Chapter One - The Dorm

The slate-capped nineteenth century turrets of Lednock College hove into view as the car crested the last of many small hills that overlooked the all-girls school. Mandy stared at its forbidding exterior with an air of gloom. This was to be her home for the next four-and-a-half years, barring holidays.

“There it is!” cried her father heartily, trying to drum up some enthusiasm. But he himself knew he was going to miss his thirteen-year-old daughter terribly over the next few weeks until half term. “Don’t worry Mand … I’m sure you’ll love it here.”

“But all the other girls will know each other already,” complained Mandy. “I wish I’d stayed at Craigie House for another term…”

Her father sighed. “We’ve been through this,” he said. “You’re easily smart enough to catch up with the rest of your year, and if you don’t start until the autumn then you’ll be a year behind them. It doesn’t make sense, financially at the very least…”

That was it, of course. Mr Jarvie was a man of limited resources and the saving of two terms’ fees was not something he could afford to pass up. Of course it bothered him that his daughter might find it hard to settle in, being the ‘odd one out’, but he was sure she would find her niche soon enough.

As the car entered the school grounds and passed the first of the boarding houses, Mandy stared around in shock at the girls they were driving past.

“Dad!” she exclaimed. “Look at their uniforms!”

“I’m looking, I’m looking!” said her father fervently. “My God! What is this, the Playboy mansion?”

While every girl was immaculately dressed in the regulation uniform, the navy blue pleated skirts they wore were, to Mr Jarvie’s mind, criminally short. Not one skirt that he saw came down even to mid-thigh. Some were so short that flashes of white panties could be seen as the girls walked.

“That’s disgusting!” cried Mandy. “Dad, you can’t leave me here! I’ll get picked on no end with the skirts I’ve got, and there’s no way I’m wearing one that short!”

“I must say I’m inclined to agree,” said Mr Jarvie with a frown. “I can’t wait to hear what your housemaster has to say about this!”

They pulled into the quadrangle of Wright House, and parked. Mandy and her father exited the car and headed for the housemaster’s residence. Mr Jarvie rang the bell. After a minute the door opened.

“Ah hello!” The middle-aged housemaster, Mr Petherbridge, beamed at both of them. “Welcome, welcome! Do come in.” He stood aside to allow them to enter, then he closed the door behind them and gestured towards his study. “Go right along in and sit yourselves down,” he said.

“Thank you,” muttered Mr Jarvie as he led his daughter into the room.

“Now then!” Mr Petherbridge entered after them and closed the door. “It’s nice to see you, Mandy. I hope you’ll enjoy your time here. There are a few things we need to discuss…”

“Yes,” said Mr Jarvie loudly, clearing his throat. “I think there certainly are. The uniform, for one thing.”

“Oh?” Mr Petherbridge took off his horn-rimmed glasses and peered at Mandy’s father. “Is there a problem?”

“I’ll say there is!” said Mr Jarvie hotly. “Have you seen the girls out there? What they’re wearing … it’s indecent!”

“Ah yes, the skirts.” Mr Petherbridge sighed heavily. “Well, it’s a long story but of course you need to hear it. It all dates back to the legislation the government put through a couple of years ago, forbidding schools to require a uniform dress code. You may remember it…”

“Of course,” said Mr Jarvie, nodding. “But I didn’t think it applied to privately-run schools. At least, I assumed as much when I saw that Lednock still had a uniform.”

“It applies here, yes even here,” said Mr Petherbridge. “But our Warden, Mr Bassett, was very keen to ensure that Lednock did not lose its uniform, and sent out letters to all the parents asking them to sign a form giving permission for the school to enforce the uniform code with regard to their daughters. A copy of the uniform details was sent out with the form. To Mr Bassett’s credit, he managed to persuade every single girl’s parents to sign that form - and so our uniform remains.”

“But surely the code dictates the length of skirt…”

“It does,” said Mr Petherbridge heavily. “That’s the problem. Unfortunately the school secretary messed up the uniform specifications and nobody noticed. The part about the skirt length was supposed to read, ‘Skirts must be no shorter than three inches above the knee.’ Instead the instruction that found its way into the letters to the parents read ‘Skirts must be no shorter than three inches’. God knows what happened - maybe the phone rang as she was typing that sentence. Anyway, for over a year, it didn’t make any difference. The girls all knew that skirts historically were to be no shorter than three inches above the knee. But then some bright young thing actually read the code and realised the length restriction had not been worded properly.

“So, the skirts began to get shorter. And shorter. We tried to punish the girls, but they challenged us and we found the law was actually on their side. The ringleader, it seems, was a girl named Tanya Stevenson, whose father is a lawyer. Fortunately Tanya has now left, but her legacy remains.

“Towards the end of last year we tried to issue an amendment to the uniform dress code, but some of the girls lobbied their parents and a few didn’t sign the amendment. That was enough to prevent the change being ratified. We couldn’t by ourselves change a rule that had been approved only with unanimous parental support.”

“You’re telling me that you’re legally powerless to prevent the girls prancing around in skirts that would make a prostitute blush?”

“Pretty much,” agreed Mr Petherbridge. “We think, though, that it’s just a passing phase. Once the novelty has worn off, skirts will get longer again and peer pressure will ensure that all girls follow suit.”

“But still…” Mr Jarvie was having trouble finding words. “It’s just … appalling! Some of those skirts are so short you can see their underwear!”

“Ah! Now that we can do something about,” said Mr Petherbridge. “That comes under the heading of ‘indecent exposure’ and is punishable. Occasionally we do find that some of the girls overstep that mark, and believe me, they suffer the consequences.”

“Am I going to get picked on because my skirt is so long?” asked Mandy, staring down at her hemline, which was currently just above her knees.

Mr Petherbridge smiled at her. “I don’t really know,” he said, “but I suppose it’s possible. You may want to shorten it by a few inches, just until this unfortunate thing blows over.”

Mandy nodded, but Mr Jarvie was far from satisfied. “Look here,” he said. “It’s all very well hoping this will ‘blow over’, as you say, but in the meantime I am extremely concerned that my daughter is being exposed to a level of indecent behaviour which quite frankly I find intolerable!”

Mr Petherbridge nodded. “I appreciate and understand your feelings, Mr Jarvie,” he said. “But really, I’m not in a position to do anything about it. If you wish to withdraw Mandy from the school, I am sure the Bursar will refund your fees for this term … under the circumstances.”

“But I don’t want to withdraw Mandy!” said Mr Jarvie. “She’s got a partial scholarship to this school and I couldn’t afford anywhere else. But I want to be sure that she’ll be given a good moral education as well as an intellectual one!”

“I wish I could say more to reassure you,” said Mr Petherbridge. “I’ve made the school’s position clear, however … it is up to you where you proceed from here.”

Mr Jarvie sighed. “What do you think, Mandy?” he said.

Mandy looked up at him with a slightly unhappy smile. “I don’t know Dad,” she said. “It’s up to you.” She knew that if she refused to attend this school, her father would always resent it on some level, however supportive he seemed to be on the surface.

“All right … she’ll stay,” said Mr Jarvie.

“Excellent.” Mr Petherbridge beamed again. “Now, about pocket money…”

The details were thrashed out between the two men while Mandy stared out of the window. A girl ran past outside, chasing a tennis ball. When she bent over to pick it up, her skirt rode up so high that it almost exposed the top of her skimpy French-cut panties.

At length Mr Petherbridge got up and led them to Mandy’s dormitory. A couple of other girls were there, unpacking their trunks, and they looked up as Mandy entered. Both were wearing obscenely short skirts.

“Hello Tammy, Paula,” said the housemaster. “I’d like you to meet your new dorm-mate, Mandy.”

“Hi Mandy,” said the red-headed Tammy, and Paula merely nodded. Neither smiled.

“Hi,” replied Mandy with a small, nervous wave. She noticed with some discomfort that both girls were staring disapprovingly at her skirt.

“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled in,” said Mr Petherbridge, and he departed.

“I guess this is your bed,” said Mr Jarvie, indicating one whose headboard bore the label ‘A. Jarvie’.

Mandy nodded and dumped her overnight bag on to the bed. She unzipped it and began to pull clothes out.

“I’ll fetch your trunk,” said her father, and he left the room.

“That’s quite a granny skirt you’ve got there,” said the blonde girl named Paula, who had stopped her unpacking and was staring at Mandy.

“Well nobody told me about the skirt length … thing,” Mandy muttered defensively. Is there anyone around here who can shorten it for me? I can’t sew.”

Tammy and Paula looked at each other and winked, though Mandy, staring at her shoes, did not notice.

“Certainly,” said Tammy. “I’d be happy to do that for you.”

“Thanks,” said Mandy gratefully.

“I’ll do all your skirts if you like,” added Tammy.

“That’s very generous of you,” said Mandy. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” replied Tammy with an enigmatic smile.

Chapter Two - The Bitch

Having brought up Mandy’s trunk, Mr Jarvie hugged and kissed his daughter goodbye, then he left her to go home. This was clearly difficult for him. It was harder, though, for Mandy, who suddenly felt like she was all alone in a strange and hostile world.

Over the next hour she met the rest of her dorm-mates. Not all of them, she was glad to discover, were as unpleasant as Paula and Tammy had been, though one was considerably worse. This was a tall, extremely stocky girl named Anne Worthing, whose wide-waisted microskirt revealed a massive expanse of panty-clad buttock flesh. Mandy suspected that nobody would dare tell the girl that this was not a flattering look.

“You’re short,” Anne observed in a deep, aristocratic voice when meeting Mandy for the first time. “I bet you’re crap at games. What school are you from?”

“Craigie House,” replied Mandy nervously, feeling very intimidated as the other girl was standing very close and towering over her.

“That dump?” Anne sneered. “Seems all the girls we get from there are complete flids. Must be a really naff place.”

“It’s all right,” shrugged Mandy. “What’s a flid?”

“Well just so you know, I’m the head of this dorm, and I don’t tolerate flids,” said Anne. “What on Earth are you wearing girl?” She had just noticed Mandy’s skirt. “Naffus maximus!”

“Um, Tammy’s going to shorten it for me,” said Mandy in a small voice. “I didn’t realise they had to be so short.”

“Make sure you do a good job Tam,” Anne called across the room.

“Oh I will,” replied Tammy.

“So, um, what games do you play?” asked Mandy timidly, attempting to make polite conversation.

“Rugby and hockey in the winter,” said Anne. “Athletics, swimming, squash and cricket in the summer. What’s your sport? Assuming you have one.”

“I like netball,” ventured Mandy. “And badminton.”

Anne snorted, unimpressed. “Flids’ games. How naff. Well, you look like you need some good hard exercise, so I’ll take you down the gym tomorrow evening to see what you’re made of.”

“You could always take her for a jog, Arnie,” said a new voice from behind Mandy, who turned to see a slim, tall blonde girl standing a few feet away with her arms folded. Her skirt was almost modest, covering her panties with at least two inches to spare. She looked amused.

“Naff off, Pixie,” said Anne peremptorily. “Nobody asked you.”

“Well she looks more like a runner than a weights freak,” said ‘Pixie’, who now turned to Mandy and smiled. “I’m Charlotte,” she introduced herself. “But call me Charlie.”

“Call her Pixie,” said Anne. “Fucking Tolkien weirdo.”

“Hi Charlie,” said Mandy with a covert smile.

“Arnie’s just jealous because I can read words of more than ten letters without sending my brain into meltdown,” said Charlie with a cheeky grin.

Anne lunged forwards and caught Charlie by the arm. Charlie squealed and tried to lash out with her other arm, but Anne had by now got her in a half-nelson and was pushing her down on to the nearest bed.

“I’ve warned you before about calling me Arnie!” Anne hissed. She pulled up Charlie’s skirt at the back and grabbed the slim girl’s panties, pulling them up hard between her pert buttocks.

“Ooh, nice wedgie!” exclaimed Tammy, running over to see.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” a couple of the other girls began to chant.

“Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent!” yelled Charlie from the bed as she struggled to get free. Then Anne yanked her panties up even harder and Charlie squealed again in pain. Mandy, with a perfect view of Charlie’s crotch, noticed that the bunched gusset of Charlie’s panties was cleaving the girl’s pussy, her labia exposed either side of the thin white line of cotton.

“Now apologise, you little fucking hobbit-loving Pixie, or I’ll punch your lights out!”

“I apologise,” gasped Charlie between squeals of pain, “for failing to mention that you’re also ugly as sin and fat as a hippo.”

“Right you little shit, you’ve asked for it now,” growled Anne.

“De-bag! De-bag! De-bag!” chorused the other girls.

Charlie’s panties were now dragged unceremoniously down to her ankles and pulled off. Anne began to administer a powerful spanking to Charlie’s bare bottom; the slim girl’s buttocks quickly turned red and Mandy’s eyes watered in sympathy.

Mandy did not dare interfere - she was the new girl, after all, and was in no position to throw her weight around. But she was utterly shocked at Anne’s callous behaviour - the big girl was now ripping Charlie’s shirt from her back. Powerless to intervene, Mandy looked on helplessly as Charlie’s skirt and bra followed. Tammy, meanwhile, had removed the girl’s shoes and socks.

“Get me a slipper, somebody,” ordered Anne. Paula obliged, and Anne now gave Charlie’s buttocks a battering with the slipper’s hard rubber sole.

“You realise,” panted Charlie, her attitude still cavalier despite the tears pouring down her cheeks, “that Arnie gets a pervy lesbian kick out of this.”

“I do not!” roared Anne, outraged at the accusation. But she was sufficiently shaken by this slander to relax her grip on Charlie’s arm. The slim girl twisted over on to her back and brought her knee up sharply. It connected with Anne’s nose with an eye-watering crunch.

“Fuck!” screamed Anne, clutching at her face.

Charlie nimbly jumped to her feet and smiled sweetly at Tammy. Then she slapped the redhead sharply across the cheek. “That’s for helping,” she said. She bent down to grab her clothes, and retreated to her bed on the far side of the dorm, where she proceeded to get dressed.

Anne’s nose was pouring blood. Blistering the air with curses, she stumbled off to the bathroom. From down the corridor Mandy heard her yell, “I’ll get you for that, Pixie!”

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Mandy ventured to ask one of the girls who had been chanting.

“Oh yeah,” said the girl with a grin. She was a brunette, short (even shorter than Mandy) and buxom, with a rather pretty, roundish face. “There’s not many days go by when Anne doesn’t clash with somebody, and it’s usually Pixie … Charlie, I mean. Anne always has to get her own way, and Pixie’s the only one who won’t recognise her authority.”

“So … is Anne actually officially in charge of us all?”

“She’s the head of the dorm, which doesn’t mean much except that she keeps the roll call book and organises the rota for ringing the wake-up bell in the morning.” The girl smiled. “So you’re Mandy, yes?”

Mandy nodded. “And you…?”

“I’m Sarah,” said the girl. “The others call me Fiver. After the character in Watership Down, you know? The runt of the litter? That’s me.” She grinned.

“Does everyone have a nickname?” asked Mandy.

“Oh yes.” Sarah nodded. “It’s kind of a school tradition here. Pixie made up most of ours … including her own. She’ll think up one for you within the week, you mark my words.”

“Oh dear,” Mandy fretted. “I hope it’s not something horrible.”

“As long as she likes you I’m sure it won’t be,” said Sarah. “But you’d better hope Pixie thinks of one before Anne does.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Nicola was christened ‘Pizza’ by Anne on the first day we all met each other, last September. And it stuck, poor thing. She gets a pretty hard time off Anne.”

Mandy looked over to the far corner of the dorm, where a dark-haired girl with an unfortunate complexion was reading a book. Her skirt was probably longer than anyone else’s in the dorm - as she lay stretched out on her front with one foot in the air, her hemline was only slightly above mid-thigh. She looked up as if sensing that she was being watched, and when she caught Mandy’s eye she frowned slightly before turning back to her book.

Mandy returned to her unpacking, and Tammy came over to see her.

“Shall I have a go at those skirts of yours, then?” she asked.

“Oh, sure,” said Mandy. “I mean, yes please.” She handed three identical pleated skirts to the redhead.

“And the one you’re wearing?” prompted Tammy.

“Oh.” Mandy looked down at her skirt uneasily. “But I don’t have anything else to wear…”

Tammy shrugged. “You think we care? Does Paula look like she’s bothered about her state of undress? This is our bedroom, you know.”

Mandy looked over to where Paula, who was now topless, was chatting and laughing with Veronica, a plain-looking girl with short dark hair whose microskirt revealed almost all of her fairly chunky legs.

“Um, I guess so,” said Mandy, and rather reluctantly she removed her skirt. Tammy smiled and took it, then returned to her own bed.

An hour later the bell rang for supper. Mandy, still without a skirt to wear, trotted over to Tammy’s bed. “Um,” she said, “have you finished with my skirts yet?”

“Oh, no I haven’t got around to them, sorry,” said Tammy. “But we can’t let you go to supper in one of those monstrosities. Here, I’ll lend you one of mine.”

The skirt she handed Mandy fit quite well, but it was shockingly short - Mandy was sure that her buttocks were peeping below the hemline at the back. However, she did not dare complain, and in fact as she filed into supper with the forty or so other girls in the house, she found she did not feel out of place, since many of them were wearing skirts of similar length (and some were even slightly shorter). The feeling of self-consciousness faded, but it was strange to sit down on the wooden bench and feel the cold wood against her bare buttocks - the skirt was just not long enough to tuck beneath her bottom.

Chapter Three - The Bell

That night, Mandy tried to remember the names of the girls she had met today. There were nine, including herself, in the dormitory - four on the far side of the dorm and five on her own side. Starting in the far corner, there was the quiet, plump Nicola, whose bad acne was usually partially hidden behind a matted curtain of rather greasy hair. Next to her was Emily, a stunning blonde with a fabulous figure whose skirt was as short as Anne’s, though on Emily the effect was breathtaking. The two inches of revealed panties had captured Mandy’s attention; she had unconsciously been staring at Emily’s crotch for several seconds before the beauty had coldly asked her to avert her gaze.

Next to Emily was the semi-attractive blonde Paula, Anne’s ‘right-hand girl’ apparently, who had so far not said anything nice to Mandy. Mandy was willing to reserve judgment, however, until she knew the girl better. Next to Paula, and almost directly opposite Mandy, was the fearsome Anne, who seemed to have taken an instant dislike to Mandy and throughout the evening had spent her time either putting Mandy in her place or telling her about the ‘rules’ she expected Mandy to adhere to.

On Mandy’s left was Sarah, who seemed quite nice although she had earlier been cheering for Anne to strip Charlie. Mandy decided to reserve judgment on her next-bed neighbour too. On Sarah’s other side was Veronica (also known as Ronnie), who it seemed was the dorm’s resident clown. Full of jokes and a ready wit, she was instantly likeable and Mandy hoped that she had made a good first impression on the girl.

Beyond Veronica was Charlie, the attractive sandy-haired girl who had been stripped by Anne that afternoon. Mandy was not quite sure what to make of her, but she could not help rooting for Charlie against Anne. She had almost cheered when Charlie had kicked Anne’s nose.

Finally, at the far end of her side of the dorm was Tammy, who had offered to work on Mandy’s skirts. So far she had not yet finished even one, but she had assured Mandy that at least one skirt would be ready to wear by the time they had to walk down to the main school at half past eight the following morning. Still Mandy fretted - Tammy did not strike her as being particularly nice, but if she kept to her word then Mandy would have to consider her trustworthy.

Still worrying, Mandy slipped into a dream-filled sleep.


The next morning, Mandy was roughly shaken awake by Anne. “Get up and come with me,” said the bossy girl.

Mandy sat up and rubbed her eyes. Looking around, she saw that the rest of the dormitory was still asleep. “What time is it?” she asked.

“It’s seven forty,” said Anne. “I need to show you how to ring the wake-up bell. Come on.”

