Forced Femme Week In College Phone Sex

Aurora x 1-844-332-2639 EXT. 256

The summer before I started college, my father decided to change jobs and uproot the family to a city far away.  I had always been shy, and the few friendships I had managed to cultivate were no more.  I had no idea how I was going to cope.

Once school began, I discovered that things were going to be worse than imagined.  You see, one of the ways my small circle of friends and I bonded was to dress up for school.  While the other girls were mostly casual, we always wore nice skirts and blouses or dresses, complete with pantyhose and low heels.  Sometimes we’d go even more retro with panty girdles and pearls.  But when I showed up for the first day of school looking my best, I discovered that not one of the other girls even made an effort.  They would tease me by calling me “princess” or “office girl” or “secretary”, or pretend I was an airline stewardess: “Miss, could you please bring me a blanket?”

A few weeks after school began, I showed up one Monday morning to find all the boys in my class dressed up as girls.  Most of them didn’t look very good, just the typical drag of short skirts and accentuated breasts and exaggerated makeup and unkempt wigs, although a few of them seemed to make some effort.  I said softly to no one in particular, “So why are the boys dressed like girls?” to which someone responded, “Princess, it’s femme week.  The freshman boys get adopted by the senior girls, who become their ‘big sisters’ and make them dress like girls for the week.” “Wait, they have to come to school like this every day for the entire week?”

“Yes, princess, the entire week.  The teachers don’t like it, but they can’t say anything because they would be accused of discrimination.  And since every boy has to do it, none of them can say they’re being picked on or singled out, although the ones whose big sisters make them really pretty and realistic suffer anyway.”

“How so?”

“Friday at lunch there’s a parade.  The cheerleaders pick the prettiest ones and make them take their places at the football game that night; they have to stay after school and learn the cheers, and of course doll up in tight sweaters over ample bosoms that jiggle when they bounce around doing the cheers — that’s my favorite part! — and of course short pleated skirts and pantyhose and pompoms and hair ribbons for everyone to stare at during the breaks in action while the ‘real boys’ are out on the field.

“So every boy hopes his big sister goes easy on him.  There’s a minimum set of rules — bra every day, skirt every day, shaved legs and pantyhose every day, makeup every day — but as you can see some of the big sisters go the whole nine yards.  And to be honest, I think some of the boys really get into it, too; they’d never admit it, but come on — the way they walk, the way they cross their legs, some of them even sound like girls when they talk!  They say they’re just getting into the spirit of things, or that their big sisters demand it, but I don’t know.  It must totally suck to be one of those boys — rumors and teasing for weeks afterwards, and pictures in the yearbook and everything!”

Aurora

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