This story is fictional but inspired by events that might be true.
Adrian has had some bad luck and finds himself forced to wear clothes borrowed from his sister and girlfriend.

 

You'll have to wear a skirt

by Josie Brian

 

I remember my great run down the touchline, I remember the big prop-forwards' diving tackle but mostly I remember the pain. His shoulder smashed into my side as I was rammed off the pitch just yards from the try line. Then pain exploded at the top of my left leg.

Ambulance men carried me off the field and we rushed to the hospital. After Dad arrived, the doctor gave me an injection and the pain became just a throbbing irritation. By the time the medication wore off, the doctors had re-seated my dislocated hip and x-rayed the damaged area.

"Nothing is broken", the doctor reassured us, "but your pelvis does have a small crack and the tendons in your hip have been stretched. For that reason we will need to immobilise your hip joint"

Dad and I did not really understand what the doctor had said, so a nurse explained she was going to put a plaster cast on both of my legs, even though only one was hurt, and place a spacer between my legs. "With your legs held straight and spread apart, your hip joints will not move and the pelvis and hip joints can recover" the nurse explained.

I still didn't realise just what they were going to do. The nurse wrapped a wet bandage around each leg, starting just below my shorts – I was wishing Dad had brought some dry clothes for me; my rugby kit was still damp and dirty – and ending just above my ankles. Then, she spread my legs apart and placed a metal bar between them, wrapping more of the wet bandages around the bar at each end.

Within an hour the plaster-of-Paris bandage had hardened and I could not move either leg. I would have to wear the cast for 6 – 8 weeks, we were told. Perhaps the most annoying thing is that this was the last week of the school term, I was going to waste the whole summer holidays. An ambulance took Dad and I home.

At home, I soon discovered how much of a problem I had. There was no way I could get up the stairs to my room, so dad had to set a bed in the living room for me. But my first problem was going to the toilet.

I could not find any way to remove my rugby shorts or underpants. My legs are spread so wide that I can't even pull them down to use the toilet. With no other option, Dad used a scissors and cut my shorts and underwear off. Only after completing my ablutions did I grasp my new difficulty. My legs are spread wide apart and I'm naked from the waist down. With the bar firmly attached to each ankle, it was obviously impossible for me to put any underpants or trousers on.

Dad searched upstairs for a while and presented me with some things my sister had left behind when she left us to live with Mum. The first item was a girl's leotard, "what do you expect me to do with that?" I asked.

Dad showed me that it was not a leotard but something else. It has popper fasteners on the bottom that allow me to put it on over my head like a jumper, and then pull a flap from the back, between my legs, and fasten it to the front. It looks like a girl's t-shirt but at least it's a plain black colour and quite comfortable.

Then he gives me the school skirt from my wardrobe, the one I was never supposed to wear unless I ruined all my other school clothes. It slips over my head and fits my waist easily – it was bought for me after all. But we quickly see that the school skirt is too long and narrow to fit over my leg casts.

"Can't you find something that's NOT a girl's skirt Dad?" I asked, probably sounding a bit ungrateful for his efforts so far.

"We can look in the catalogues and search the 'net for a better idea" Dad promised "but for now, try these"

My sister had also left behind some of her clothes. Dad held up her pink bridesmaid dress, "this one has a wide skirt, it's held open with hoops under the skirt" he explained.

"No way am I wearing a pink fairy dress Dad, what else do you have?"

The only other suggestion was a very short skirt Debbie had used for dance lessons. I put the skirt on over my head. It's a horrible peachy colour and had an elasticated waist band that made it easy to pull on. Once in place, I wondered if it was worth the bother, the skirt was so short it barely covered anything. It did fold in between my legs so I felt a little less exposed but every bit a sissy pervert.

Dad and I searched the Internet and the clothes catalogues but could not find any new ideas. It seems I will have to live in skirts for the next 6 – 8 weeks. I called Cathy, my girlfriend to tell her what had happened and ask if she could lend me anything to wear.

The next afternoon Cathy called around with a bag of clothes. "I don't have any bodies myself so I asked Mum and she asked my aunt" Cathy said.

"Bodies?" I asked

Cathy told me the leotard thing I was wearing was called a 'body'. "But neither Mum nor Aunty Helen had anything like the one you're wearing" she said. Then Cathy showed me the bodies she had brought. I was shocked; these things are more like girdles and bras – combined! They are made of white elastic material and have bra cups and shoulder straps. Cathy had brought 3 of these things. "These are adult size, so they should fit you without being tight".

Then she produced a couple of skirts she thought would fit and a dress. "I know all skirts and dresses are girl's clothes" Cathy said, "but these are the least flowery or girly I have". The dress was a plain blue cotton material with a short skirt and a zip up the back. One skirt was white with 3 layers of ruffles and the other was a black denim with pleats that should allow it to spread wide enough.