As Mandy got out of bed, Anne snorted with derision. “I didn’t notice your pyjamas last night. Bit naff aren’t they?”

Mandy looked down at her light blue patterned nightwear, and then at Anne’s skimpy nightie, which stopped just short of covering her panties. “Jeez,” she said, “are your knickers on display at all times?”

“While I’m here at college, yes,” said Anne shortly. “And that’s enough of your lip. Follow me.”

She led Mandy out of the dorm and down the stairs to where a brass hand-bell was perched on a shelf. Anne picked it up, holding the clapper so it would not ring, then looked at her watch.

“Three minutes,” she said. “Everything around here is done to the minute - military precision is our watchword. You’re on duty this week, so make sure you set your alarm in good time to get down here and ring the bell at exactly seven forty-five each morning, okay?”

Mandy nodded. “If we’ve got three minutes, I’ll just nip to the toilet if you don’t mind.”

Anne frowned. “If you’re not back by the time I need to ring this bell, I’m going to come in there and drag you out, whatever condition you’re in.”

“Okay I get it - I’ll be back in time,” said Mandy, and she trotted into the downstairs toilets, which were just around the corner from the bottom of the stairwell.

Sitting down in one of the cubicles, she began to pee, then realised she badly needed to defecate as well. Did she have time? Probably not. She would have to come back after the ringing of the bell. She stood up, wiped, flushed, pulled up her pyjamas and left the stall to wash her hands. As she was drying them, the door opened and Anne appeared.

“Hurry up, slowcoach!” she snapped.

“I’m coming!” Mandy hurried out after Anne, and watched as the larger girl counted down the last ten seconds.

“Right, follow me!” said Anne, and she began to thrash the bell for all it was worth, the sound battering Mandy’s eardrums as it reverberated around the house. Anne now ran up the stairs two at a time, her large buttocks shuddering with each vigorous step. On the middle floor, she first dashed into their own ‘junior’ dormitory, pausing for a moment while she waved the clanging bell around in the air, then she jogged past Mandy along the corridor to the ‘senior’ dorm to wake up the fourth formers. Backing out of there, she next charged through a fire door into the Lower Wing, pounding the bell outside the bed-sits of the Upper Sixth. Shouts of abuse were hurled by some of the seniors, but Anne ignored them.

Now she hurtled up the stairs to the top floor, where she passed through another fire door into the Upper Wing of the house. This was a long corridor flanked by the tiny, cubicle-style bedrooms (known as ‘cubes’) of the Fifth form and Lower Sixth. She marched briskly along the entire length of the corridor, ringing the bell constantly as she went, until she reached the far end. At this point she stopped and grasped the clapper to silence the bell. She grinned almost manically at Mandy, then the two of them jogged back down the corridor and descended the stairwell once more.

At the bottom, Anne replaced the bell and turned to Mandy. “That’s the drill,” she said. “You think you can remember that for tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Mandy nodded.

“Good. It’s quarter to eight, Monday to Saturday, and quarter past nine on Sunday.”

Mandy nodded again. “So now we get dressed and go to breakfast?”

“That’s right. Breakfast’s at eight sharp.”

“Oh good - I have time to go to the loo then.”

Anne stared at her. “What’s the matter - weak bladder too?”

“No!” said Mandy hastily. “Only I didn’t have time before to do … you know…”

“What, put in a tampon?”

“No! I mean, number twos…”

Anne guffawed. “Number twos! What a loser! Round here we call them dumps, or shits, or craps, or whatever. You’re not living with your maiden aunty now, flid. I suppose you call your pussy ‘my front botty’ do you?”

“No,” muttered Mandy sullenly.

“Come on. You can shit later. Right now I need to explain your timetable to you. Where is yours - in your locker in the common room?”

“Um, yes,” said Mandy.

They entered the junior common room and Mandy retrieved the complex timetable from her locker. Anne perused it for a moment, before nodding. She pointed at Monday’s first lesson.

“Right,” she said. “You’re in Set 2A aren’t you?”

“I believe so,” said Mandy. “I’m not entirely sure what that means though.”

“It means you’re in the top set for maths and the sciences, and the second set for everything else. Stick with Fiver - she’s in 2A as well, so you’ll be having all your classes with her. Your first lesson is Double Geography with Mr Featherstone. Don’t be late, he’s a bit of a tyrant.” She looked at her watch. “Right, better get moving! Time waits for no woman.”

She ushered Mandy out of the room and up the stairwell. As they entered the junior dorm, Mandy saw that most of the other girls were up, and a couple were dressed already. Emily was carefully adjusting her skirt in front of a mirror. Mandy couldn’t help thinking, once again, that the girl had an exceptional figure.

She hurried down to the far end of the dorm, where Tammy was still lying in bed. “Tammy!” she said urgently. “Have you finished any of my skirts yet?”

Tammy rolled over and screwed up her face against the light. “Uh, no,” she said. “But I’m almost done with one. I’ll finish it after breakfast. Don’t panic! You can wear my spare skirt to the dining hall again.”

Mandy sighed and returned to her bed, where she dressed herself and donned the microskirt Tammy had lent her. She really hoped that Tammy would finish with her skirts in time - she did not want to have to wear this little thing in front of any male teachers!

After a short breakfast of cereal and scrambled eggs on toast, Mandy headed straight for the toilet. However she had not yet reached it when she was accosted by an older girl who, judging from her badge, was one of the prefects.

“Hi,” said the prefect. “I’m Kirsty. You must be the new girl … Amanda Jarvie is it?”

“Yes,” said Mandy. “But everyone calls me Mandy.”

“Well I hope you’ll like it here,” said Kirsty. “It can be a bit rough here sometimes for new girls, but if you want to settle in fast, take my advice and just keep your head down. You know, keep a low profile. Individualists tend to get the short end of the stick here I’m afraid.”

“I’ve never really been one to stand out in a crowd,” confessed Mandy. “So I don’t think I’ll find that too hard.”

“Is there anything you’d like to ask before you embark on your first day? Anything bothering you that I can help with?”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Mandy, “but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, well let me know if you need to talk. I know Anne Worthing’s supposed to be taking you under her wing, but … well, I suppose it depends on how you get on with Anne.”

“We get on okay, I think,” replied Mandy cautiously.

“That’s all right then,” said Kirsty cheerfully. “Well, see you around. And good luck!”

“Thanks,” said Mandy. She looked at her watch. It was twenty past eight - she had just ten minutes to brush her teeth, make her bed, swap skirts (assuming Tammy had finished hers in time) and grab her schoolbag before leaving Wright House with the other girls in her year. This did not give her any time to empty her bowels.

With a sigh, she hurried up the stairs to the dormitory. As she began to make her bed, Tammy entered the room and strolled past at an infuriatingly casual pace. Mandy watched anxiously as Tammy sat down and took up her needle and thread. Then the redhead looked up and grinned at Mandy.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “This won’t take a jiffy.”

Having made her bed, Mandy took her sponge bag and headed off to the middle floor toilets, where there was a large washbasin area full of Third, Fourth and Sixth form girls brushing their teeth, washing their faces and arranging their hair. No make-up was allowed, according to the school rules, but one or two of the girls flouted that rule by discreetly applying small amounts here and there.

Two minutes later Mandy arrived back in the dormitory to see Tammy getting up from where she sat. The redhead smiled and came over to Mandy’s bed, holding a folded skirt in her hand.

“Right,” said Tammy. “Whip that off and try this for size.”

“It’s finished? Oh good!” Mandy, relieved, took off Tammy’s skirt and handed it over.

Tammy took it and offered Mandy the fruit of her labours. Mandy unfolded it and gasped. “Oh my God, what have you done to it?” she exclaimed.

“Just trimmed it a little,” said Tammy. “Try it on - I’m sure you’ll like it.”

But Mandy just stood there staring at the skirt in disbelief. There seemed to be hardly anything of it left.

“Get moving, flid!” came Anne’s unmistakeable voice from the doorway. “If you miss your first Chapel, there’ll be trouble.”

“But look what Tammy’s done to my skirt!” cried Mandy, turning and showing it to Anne.

“Fuck, that’s quite a job you’ve done there!” exclaimed Anne, coming over to have a look at the garment. “Nice work, Tammy - your sewing skills are improving.”

“That’s not what I meant!” wailed Mandy. “It’s too short!”

“Don’t be such a flid and put the thing on,” said Anne peremptorily. “I’ve seen shorter.”

“I’d like one of my other skirts back, please,” said Mandy to Tammy. “I can’t wear this.”

“I’ve already cut the other skirts,” replied Tammy. “And I haven’t even begun to sew them, so they look crap at the moment.”

“One minute, flid!” said Anne sharply. “Stop whining, put the skirt on, and come and get your stuff.”

In despair, Mandy pulled the skirt on and fastened it at the waist. Looking at herself in the mirror, her worst fears were realised. This skirt was shorter even than Emily’s or Anne’s - it revealed three or four inches of her panties at the front, and only came halfway down her buttocks at the back. It was the most obscene spectacle she had ever seen.

“Come on!” snapped Anne, and Mandy dolefully walked out of the dormitory after her.

“I’m going to get in so much trouble for this,” she muttered.

As she entered the junior room, a chorus of laughter and wolf-whistles broke out among the Third and Fourth formers who were collecting books and/or bags from their respective lockers. Mandy blushed crimson.

“Sarah,” said Anne, “you can look after the little flid from now on.”

“My goodness Mandy!” said Sarah, who was standing close by, staring at Mandy’s panties. “Did Tammy do that?”

“Yes!” moaned Mandy miserably. “What am I going to do?”

“Well there’s not much you can do right now,” said Sarah. “But don’t worry - you may be surprised to learn that shorter skirts than yours are often seen down at the main college. You won’t look as out of place as you might think. Anyway let’s move - it’s gone half past.”

The girls left the house and walked briskly down the road towards the main school.

 

Chapter Four - The Dump

Although the girls passed a couple of teachers on their way to Chapel, neither commented on Mandy’s nanoskirt. This was possibly because Mandy was holding her bag over her crotch, but she had the feeling it might not have mattered anyway - some of the other girls she passed were also wearing skirts that showed a glimpse of panties. Granted, none of those she had seen so far were quite as short as her own, but several came close, and the passing teachers seemed to pay them no mind.

They entered the chapel and took their seats with the other girls in Wright Third form. Here, temporarily, Mandy was shielded from curious eyes by the high wooden backs of the pews. They sang a hymn, fidgeted through the notices and the chaplain’s thought for the day, then bowed their heads for the prayer. Then the pattering notes of Bach’s Toccata in C sounded out from the organ, and the teachers all filed out, followed in strict order by the pupils.

Sarah led Mandy across the Main Quad to the Cloisters, where they fought their way through jostling bodies until they came to a stone stairway leading upwards. They followed it up two flights, then entered a classroom in which a dark-haired teacher with ferocious bushy eyebrows glared at them from behind his desk. In his right hand he held a ruler, with which he idly swatted his other hand.

“McKenzie!” he barked. “I can see your knickers! That skirt’s too short.”

“Yes sir, sorry sir,” said a pretty brunette as she scurried to her seat and sat down.

Mandy quailed inwardly as she tried to conceal her skirt. She had seen the brunette’s, and it was not as short as her own. With her bag carefully positioned, she hurried to take a seat next to Sarah near the back of the class.

“Okay, is that everybody?” Mr Featherstone counted heads. “Good! Now, I believe we have a newcomer in the class. Stand up please, Miss Jarvie.

Mandy’s heart sank. Trembling like a leaf, she got to her feet. “Hello,” she said nervously.

“Another panty-flasher!” exclaimed Mr Featherstone, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’ve had enough of you girls flouting the rules. On your feet, everyone. I’m going to examine all your skirts - any that fail to cover the buttocks will merit punishment. And you know what that punishment is, don’t you girls?”

All the girls rose to their feet, and Mr Featherstone approached each in turn. His method was the same every time - he would drop to one knee and put his eyes on a level with the hemline of the skirt. If he could see panties, he told the girl to remain standing. If he could not, he told the girl to sit down. After his inspection there were three girls still standing.

“Helen McKenzie, please come out here,” he ordered the brunette. Helen meekly walked to the front of the room and stopped in front of Mr Featherstone.

The teacher cleared his throat. “Right,” he said, “Turn around and bend over the desk.”

“Oh but sir!” Helen began to protest, but his ferocious glare silenced her and she reluctantly complied. As she bent forwards, her skirt rode up over her bottom to reveal an extra three inches or so of her panties.

“He’s surely not going to use the ruler on us, is he?” gasped Mandy to Sarah.

“I’m afraid so,” Sarah whispered back. “Ever since the Tories repealed the law against corporal punishment, that ruler has seen some action I can tell you. Good thing he’s only allowed six.”

Mr Featherstone brought the ruler down hard on Helen’s buttocks, making her squeal in pain. Then he hit her again, and again, and again. By the fifth stroke, both buttocks were glowing bright red. The last stroke elicited a whimper from the poor girl, but she knew that six was the limit and as soon as it was done she turned around and hobbled back to her desk.

“Emily Forbes-Marshall!” Mandy’s beautiful dorm-mate got up and suffered the same punishment, though she bore it with rather more fortitude than Helen had.

“Amanda Jarvie!”

Mandy, her stomach in knots, walked with trepidation up to the front of the classroom.

“Since you’re new and probably unfamiliar with the rules, I’ll go easy on you this time,” said Mr Featherstone. “Now bend over.”

Mandy did so, and felt the resounding slaps of the wooden ruler slap across her buttocks three times. It was painful, but bearable, and although she was walking gingerly as she made her way back to her seat she found she was able to sit down without too much discomfort.

Her troubles, however, were only just beginning. Half an hour into the lesson her bowel rumbled loudly. This was not like a stomach rumble - it was a deep, staccato sound from her abdomen. Sarah stared at her in surprise.

“Sorry,” muttered Mandy as she squeezed her buttocks together against the pressure building up in her colon. Sweat broke out on her brow. She put a hand up in the air.

“…which can remove the element of inevitability inherent in urban sprawl… Yes? What is it Amanda?”

“It’s Mandy, sir. I was wondering - would it be all right if I went to the bathroom please?”

“You wish to have a bath?” asked Mr Featherstone politely.

“No … I mean the toilet.”

“This isn’t prep school now, Miss Jarvie. Here we go to the toilet between lessons if we must, and preferably during Break. Can’t you hold it in?”

“I don’t think so sir.”

“Weak bladder, eh?”

“It’s not my bladder…”

“Oh? Number two is it? Well in that case you certainly can’t leave the room. I’m sure you can manage to hold that in for another hour and a quarter.”

Mandy’s shoulders drooped. At that moment, the pressure on her anus eased off slightly, and she let out a deep breath. “I’ll try sir.”

“Good girl. Now, as I was saying, as land available for development becomes ever more expensive…”

The lesson continued, and for a while Mandy thought she would be all right until the end of the lesson. But at five to ten, she knew she could bear it no more. She put up her hand again.

“Sir?”

“What is it now, Mandy?”

“Sir, I really have to go to the toilet.”

Mr Featherstone looked at his watch. “You’ve got less than twenty minutes until the end of the lesson,” he said. “I’m sure you can hold it in until then.”

“Sir, I don’t think I can.”

“What nonsense!” Mr Featherstone was beginning to get annoyed. “Very well, let’s try an experiment. Come up here to the front of the class please, Mandy.”

Wondering what he had in mind, Mandy got up and walked up to the teacher’s desk.

“Now bend over,” said Mr Featherstone, “exactly in the same position as you were before. Don’t worry - I’m not going to spank you this time.”

“But why…?”

“Just do it!” he snapped.

Mandy complied, bending over so that her skirt rode up to reveal almost her entire bottom, clad in white cotton panties. What on Earth was Mr Featherstone’s plan?

“Right,” said the teacher. “I’m betting you can hold on until the end of the lesson. I shall continue to teach, and you shall continue to stay in that position. I suspect that you are perfectly capable of controlling your bowels, and now you have a very good incentive to do so. If I am wrong, and you lose control, well, I shall exempt you from all further corporal punishments in this classroom, until the end of this term. I think that’s more than fair. Are you happy? Do we have a deal?”

Mandy was far from happy. Her buttocks were aching from constantly being clenched and the pressure on her anus was almost unbearable. She thought she could probably hold on until the end of the lesson, but she was far from sure of it. The truth was, she had not defecated in almost five days. She had discovered several months ago that if she held on to her poo until it was almost painful, the release of the monster, when it finally came, was quite a thrill. The wider the poo was, the bigger the kick … the sensation of such a massive object forcing its way through her anal sphincter gave her a rush that was almost as intense as (though somehow different from) an orgasm.

But now it had backfired on her. If only she had gone last night… But no, she had contemplated it and decided that she could hold on a little longer, for a little extra thrill. Fool that she was! And now this horrible teacher was humiliating her in front of her classmates, trying to prove a point at the expense of her dignity. As if he knew her body better than she knew it herself! Well, he was not going to win this bet, she decided. She had told him, plain and simple, that she could not hold on, and now he was going to have to deal with being proved wrong. Her mind made up, Mandy relaxed.

Mr Featherstone was, of course, the last to notice what was going on. The girls in the front row spotted the growing bulge in the back of Mandy’s panties almost immediately - they were a mere three or four feet away from her bottom and had a perfect view. Round-eyed and open-mouthed, they watched as the bulge grew bigger and bigger, and the panties stretched outwards and downwards to accommodate the enormous poo emerging inexorably from Mandy’s anus.

Some of the other girls had now noticed Mandy’s ‘problem’, including Paula, Emily and Sarah from Wright House. Paula could barely believe her eyes - she could hardly wait to tell Anne and Tammy about this! Emily merely wore a look of revulsion and tried to avoid even glancing at the hideous spectacle at the front of the classroom. Sarah was simply staring in disbelief.

Mr Featherstone, writing on the whiteboard, had still not noticed anything amiss. He continued to talk, oblivious to the fact that nobody was listening to him any more.

Mandy’s panties continued to tent outwards as she pushed still more of the poo out of her rectum. She could hear occasional muffled gasps and whispers behind her, but ignored them, concentrating instead on emptying her bowels. It was quite an effort, but with one final push she clenched her sphincter and the poo broke, the severed end sliding down her crack and landing with an inaudible thud against the springy cotton. Mandy pushed again, and more of the poo emerged. The smell was by now apparent to herself and to the front two rows of her classmates, who had put their hands over their noses.

“Sir! Mandy’s had an accident!” announced Paula loudly.

Mandy pushed the final piece of poo out into her panties, and relaxed, panting from the exertion. Her panties were sagging heavily, weighed down by three huge chunks of poo which nestled against her buttocks. She pursed her lips as Mr Featherstone turned around with a look of annoyance, then incredulity as he sniffed the air.

“What have you done, you disgusting girl!” he shouted as he stormed around the side of the desk to take a look at her panties. “How dare you! You did that deliberately, didn’t you?”

“No!” exclaimed Mandy hotly. “I told you this would happen! Now will you let me go to the toilet?”

“The end of the lesson is still ten minutes away,” he replied with a growl. “You’re not going anywhere! Go and sit down!”

Mandy’s jaw dropped, and she struggled to think of something to say. But words failed her. With tears in her eyes, she turned and walked (or rather waddled) back to her seat, holding on to her panties so that they would not slip down her legs. As she sat down carefully in her seat, the three turds squished together into one lumpy mass which spread out and flattened, some of it creeping up over her coccyx but most of it being pushed forwards along her pussy.

“Sir, I really must object!” cried Sarah. “She can’t sit here for ten minutes with shit in her knickers! It stinks!”

But Mr Featherstone had apparently already realised his folly. “All right all right,” he said, holding up his hands and capitulating with an abrupt U-turn. “I suppose I should apologise, Mandy - it seems you were right. I don’t really believe you did that deliberately. I think we’ve both learned a lesson, yes?”

