Joss Whedon portrayed it right. High school really is hell. At least mine was. A genuine monster came to my school, and I was one of those who lived to tell the story. Sometimes I envy those who didn’t survive….

It started on a very nice day at the end of October of my grade eleven year. I had hoped that the worst of the bullying I had suffered in grade ten was behind me, and for the most part it was. I still got the name-calling, mostly variations on “fag”, but I could cope with that. At least I wasn’t literally fighting for my life every other day. And besides which, it was at least partly true….

As I said, it was October, and someone decided it would be a good idea to let the students decorate the school for Halloween. As I navigated my way through the halls, pumpkins, skeletons, and such populated every available space. Me, I was ambivalent about it. And that was before I found out that there really were things that go bump in the night…

I was looking forward to my first class, which was English. Not that I was great at it, but mostly for the teacher, Miss Anderson. Of all the teachers in our school, she was without any doubt the hottest. Blonde, pretty green eyes, and young. When you are the age I was, most adults seem impossibly old, but she had to be less then a decade older than I, and looked younger.

She tried her best to play down her looks, though. She usually wore track suits, didn’t wear makeup, and kept her hair tight in a bun. Despite that, I heard the conversations in the halls, and many of the male students had fantasies about her.

Unlike most of my fellow students who indulged in that activity, My own ideas where less graphic and more romantic. They usually involved her ditching whatever lucky bastard she was involved with, falling madly in love with me, and whisking me off to some exotic location. Even in my dreams I had trouble imagining the act of sex….

I was the first person to reach the classroom. Once inside though, I couldn’t believe what I saw. This teacher, who always wore sweats, was in a black dress.
It flowed down her body from her shoulders like water, and ended just above her knees.

Besides the dress, she was wearing silver high heels, stockings, makeup, and her hair was down. The overall effect was staggering. The rest of the class filed in, and each was a little shocked at her appearance. Feelings of lust and envy were very evident in their actions. Not that I could say I was any better, as I felt both….

Once we were in our seats, things really got strange. She went to the front of the class, and began reaching behind herself, and before I could figure out what she was doing, she had pulled the top part of the dress down, and was only wearing a shear black bra above her waist. I started to wonder if I had fallen asleep and was now having an erotic dream, and wondered when someone would shake me awake…

The silence in the room was deafening. A quick glance at the rest of my classmates showed the main reaction was shock, but a rustling sound drew my attention from them, in time to see her finish removing the dress. She stepped out of it and kicked it aside, leaving her in her underwear stockings, and heels. She then started to reach behind her back again, and I knew she was going to remove the bra, and then I made the choice that would change everything I was witnessing. I looked into her eyes….

I cannot tell you how I knew what she thinking, but looking into her eyes, I suddenly knew that this strip show was not her idea. She was somehow being controlled, forced. I could sense her embarrassment, her fear at her loss of control, even the hint of madness if it continued. Somehow, I had to save her, but how?

She had removed the bra, but I no longer cared about that. I stood up, and shouted, “Whoever is doing this to her, stop now!”

An eerie, unearthly voice spoke, using her mouth and lips. “Why?, What will you offer me to stop?”

I thought quickly, and replied, “Me. Let her go, and you can have me.”

“Not quite what I want. I will make you a deal, however. If you put on these clothes she has removed, I will allow her to wear her usual drab outfit”

It only took me a moment to make up my mind what to say . “You want me to wear a dress. Fine. Let us have some privacy, and I will put her clothes on.”

“As you wish”

With that, she picked up her clothes, and went back to her desk, and grabbed a bag. I could see a bit of a track suit hanging out of it. We left the classroom, and in moments, reached a girls bathroom.

I hesitated for just a second, and then shrugged, and went in. Going into one of the stalls, I started taking my clothes off until I was naked, and pushed my clothes out under the door.

A moment later the dress, bra, panties, stockings, and shoes were slipped under the door. I struggled into them, and then said “Is she clothed?”

“I have held to my part of the bargain. Now show me that you have done so as well.”

I opened the door, and stepped out carefully trying not to wobble on the heels. She looked like her regular self, except the hair, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “So what happens now?” I asked

“I… I think you have to put on some make-up” she said shakily, “then, I guess we go back to the classroom.” she said, and for the first time that day, she sounded like herself.

