their opinion.

  There was unanimous agreement amid laughter.

  "And isn't she feminine, the way her legs are pushing and stiffening in her beautiful silk pants?" The laughter rose even higher, until one of the girls pointed, squealing: "Look! Look at the front of her pants, Miss Forcewell! She's doing it!"

  At first it seemed the girl had seen him start to cry, and for a moment there was a pause in the clamour as all eyes looked at the pointed front, above where the teacher's pale blue pants separated into legs. A patch of dampness darkened the silk, but unmistakeably, at the top of the curved point, a bead of white had appeared, which doubled in size, then jerked and jerked again. White cream ran down the silk gusset until there was so much of it that it hung in a thick pendant in front of him, dangling, lengthening, then running in a white dribble. There was a splutter from above, and all eyes rose to the whiteness of the teacher's bonnet, to see the burst of misery that broke out in full throated crying, the tears running down his cheeks and into the white satin of his bow.

  Miss Forcewell, her staff, and every girl in the room convulsed with laughter and stood and watched the painful misery of the new female member of staff.