Mandy got up stickily. “Yes sir,” she said. “And you’ll honour your side of the agreement?”

Mr Featherstone scowled, then nodded. “Very well,” he said. “No more spankings for you this term. Just don’t push me - I can still send you to the Warden. Now get out of here.”

Mandy nodded and waddled out of the room, giving her classmates an eyeful of her poo-filled panties plastered to her buttocks and her skirt hiked up over her hand, which was clasping the waistband of her underwear so that they would not fall down.

Chapter Five - The Loo

Outside in the corridor, Mandy stopped to have a short cry before she went downstairs in search of the toilets. She had no idea of her way around this huge old stone building, so the corridors she investigated were chosen entirely at random. In five minutes’ time she was lost, and still she had not found a toilet. She climbed a staircase and proceeded along a corridor flanked by numerous ‘cubes’ similar to those on the top floor of Wright House, and realised she had found her way into one of the ‘in-college’ houses. She continued to the end of the corridor and passed through a door, only to find herself at the top of a staircase and facing a frosted door beyond which she could hear a teacher’s voice.

A bell rang, almost deafening her. She winced and turned, then saw the offending bell fixed to the wall above the door she had just come through. It stopped ringing then, and she relaxed in relief, but the implications of the bell only hit her when she heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the frosted door ahead of her. Then it struck her - this was the end of the second lesson and soon this staircase would be full of girls.

Retreating fearfully, she backed through the door into the corridor she had just left. Unable to move quickly, she nevertheless waddled determinedly back down towards the other end, hoping nobody would come through the door behind her into this corridor.

It was a vain hope. Hearing the door creak behind her, Mandy panicked and darted into the nearest cube. She closed the door behind her and crouched down, hoping that whoever was out there would either pass by quickly or visit a cube further down and then leave the way they had come. But her heart sank as voices were joined by other voices, and creaking floorboards accompanied approaching carpet-muffled footsteps.

“God, what is that smell?” demanded one voice.

“Jeez, it’s awful! It smells like someone’s crapped in one of our cubes!”

“Oh Lord I hope not. That would be just too nasty.”

“Well that’s what it smells like…”

Then Mandy’s worst fear was realised, as a head looked over the cubicle door and spotted her. “Hey look!” cried the head. “Here’s your culprit. Sue, she’s in your cube!”

“What??” Another head appeared, then the cubicle door was opened. A short-haired girl who looked a couple of years older than Mandy stepped in and dragged Mandy to her feet. Mandy quailed - Sue was even bigger than Anne.

“I didn’t shit in your cube, honestly!” she jabbered. “Mr Featherstone wouldn’t let me go to the toilet so I had an accident in class … so then he sent me out, only I’m new here, this is my first day, and I don’t know where the toilets are!”

Sue roughly pushed Mandy out of the cube, then began to inspect it all over. “Hmm, seems clean,” she said. “So what were you doing in there?”

“Hiding,” confessed Mandy. “I heard voices and I panicked.”

Several other girls were gathering round. One of them chuckled - it was not a nice sound. “Never mind,” she said. “We can show you where the toilets are.”

“Yeah,” said Sue with a grin. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you cleaned up in no time. Right Claire?”

“What’s your name?” asked Claire.

“Mandy.”

“Nice name. Come on then, follow me.”

Mandy was led back down the corridor and through a side door into another short corridor (this building seemed to be all corridors!), and finally through a door with a label bearing a female-looking stick figure.

“Okay,” said Sue, once the three of them had gathered around an empty stall. “Looks like you’ve managed to keep your skirt clean, so you’d better take that off now before it gets messy. Oh, but first you’d better remove your shoes and socks. Help her, Claire.”

“It’s okay, I can manage,” mumbled Mandy, rather intimidated. But Claire ignored her, bending down and unbuckling her shoes before pulling them off as Mandy raised each foot in turn. Her socks followed. Claire then blithely unzipped Mandy’s skirt and dropped it to the floor. Mandy stepped out of it, and Claire picked it up and draped it over the side of one of the washbasins.

“Knickers off now,” said Sue, and Mandy gingerly pulled her full panties down. She stepped out of them, and Sue, wrinkling her nose, picked them up by a clean corner. She reached over, dropped them into the toilet bowl, then flushed.

“Hey!” said Mandy. “What am I supposed to wear now?”

“Well you could hardly wear those,” said Claire. “Even if you washed them they’d still be stained brown. Uh-oh, looks like you got some on your shirt.”

“Here, I’ll take your tie off,” said Sue, and proceeded to do so. “Now you’d better take off your shirt. Claire’s right - the bottom’s got shit on it.”

Mandy sighed. She did not like the way this was going. But as she craned her neck around and tugged the shirt around so have a look at the back, she saw that it had indeed been soiled. Once Sue had removed her tie, Mandy unbuttoned her shirt and took it off.

“Here, I’ll take that,” said Sue, taking hold of the shirt. “Now bend right over and put your hands on the basin for support.”

“I can clean myself, thanks,” said Mandy shortly.

“Don’t be ungrateful, we’re just trying to help,” said Sue. “It’s not like you’ll be able to see what you’re doing, and man, this stuff is everywhere!”

“All right,” said Mandy with another sigh, and she bent over the basin.

“Feet apart,” said Sue.

Mandy complied. She felt extremely uncomfortable, standing here wearing only a bra, with a couple of Fifth form girls staring at her poo-covered buttocks and pussy. She heard a splashing sound behind her, then started in shock as something cold and wet was pressed against her bottom.

“Sorry,” said Sue. “I guess that was cold. Don’t worry - we’ll have you clean in no time.”

“We’d better,” muttered Claire. “Physics started two minutes ago - I’m not keen on getting another caning from Dr Winslow.”

“Oh, you love it really,” said Sue with a chuckle. “You’re right though - we’d better wrap this up quickly.”

Mandy’s bottom and pussy were thoroughly wiped until Sue pronounced them completely clean. Relieved that it was all over, Mandy turned around just in time to see Claire dropping a brown-smeared white shirt into the toilet.

“Hey!” she shrieked. “That’s my shirt!”

“Well it’s all mucky now,” said Claire matter-of-factly as she flushed the toilet. “It was mucky to begin with, remember, and we needed something to clean you with. It would have taken ages with little bits of toilet paper. Anyway Sue, we need to get going. Nice meeting you Mandy!”

Laughing, Sue and Claire sauntered out of the toilets, leaving Mandy standing there shell-shocked.

Chapter Six - The Thong

Anxiously, Mandy peered into the toilet bowl, but it was hopeless - her shirt was nowhere to be seen. All she had left of her clothes were her tie, her bra, her nanoskirt and her shoes and socks. And as hard as she might tug the hem of her skirt, there was no way in hell that it was going to come close to covering her pussy or bottom. There was only one thing for it - she was going to have to borrow a shirt and some panties from one of the cubes.

She put on what clothes she had, including her tie, which dangled forlornly between her bra-clad breasts, and crept out of the toilet in order to re-enter the corridor with all the cubes. There was nobody about, so she quickly made for the nearest cube and pushed the door open.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Mandy spun around. A tall, dark-skinned girl was standing at the end of the corridor. She was wearing a prefect’s badge.

“Um,” said Mandy. “I was just fetching some clothes…”

“This isn’t your house,” said the prefect, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I just lost my clothes in your, um, toilet,” began Mandy clumsily. “I was with a couple of girls from this house, but they left me half naked…”

“So you thought you’d come and steal someone else’s clothes?” demanded the prefect.

“No! Just … well I just need to borrow a shirt and some knickers…”

“Borrow, huh? Well in my book, borrowing without permission is stealing. Now piss off! You’re lucky I didn’t catch you as you were leaving - then you’d really have been for it! Go on - get out!”

Putting one hand over her naked pussy and the other arm across her breasts, Mandy fled from the corridor in tears. She had no idea where to go now. There was no point in trying to find the Geography classroom again - her class would have moved on - and she had no idea what class she had next, nor where to find it. Her only option seemed to be to get back to Wright House, put on some spare clothes, and then come back and try to find out where she was supposed to be.

She trotted down the stairwell, blinking to clear the tears from her eyes, and almost bumped into a middle-aged man who was climbing the stairs. She shrieked in alarm and tried to cover herself again, backing up against the wall with a panicked expression on her face.

“Hey, take it easy,” said the man. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Yes,” said Mandy, “but I had an accident and lost some of my clothes, and now I have to get back to Wright House to put some more on, only I don’t know how I’m going to get there without hundreds of people seeing me like this, and my panties got flushed down the loo and Tammy cut my skirt so short that everyone can see my … my…” She dissolved into tears again.

“Calm down and stop crying,” said the man, frowning. “I don’t want to know how you got into this state, but it clearly wasn’t your intention so all I’ll say is, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Now come with me - I think I may have some clothes you can borrow for the time being.”

“Really? Oh thank you sir!” said Mandy gratefully.

He led her back down to the floor below and through a door labelled “Mr P. Grosvenor”. Inside Mandy found a well-kept teacher’s flat, small but elegantly furnished.

“Sit down and I’ll see what I can find,” said Mr Grosvenor. “My ex-girlfriend left some things here which I’ve never got around to throwing out. She wasn’t a big fan of underwear, but there may be something…”

“What do you teach, sir?” asked Mandy inquisitively as he went into an adjoining bedroom.

“Biology,” he called out before rummaging through a drawer. “What sets are you in?”

“2A,” replied Mandy.

“Then you won’t be in my class,” said Mr Grosvenor. “I take set C for the Third form. You’ll have Dr Slingsby. Aha - here we go.” He came back through the doorway, holding a flimsy piece of material. “It’s not much, I’m afraid, but it’s all I could find.”

“Thank you,” said Mandy as she took hold of the garment. She opened it out and gulped - it was a red thong with a lacy, see-through front. Nevertheless, it was better than nothing, so she quickly put it on. She had never worn a thong before - it felt strange as the sliver of material at the back disappeared up between her buttocks and nestled against her anus. Looking down, she realised with a sinking feeling that her pubic hair, sparse though it was, was peeking out from around the sides of the thong - it really was quite narrow at the front. Perhaps she could do something about that, though…

“Do you mind if I borrow your bathroom?” she asked. “And a razor and shaving cream? This is a bit … too skimpy.”

“I see what you mean,” said Mr Grosvenor, nodding. “Sure, go ahead. Just through there and to the right. Try not to take too long.”

Mandy hurried through to the bathroom and found a razor in the cabinet and the shaving foam on a shelf next to the basin. She took off the thong and her skirt, climbed into the bath, and used the shower head to wet her pussy. Then she squirted out some shaving foam and rubbed it into her pubic hair before using the razor to remove most of it. Leaving only a thin line down the middle, she rinsed herself off and used an available towel to dry herself with. She climbed out of the bath and put her skirt and thong back on.

Leaving the bathroom, she was handed a white shirt by Mr Grosvenor. “Try that on,” he said. “It’s regulation.”

Mandy did not ask why he had a regulation schoolgirl shirt in his possession, but she secretly wondered whether Mr Grosvenor’s ‘ex-girlfriend’ had been a pupil. “Thank you sir,” was all she said, and she put the shirt on. It was rather tight around the chest, but it would do.

“All set?” asked the teacher.

“Yes,” said Mandy, “only I’m not sure where I’m supposed to be.”

“Hmm, let’s have a look.” Mr Grosvenor went over to his desk and consulted a timetable similar to, but rather more complicated than, Mandy’s own. “French with Mr Randall,” he said. “Room G9. I don’t suppose you know where that is, do you?”

“No,” Mandy confessed.

“Go down the stairs outside,” said Mr Grosvenor. “At the bottom there’s a door facing you. Go through it and turn left. Head down that corridor, follow it around to the right, and you’ll find yourself going down a short flight of steps into Cloisters. Go down Cloisters until you get to the door leading out into the quad. As you enter the quad, you’ll see almost directly in front of you a door on the other side of the quad. That’s the one you want to make for. You’ll have to head around the flower garden to get there, but keep your eye on it and you can’t go wrong. You following me so far?”

“I think so,” said Mandy, biting her lip.

“As you go in that door, head right down the corridor and count the doors on the left. You want the fifth door - it will say G9 on it. Okay? Run along now.”

Mandy thanked him and left, then attempted to follow his directions. She was sure she would get lost, but after a few hesitations she found Cloisters, and from then on it was easy. She jogged across the quad, glancing at her watch. She was half an hour late for French - it hardly seemed worth turning up for the grief she would no doubt get. But if she did not rejoin her classmates, would she ever find them again?

She reached the far side of the quad, trotted along the right-hand wing of the corridor, and found room G9. She knocked.

“Come in!”

She entered, and a collective gasp arose from the class. Mr Randall, a white-haired gentleman with a stiff moustache, stared momentarily at her thong before favouring her with a small smile.

“Please take a seat, Miss Jarvie. Not a very good start to your career here, is this?”

“No sir, I’m very sorry I’m late sir,” said Mandy apologetically.

“Well your colleagues have been at great pains to explain to me exactly, in every gory detail, why you are late, so we’ll leave it at that.”

“Thank you sir,” said Mandy and, spotting Sarah seated near the back of the class, she walked quickly to sit down beside her. She was relieved to see her schoolbag sitting on the desk. “Thank you so much for bringing my bag,” she whispered. “And for helping me get out of Mr Featherstone’s classroom.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Sarah, somewhat curtly.

The French lesson finished a few minutes later, but as the class filed out, Mr Randall beckoned to Mandy. She broke away from her classmates and raised quizzical eyebrows at the teacher.

“Miss Jarvie,” he said, “I might turn a blind eye occasionally when I see a skirt that shows rather more than it should, but when your underwear is so … racy, the rule about indecent exposure is quite definitely contravened. Don’t let me see that thong again.”

“I won’t sir,” promised Mandy. “I was desperate … and this was all I could find.”

“Very well. But I warn you, some of your other teachers might not be so tolerant.”

Mandy nodded and hurried to rejoin Sarah. “What happens now?” she asked.

“You get expelled?” suggested Sarah.

“Huh? What?” Mandy’s brow furrowed in worry.

“Jeez, you’ve only been here five minutes and look what’s happened so far!” Sarah did not look amused.

“But it’s not my fault!” exclaimed Mandy in a fierce whisper. “Could I help it that Tammy absolutely ruined my skirts? That Mr Featherstone wouldn’t let me go to the loo? That … those horrible girls Sue and Claire flushed my knickers and shirt down the toilet?”

“They what?” Sarah looked surprised.

“Oh, it was awful!” Mandy shuddered at the recollection. “They insisted on ‘helping’ me, except they ended up putting me in an even worse situation.”

Sarah shook her head slowly and chuckled. “Oh Mandy, I guess you have had a rough morning. Where did you get that thong from?”

“Mr Grosvenor found me and helped me. He gave me this shirt and the thong.”

Sarah gave a low whistle. Then she shrugged. “Well you know Mandy, you’re never going to live this morning’s incident down, you do realise that don’t you?”

Mandy’s face fell. “Oh God,” she said. “You think so?”

“You’ll just have to deal with it, I’m afraid. Think of it as a test of character. If you can weather the flak you’ll get from this, you’ll be able to take anything Anne can throw at you, I’m sure.” Noting Mandy’s forlorn expression, she patted her on the shoulder sympathetically. “Never mind,” she said. “Come on, it’s Break now. We’ll go to the dining hall and grab some juice and a biscuit.”

Just then, Emily walked past with a downward glance at Mandy’s crotch. “Nice thong,” she said with a smirk.

Bitch, thought Mandy.

The girls walked off down the corridor, while everyone behind Mandy pointed, stared and commented in whispers. Her thong, residing as it did between her buttocks, was not even visible from the back - it looked to any casual observer like she was wearing no underwear at all. And those who espied her from the front could clearly see her pubic hair and the outline of her pussy lips through the transparent material. Mandy saw the looks and heard some of the comments, but she chose to ignore them.

Chapter Seven - The Nude

After Break they had Art, with Miss MacMillan. She was a chubby, large-bosomed woman in her late forties, who spoke in a soft Hebridean brogue and tied her long silver hair back in a bun. Mandy thought she was very sweet.

“Come in, my dears,” the lady lilted. “Oh, a newcomer? What’s your name, my darling?”

“Mandy Jarvie,” said Mandy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mandy. Do you enjoy painting?”

“Um, sure, I guess.” Mandy shrugged. “I’m not very good though.”

“Ah, here’s my model!” Miss MacMillan beamed, looking past Mandy.

Mandy turned to see Emily entering the room. The blonde smiled warmly at the art teacher. “Hello Sylvia,” she said.

“Would you consider posing for us today, do you think?” inquired Miss MacMillan.

“It would be a pleasure,” said Emily.

The desks in the room were arranged in a rough crescent, all facing a threadbare couch on which Emily now sat down. As the rest of the girls took their places behind the desks, Emily began to remove her shoes and socks. Mandy sat down next to Sarah, and Miss MacMillan went from place to place, handing out sheets of paper, brushes, palettes and small plastic tubs of oil paint.

“She’s such a show-off,” said Sarah disapprovingly as she watched Emily calmly unbutton and take off her blouse.

“Is she going to take everything off?” asked Mandy, startled, as Emily unclasped her bra and slipped it off her shoulders.

“Ohhh yes,” Sarah confirmed. “She knows only too well what a great body she has - she’s vain as hell. We call her Twiggy … you know, after the sixties model?”

“I know who Twiggy is,” Mandy said. “But I don’t remember her going this far…”

Emily was now pulling her panties down. Once she had dropped them on the floor, she reclined on the couch in an elegant pose, seeming not to mind in the slightest that her breasts and pussy were on display for all the class to see.

“Ahh, beautiful!” exclaimed Miss MacMillan with a sigh of rapture. “Who would believe she’s only fourteen? You have great things ahead of you, Emily.”

Paula was suddenly seized in a fit of coughing. Mandy was not sure, but she thought she heard the word ‘Lesbian!’ filter through the girl’s hacking. Miss MacMillan did not seem to hear this, however.

They spent the next forty minutes painting, at the end of which the bell rang and they all got up to leave. Emily began to put her clothes back on. As Mandy was leaving, Miss MacMillan pulled her to one side.

“That’s a very nice painting you’ve done,” she said with a smile. “You have talent. I look forward to seeing you complete it on Wednesday. By the way, I do love your little thong,” she added in a fervent whisper. “I hope you won’t get into trouble for it - it’s just lovely.”

“Uh, thanks,” said Mandy nervously, not quite sure what to make of this.

“Well I just want you to know that I have no objection to your wearing it in my class - or any other similar item of clothing … as you can see from Emily’s example, we have quite an informal dress code in this class!” She laughed merrily, and Mandy smiled before sidling away.

“Creepy,” she murmured to Sarah. “I think I just got hit on by Miss MacMillan.”

“She does it with everyone,” responded Sarah with a shrug.

The class now split up as they headed for their appointment with Chemistry which, being a science, Mandy would share with a different set of girls from those in her previous lessons. Their lab turned out to be on the fourth floor of a building flanking the Back Quad, a large square area of tarmac separated from the Main Quad by a stone archway beneath the dining hall. The stone staircase was steeper than most and seemed to go on forever, and Mandy was a little out of breath by the time they reached the top. As she reached the top, she heard a chuckle behind her, and she suddenly felt rather self-conscious about that fact that anyone climbing behind her would have just had a perfect view of her bottom and gusset. She turned around, and her heart sank as she saw Charlie and Veronica grinning at her.

“Like the undies,” said Veronica in great amusement. “They suit you.”

“What happened to your other knickers?” asked Charlie.

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask,” she said with a shudder. “Although I’m sure you’ll hear all about it soon enough.”

“You didn’t crap in them did you?” asked Veronica innocently.

Mandy looked at her sharply. “You have heard!” she accused the girl.

Both of them burst out laughing, and Mandy flushed with embarrassment. “It wasn’t my fault,” she said. “Mr Featherstone wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom, and he made me stand up at the front, bending over, so the whole class could see what happened!”