A quick dab of lipstick and eye shadow latter, we went back to the classroom. She went in first, and said, “I…I want to thank David for saving me. He… he has paid a large price for it, and I hope you all will treat him with respect.”

I then entered the class, and tried to avoid looking at anybody until I was in my seat. A short while later, the bell rang, and I realized I would have to face the rest of the school dressed like this.
I had successfully avoided most of the bullying this year by being all but invisible, and now I would draw attention, and it would not be likely to be the good kind. As I hesitated to leave the relative safety of the classroom, Linda, one of the girls, came up to me, and said. “Don’t worry David. I will help, and I know a few others who will too.”

“I have a spare next period. I am tempted to just try and hide through it.”

“I don’t think that would work. Maybe you should go to the vice-principal’s office. I will go with you. Anyone else who is willing to help?”

A couple of girls and one boy all volunteered. And then Linda said, “We can explain how you are dressed. And Miss Anderson would confirm the story too.”

“I don’t have any better ideas.” I said.

It is hard for me to put into words what the walk from the classroom was like. It was a full sensory experience. The way the clothes felt on my body, the way I was forced to change how I walked, the swish of the skirt, the click of the heels, the slight scent of perfume that she must have sprayed on before class, even the waxy taste of lipstick.

Navigating the hallway was tough. A lot of student did a double-take at my appearance, but nobody did anything with a group of witnesses clearly on my side. We made our way to the vice-principals office, and knocked.

He didn’t believe us at first, until Miss Anderson confirmed what had happened. He called the rest of the staff, and soon it was decided that as long as I had to remain dressed like this, a teacher or staff would accompany me to all my classes.

He asked me “Do you have any ideas who was behind this? Any clues from what they said to Miss Anderson, and to you?”

I said, “I don’t have a clue. And I have no idea how long I could be stuck wearing this either.”

“Fine. I will take you to your next class.”
The rest of the day until lunch was a struggle, to put it mildly. Having an adult around kept me safe from bodily harm, but I could see the wheels turning in the minds of a number of students. I had gone from being basically invisible to wearing a large target on my back, and people would not forget, even if I went back to pants tomorrow.

At lunch, Linda sought me out, and made a point of eating with me, since everyone else was keeping their distance.

“How are you holding up?”

“Okay, considering that everyone is treating me like I have a disease they could catch if they come too close.”

“I am sorry”

“Not your fault. Somehow, we have to figure out who did this, and how to stop them. Before someone else important like Miss Anderson is affected.”

“David, just because you were not popular doesn’t mean you aren’t important. Every life has value.”

“Tell that to the people who were using me as a punching bag for being thought of as gay. And that was before I was wearing a dress.”

“Speaking of which…. Would you trust me with the truth?”

“What truth?”

“It’s not the first time you have worn one, is it?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way you move. Like how you sat down. You swept the dress under you, like any girl would”

I looked at her. She seemed so kind, so sincere. Could I trust her?

“It’s…complicated.” I said, “You will think I am crazy. Heck, I think I am crazy”

“David, please. It could be an important clue as to who is doing this and why.”

“Fine.” I tried to keep from crying “You want the truth? I…I don’t know if I have the words, but here goes.” I took a breath, and continued.

“I…I never felt good in my own skin. Something felt off, wrong, from an early age. I couldn’t seem to make any connection to boys. It’s like we spoke a different language, but I got along great with girls. As I got closer to puberty, I really didn’t want to have to become hairy and muscular like I was supposed to.”

At this point, my voice broke, and she put her hand on mine. Then I continued, “ I remember looking at my mom and seeing her as pretty, and hoping I could be as pretty as her. I… I envied girls, how they looked, what they wore, everything. I … I started stealing my mom’s clothes…”

I looked at her, but her expression of concern and caring had not changed.

“I felt, and I still feel, like I am going crazy. Its like my brain is sending me a message that is totally different than the one my body sends. I… I think I would be a girl, if I could, but I can’t see how. I didn’t know what to do. I have prayed to God for relief, but He doesn’t answer.”

She stood up, came around to me, and held me. She said, “Thank you for trusting me with the truth David. And I want you to understand I am still going to help you.”

“Th..thanks.”

“Now I have a serious question. Have you ever told anybody before me?”

“I…I only ever told one other person.”

“Good. Lets start with him then.”

“We can’t. He was a friend of my brothers, but …“

“But what? Why can’t we see him?“

“He died last year….”