Skirts (Patreon)

The girls heard the clicking of the boy's Mary Janes before they saw the guys' bashful faces. They boys moved awkwardly and were already making themselves small as they walked down the hall for this first time in their skirts and blouses, unsure even how to walk on their heeled patent leather shoes. "Nice legs, Mike," Jenn said, while the other girls snickered. Someone whistled.

"Shut up," Mike said, trying to project the confidence he didn't feel, not after shaving his legs, putting on the a miniskirt and a blouse. Even before he and the rest of the boys had to come to school dressed as girls, their identities had been shaken.

Now, glancing at the girls in their boys' clothes, he felt even more humiliated. Their pants and jackets were functional and dignified, unlike the skirts and heels the boys now wore. The clothes alone made the girls-- better.

It had started with The Bet. He and the boys had bet the girls they could beat them in soccer. The girls gleefully accepted.

If the boys won, which they were confident would happen, the girls had to serve as their maids for the rest of the year.

If the girls won, they would swap uniforms with the boys wearing the girls' uniform for the rest of the year and the girls the boys'. The strict and demanding nuns who ran the orphanage had agreed and made it clear the loser would have to honor the bet. The boys never doubted they would win, but the nuns agreed knowing the unruly boys would soon find themselves duly subdued in heels and knee socks.

The match had been close, but the girls controlled it from the beginning. They listened to their coaches and played as a team. They had discipline and executed their assignments with surgical precision. The wild and unruly boys may have had some physical advantage, but at their age it wasn't as much as they thought. The girls discipline more than made up for any physical differences. When the match was over, the defeated boys had hung their heads in shame. "Team work," Marci May said, smirking, "is the greatest force multiplier." She'd handed Mike a skirt. "Don't forget to shave your legs, girly."

It had been planned as part of the girls' plan to take over the school and totally subjugate the boys. Each boy was handed a skirt and called girly. Each boy burned with shame.

Feeling cold air as someone flipped his skirt, Mike yelped and pushed it back down. "Nice panties, Michelle," his ex-girlfriend called out.

Mike plunged into the his first hour class, blushing furiously. It was true. The girls' uniform included a bra and panties issues by the orphanage, another source of deep and abiding pain for all the boys.