Charlie patted her shoulder in mock sympathy. “There, there,” she said. “I’m sure everyone will have forgotten about it by … 2070 or so.”

Utterly mortified, Mandy buried her head in her hands and scurried into the classroom. She sat next to Sarah and brooded gloomily until the teacher entered and the lesson began. Within a few minutes, she had cheered up a bit - Mr Barnes was quite the maddest teacher she had ever known, and his method of teaching was highly entertaining. He called his experiments ‘wet farts’ if they did nothing spectacular, and ‘dangerous’ if they did something impressive. He promised them lots of ‘great big explosions’ later in the term, and then set them to work in pairs on an experiment to identify a lump of metal based on its specific gravity.

“Not a very dangerous experiment, I’m afraid,” he apologised, “but it’s almost fun.”

“He’s great,” whispered Mandy to Sarah with a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun learning chemistry.”

“You just wait,” replied Sarah. “When he talks about explosions he’s not joking. In our first term he set fire to his jacket once, and another time he singed his eyebrows doing the Thermite reaction.”

During the course of the experiment, Mr Barnes wandered around the classroom, watching and helping each of the girls. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time helping the girl directly behind Mandy, though, and Mandy couldn’t help wondering whether he was taking the opportunity to stare at her bottom. Her suspicions were confirmed when, shortly before the end of the lesson, he came around to speak to her.

“Mandy, I have to ask - are you wearing underwear?”

“Yes sir,” she said. “It’s a thong.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. He seemed uncertain as to whether to say anything further … he opened his mouth, shut it again, then simply smiled, nodded and moved on.

“You’re making quite an impression on your first day,” observed Sarah wryly.

“I’m not meaning to,” Mandy mumbled.

As the end of the lesson approached, Mr Barnes went around the classroom once again to see how each girl had fared.

“Right, girls, have you come up with an answer?” he asked Sarah and Mandy as he approached.

“Lead, sir,” said Sarah. “Bit easy really.”

“Yes, yes it was,” agreed Mr Barnes. “But it’s only your first day back - don’t want to tax you too hard eh?”

At one o’clock the bell rang, and the girls clattered down four flights of stairs before dispersing - the in-college girls heading for the dining hall, and the girls from the outer houses - Wright, Cope and Aintree - setting off up the road to their respective houses. Mandy walked with Sarah, Charlie and Veronica, and it was not long before the topic of conversation inevitably turned to her ‘accident’.

“I heard it was gigantic,” said Charlie. “Had you been saving it up or something?”

“No!” said Mandy, blushing crimson. “Well, I suppose I hadn’t been for a while…”

“At least you’re exempt from the ruler for the rest of the term though. That was neat.”

“Really?” Charlie had not heard this.

“Yeah,” said Mandy, “he bet me I could hold on until the end of the lesson. That was part of the reason I didn’t try to stop it. He was such a bastard - part of me wanted to prove him wrong.”

“Wait - you mean you did it deliberately?” asked Veronica.

“Well, n-not as such,” Mandy stammered awkwardly. “I mean, I really had to go … but maybe I could have held on, I don’t know … but then he’d have been proved right and I’d have been humiliated for nothing.”

Charlie laughed out loud. “Mandy, you’re a star!” she said. “This is the stuff of legend.”

“Oh God I hope not,” said Mandy with a grimace.

They continued in silence for a short while before Charlie said, “So, did Emily strip off in Art again today?”

“Of course,” said Sarah. “Sylvia was practically drooling over her.”

“Is she really a lesbian?” asked Mandy.

“Who, Emily or Sylvia?” inquired Charlie.

“Um, Sylvia I suppose,” said Mandy. “Paula seemed to think so anyway.”

“We’re not sure,” said Charlie. “Probably not, but she certainly acts like it sometimes. Could just be a natural artistic love of nude women.”

“Yeah right!” scoffed Veronica. “That woman’s got ‘dyke’ written all over her face and tattooed on her great big boobs.”

“I think she is,” agreed Sarah. “She hits on all the girls - Mandy most recently of all.”

“She hit on you Mandy?” inquired Veronica. “Really?”

“Well I don’t know if I’d say ‘hit on’ exactly,” said Mandy guardedly. “But she seemed to really like my thong.”

All the girls laughed at this, and Mandy joined in.

“Hey Mandy,” said Charlie. “I dare you to wear that thong for the rest of the day.”

“No fear!” replied Mandy, shivering at the thought. “As soon as we get up to the house I’m changing into something more decent.”

“Spoilsport,” said Sarah with a smile. “Whatever will become of your reputation if you start dressing decently?”

Mandy fixed her with a reproving look. “Unfortunately, very little probably. But it’s worth a try.”

 

Chapter Eight - The Fight

Having swapped her thong for a pair of conventional white cotton panties, Mandy entered the anteroom to await the lunch bell with the other girls. She was immediately collared by Anne, whose eyes were shining.

“Is it true, flid?” she demanded. “You crapped your knickers in Geography?”

“Um,” said Mandy, blushing again for the millionth time that day.

“Ha!” Anne exclaimed triumphantly. “Mandy crapped in her knickers everybody! In front of her whole class!”

Conversation in the anteroom ceased and everyone stared at Mandy, who wanted to shrivel up and disappear. Anne’s eyes glittered as she stared at Mandy, her fists clenched.

“Who’s a little baby then?” she said. “Perhaps we should get you a nappy to wear under that skirt?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Mandy mumbled.

“Hey, I know what your nickname can be,” said Anne in a flash of inspiration. “How about ‘Poopy’?”

“How about not?” said Mandy sullenly, terrified this might catch on.

“Yeah, why not, Poopy?” said an older girl standing next to Anne. “Or Poopy-pants.”

“I’ve a better idea,” said Charlie, who had just entered the room.

“Why am I not surprised, Pixie?” snarled Anne.

“What about ‘Winnie’?” suggested Charlie.

Mandy felt a ray of hope penetrate her despair.

“What? Why the hell Winnie?” demanded Anne pugnaciously. “That’s crap!”

“As in ‘Winnie the Pooh’,” continued Charlie with a grin, and Mandy’s face fell.

“Hey, cool!” said another girl. “That’s good! Subtle.”

Anne frowned and glared at Charlie. “Well I guess that’s pretty funny,” she said. “All right Winnie,” she addressed Mandy. “Winnie the POO. I still say you need a nappy.”

“Leave her alone, it’s her first day for God’s sake,” said a Fifth-former, who was reclining against the window ledge. “You’re such a little bitch, Anne.”

Some of the girls laughed at this, and Anne balled her fists, scowling at the older girl. “You think I’m little? I could still kick your arse, Gladstone.”

The attractive Fifth-former drew herself up to her full height, which was an inch or so taller than Anne’s. She was well-built but not fat, with good muscle-tone. “You think so do you?” she said. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson in respect, I think.”

“You think you can?” said Anne. “You and what army?” She held up her fists and lashed out with one. It caught the other girl in mid-chest.

“Ouch!” exclaimed the older girl. “You little fucker!”

“Hit her back, Geri!” encouraged one of the other Fifth-formers.

Geri did so. The blow caught Anne on the jaw and she staggered back. Then, with a snarl, she lunged forwards, cannoning into Geri. Both girls tumbled to the floor, punching and kicking. Geri grabbed Anne’s hair and pulled, while Anne pummelled Geri’s sides.

Mandy retreated to the corner of the room, glad beyond measure that the attention had been drawn away from herself. She watched the fight with growing excitement - she was obviously rooting for Geri but did not dare join the chorus of shouts of support. For one thing she feared later repercussions from Anne, but for another she was trying to keep as low a profile as possible, and shouting just did not seem to be the way to do that.

As the protagonists rolled around on the floor with their skirts around their waists, Anne seemed to be attempting to give Geri a wedgie. She got hold of the other girl’s panties and pulled, but Geri was having none of it. She ripped Anne’s shirt open and pulled at Anne’s bra. Anne let go of Geri’s panties in an effort to save her bra, but it was too late - the bra snapped at the front and Anne’s large breasts flopped free.

“Bitch!” she yelled, and immediately retaliated in like manner. Buttons flew everywhere as Geri’s shirt was ripped apart. Then Anne grabbed Geri’s skirt and wrenched that off, too. Geri reached around behind Anne and grabbed Anne’s panties, pulling them up into a wedgie and thus exposing all of Anne’s huge buttocks. Anne ignored this, concentrating instead on getting Geri’s shirt down over her shoulders. With a struggle she managed to get the shirt down to Geri’s elbows, which now meant that Geri’s arms were pinned. With a howl of triumph, Anne forcibly ripped Geri’s bra off. Several hard tugs freed the broken garment completely, and Anne now turned her attention to Geri’s panties. She grabbed hold of them, but at that moment Geri lashed out with her knee, which caught Anne on the right breast. Recoiling in pain, Anne nevertheless managed to keep hold of Geri’s panties, which tore and snapped.

Pulling her arms free of her shirt, the now-naked Geri launched a new attack on Anne, punching the Third-former in the stomach and kicking at her shins. But at this moment the door of the anteroom opened and two prefects marched in. The cheering onlookers fell silent.

“All right, break it up!” ordered one of the prefects, whom Mandy recognised as Kirsty, the girl who had advised Mandy to keep a low profile. She bent down and grabbed hold of Geri, while the other prefect took charge of Anne. The battling girls were parted and dragged to their feet.

“My God Anne, you’re a bloody tub of lard aren’t you?” complained the prefect holding her. “You must weigh a tonne!”

“She started it!” cried Geri, pointing at Anne. “She hit me first!”

“I don’t give a shit,” said Kirsty. “You’re in the Fifth form, Geri, and should know better than to get into a scrap with a Third year. Now pick up your clothes and go and get dressed. You’ve got a Phys.”

Mandy had learned that a Phys (pronounced ‘fizz’) was the standard punishment meted out by the prefects. It involved getting up half an hour before the wake-up bell and touring the prefects’ rooms asking for physical punishment. This was usually in the form of press-ups, sit-ups or star-jumps, although the tasks were sometimes a little more creative.

“You too Anne,” said Kirsty. “Go and fix your clothes. You also have a Phys. And if I hear about you fighting again this week, I’ll send a note to Petherbridge.”

Anne shook herself free of her prefect’s clutches and stormed out of the anteroom. Then the bell rang, and the remaining girls all trooped in to lunch.

Chapter Nine - The Pool

After lunch, the Third and Fourth form girls hung out for a while in the junior common room. A ping pong table had been set up in the middle, and a couple of Fourth-formers were playing on it.

“What happens now?” asked Mandy.

“Nothing for a while,” replied Sarah. “I’ve got violin practice so I’m going down to the music centre now, but you can do whatever you want. At two-thirty we’ve got swimming, so make sure you turn up at the sports centre with a costume and towel.”

Mandy nodded. “I know where that is,” she said. “Is there anything I should know about that? I don’t want to turn up with a costume that everyone will laugh at. I suppose swimming costumes here have to be extra-skimpy, do they?”

Sarah laughed. “No, we all have normal swimming costumes - one-piece, of course. Right, I’ll see you later then.”

Sarah departed, and Mandy sat down by the window, feeling a little alone. This was not to last, however, for Emily entered the room and, spying Mandy, came over to where she sat.

“Hi Winnie,” said Emily with a grin. “I see you’ve ditched the thong. That’s a shame.”

“Hi … Emily,” responded Mandy. She had been about to say ‘Hi Twiggy’ in retaliation for the mock, but Emily’s nickname seemed so much less insulting than her own. “Charlie dared me to wear the thong for the rest of the day, but obviously I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” said Emily, sitting down next to her. “It rather suits you.”

Mandy stared suspiciously at the beautiful blonde. “Are you being sarcastic?” she asked.

“No!” Emily protested. “Okay, I might have taken the piss earlier, but actually I was quite jealous - you looked rather good in it. Very sexy.”

“Are you serious?” Mandy’s eyes were wide.

“Look Mandy, you’ll find that around here, everyone takes the piss out of everyone else. It’s just a part of life. It doesn’t mean we all think you’re stupid or horrible. You just have to learn to give as good as you get. And just because someone mocks you doesn’t mean they won’t be nice to you another time. Now I’m trying to pay you a compliment here, okay?”

“Okay,” said Mandy. “Well, thank you. But I can’t possibly wear that thong again.”

“Then that’s a real shame,” said Emily. “I don’t blame you, of course - I’d wear one myself but some of the teachers are pretty hard on thongs, especially if you happen to wear skirts that don’t cover them. Like me,” she added with a grin.

Mandy smiled. “I thought you were so brave in Art today,” she said. “Didn’t it bother you to have everyone staring at your naked body?”

Emily laughed. “No, I quite enjoy it,” she said. “I like to show off sometimes, and it’s really cool to be able to do that with a teacher’s blessing.”

“Mrs MacMillan … Sylvia I mean … seems to really like you,” Mandy said.

“Yeah … she does,” admitted Emily. “She thinks I have a future as a model.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” said Mandy fervently. “You’re really beautiful.”

Emily looked at her with a curious expression. “Why thank you!” she said. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Are you going swimming later?” asked Mandy.

“Yes… Why, are you looking forward to seeing me in a bathing suit?” Emily teased her.

“No!” Mandy blushed furiously. “I didn’t mean that. I mean, I’m sure you look great in one … I just meant to ask if I could go down there with you. I’m still finding my way around the grounds.”

“Oh. Well sure, we can go down there together,” said Emily with a nod.

Twenty minutes later, Mandy and Emily were strolling down the road to the sports centre. Mandy was keen to ask Emily a question, but she was not quite sure how to phrase it. Eventually, she blurted out, “Emily, can I ask you a question?”

“Fire away,” said Emily.

“Are you … um … a lesbian?”

Emily’s eyebrows shot up. “Why, are you?” she asked.

“No,” said Mandy. “I don’t think so. I mean, I didn’t … I’ve never … well, it’s just that… I asked first!” she finished stubbornly.

“No, I’m not,” said Emily. “But I’m guessing you are.”

“No!” insisted Mandy, terrified that a new scandal might begin to circulate about her.

“Relax,” said Emily. “I won’t tell a soul, I promise. And it’s okay, really - there are a few of them in the school - a few in Wright House actually. Some have been found out, and there are probably others that keep it a secret.”

“Well I don’t think I am,” said Mandy. “But, I don’t know … I look around and see all these tiny skirts and knickers, and sometimes I find myself staring … but I don’t mean to.”

Emily laughed. “Distracting, isn’t it?”

Mandy smiled ruefully and nodded.

They reached the sports centre and changed into their swimsuits along with about twenty other girls who were there. Emily, Mandy noticed, looked fabulous in a high-cut pale green costume. Emily caught her eye and grinned. Mandy’s own costume was a rather more concealing dark blue outfit.

“Hi Mandy,” said Sarah, sitting down beside her and taking off her shoes. “I guess you found your way here all right.”

“Yes thanks. Emily came down with me.”

“Oh, you’ve got friendly with Emily have you?” Sarah inquired as she unbuttoned her shirt.

Mandy nodded. “At first I thought she didn’t like me, but she’s actually really nice.”

“She is. Bit self-obsessed though,” said Sarah with a grin.

“Wouldn’t you be, with a figure like that?”

Sarah looked in surprise at her, then she glanced at Emily. “Do you fancy her or something?”

“No, don’t be silly!” said Mandy quickly. “But you have to admit…”

Sarah shrugged. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous, and she knows it.” She took off her bra, then removed her skirt and panties in one go. “But I think I’ve got nicer tits.” As she pulled her costume up her legs, Mandy could not help glancing at Sarah’s chest. Her breasts were, indeed, very pretty.

“Come on,” said Sarah, snapping her shoulder straps in place. “Time waits for no man, and Mr Forsyth gives detentions to late girls.” She led Mandy through the changing area, past the showers, and through the six-inch disinfectant pool into the main swimming pool area.

The swimming lesson took an hour and was hard work. Lednock College’s swimming team was a regular winner at the Scottish Inter-School Swimming Championships and this was mostly due to Mr Forsyth’s approach of tough discipline and a gruelling fitness regime for his athletes. After the lesson was over, Mandy headed with the other girls for the showers, her legs decidedly wobbly. She paused for breath just before they entered the disinfectant pool, and Emily stopped by her.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, just knackered,” said Mandy. “Prep school swimming wasn’t like this!”

“What’s the matter, flid?” asked Anne as she passed. “Too feeble for this class?”

“Quit it, Anne,” said Emily. “Remember our first swimming lesson here?”

Anne shrugged and splashed through the pool ahead of them. Mandy smiled gratefully at Emily, and the two of them followed Anne and the others into the showers.

Now whether it was because some of the girls were body-shy, or because of some long-standing tradition, Mandy would never find out, but she discovered upon entering the shower area that the girls showered in their swimsuits. This struck her as rather odd - at prep school the girls had all showered naked. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that, since there were only five showers, there was always a queue of girls waiting in front of the showering girls, and watching for the next one to finish.

At any rate, Mandy found herself at the back of the queue, and so was one of the last to enter the showers. She found it strange to shower in her swimsuit and longed to take it off, but peer pressure was a powerful force and she did not dare remove her costume in front of the other girls. Glancing sideways, she noticed that Emily had removed her costume and was showering in the nude, but this on its own was not enough incentive to do the same - it seemed to be generally accepted that Emily was allowed to be naked.

One by one, the remaining girls finished up and left, leaving only Emily and Mandy remaining. Emily smiled at Mandy. “Recovered yet?” she asked.

“Yes thanks,” said Mandy, trying to avoid looking at Emily’s nakedness.

“I don’t mind you looking, you know,” said Emily, as if reading Mandy’s thoughts. “Feel free.”

Mandy hung her head, embarrassed, but let her eyes wander up and down Emily’s body. Emily laughed, then walked out of the showers towards the changing area, still naked and as bold as brass. Mandy followed a couple of minutes later.

Sarah waited for her as she got dressed, and the two of them walked up to Wright House together. Sarah explained that afternoon lessons would start at four-thirty - they would be having Double English with Mr Rigby. Mandy was not looking forward to this, for English was her least favourite subject. She suffered from a mild dyslexia, and her spelling was terrible. Her poor scholarship exam result for English was the reason, she had been told, for her placement in set 2A rather than 1A. Fortunately her other subjects, particularly Maths and Science, had been good enough to allow her to scrape through with a partial scholarship.

Chapter Ten - The Shop

The English lesson turned out to be far worse than Mandy had expected. Mr Rigby, it transpired, took an extremely dim view of microskirts. He pointed an accusing finger at Mandy as she entered.

“Who are you?” he demanded with a ferocious expression.

“My name’s Mandy Jarvie,” she replied nervously.

“Mandy Jarvie, your skirt is a disgrace!” he said. “Please stand in front of the desk.”

She did so, and his narrowed eyes beadily surveyed each skirt that passed him.

“Paula Greerson!” he exclaimed next.

“Hey, my skirt’s fine!” protested Paula as he beckoned her to join Mandy. Her skirt, like Tammy’s, was cunningly tailored to be just long enough to cover her buttocks, and no longer. “You can’t cane me for this skirt, Mr Rigby - it’s against the law!”

Mr Rigby stared at them silently for a moment, then his finger shot out again. “Helen McKenzie!” he said. “Join Miss Jarvie please! All right, Paula, you’d better sit down. But I’m watching you!”

Once the class was complete, Mr Rigby closed the door, then took out a long stiff piece of bamboo from his desk drawer. “Helen, touch your toes please,” he told Helen McKenzie.

Helen bent over and placed her fingertips against her toes. Mr Rigby threw her skirt up over her bottom, revealing all of the poor girl’s panties to the whole class. Standing back, the teacher whipped his cane through the air, and it connected with Helen’s buttocks with a resounding ‘thwack!’ Helen yelped with pain.

“Now sit down, both of you,” said Mr Rigby. “Mandy, you may consider yourself warned.”

Mandy took her seat beside Sarah. “Yikes,” she whispered. “How did Emily get away with it?”

“Carefully-placed schoolbag as she came in,” replied Sarah. “She won’t always get past him, though, mark my words. You’ll see her caned often enough. Just wait until we have History tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Mandy shifted nervously in her seat.

“Yeah … oh, you’ll get it too I’m afraid, unless you go to the second-hand shop for a longer skirt. Mr Taylor is a right old horny bastard, and he just loves caning girls. Emily’s a particular favourite of his - he canes her every lesson because her skirt’s too short. But does she learn?” Sarah shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if she likes it.”

“Where’s the second-hand shop?” asked Mandy.

“Next to the Warden’s office. His wife runs it. Just ring their bell any time between nine in the morning and eight at night.”

“Thanks. I will,” said Mandy.

The lesson itself was dull and Mandy’s mind wandered. After an hour she realised she needed to go to the loo, but she did not dare raise her hand. Fortunately she managed to hold on until the end of the lesson, at which point she dashed for the nearest toilets, telling Sarah she would see her at dinner.

Coming out of the toilet, she made her way towards the Warden’s house, which was on the opposite side of the Main Quad from the chapel. She rang the doorbell and waited. A minute later Mrs Bassett, a stern-looking woman in her fifties, answered.

“Hello dear,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Come in.”

“I’m new this term,” said Mandy. “My name’s Mandy Jarvie.”

“What can I do for you, Mandy Jarvie?” asked Mrs Bassett. “I say, what on Earth is that you’re wearing?” She was staring at Mandy’s skirt.

“That’s just it,” said Mandy. “I need a longer skirt. One of my … friends shortened all my skirts for me, and now none of them are respectable.”

“Silly girl, what did you let her do that for?” asked Mrs Bassett with a roll of her eyes.

Mandy blushed. “Well I can’t sew,” she said, “and my skirts were so long that I would have got teased if I’d kept them at the length they were.”

“You shouldn’t let the other girls get to you,” said Mrs Bassett, leading Mandy through into her shop. “If you want to wear long skirts, you go right ahead.”

“Well, yes, but I also want to fit in,” said Mandy.

“Fitting in is overrated. You should stand up for yourself! Now, let’s see what we’ve got for you here…”

Mrs Bassett looked through her rack of skirts. “Hmm, we’re a bit low-stocked at the moment,” she said, “but we should have something in your size. Ah yes. How about this?” She pulled out a skirt and handed it to Mandy.

Mandy looked at it dubiously. It was at least as long as the skirts she had arrived with yesterday. “Don’t you have something shorter?” she asked.

“Well aren’t you the little fusspot?” remarked Mrs Bassett, and she took the skirt back before rummaging through the rack again. “We’ve got a few shorter ones here … the very shortest I throw out of course. Hmm, these are all either too small or too big. You seem to be a popular size, my dear. Ah, here’s one.” She handed Mandy another skirt. This was shorter than the previous one, and in the outside world would be considered a miniskirt … but Mandy was still doubtful.

“Can I try it on?” she asked.

“Certainly,” agreed Mrs Bassett.

Mandy slipped off her nanoskirt and put on the miniskirt. She fastened it and then walked over to the mirror to see how it looked on her. She was not very happy with the effect - it came down almost exactly halfway down her thighs, and was therefore slightly longer even than Nicola’s. She would be teased no end for this. With a sigh, she unfastened it and took it off.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s still too long.”

“Well there’s nothing shorter here,” said Mrs Bassett. “Not in your size, at any rate. Tell me, what do you think would be an ideal length?”

Mandy thought about this. And the more she thought, the more she realised just how much her perceptions had changed over the last twenty-four hours. Yesterday she would have recoiled at the second skirt Mrs Bassett had offered her, and would have considered it too short. Today, however, she had rejected it for the opposite reason. So what, now, was an acceptable length for her?

The answer worried her. Mental pictures of Emily showing a couple of inches of panties, and of Tammy and Paula in their only-just-decent skirts, crossed her mind with ambiguous reactions. Finally, she had to admit that the perfect skirt, in her newly-altered opinion, was one that either only just covered her panties or revealed just a tiny glimpse of them. She was not, however, about to volunteer this information.

“I don’t know,” she said lamely. “Just a bit shorter than that one I suppose.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to come,” said Mrs Bassett.

Mandy nodded. “Thanks anyway,” she said, and she followed the Warden’s wife to the door.

Chapter Eleven - The Game

Mandy arrived back in Wright House just in time for dinner. Comments were still flying about her accident that morning, and she supposed they would continue for a good while. One time she was brought to tears, but Emily, who was sitting next to her, placed a comforting hand on her knee, and this completely took Mandy’s mind off her troubles and sent her thoughts on an entirely new tangent.

After supper was prep, in which all the Third and Fourth form girls had to spend an hour doing homework in the junior common room, invigilated by a member of the Lower Sixth. Mandy found it hard to concentrate on her work, for sitting on the other side of the next table was Emily, whose uncrossed legs were permitting Mandy to see the lovely girl’s white panties under the desk. Mandy could not stop herself glancing up every minute or so to have another look. On one of these occasions, Emily noticed and caught Mandy’s eye with a smile. As Mandy watched in disbelief, Emily slowly moved her legs apart to give Mandy a better view, and she remained in this position for the rest of prep. Needless to say, Mandy did not get a lot of work done.

It had been raining hard all through dinner and prep, but the weather was clearing up by the time prep finished at eight o’clock. Anne was the first to dash out of the door - she had grabbed her hockey stick and was heading for the grass lawn outside the back of the house. Several of the other girls followed, including Sarah, who invited Mandy to come along.

“Um, I’m not sure,” said Mandy.

“Come on, it’s fun,” Sarah pressed her. “Five a side. We only play with a tennis ball so it’s not too bad if you get hit. Just grab a stick from the corner there.”

Mandy was not a big fan of hockey - it was a rough game and she feared for her shins - but she supposed she ought to try to fit in. She collected a stick and followed Sarah outside.

Goals were set up, and teams were picked. Mandy was chosen last, defaulting to Anne’s team. The big girl did not look happy to have Mandy on her side, and she put her in goal. “Let anything through, flid, and I’ll belt you with this.” She brandished her stick.

Anne’s tactics seemed to be to play as aggressively as possible, keeping her best players out front, and not letting anything slip through the defence. This was not always successful, and Mandy let through a couple of goals. Despite her threats, Anne did not ‘belt’ Mandy with her stick, however - she knew that Mandy would be even less use if she gave up and went back inside.

Part of Mandy’s problem was that the ground where she was standing was rather muddy. The lawn was not flat, but had rises and dips and Mandy was at the bottom of one of the dips. Here rainwater tended to collect, and previous hockey games had worn away most of the grass. Mandy’s shoes were not designed for gripping muddy ground, and every time she lunged in one direction or another she slid and very nearly fell over. Several of the girls had already fallen once or twice, once-white panties now bearing wet brown patches. This did not seem to bother them unduly, however, for nobody had so far quit the game.

The score was currently four two, to Anne’s team. A minute later, however, Mandy had let through another goal, and in trying to stop the ball had slipped and landed smack on her bottom. Her panties were now as wet and muddy as some of the others. She cursed under her breath - she was not having a good time at all.

And then another ball flew past her. Her token effort to stop it enraged Anne, who came over and gave Mandy a shove that sent her sprawling into the mud again. A Fifth-former grabbed Anne’s arm and pulled her back before she could administer any other punishment, for which Mandy was mightily relieved.

However this relief was short-lived. The team captains had agreed that owing to the muddy conditions, they should call a halt to the game after the next goal. Anne gathered her team together for a pep talk, from which Mandy was excluded. From then on, play was fast and furious. Anne was determined to score the final goal herself, and after a couple of misses she was fuming. Then Jill Morrisson, a Fifth-former on the opposite side, broke away and bore down on Mandy, who quailed at the girl’s approach.

Jill let out a war-cry as she followed up on the ball, charging directly at Mandy, who nervously held her stick out in front of her as if it were a lightsabre. When she was only a few feet away, Jill skidded to a halt, throwing up a spray of mud and stopping the ball dead with her stick. Mandy, backing up in haste, slipped and fell on her bottom again. Jill chuckled, then gave the ball a neat little flick, right past Mandy and into the goal.

“Fuck!” yelled Anne in fury, charging past Jill and skidding in the mud. She, however, lost control and went flying, landing flat on her back in the mud. There was a little laughter.

“Winnie, you’re the fliddiest flid that ever lived!” Anne shouted, getting to her feet again and marching over to where Mandy was just picking herself up. She grabbed hold of Mandy and threw her back down into the mud, this time on her front. Then she sat down on Mandy’s back, knocking the wind out of her and squishing her chest down into the muddy ground.

“Calm down Anne, it’s only a game,” said a Fourth-former.

“I guess this is all you’re good for!” growled Anne, grabbing a handful of mud. With her other hand she lifted up Mandy’s skirt and pulled out her panties. Then she slapped the mud on to Mandy’s buttocks, grabbed another handful of mud, and dumped that on top before letting go of Mandy’s panties. “There you are folks: Winnie the panty-pooper!”

“Leave her alone, Anne, for heaven’s sake,” said Sarah, bending down to try and pull Anne off. Anne, however, merely shoved her away before giving Mandy a wedgie.

Mandy howled and writhed ineffectually as she felt her panties being pulled up tightly between her buttocks. One side of the gusset had slipped in between her pussy lips, and was digging into her clitoris. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” came a voice.

Anne and Mandy both looked up to see who the speaker was. It was Charlie.

“Fuck off, Pixie,” said Anne shortly.

“Hmm, this looks like a fight,” said Charlie thoughtfully. “And you know, Arnie, I did see Kirsty McLaren wandering around with a notebook just now…”

Anne jumped off Mandy immediately and glanced around. “Fuck off, you did not,” she said.

Charlie merely laughed. “You’re such a stupid bitch, Anne,” she remarked. “In India, you know, elephants that go on violent rampages are put down.”

Anne looked as if she was about to charge Charlie down, but with a supreme effort she managed to control her temper, the realisation dawning that Charlie was simply attempting to goad her into a fight. The last thing she wanted was for a prefect to send a note to Mr Petherbridge - that was an action taken against so-called ‘uncontrollable’ miscreants, and could mean a suspension. So she merely growled and stormed past Charlie, entering the changing rooms and slamming the door behind her.

Several of the girls helped Mandy to her feet. “I’b awright,” she said indistinctly, spitting mud from her mouth.

“Man alive, Winnie,” said Charlie, “You’re just going through clothes like there’s no tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“You’d better get in and take a shower,” said Sarah. “I’ll get you some more clothes, okay?”

“Thank you,” said Mandy.

Chapter Twelve - The Kiss

Indoors, she got out of her clothes and went into the shower, where she cleaned the mud off. As she was rinsing, a rather plump Sixth-former came in, wearing a swimsuit. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Mandy, then shrugged and continued on her way, taking the next shower over.

“We generally wear swimsuits in the shower … Mandy is it?” said the Sixth-former.

“Oh … sorry, I forgot,” apologised Mandy. “Do you want me to go and get it now? I’m almost done.”

“You don’t need to on my account,” said the older girl. “Just try to remember for the future.”

“I will,” Mandy promised.

“Is it true you had, um, an accident this morning?” asked the girl.

Mandy hung her head. “Yes,” she said. “Mr Featherstone wouldn’t let me go to the toilet.”

“Yeah, I heard. Well I hope you manage to live it down.”

“Not much chance of that,” said Mandy ruefully. “They’re calling me Winnie now.”

The girl laughed. “Winnie! That’s quite good. Well, don’t sweat it too much - my nickname used to be Miss Piggy, which hurt a lot at first.” Seeing Mandy’s puzzled expression, she explained, “I used to be a lot fatter. Some people still call me that, but since I’m no longer the biggest person in my year, even in Wright House, it doesn’t bother me any more.”

“Yeah, I was going to say,” said Mandy. “You’re certainly not as large as Anne. Well, I’m done here - I’ll see you later.” She exited the shower, grabbed her towel, and went over to her pegs to get dry. Sarah had left a pile of clothes on the bench, and Mandy noticed a clean skirt - presumably Tammy had finished sewing another one.

She began to get dressed, but had a nasty shock when she put on the skirt - it was even shorter than Tammy’s first effort - by a couple of inches! Angrily she stormed out of the changing rooms and stalked into the common room. Tammy was not there, but Emily was.

“Wow!” she said when she saw Mandy.

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to have serious words with Tammy about this!” She turned and walked out.

“Hey, wait a moment,” said Emily, trotting out after her. “I think you look fantastic, Mandy.”

Mandy hesitated. “I can’t wear this,” she muttered. “It’s … it’s just too much. I like microskirts, I really do … I love yours, for instance … but Tammy’s gone too far this time.”

Emily paused for a moment in thought. “All right,” she said. “We’ll go and see Tammy together, all right? You might need some support, especially if Anne’s there.”

Mandy considered this. “Thanks,” she said. “I suppose I could use some back-up.” They ascended the stairs together, and Mandy added, “By the way, why did you … do what you did … during prep?”

“Do what?” asked Emily innocently.

“You know… You opened your legs.”

Emily smiled. “Did you like it?”

Mandy blushed. “Well, it was nice…”

Emily grinned. “See, I told you you’re a lesbian.”

Mandy shook her head in embarrassment. “I’m not … really,” she said. “But, well, how could anyone not be attracted to you?”

They had reached the top of the stairs. Emily now stopped and smiled at Mandy. “If you wear that skirt tomorrow without complaining to Tammy,” she said, “I’ll let you kiss me.”

Mandy’s heart involuntarily fluttered and she stared at Emily speechless for a moment. The thought of those perfect, beautiful lips pressing against her own … it sent shivers up and down her spine. Maybe I really am a lesbian, she thought to herself. But the moment passed, and reason won the day. “That’s not very fair, Emily,” she said softly, staring at the floor. “You’re playing games with me.”

Emily’s smile faded. “I’m not,” she said with a frown. “I just thought you might like a little incentive. But fine, have it your way.” She started walking again, this time almost haughtily, and Mandy followed her into the dormitory.

Mandy felt bad. She had offended Emily, and the last thing she wanted was for Emily to fall out with her. She hoped she could repair the damage. But for now, she had to deal with Tammy.

“Hey!” she said as she approached Tammy’s bed, trying to dredge up the anger she had felt before. “What the hell is this?” She pointed at her skirt.

“Don’t you like it?” asked Tammy innocently.

“I can’t wear it!” Mandy exclaimed. “I want my other skirts back, now!

“Sure,” said Tammy with a shrug, and she handed the now-finished skirts back to Mandy.

Mandy opened them out to assess the damage. One of the skirts, she judged, was about the same length as the one she had on. The other was even shorter yet - it was barely more than a belt, a little over four inches from the top of the waistband to the hem. It was so short that the pleated section had been almost completely removed. Mandy guessed that if she put it on, the top of her panties would probably be visible below the level of the hem.

“This … I can’t believe … you complete…” Mandy spluttered, beside herself with anger.

“Well don’t blame me,” said Tammy matter-of-factly. “It wasn’t my idea, it was…” She glanced up at Emily, then stopped. “I mean to say, it wasn’t my intention to make that one quite so short, it just kind of happened that way.”

Mandy wordlessly took her skirts back to her bed and sat down. Her situation seemed to have been going from bad to worse all day.

“I’m sorry about all this,” said Sarah, coming to sit beside Mandy. “Maybe tomorrow morning you can go to the second-hand shop and get a longer skirt.”

“I went already,” said Mandy dolefully. “The only skirts in my size were too long. Longer than Nicola’s. And I’m hardly likely to trust Tammy to shorten one to my satisfaction if I get a long one.”

“Can’t you sew at all?” asked Sarah.

Mandy shook her head.

“Well I can sew, a little,” said Sarah. “Would you trust me to have a go? I’d be happy to, if you’d like.”

Mandy turned to her in sudden hope. “Would you?” she said. “I’d be so grateful!”

Sarah smiled happily. “Of course. Just get a skirt from Mrs Bassett and bring it back here at lunchtime. I’ll work on it before games and hopefully have it finished for afternoon lessons. I can’t promise it’ll be as good a job as Tammy generally does, but you should find it adequate. I did this one I’m wearing, you know.”

Mandy looked at Sarah’s skirt. Now that she examined it closely, she could see it was a less than perfect job. But it was more than adequate. She smiled at Sarah warmly. “I’d hug you,” she said, “but I suppose people would talk.”

Sarah laughed. Then she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “They’re already talking.”

“About me?” asked Mandy in surprise.

“Who else?” Sarah remarked sardonically. “You and Emily.”

“Me and Emily?” Mandy echoed. “What are they saying?”

“Well really Mandy,” said Sarah in a slightly disapproving tone, “you weren’t exactly subtle during prep. You couldn’t take your eyes off Emily’s knickers.”

“Ohhh God,” murmured Mandy, rolling her eyes and collapsing sideways on to the bed. She tucked her knees up to her chest and hugged them. “Just kill me now, please.” She sighed. “I’m not a lesbian, you know.”

“Sure,” said Sarah with a grin.

“No really, I’m not!” insisted Mandy. “I just find Emily somehow … distracting.”

Sarah nodded with grudging acceptance. “I can understand that,” she said. “She flirts shamelessly - I have to admit it’s hard not to fall under her spell. But try not to! Seriously - that’s the best piece of advice you’ll hear this week. If you’ve got a crush on her, get over it. Or she’ll break your heart.”

Mandy sat up, intrigued by Sarah’s earnest tone. “Are you speaking from experience?” she inquired.

Sarah pursed her lips. “Never you mind,” she said. “Just remember what I told you.”

“I will,” said Mandy.

At half past nine, one of the prefects came and switched off the dorm lights. Some of the girls continued to talk, but half an hour later all conversation had ceased and one or two snores could be heard. Mandy curled up into a foetal position, unable to get to sleep. Thinking back on her day, she realised it had mostly been horrible. She was an object of ridicule for the entire school, and tomorrow would be awful - her longest clean skirt only came down to five inches above her crotch and showed most of her buttocks at the back. What a nightmare this was!

She began to cry, the events of the day suddenly overwhelming her. She missed her dad. She missed walking around in jeans and not worrying about what was showing. She missed being among people who did not know her as ‘the girl who crapped in her knickers’. Sobbing into her pillow, she tried to keep quiet but the occasional muffled sound escaped.

And then she was startled to feel the bedclothes behind her being lifted up, and there was a creak of bedsprings as somebody climbed into bed with her. She stopped crying immediately and froze in a panic. An arm crept around her and held her as a warm torso pressed against her back.

“Hush, Mandy,” came a soft whisper in her ear. “Hush, it’s okay.”

The cuddle was nice, but Mandy was at the moment far too highly-strung to enjoy it. Who was in bed with her? “Who’s that?” she whispered.

“It’s me,” came the response, which did not help at all.

Mandy twisted around to face her visitor, but in the darkness she could not see a thing. Then she almost squealed in alarm as a pair of lips were suddenly pressed to hers. Another arm slipped beneath her and she found herself locked in a tight embrace. She kept her mouth tightly closed, staring blankly ahead of her, as a tongue delicately traced her lips and slid between them, only to meet her clenched teeth.

“Kiss me,” whispered the soft voice as a warm cheek gently caressed her own.

“Emily?” Mandy whispered back.

“You wish!” came a quiet chuckle. “Kiss me, Mandy.”

Mandy knew it had to be someone in the dorm. But it was certainly not Anne, and she was positive that neither Tammy nor Paula would be even remotely inclined to climb into bed with her. She hardly knew Nicola, and in any case the cheek that had caressed hers had been beautifully smooth. She already knew it was not Emily. So…

She reached up to feel the hair of the girl beside her. She ran her fingers through it, drawing them away until she reached the ends so that she could gauge it’s length. Then she gasped in surprise. “Sarah?” she whispered.

“Bingo,” came the soft response, and those lips pressed against hers once more.

Mandy’s thoughts were a whirl of confusion, but she found she was enormously relieved. Her lips parted almost involuntarily, and Sarah’s tongue slid inside her mouth. Mandy, never having kissed anybody like this before, male or female, was unsure of how to respond. But she opened her mouth a little wider and pushed her own tongue forward to meet with Sarah’s. As their tongues grappled with each other, Mandy put her arms around Sarah and held her as tightly as she was being held herself. A minute or so later, they broke free of the kiss.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” whispered Mandy, and the two girls lay in each other’s arms until, soon afterwards, Mandy fell into an untroubled sleep.

Chapter Thirteen - The Dwarf

Mandy awoke with a start. Her alarm was bleeping. She reached over and switched it off, then remembered suddenly the events of the previous night. She checked her bed, and then looked across at Sarah’s. She could see Sarah sleeping on her side, facing away, the covers pulled up to her neck. Puzzled, Mandy wondered if last night’s kiss and cuddle with Sarah had just been a dream.

She swung her feet out of bed and put her slippers on. All was still in the dormitory; if anybody else was awake, they were not giving any sign of it. Mandy got to her feet and padded out of the dorm, then descended the stairs. She checked her watch, waited a couple of minutes, and then began ringing the bell as hard as she could as she dashed up the stairs, retracing the route she and Anne had followed the day before.

After she had awoken the entire house, she replaced the bed and returned to her dorm. Several girls had got up; some were still in bed, sitting up and rubbing their eyes or trying in vain to capture just one more minute’s blissful sleep. Sarah was standing by her bed in her bra and panties, just in the process of putting her shirt on.

Mandy returned to her own bedside and awkwardly smiled at Sarah, who smiled back.

“I had the weirdest dream last night,” Mandy said quietly.

“So did I,” replied Sarah with a smile. “Was yours a nice dream?”

“Very,” said Mandy. “But … unexpected.”

“Well, we’ll have to compare notes later,” said Sarah.

Mandy nodded, and began to get dressed. Glancing around the dormitory, she caught the eye of Emily, who was still naked (she slept that way, apparently) and seemed in no hurry to put clothes on. Emily smiled at her; Mandy blushed and looked away.

“Sarah, what do you think of this skirt?” Mandy asked, when she had put on the longest skirt she now owned that was not muddy. “Honestly?”

Sarah gave it a critical look. “Honestly?” she said. “I think you’re going to get into heaps of trouble with it.”

“Well yes,” Mandy agreed. “But, I mean … what do you think of it?”

“Oh.” Sarah smiled, then lowered her voice to say, “Well, I have to admit … it’s very nice. If not very subtle.”

Mandy nodded. “Well, I’ll not be wearing it for long. I’ll go straight to Mrs Bassett and get a longer one, then if you’re still willing…”

“Of course - I’ll be happy to shorten it for you, to your satisfaction,” said Sarah. “I’ll work on it after lunch, if you like.”

“Thanks,” said Mandy gratefully.

After breakfast the girls walked together down to Chapel, Mandy feeling extremely self-conscious about her tiny skirt and the expanse of white cotton that was showing below its hem. Fortunately Sarah helped her by interposing herself between Mandy and any passing teachers, so that they managed to get into the chapel without Mandy being accosted by anyone.

Mandy’s first lesson today was Latin, which she had with Mr Evans, a thirty-something Welshman whose lilting accent did wonderful things with the Latin vowel sounds. Upon catching sight of Mandy’s skirt, he spoke to her a soft voice full of concern.

“That skirt’s awfully short, isn’t it?” he said with a worried expression. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one quite that short before, you know?”

“My so-called friends massacred it,” explained Mandy. “I’m going to get a longer one from Mrs Bassett at Break.”

“Ah, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Mr Evans nodded, somewhat mollified. “Be careful though, won’t you? Some of the teachers here give canings for longer skirts than that, you know?”

“I’ll be careful,” promised Mandy.

The lesson itself was about as interesting as most Latin lessons Mandy had had at prep school … which was to say, hardly at all. Afterwards she headed off to double Maths with Sarah, where they were joined by Charlie and Ronnie.

“All right Fiver?” said Charlie.

“Hi Pix,” said Sarah.

Charlie grinned at Mandy. “Been caned much yet Winnie?” she asked.

Mandy grimaced at the nickname, but decided it was not worth taking offence. “Not yet,” she replied, managing a nervous smile. “I’m going to get a new skirt at Break, though.”

“You’d better,” said Charlie. “Fourth lesson’s Physics, and Dr Winslow will stripe those buttocks of yours if he sees them.”

“Never mind Physics,” said Ronnie. “How about History this afternoon? Don’t you two have Taylor?”

“Oh God yes,” agreed Sarah. “There’s something very wrong with that man.”

Charlie nodded. “Yup … I’m very glad I’m not in your set for History - Mr Deacon’s a pussycat by comparison.”

Mandy was curious. “What’s so bad about Mr Taylor?” she asked.

“Always six strokes,” said Charlie, “and they’re the hardest you’ll ever have, or so I’ve heard. Paula learned her lesson well from him. How he’s not drawn blood before, I’ll never know.”

“Sometimes I wish he would,” muttered Sarah. “Then we could get him sacked.”

“You think they’d sack him for that?” asked Ronnie. “He might get a warning, but the school knows that the courts are generally on the teachers’ side these days.”

“Yeah,” muttered Charlie ruefully. “Bloody Tories.”

Sarah and Mandy went to the back of the class, while Ronnie and Veronica stayed at the front. As they took their seats, a short, tubby, bearded teacher walked in. This, Mandy assumed after consulting her timetable, was Mr Rowlands, known as ‘The Dwarf’ to his pupils.

“Right, settle down, settle down,” said Mr Rowlands in a nasal, almost plaintive voice. “Now I notice one or two of you are wearing skirts that fail to meet the required length…”

“Isn’t that three inches, sir?” asked Ronnie brightly, putting her hand up.

Mr Rowlands nodded, then shook his head, smiling uncomfortably. “Now you know what I mean, Veronica,” he said. “Yes, the school rules are unfortunately mis-worded … but the rules on indecent behaviour prohibit any skirt from being shorter than … um, from showing your…”

“Arse?” suggested Ronnie.

“Panties?” was Charlie’s contribution.

Mandy was wide-eyed at the girls’ cheek. Did they have no respect for authority?

“Now now girls,” said Mr Rowlands placidly. “There’s no need to be rude. Yes, that is what I meant, and I just want to stress that I want only regulation skirts … I mean, only skirts of a decent length … to show up in my classroom.”

“Is this all right sir?” asked Ronnie, standing up. Her skirt did in fact cover her buttocks, but not by much.

“Yes Veronica, that’s fine,” said Mr Rowlands. “Now sit down please.”

“My Mum says it’s indecent,” argued Ronnie.

“Well … I can see her point,” said the teacher, looking a little harassed, “but for the purposes of the school rules it will do…”

“So you’re saying that indecency is subjective?” asked Charlie.

“Well yes, of course,” agreed Mr Rowlands. “A knee-length skirt would be considered indecent in some Middle Eastern countries, for instance…”

“So how can the school rules state categorically what is indecent?” inquired Charlie. “Surely the rules represent just another subjective opinion?”

“Now that’s enough,” said Mr Rowlands, now looking annoyed and stressed. “The rules are the rules, and you have to abide by them.”

“Other teachers don’t mind if we show our knickers,” said another girl whose name Mandy had not yet discovered.

“Well obviously it’s up to every teacher’s own discretion how he chooses to enforce the rules, Kate…” said Mr Rowlands diplomatically.

“So why do you have to be the tyrant?” asked Ronnie. Several girls giggled.

“Now I’m not a tyrant, as you well know,” said Mr Rowlands in an attempt at severity. “But that’s enough of this discussion. You’re here to study Mathematics. Now please turn to page 152 in your textbooks.”

The lesson was actually quite interesting - Mandy was good at Maths and enjoyed it - but the frequent interruptions made it very hard to learn. Halfway through explaining how to derive the quadratic formula from first principles, Mr Rowlands began to stutter and stumble before finally grinding to a halt.

“Hey now,” he said indignantly, “would you girls please stop that!”

“Stop what?” asked Charlie innocently.

“You know perfectly well what!” said Mr Rowlands, almost raising his voice.

“No sir … I’m afraid I don’t,” said Charlie.

“All you girls in the front row - please put your knees together!”

Mandy looked in surprise at the girls at the front of the class. Although she did not have a very good view, she could see that Charlie, Ronnie, Kate and the other two girls at the front were all sitting with their legs spread wide apart. Mr Rowlands’ view was no doubt extremely distracting.

On another occasion, after Charlie had volunteered to try her hand at a problem on the blackboard, she ‘accidentally’ dropped her piece of chalk on the floor and treated not only Mr Rowlands but also all her classmates to a perfect view of her gusset as she bent down with straight legs to pick the chalk up. Possibly fearing another embarrassing discussion on the subject of indecency, Mr Rowlands declined to mention it.

After the lesson, Mandy made her way directly to the Bassetts’ house, but was dismayed to find a notice on the door which read ‘Second-hand shop closed this morning - open from 12:00 p.m.’. Rather downcast, Mandy returned to the dining hall, where she rejoined Sarah.

“It was closed,” she said dolefully.

“Ouch, bad luck!” said Sarah sympathetically. “Oh my goodness, we’ve got Physics now! Oh dear … we’ll have to try and hide you.”

But it was not to be.

Chapter Fourteen - The Talk

When Dr Winslow entered the Physics lab, Mandy was already safely ensconced in her place, as were most of the other girls. The first thing he did, however, was to instruct them all to stand up.

“Come on ladies,” he said sternly. “On your feet. First lesson of term - want to make sure none of you have slipped back into bad habits.”

“Uh-oh,” whispered Sarah.

Her heart sinking into her shoes, Mandy got off her stool and stood beside it, trembling with fear. Dr Winslow walked up one row and down the next, crouching down to look at each skirt in turn and instructing the girls to turn around so that he could check out both the front and the back. When he came to Mandy, he stared in astonishment and a mounting anger.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he bellowed at her. “That skirt is disgraceful! What’s your name?”

“Mandy Jarvie,” Mandy squeaked in terror.

“Come on Mandy,” said Dr Winslow grimly. He led her up to the front of the class, where he told her to bend over. Fortunately, his desk was between Mandy and the rest of the class, so for once she was not presenting her bottom to the rest of the class.

Dr Winslow took a cane out of his drawer and swished it a couple of times. “Maybe this will teach you to respect the rules!” he said, and he brought the cane down sharply on her buttocks.

It stung, and Mandy winced in pain. She gritted her teeth, expecting more, but nothing happened.

“Go on then - back to your seat,” said the teacher impatiently.

Surprised, Mandy stood up straight, then she wordlessly returned to her seat. It was a little uncomfortable to sit down, but overall she felt intense relief. She had been dreading this lesson, and suddenly now it all seemed a bit anticlimactic.

“That wasn’t so bad,” she muttered to Sarah.

“His bark’s worse than his bite,” agreed Sarah. “But he has been known to give six of the best for worse offences … so be warned.”

The rest of the lesson went quite well. Despite his apparent anger towards Mandy’s attire at the start of the lesson, Dr Winslow ignored this issue from then on, paying attention instead to the quality of her work. He soon discovered she was an intelligent girl who could pick things up quickly, and by the end of the lesson he was being almost nice to her.

“Good work!” he said candidly, looking at her experimental results. “I think I remember your exam paper now … you’re a scholarship candidate, right?”

“Yes sir,” said Mandy, nodding.

“Ah yes - well it was most impressive. Most impressive. You’ll go far!” He smiled and walked away.

“He seems to like me,” remarked Mandy to Sarah with a smile as they packed their bags. “What does that mean?”

“He won’t hit quite so hard when he canes you,” replied Sarah with a smirk.

The next lesson was Music, in which the lisping Mr Knebworth, or ‘Gay Gordon’, as he was known to the girls, attempted to get them to sing. He was interested to see a newcomer, and asked Mandy if she could sing.

“A bit,” said Mandy, a little shyly.

“Can you thing me a thcale?” he asked. “Thtarting on Thee.” He played a C on his piano, and Mandy falteringly sang a major scale in that key.

“Ecthellent!” he said. “You’ll do for the choir. Practithe ith at four thirty on Thaturdayth. Don’t forget! Inthidentally I like your thkirt - very becoming.”

The rest of the class giggled, and Mandy blushed bright red, not sure if Mr Knebworth was serious or not. At any rate, it did not look like she was going to get punished.

After the lesson, during which they sang a selection of nineteenth century ‘popular’ songs, Mandy went back to the Bassett’s house. This time, fortunately, she found the sign removed, so she rang the bell. Mrs Bassett answered, and she clicked her tongue in disapproval as she saw Mandy’s skirt.

“That,” she said, “is positively criminal. I presume you’ve changed your mind about the one I showed you yesterday?”

“Yes,” said Mandy. “I’m sorry about this one - one of my friends has really butchered all my skirts and this is the longest clean one I have.”

“The longest?” echoed Mrs Bassett in disbelief. “Well, she doesn’t sound like much of a friend.”

“No, I suppose she isn’t,” agreed Mandy dolefully.

Mrs Bassett fetched the mid-thigh-length skirt and handed it to Mandy. “Here you go,” she said. “Now make sure you keep it out of your friend’s reach.”

“I will,” said Mandy fervently. “Thank you.”

As she left the Bassetts’ house, she considered putting this new skirt on, but decided that there was no point since she would soon be giving it to Sarah to trim. Instead, as she headed back up to Wright House she used it as a shield for when teachers walked past.

In the anteroom a few minutes later, Mandy felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Anne Worthing staring down at her. “Hi Winnie the Poo,” said Anne. “Have any more accidents this morning did you?”

“No I didn’t, Arnie,” muttered Mandy.

Anne’s eyes flashed. “What did you call me?” she hissed.

Mandy said nothing. She knew that it was foolish to antagonise Anne, but she also knew that Anne would not dare start a fight with prefects close by.

Or so ran her logic. However she had not considered the possibility that Anne was quite capable of making her life a misery without actually fighting her. Quick as a flash, the bigger girl lashed out with her hand, took hold of Mandy’s left nipple between her finger and thumb, and twisted hard.

“Ow!” yelped Mandy.

“Learn some respect!” Anne warned her with a frown before retreating back to her own group of friends.

Tears sprang to Mandy’s eyes as she clutched at her breast.

“What’s wrong?” asked Emily, who had just entered and not seen the altercation.

“Nothing,” mumbled Mandy.

Emily looked across the room. “Anne?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Mandy.

“Just ignore her,” said Emily. “Works for me. Hey, you’re still wearing that skirt! Good girl!”

“Not through choice,” retorted Mandy. “I’ve only just managed to get a new one from Mrs Bassett, and I’m going to get Sarah to shorten that after lunch so there’s really no point in putting it on yet.”

“You’re getting Sarah to shorten it?” asked Emily. “Why her? Jeez, even I can sew better than Sarah. Why not get Tammy to do it? She’s really good.”

“Because Tammy absolutely ruined all my others!”

“Hmm, good point. But I’m sure she’d go easier on your new one, if you told her exactly how short you wanted it.”

“That’s okay,” said Mandy, “I’ll stick with Sarah thanks. I trust her.”

Emily shrugged. “Well, it’s up to you,” she said. “But don’t blame me if it’s all uneven when it’s finished.”

“I won’t.” Mandy hoped she was not being too stubborn. She was determined that Sarah should be the one to trim her skirt, but she did not want to offend Emily. She tried to make amends. “So, uh,” she said, “how short do you think I should ask Sarah to make it?”

Emily grinned. “Hmm,” she said. “As short as possible, I should think. What sort of length did you have in mind?”

“I thought perhaps the same length as Ronnie’s…?” ventured Mandy.

Emily nodded grudgingly. “Not bad, not bad,” she said. “Ronnie’s skirt’s a good length. She hasn’t really got the legs for it, of course … but she looks good, even so.” She smiled at Mandy. “Well, I’m pleasantly surprised,” she said. “I thought you’d have gone for a longer look. Now I, of course, would recommend something slightly shorter than Ronnie’s, but that’s just me…”

“How much shorter?” asked Mandy.

Emily paused, apparently wrestling with some internal dilemma. Eventually she said, “How about Paula’s length? The one she’s been wearing today, I mean. It’s concealing enough to prevent you from getting punished, but it’s still ultra-sexy.”

Mandy smiled. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

“Good girl,” said Emily, putting her hand on Mandy’s shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I know you’ll make me proud.”

“Hey, Twiggy,” said Anne, coming back over with a scowl. “You’re getting awfully chummy with Winnie - what on Earth do you see in her?”

“Well for one thing,” replied Emily with a sweet smile, “she isn’t built like a Sumo wrestler.”

Anne ignored this remark. “She crapped in her knickers, for fuck’s sake!” she said. “Doesn’t it make you want to puke, touching her like that?”

“Strangely not,” said Emily. “But I’ll be sure to face in your direction if it ever does.”

Anne shrugged and went back to her friends.

“How did you get away with that?” inquired Mandy. “Doesn’t Anne ever get angry with you? Hit you?”

Emily laughed carelessly. “Nah, she knows her place.”

At that moment the bell rang, and they all trooped into lunch.

Afterwards Mandy and Sarah headed up to the dormitory, where Sarah began working on shortening Mandy’s new skirt. As they were alone, Mandy decided to broach the subject of their encounter the night before.

“Um Sarah,” she said slowly, trying to think of a good way to phrase her question, “why don’t you tell me about your dream last night?”

Sarah smiled. “Well,” she said, “I was at the seaside … only it can’t have been the seaside because I was sitting outside my house and my house is nowhere near the sea … but anyway my Dad was fishing from a rock at the end of the point, and I could see islands on the horizon…”

As Sarah babbled on, Mandy grew increasingly perplexed. Finally she held up her hand. “Wait,” she said, “was that the only dream you had?”

Sarah giggled. “Sorry Mandy, I was just teasing. I know you want to talk about what happened between us.”

“Oh,” said Mandy, relieved. “Good.”

“Did you like it?” asked Sarah.

“Um, yes,” said Mandy shyly. “It took me completely by surprise, but it was really nice. I’m not quite sure what to think, though…”

Sarah cocked her head to one side. “How so?”

“Well,” Mandy began awkwardly, “I mean … are you a … a lesbian?”

“Absolutely not!” said Sarah in a shocked tone.

“Oh!” Mandy blushed crimson. “I’m sorry…”

“You silly thing!” laughed Sarah, swatting Mandy’s arm. “You’re far too easy to tease, you know. Yes, I’m a lesbian, but please don’t tell the others. Some of them suspect it, I think, but it’s certainly not common knowledge.”

“Wow,” said Mandy. “I’d never have guessed. Until last night, of course. But … why me?”

Sarah smiled at her. “You’re sweet,” she said. “And quite pretty, which helps.” She grinned. “And as you rightly suspected, my first relationship was with Emily, but it was a complete disaster. Well it wasn’t really a relationship at all - Emily’s completely straight, or likes to think she is anyway.”

“So, who else…?” inquired Mandy.

“There’s a Fifth-former who I’m very close to,” said Sarah. “I won’t say who she is, for her sake, but you might be able to figure it out from the way we act around each other.”

“Oh,” said Mandy. “So, um…” She faltered, and smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m a bit out of my depth here … I don’t know what to expect.”

“You want to know where we go from here?” asked Sarah.

Mandy nodded.

“Well, I’ve already decided I like you,” said Sarah. “So if you want to repeat last night’s experience, we can do that some time. But not too often - there’s no privacy in this dorm and it’s impossible to keep a regular nightly visit a secret for long…”

“I’m not sure,” said Mandy. “I don’t know how comfortable I am with this whole lesbian thing. I don’t really feel like a lesbian. I mean, last night was really nice … I loved cuddling … but the kiss was, I don’t know … it was nice but it felt rather strange.”

Sarah shrugged, but she was still smiling. “I guess that’s a natural reaction,” she said. “Have a think about it. If you want to make out again some time, we’ll get together somewhere private. The music centre’s a good place. There are lots of rooms there that hardly anybody ever goes in…”

Mandy’s jaw dropped at a sudden realisation. “Was that what you were doing yesterday after lunch?” she asked. “Did you go down to the music centre to meet your … Fifth-former friend?”

Sarah grinned. “Clever girl,” she said. “Now, I’d better get cracking on this skirt or it’ll never be ready for afternoon lessons.”

Mandy shivered. “History with Mr Taylor,” she said. “I’m dreading it already.”

“You’ll be fine as long as we’ve got this skirt ready in time,” said Sarah. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing Emily’s pretty bottom getting caned.”

Mandy blushed. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Sorry? For what?”

“Um, I don’t know,” said Mandy, a little confused. “I don’t mean to be … um, disloyal or something.”

Sarah laughed. “Hey, I don’t mind you fancying Emily. Heck, I do myself. It’s just really naff that she likes to keep her admirers at arm’s length. Now, how long do you want this skirt? Put it on and I’ll make a mark where you want it cut.”

Mandy slipped out of her nanoskirt and put on the one she had just bought from Mrs Bassett. She reached down to grasp the hem, and slowly drew it up towards her crotch. She paused when the hem was still covering her panties with two inches to spare, then she grinned as Sarah looked up at her.

“How does that look?” asked Mandy.

“Lovely. Shall I mark it?”

“I don’t know - what do you think?”

Sarah smiled. “You mean, would I like to see you in a skirt of that length?”

Mandy nodded shyly.

Sarah regarded the skirt critically. “Wouldn’t hurt to have it a little shorter,” she observed. “Paula and Tammy manage to get away with skirts that only just cover their buttocks … turn around and let’s take a look at the back.”

As Mandy duly obliged, Sarah noted that the skirt just barely covered Mandy’s buttocks as it was. “Okay, lift it up a little,” she directed.

Mandy raised the skirt an inch further, bringing the lower curve of her buttocks into view. Sarah smiled to herself. “All right,” she said. “At this length, your bum’s just peeping out, but your panties still aren’t visible. You should manage to avoid punishment, but there’s a slight element of risk there. Different teachers have different ideas about what constitutes ‘indecent exposure’.”

“Sounds great,” said Mandy. “So at this length, it would be shorter than Tammy’s or Paula’s skirts?”

“Well, Tammy’s got shorter skirts but she usually wears the safe one. However, in terms of our dorm-mates preferred choices, I’d say this is shorter than anyone’s but Anne’s or Emily’s.”

“Okay,” said Mandy, “that sounds good.” She dropped her hem and took the skirt off.

“Hey wait,” Sarah objected. “I hadn’t made a mark.”

“Oh - well, you saw how long I wanted it - I’m sure you can judge it.”

“I’m not,” said Sarah dubiously.

Mandy grinned mischievously. “I’m willing to take the risk,” she said. “Just go for it.”

Chapter Fifteen - The Beating

Forty minutes later, Mandy was sitting next to Sarah as her friend worked away on her skirt. Despite Emily’s comments and Sarah’s own self-deprecation, she was not a bad seamstress and was making good progress. The clock was ticking, however, and soon Sarah put the skirt down.

“We’ll have to leave it for now,” she said. “I’ve got tennis at two thirty and I need to get changed. What have you signed up for?”

“Netball,” said Mandy. “I suppose I should get changed now as well.”

“Well we’d better put this somewhere safe, or Tammy will finish the job for us,” said Sarah, holding up the skirt. “I’ll just pop it in your wardrobe.”

Down in the changing rooms, Mandy put on a white sports shirt and her tennis skirt, which she suddenly now realised might be inappropriately long. Her suspicions were confirmed when Emily, who was also going to be playing netball, entered and changed into an outfit that made her school uniform look positively prudish. The skirt was little more than a frilly belt, measuring perhaps four inches from the top of the waistband to the hem. Below the hem, a narrow strip of bare skin was visible above the waistband of Emily’s panties.

“Oh my goodness,” she said to Mandy, looking down at Mandy’s skirt. “We can’t have you wearing that!”

“But I don’t have time to trim this one!” exclaimed Mandy.

“Hmm, I’d lend you one of mine but I don’t think you’d fit…”

“I’ll say!” agreed Mandy. She had no illusions about how her figure compared to Emily’s.

“Perhaps you could borrow one of Tammy’s,” suggested Emily. “She’s about your size.”

“Okay…” said Mandy dubiously. “But I’d better ask her permission. Where is she likely to be?”

“Oh, she’s off playing cricket with Anne. Quick - run up to the dorm and grab a white skirt from her wardrobe.”

Mandy dithered, but at Emily’s urging she did as she was told. She jogged up the stairs, into the dormitory, and went straight to Tammy’s wardrobe. Opening it, she rifled through the hangers and quickly found a skimpy little white pleated skirt. She ran back downstairs to the changing rooms and put it on. It was rather shorter than Tammy’s school skirts - it exposed three inches of panties at the front, and more at the back.

“Tammy wears this?” she asked in surprise. “Are the rules for games skirts less strict?”

“Yup,” confirmed Emily. “Well, it depends on who you’ve got, of course. Fortunately we’ve got Mr Barnes for netball, and he’s quite fond of skimpy skirts. If we had someone like Mr Taylor, of course, it would be a different story.”

“I can imagine,” agreed Mandy. “You ready to go down?”

“Yup,” said Emily, and the two girls left the changing rooms and headed for the sports centre. “So,” said the beautiful blonde, “did Sarah sleep with you last night?”

Mandy blushed crimson. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Emily laughed. “I thought I saw her climb out of your bed and into her own just before dawn this morning. Don’t worry, I won’t tell … but she wants to be careful - other people might have seen her.”

Mandy said nothing.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to force you to admit it,” said Emily airily. And she said no more on the subject.


The netball game was fun, and Mandy had a good time - netball was a sport at which she was at least reasonably competent. The bulge in Mr Barnes’ shorts was a little hard to ignore, though not hard to understand, since every single girl on both teams was wearing skirts short enough to reveal her panties.

Afterwards, Mandy and Emily returned to Wright House to shower. Several other more senior girls were also showering, but this did not stop Emily from walking into the showers stark naked. There was more than one set of eyes on her as she industriously soaped her breasts, Mandy could not help noticing.

Back in the common room, Mandy read a book until Sarah returned from tennis. The two girls headed up to the dormitory, where Sarah continued her work on Mandy’s skirt. When she had finished (with only a couple of minutes to spare before they had to rush off to their afternoon lessons), Mandy quickly took off her nanoskirt and put on the newly-shortened one. She fastened it at the waist and modelled it for Sarah.

“Oops,” said Sarah, putting a hand to her mouth in embarrassment.

Mandy’s heart skipped a beat at this. She rushed to the mirror and checked herself out. She could see immediately why Sarah had said ‘oops’, for the hem of the skirt was now a little higher than they had previously planned. A full inch of her panties was showing at the front, and, when she turned, she could see rather more of her bottom than she would have liked, as well as her panties which would clearly show unless she pulled them up between her buttocks.

“Sorry,” said Sarah, “only it was hard to…”

“It’s okay,” Mandy assured her. “I knew the risk … and to be honest it’s not that bad, really. Sure, I’ll get punished a bit, but if Emily can handle that, so can I. Her skirt’s still a little shorter than this, I think.”

Sarah grinned. “That’s the spirit!” she said.

“In fact,” said Mandy, giving a little twirl in front of the mirror, “I think this is the perfect length for a skirt. Thank you for doing such a good job.”

Sarah smiled in genuine affection. “Can I have a kiss, then?” she asked quietly.

Mandy blushed, and looked around. There was nobody about. She trotted over to where Sarah was sitting, and bent down to kiss her friend. Sarah lifted her face to meet Mandy’s, and the two girls’ lips met in a soft touch that Mandy maintained for a few seconds before breaking off.

“Come on,” said Sarah, “Time for History.”

“Oh God.” Mandy’s heart leaped into her mouth. “I’m going to get caned, aren’t I?”

“Yup,” agreed Sarah with a nod. “You and Emily.”

The two girls got up and went downstairs to collect their books.


The history lesson began with a skirt inspection, which was apparently a routine Mr Taylor always adhered to. He made all the girls stand on their desks, so that their skirts would be on roughly the same level as his eyes. Mandy could see that all the other girls, apart from Emily and herself, had skirts that fully covered their panties in front and at the back. As he made his way around the room, the stocky middle-aged red-headed Scotsman muttered to himself in disgust at the obscene display of bare flesh. As he finished inspecting each girl’s hemline, he gestured to her to sit down, whereupon the girl in question would climb down and take her seat. When he reached Mandy, however, he gasped in surprise.

He turned a ferocious expression up to her. “Get down!” he commanded sharply.

Meekly, Mandy obeyed. She was trembling in fear.

“Go to the front of the classroom, bend over, and hold the heating pipe with both hands,” he ordered.

Mandy walked up to the front and bent down with straight legs, so that her skirt rose up high on her buttocks, revealing much of her panties to the class. She grasped the pipe that ran alongside the skirting board, finding it cold to the touch - since it was summer, there was no need for the heating to be on.

Mr Taylor came over and threw her skirt up over her back, much as Mr Rigby had done to Helen Mackenzie in the previous day’s English lesson. But there the resemblance between the two teachers’ caning methods ended. Mandy was shocked to feel her panties being pulled suddenly down her legs until they came to rest around her ankles. Then came the swish of the cane as it rent the air.

Mandy’s buttocks exploded with pain and she screamed aloud. “Fuck!” she yelled. “You sadistic bastard!”

“Swearing too, eh?” growled the Scotsman. “That earns you another punishment, but unfortunately I’m not allowed to give you more than six strokes. I can see I shall have to get creative with you, lass.”

Mandy bit her lip and resolved not to cry out again. If Emily can take this, she thought to herself, so can I.

But as the second stroke landed, Mandy found it impossible to keep her mouth shut. She yelped, and tears sprang to her eyes. Four more strokes followed, eliciting four more squeals of pain. Finally it was over, and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing.

“Now now, that’s enough,” said Mr Taylor sharply. “Get up, and step out of your knickers - I’m confiscating them.”

This shocked Mandy out of her weeping. “What?” she asked in shock.

“You heard me. Maybe this will teach you to wear skirts that are long enough to cover yourself properly.”

Dumbfounded, Mandy got up, lifted her feet out of her panties, and handed them to Mr Taylor. “Now go and sit down,” he said abruptly.

Mandy did so, but she winced and whimpered as soon as her bare buttocks came into contact with the wooden seat. Meanwhile, the inspection continued, until he came to Emily.

“Miss Forbes-Marshall, what a surprise,” he growled. “Get down and bend down at the front.”

Without a word, Emily jumped down from her desk and assumed the position that Mandy had just vacated. Mandy watched unhappily as Emily’s skirt was raised and her panties were pulled all the way down. It was certainly nice to see Emily’s bare bottom like this, but Mandy would not wish this punishment on her worst enemy, and she quite liked Emily.

Emily’s body bucked in pain at the first stroke of the cane, but she did not cry out, which surprised and impressed Mandy. It obviously annoyed Mr Taylor, however, for the second stroke was even harder than the first. Still Emily did not utter a sound, nor did she during the remaining four strokes. After the last one, she pulled up her panties and hobbled to her desk, her expression unreadable.

By the end of the lesson, the fiery pain in Mandy’s buttocks had subsided a little - it was now simply a dull, aching throb. Getting up to leave brought the pain back, as her skin had stuck to the wooden seat. Now her heart sank as she contemplated walking up to Wright House with no panties.

“Ask for your panties back,” Sarah whispered to her, as if reading her thoughts. “He can’t take your panties from you - I’m sure that’s illegal.”

But Mandy was terrified of confronting the man. “It’s okay,” she said a little breathlessly. “We’ll be back at the house soon and I’ll fetch some more from the dorm. It’s just getting there that’s going to be tricky.”

Paula and Emily joined them as they made their way out of the building.

“That’s quite a scream you’ve got there,” said Paula with a smirk.

“I’d like to see you keep quiet under that kind of punishment,” Sarah shot back at her. “Try wearing a shorter skirt for the next history lesson and let’s see how you get on.”

“No thanks - I’m not that stupid,” replied Paula, rather aggressively.

“Stupid am I?” inquired Emily mildly.

Paula immediately looked flustered. “I didn’t mean you,” she muttered.

“I don’t know how you managed to keep quiet, Emily,” said Mandy admiringly. “You were so brave!”

“I’m sure you’ll be braver next time,” Emily replied encouragingly, “now you know what to expect.”

Mandy shuddered. “No fear,” she said. “Before the next history lesson, I’m jolly well going to have a longer skirt to wear.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” said Emily. “And I was just thinking how nice it was that I had company this time.”

“Well crumbs, Emily,” said Mandy, “you could always wear something longer yourself. Just for history, you know.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Paula. “She wouldn’t be seen dead in a skirt that covered her knickers … would you Twiggy?”

“Indeed not,” agreed Emily.

“But how can you bear to be hit that hard?” asked Mandy in disbelief.

Emily shrugged. “No pain no gain,” she said.

“Look out,” said Sarah quietly, as Mr Featherstone, Mandy’s geography teacher, appeared further down the corridor, coming towards them.

“Shit,” said Mandy, and got behind her friends so that he would not see her uncovered pussy.

Fortunately he passed by with scarcely a glance in their direction, and Mandy made it out of the back of the school without attracting undue attention. Back in Wright House, Mandy dashed upstairs and put on another pair of panties. Feeling much better, she went back down to the common room to rejoin her friends.

Chapter Sixteen - The Exeat

The first three weeks of term passed dreadfully slowly for Mandy. Each day brought beatings, some worse than others, but Mandy had decided to follow Emily’s example and never again wore a skirt that covered her panties. History was always a nightmare, but she endured the six powerful strokes of Mr Taylor’s cane and eventually managed to discipline herself not to cry out. Emily was delighted by this, and often gave her words of encouragement.

Anne Worthing continued to make her life in the House a misery. When she wasn’t bullying Mandy physically, she was taunting her with venomous jibes about panty-pooping. Some of the other girls, such as Charlie, Sarah and Emily, stuck up for her when they were around, but on occasion Mandy found herself at the mercy of Anne and her gang of supporters (Paula, Tammy, and a couple of girls in the year above them). Several times Mandy was given wedgies, stripped or plastered with jam and marmalade from the kitchen (and sometimes all three).

Academically she was getting along well. In her first Chemistry test, she came top of her class, and her marks for Maths and the other sciences were consistently good. In her spare time, she strove to cover the ground she had missed in the previous two terms. Her greatest ally in this quest, she was surprised to discover, was Charlie, who turned out to be quite the most intelligent person Mandy had ever met. Charlie loved to teach almost as much as she loved to learn, and she gave up several hours each weekend to coach Mandy. For this, Mandy was incessantly grateful.

Mandy’s relationship with Sarah was progressing in fits and starts. Sometimes they would sneak into a deserted room in the Music Centre together, where they would make out and occasionally finger-fuck each other. They managed to keep their relationship secret from the other girls, apart from Emily whose eyes seemed sharper than most. To Mandy’s displeasure, however, Sarah also continued to see her lover in the Fifth form.

The third weekend of term was an Exeat. This meant that on the Friday night, the girls could go home with their parents for the weekend, returning on Sunday evening. Mandy had been looking forward to this, but when Sarah invited her to stay at her own house, Mandy was torn.

“My Dad will be missing me,” she said. “But … I’d love to come…”

In the end, after a chat with her father, she decided to go and stay with Sarah.

“You’ll love it,” enthused Sarah. “My mum’s really cool - she’ll even let us sleep in the same bed!”

This, Mandy had to admit, sounded like a lovely idea. Her father, glad that she was making friends, had actually encouraged her to go and stay with Sarah when she told him about her invitation.

And so Friday evening came around, and Mandy and Sarah were picked up by Sarah’s mother in the car park outside Wright House. As she climbed into the back seat, Mrs Naughton greeted her with a friendly smile.

“Hello Mandy,” she said. “Nice to meet you - Sarah’s told me a lot about you.”

“Has she?” asked Mandy in surprise. “Um, nice to meet you too, Mrs Naughton.”

“Please, call me Kate. All strapped in? Good, off we go then.” Sarah’s mother adjusted the rear-view mirror, and they set off.

The journey took almost an hour. Sarah’s house was large - a five bedroom country house just outside the village of Mullochtree, set in a picturesque valley near the western end of the Grampian mountains.

“What a lovely view!” breathed Mandy as she got out of the car. “Sarah, you’re so lucky to live here!”

Sarah shrugged, but Kate looked pleased. “Nice, isn’t it?” she said. “We’ll go for a walk in the hills tomorrow, if you like.”

“I’d love that,” said Mandy.

Sarah’s face wore a pained expression. “Oh Mum!” she complained. “I was hoping to take Mandy shopping tomorrow in Fort William.”

“Oh, I’d like that too,” said Mandy. “Can we do both?”

“Well, since the shops will be shut on Sunday we might as well have our walk then,” said Kate. “We’ll take a trip to Fort William tomorrow.”

They entered the house, and the girls went upstairs while Kate made supper. Sarah put on a Stereophonics CD and they spent some time dressing Mandy up in some of Sarah’s clothes. Mandy had never seen such a big wardrobe before. Most of the clothes were on the short side (Sarah was a good four inches shorter than Mandy), but some of them fit her quite well.

“What does your mum think about the skirts we have to wear at school?” asked Mandy. “My dad was shocked as hell when he saw them.”

Sarah chuckled. “She loves them. Says she’d wear one that short herself if she thought she’d get away with it.”

“Really?” Mandy was open-mouthed. “So … she actually approves?”

“Sure. She shortened all mine to their current length. I had a job persuading her not to make them even shorter.”

Mandy gasped. “Wow!”

Her friend shrugged. “No surprise. She’s a lesbian and loves to look at girls in microskirts.”

“She’s a … really?” Mandy was startled by this candid revelation.

“Yeah - didn’t you notice she turned her rear-view mirror so it would give her a nice view of your panties?”

“She didn’t!!” Mandy was convinced Sarah was pulling her leg.

“She did too. I don’t think she adjusted it back, either, so you can go and check it out if you like.”

Mandy shook her head. “I’ll take your word for it … I’m just, I don’t know, a little shocked I suppose.”

Sarah grinned. “Don’t worry - she won’t try and jump you or anything. She’s just a bit of a voyeur.”

“Oh,” said Mandy, wondering what a voyeur was.

“Here,” said Sarah, “try this on.” She threw a tiny, cream-coloured tank-top to Mandy.

“I’ll never get into this!” exclaimed Mandy.

“Course you will,” said Sarah. “It’s stretchy. I can’t wear it, ‘cause my chest’s too big. Should fit you though.”

Mandy looked at it doubtfully, but she took off her shirt and tie and attempted to pull it over her head. “Jeez, it’s tight. How old were you when you first wore this?”

“Six,” replied Sarah.

With an effort, Mandy managed to pull her head through the neck of the tank-top, but then found she could not get her arms in.

“Here,” said Sarah, “I’ll help you. Take it off again - you’ll have to put your arms in first. And take your bra off - that’ll help a bit too.”

Mandy managed to get her head out again. “This is impossible,” she said impatiently. “And I’m not taking my bra off.”

Sarah bent down and kissed her on the lips. “Please?” she said. “For me?”

Mandy sighed. “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly, and she unclasped her bra, slipping it from her shoulders and dropping it on the floor beside her. With Sarah’s help, she managed to get her arms into the arm-holes of the top, though this neatly pinned her arms together until, with a struggle, they managed to get the garment up to Mandy’s shoulders. Mandy now put her head inside, and with a little effort she got her head in. From then on it was a simple matter of pulling the top down to cover her breasts. Which they did … almost.

“Wow!” said Sarah, standing back and admiring the effect.

Mandy’s breasts strained against the tight fabric, spreading the fibres and giving the top a reasonable degree of transparency. Her nipples were prominent and her araeolae could be seen as dark circles through the thin material. The top came to an end an inch below her nipples, with the effect that it failed to connect to Mandy’s torso beneath her breasts. If one were to look up at Mandy’s chest from below, her breasts would be clearly visible, holding the fabric of the tank-top away from her body.

“I’m not going to wear this into Fort William tomorrow,” said Mandy firmly, “in case you were thinking along those lines.”

Sarah’s face fell. “Oh, but wouldn’t that be fun?” she asked plaintively.

“For everyone but myself, I suspect,” replied Mandy.

Just then the door opened and Kate walked in. “Supper’s nearly ready,” she began, then she stopped short at the sight of Mandy. “My goodness,” she said, “that’s a fetching top. Is it one of Sarah’s?”

“Yes,” said Mandy. “She insisted I try it on. Rather too small, though.”

“I think it looks lovely,” said Kate. “Anyway if you’d like to come down, we’ll eat.”

Mandy began to remove the top, but Sarah stopped her. “We’re not going out anywhere tonight,” she said. “You might as well keep it on for a while.”

Mandy sighed, pulled the top back down to cover her breasts, and followed Sarah out of the room. As she walked, her bouncing breasts caused the material to shift higher and higher until, after only a few steps, her nipples were exposed. She grimaced and pulled the top back down.


That night Mandy and Sarah slept together in Sarah’s bed. They made love for a while, and for the first time tried a sixty-nine, which Mandy thoroughly enjoyed. Sarah managed to bring her to an orgasm like this, though Mandy was unable to return the favour so Sarah finished herself off by hand. Afterwards they kissed and cuddled, naked, until they fell asleep.

The following morning, Mandy was awakened by the chink of teacups. She yawned and opened her eyes blearily.

“Morning dear,” said Kate. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes thanks,” replied Mandy sleepily.

“Good, good. Well, drink your tea, and I’ll see you and Sarah for breakfast in fifteen minutes.”

Mandy rubbed her eyes and propped herself up on an elbow. It was then that she realised she was naked and uncovered. She gasped in shock and turned to look at Sarah, who was on the far side of the bed and hogging the entire duvet.

“Hey!” she said, shaking her friend.

“Mmmmph,” replied Sarah, grouchily attempting to cling to sleep.

“You took all the covers, you rotten thing, and your mum just came in and saw me naked!”

“Lucky her,” muttered Sarah.

Mandy frowned, and pulled some of the duvet across over herself and began to sip at her tea. Sarah turned over and opened her eyes to smile at Mandy.

“Morning lover,” she said. “Did you enjoy last night.”

Mandy, despite her peevishness, could not help but smile herself at the recollection. “It was awesome,” she replied. “Can we do it again tonight?”

“Of course,” said Sarah with a grin. “That’s the whole point of us sleeping together.”

They got up and dressed. Mandy had brought with her a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a light jacket for casual wear, and she put these on, much to Sarah’s apparent disapproval.

“Oh Mandy,” she said in mock reproach, “that’s far too decent!”

“Jeez, must I wear revealing clothes even outside school?” complained Mandy.

Sarah laughed. “You can wear whatever you like, silly,” she said. “I was just teasing.” She herself, however, was putting on a short pleated skirt that came down to mid-thigh. On her top half she wore a loose sweatshirt.

The girls went downstairs and ate their breakfast, after which they set off on the road to Fort William. The journey took them half an hour, and they parked in a car park next to the loch.

“Right, who wants to go clothes shopping?” asked Kate.

“Sure,” said Sarah. “Maybe we could get Mandy something a little less dowdy.”

“Hey!” objected Mandy.

Kate laughed. “Well that’s not a very nice thing to say,” she said, “but I’ve no objection to getting something for Mandy, if that’s what you’d like.”

“I’m fine,” said Mandy.

“You’ll get awfully hot walking in those jeans tomorrow,” said Sarah. “We need to find you something more appropriate.”

“Appropriate?” inquired Mandy. “Like what?”

“Well let’s get along to the sports shop,” said Kate briskly, “and see what they have.”

Somewhat bemused, Mandy was swept along in their wake as they headed towards the pedestrian precinct. Arriving at the sports shop, they went in and took a look at the clothing section.

Soon enough, Sarah found something. “Look Mum,” she said, “what do you think of these shorts?”

Kate came over and looked at the running shorts with a critical eye. “Not bad,” she said, half to herself. “Keep looking though.”

“What about these?” asked Mandy, holding up a pair of Lycra cycling shorts. But Sarah and Kate were not paying attention.

“Aha!” exclaimed Kate suddenly. “I have just the thing!”

Curious, Mandy went over to investigate. She found Kate pulling from the rack a pair of what looked like sturdy panties or bikini bottoms.

“Running pants,” she explained. “You’ll have seen Olympic athletes or Marathon runners wearing these.”

“But I’m hardly going to be running a Marathon…” began Mandy.

“Perfect!” Sarah approved. “Come on Mandy, you’ll be comfy in these, and we’ll be pretty much all alone on the hillside tomorrow.”

“Um, if you say so,” said Mandy, not wanting to offend them when they were being so generous.

“Excellent,” said Kate, pleased. “We’ll take them, then.”

“Have you got the right size?” asked Mandy anxiously, but Kate was already halfway to the counter and did not hear.

Once they had left the shop, they visited several others before lunch, and bought Mandy some more clothes, despite her feeble protests. She kept thanking them for their kindness, but she was not at all keen on the clothes they were buying for her. After lunch, they went for a swim in the local leisure centre, Mandy wearing a costume that they had bought her. It was far too small for her; her breasts kept threatening to pop out (and actually did twice), and it kept riding up between her buttocks like a thong, but she made the best of it and had quite an enjoyable swim despite giving the other swimmers an eyeful.

Mandy was quite relieved when they finally left the leisure centre, returned to the car park, and headed back to Sarah’s house.

Chapter Seventeen - The Walk

That night, as Mandy climbed into bed with Sarah, she realised she badly needed to empty her bowels. A great pressure was building in her rectum, and she clenched her buttocks together to prevent an accident. She had been holding it in now for four days and each time the pressure returned it was more intense, more pleasurable. Eventually the pressure subsided and she relaxed. She and Sarah caressed, cuddled, and licked each other’s pussies for a while until they were both tired, whereupon they fell asleep.

The next morning, the weather was bright and sunny. Sarah was adamant that Mandy should wear the tiny tank-top and the running pants … and nothing else (apart from shoes and socks). Mandy thought this sounded very cold and said so, but while they were discussing the matter, Kate came in with the morning tea, and Mandy soon caved in under the combined weight of their convincing arguments.

Half an hour later, therefore, they were setting off along the main road that led up into the moors. After walking for twenty minutes, they turned right on to an old farm track that ran steeply up into the glen. Kate was carrying on her sturdy back a rucksack which contained a picnic lunch and some sunscreen.

Mandy could not believe what she was wearing. Every few steps her nipples bounced free of her top, and after only ten minutes she was thoroughly sick of having to constantly pull it down over her breasts. Her running pants were chafing, too - they were far too small and so tight that they dug into the skin of her legs and hips.

Kate, seeing Mandy’s dilemma with her top, eventually said, “You know dear, there’s nobody about but us - if you’re having trouble keeping your nipples covered, then why not let them have some air?”

A sharp retort was on the tip of Mandy’s tongue, but then, with a sigh of resignation, she reluctantly concluded that as long as she had Kate’s blessing, it would be a relief not to have to fuss about with her top. Within seconds the offending garment was riding high over her breasts, but she recklessly left it there and met Sarah’s amused look with an air of challenge. Sarah merely grinned and winked at her; she herself was dressed quite sexily, but her outfit was considerably more practical than Mandy’s - she wore a loose t-shirt and a pleated miniskirt.

As they crossed a cattle grid and started up a stony path towards the Lochan A’Bruach some time later, Mandy’s exposed breasts were forgotten, for her running pants were really causing her pain now. “It’s no good,” she said eventually. “These pants are killing me.”

“Really my dear?” asked Kate in concern. “Oh I am sorry - I must have picked out the wrong size. How silly of me. You’d better take them off at once. Sarah, why don’t you let Mandy wear your knickers - they’re virtually the same shape and they’ll be far more comfortable.”

“Okay,” agreed Sarah affably, and she took her panties off. “I don’t mind going commando - I just hope the wind doesn’t get up!”

Mandy took the proffered panties doubtfully, but she was so desperate to get out of the horrid running pants that she was glad of any alternative. She removed the offending garment, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal her pussy from Kate as she did so, and donned Sarah’s panties. The difference was enormous, as was Mandy’s relief.

The walk was a lot more pleasant after that. They reached the lochan at half past eleven, and sat down on grassy hummocks to rest. Mandy still felt a little self-conscious about the way she was dressed, but since they had met nobody else on their walk, she did not feel too bad about her breasts being exposed and her bottom half covered by nought but a pair of white cotton panties.

Sarah immediately stripped off her clothes and plunged into the murky, peaty waters of the lochan. Barely more than a large pond, the lochan was mostly choked by rushes but boasted a small stretch of clear water at the near side. Sarah swam twenty yards out, stopping when her hands began to graze the soft mud of the bottom.

“Come on in,” she called to Mandy, “it’s lovely and warm!”

“Liar!” replied Mandy with a laugh. “I can hear your teeth chattering from here!” Nevertheless she followed her friend’s example, removing her shoes, socks, panties and useless tank-top before jumping in. As she surfaced, spluttering, she exclaimed, “It’s freezing!”

Sarah laughed. “Flid!” she accused.

Mandy flushed, embarrassed by this insult. She splashed Sarah in retaliation, and this set off a water battle that had both girls giggling and coughing on inhaled water, sometimes at the same time. It was only a few minutes before they both got too cold to stay in any longer, however, and they climbed out and lay in the sun to dry.

“I totally forgot to bring towels,” said Kate apologetically. “I am sorry.”

“That’s okay Mum,” said Sarah. “We’ll dry soon enough.”

Mandy, who was very cold, would have loved a towel at this point - she decided that Sarah must have a tougher disposition than herself, perhaps on account of living up in the hills. However she kept quiet, and after ten minutes or so the sun had dried her off and was beginning to warm her chilled bones. She put her panties and tank-top back on, glad of even the meagre covering these garments afforded.

“Still cold?” asked Sarah, lying down beside Mandy.

“A bit,” Mandy admitted.

“Then let me warm you up,” said Sarah, and she put an arm around Mandy, drawing her close and kissing her on the lips.

“Sarah!” whispered Mandy. “Your mum!”

“What does she care?” replied Sarah with a shrug, slipping her hand into Mandy’s panties.

“Mmmm,” Mandy moaned, distracted. But then she opened her eyes.

“I’m seeing a whole new side of you this weekend, Sarah,” she said. “At school you could hardly be more paranoid about how we act around each other in public … yet now you’re quite happy to make out with me in front of your mum?”

“Mum’s cool, though,” said Sarah. “She approves, and she won’t go telling everybody.”

“She approves? You told her about us already?”

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, about a week ago.”

“Jeez, well thanks for telling me!” Mandy was quite taken aback.

“I’m sorry,” said Sarah. “I should have told you. But you must admit, my mum’s pretty relaxed about it.”

Mandy shrugged, then nodded. When Sarah kissed her again, she did not resist.

A few minutes later they sat up as Kate broke out the sandwiches and passed around juice boxes. Mandy would have preferred a can of Coke, but she settled for pineapple juice. Her sandwiches contained tuna and sweetcorn, which was quite acceptable to her. As the three of them sat and ate, they conversed idly. Kate was very interested to hear all about their school life, and she kept sighing wistfully every time Sarah mentioned Emily and her nanoskirts.

Having finished her sandwiches, Mandy grimaced as a familiar pressure built up behind her anus. She still had not emptied her bowels - it was getting on for five days now since she had last defecated. The sensation of her huge, hard-packed poo straining to get out was delicious, but now Mandy wondered whether she had left it too long. She was not sure she could hold it much longer.

“I badly need to go,” she muttered to Sarah.

“You can pee behind that rock,” Sarah replied, pointing across the lochan.

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” said Mandy, nodding. “But it’s a number two that I had in mind.” She got to her feet.

“Going exploring, dear?” asked Kate with a smile.

“Uh, I just need to go behind that rock, if you don’t mind,” replied Mandy, blushing slightly.

“She needs to poo,” added Sarah candidly, causing Mandy to scowl slightly at her.

“Oh, but my dear, I’d really rather you didn’t do that up here,” said Kate in a voice of concern. “It’s not a nice thing to do to this beautifully unspoilt area. Can’t you hold it until we get back?”

“I’ll try,” said Mandy, “but I don’t know.”

“Well, the breeze is beginning to get up,” said Kate. “We might as well start heading back now. If you’d like to hand me your empty juice boxes, I’ll pop them in the rucksack.”

They set off away from the lochan and down the hillside, but it was not long before Mandy was forced to stop, crossing her legs and clenching her buttocks against the mounting pressure in her colon. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead as Kate and Sarah stopped to wait for her.

“It’s no good,” gasped Mandy. “I have to go.” She looked about for a suitable nook, but could see none - the hillside was bare but for knee-high heather for several hundred yards in any direction.

“Well we can’t have you polluting the glen,” said Kate firmly. “You’ll just have to go in your knickers and empty it out back at the house.”

Mandy’s eyes widened in shock. “But … they’re Sarah’s panties - I don’t want to mess them up…”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” said Sarah with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have plenty more pairs - you can keep those. Besides,” she added with an evil grin, “you must be used to unloading in your knickers by now.”

If looks could kill, Sarah would have been slain instantly. But they could not, and Kate was now intrigued and curious to hear what her daughter meant. Horrified embarrassment oozing from every pore, Mandy was obliged to recount her awful experience in her first Geography lesson at Lednock College.

“Well,” said Kate briskly at the story’s conclusion, “this will be a doddle in comparison. Your audience is much smaller and wouldn’t dream of mocking you for your actions. Go on, dear - the sooner you let it out, the sooner we can get you home and cleaned up.”

It was a great relief to Mandy to uncross her legs and unclench her buttocks. Almost immediately, her poo began to emerge. It was huge, as she had expected - very wide and with plenty of length behind it. Her eyes watered as her anus was stretched to capacity, her poo emerging inexorably into the back of her panties. The white cotton material was pushed away from her buttocks further and further, until she had to pull her panties down just so that her poo could finish coming out. Then it broke, and fell along the length of her gusset. Looking down, she could see that it was truly a monster - two inches wide and seven in length. She pulled her panties back up, and continued to push, for she could feel that there was more to come and hated stopping halfway through.

The second poo was just as wide as the first, and even longer, but it was a little softer and curled up against Mandy’s buttocks. Mandy had to lower her panties again to let the last little bit out, but once she was sure there was no more to come, she pulled them back up carefully. She turned to Sarah and Kate, who were staring in astonishment.

“Well, that’s … most impressive,” said Kate after a moment.

“What, did you hold it in for a month?” demanded Sarah.

Mandy’s cheeks flushed, but Kate came to the rescue.

“Now now Sarah,” she said, “that’s not very polite. Mandy, can you even walk like that?”

Mandy nodded. “I think so,” she said. “I’ll have to go carefully and hold on to my panties, but I should be okay.”

“All right then,” said Kate with a smile, setting off again. “Don’t spill any!”

As they continued down the track, to Mandy’s horror they started to encounter other people - Sunday afternoon strollers working off their roast lunches. As the first family appeared around a corner she hastily pulled her top down over her breasts, and held it there with one hand while the other held up the back of her panties. A strange sight she no doubt looked, but although the passing adults and children stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and puzzlement, they said nothing to her. As she drew level with one of the kids, however, the little girl turned and saw the huge bulge in the back of her panties.

Immediately she exclaimed to her mother, “Look Mummy - that lady’s had an accident!”

“Hush!” said the mother, and put her hand over her child’s eyes as she glared at Mandy.

Mandy wanted to say that it wasn’t her fault, but could not think of a convincing way of putting it. So she merely trudged on, trying desperately to hide herself from the succession of walkers that now appeared, heading up the hillside as they climbed down.

Finally they reached the main road, where they turned and set off along the home stretch towards the house. They had not gone ten yards, however, before a car coming towards them hooted at them.

“It’s Cleodie,” reported Kate, waving at the driver as the big Volvo Estate slowed down. She crossed the road and bent down to talk to her friend.

“Cloudy?” asked Mandy, for this was how the name had been pronounced.

“Cleodie’s my mum’s girlfriend,” said Sarah to Mandy.

“Ah,” replied Mandy, trying to hide behind Sarah. “That’s nice.”

“Come and say hello,” said Sarah brightly, and she bounced off across the road towards the car.

Suddenly feeling very naked and exposed, Mandy gingerly walked across the road, hoping poo wouldn’t fall from her panties as she went. With her left hand she kept her micro-top pulled taut over her breasts.

“Cleodie’s just on her way to pick up her son from the station,” said Kate, “and wants to know if we’d like to go along for the ride.”

“Sure,” said Sarah.

“Um, I’d better not,” said Mandy. “I need to get inside to, um, change…”

“Change?” Cleodie winked at her from inside the car. “You look just fine as you are, sweetie.”

“She’s had an accident,” explained Kate.

“She did a poo in her panties,” added Sarah.

Mandy stared at her friend in open-mouthed shock, betrayed.

Sarah chuckled at Mandy’s look and gave her arm a squeeze. “Relax,” she said. “Cleodie’s pretty cool.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” said Cleodie dismissively, as if to prove Sarah’s point. “We’ll put some newspaper down in the back seat for you to sit on.”

Before she could object, Mandy found herself being ushered into the back of the car and seated on a spread-out copy of the Rannoch Herald. Her enormous poo squished out on all sides and slid between her pussy lips as it oozed forward along the gusset. She put her head in her hands, utterly mortified.

“How does it feel?” asked Sarah curiously, as she took her seat next to Mandy, in the middle of the back seat.

Mandy shrugged, embarrassed. “It feels okay,” she said. “But the smell’s awful.” She wound down her window.

“Can I see?” asked Sarah, and she pulled open the front of Mandy’s panties to peer inside. The poo had crept far enough forward to be visible, poking out from between Mandy’s labia.

Mandy knocked Sarah’s hand away and her panties snapped back into place. “Are you and your mum determined to humiliate me today?” she asked plaintively.

Sarah gave Mandy’s knee an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “I think we both like the look of you in that outfit, so we’re probably both reluctant to let you get home and changed. The poo thing is a bit icky, I admit, but it’s also kind of a turn-on.”

“It’s turning you on that I have poo in my panties?” whispered Mandy.

Sarah shrugged. “Kind of,” she said. “It’s not the poo itself, though - it’s more like the predicament you’re in, you know?”

“Wow thanks,” said Mandy bitterly. “Well will you let me know when you’ve finished having fun at my expense, so I can get clean and dressed again?”

“Oh, don’t be that way,” Sarah chided her. “You’ll like Daniel - he’s fun … and very good-looking.”

“Oh great.” Mandy rolled her eyes. “And his first impression of me will be this…”

... and that's as far as I've got. I have no idea at all how to finish it, and it's getting a little silly now anyway. I simply couldn't resist bringing panty-pooping back into it, I'm afraid. Well, I hope you've enjoyed it so far.

Please email any feedback to arthursaxon@zombieworld.com

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