"I did bring one more thing – it's one of my favourites", with that Cathy handed me a short blue nightdress. "Yes it is really girly, but you can think of me when you go to bed tonight".

I now had 4 of the body things to wear as underwear. With my legs spread wide and only a selection of short skirts to wear, underwear of some kind was a necessity. My next dilemma was that I like to change my underwear at least once each day, preferably twice but with only 4 bodies that was a problem. It was Cathy who came up with a solution – panty pads. I fixed 2 panty liners to the body; one in front and one behind, then just changed the pads twice each day to keep clean.

The first few days were painful as well as embarrassing but by the second week I could move about without hurting. I spent a lot of time sitting in the garden, just soaking up the sun, or playing Playstation games in the living room. Every day I had to pull on one of the panty-corselet bodies, as I now knew they were called. Cathy had been wrong about how tight they would be, one in particular was very short in length and crushed my private parts, especially when I lifted my arms. Another had lacy bra cups that itched and scratched my chest until I decided to put a rolled up sock in each cup. The shoulder straps are very annoying as well, if I wear them loose they fall off my shoulders and pull against my arms, but if I tighten them they hurt my shoulders. I tend to have the straps tight enough to stop them falling off and expect I will just get used to the pressure of the straps.

I was sitting on a sun-lounger in the garden when the boys from my rugby team arrived with their girlfriends. It was great to see them but I was not impressed with the big bunch of flowers they put in my arms. Try to imagine, I'm sitting in my garden, wearing a short white ra-ra skirt and holding a bouquet of flowers. I have never felt so totally humiliated. The guys told me about the fun they had been having over the school holidays while I have been unable to go out, and I just had to sit there holding the bloody flowers. Later, the girls signed my cast – under my skirt! If I had not been wearing a corselet my skirt would have propped up by a huge erection. As it was, the tight elastic stopped any chance of that happening.

At the end of the 4^th week the hospital rang and asked me to go for a check up. I was hoping the doctor would be able to say when the cast could be removed and I could get back to normal life. Would it be 2 more weeks or another 4?

Because my legs are spread so wide, I cannot travel in Dad's car so an ambulance picked us up from the house. Then Dad pushed me in a wheelchair to the waiting room until I could see the doctor. The waiting room was pretty full, so the wait was a long one. A girl sitting on the other side of the room had her legs cast like mine, but she was wearing trousers – how did she manage that? I decided to ask her and she showed me the outside of each leg of her trousers were held together with Velcro and she thought I looked very stupid in my dress.

"Why didn't your Mother modify some trousers for you?" she asked "but more importantly, why are you wearing a bra?"

I tried to explain that my Mum had left home and neither Dad nor I could sew. Then told her that the bra was part of the body I had to wear for underwear. She just giggled uncontrollably, I think she might even have wet herself – I hope so.

I had some x-rays then spoke to the doctor. "Well Adrian, I have some excellent news for you" the doctor said, "Your injuries have healed very well, there is no need to wait any longer, the cast can come off today". That was better news than I had hoped for, I was overjoyed.

Cutting off the cast was quite scary, they used a big saw and it made a lot of noise. When the casts were removed, my legs looked very pale and white but mostly very cold. The nurse told us not to leave because the doctor needed to re-examine me after the cast was removed. "Unfortunately, Dr Willis will be having his lunch now, you need to come back in an hour" she said.

We could not get home and back within an hour so Dad and I decided to use the hospital canteen and have some food ourselves. I could only move very slowly at first but soon started walking, if only in small steps.

"Dad, I'm freezing"

We noticed a small shop near the canteen and decided to see if they sold trousers or pyjamas or anything to help me warm my legs. To my utter disappointment, they didn't. The shop assistant could only offer me a pair of tights, "I can get you a 15 denier pair in black or these flesh coloured ones" she offered. I opted for the 'bronze 10 denier' pair hoping they would look more natural.

Bending my knees was still difficult so Dad had to help me put the tights on before we had lunch. My legs didn't really feel any warmer and I still felt extremely foolish wearing girls' tights but I kept them on because they seemed to help a little bit.

We returned to the waiting room after lunch to wait for the doctor. This meant another long wait in the waiting room. The difference this time is I had no visible excuse why I was dressed like a girl – I just wanted to hide somewhere or run away but instead I had to sit and wait with everyone else.

With the casts off, the hospital decided I did not need an ambulance to get home, even though we had no other transport. Dad and I had to walk, slowly, to the bus stop and wait for a bus into town were we could then get another bus home. As I waited for the bus then walked through town and especially during the walk home through our village, I became more and more conscious of what I was wearing.

Only when some boys saw me on the way home and took pictures and video with their mobile phones did I finally break down. By the time we got home I was crying pitifully. Dad helped me to my room so I could change my clothes and put on something with legs.

Then my mobile phone rang, it was a video message. I was shocked by the video; it was a film of me walking from the bus stop just minutes earlier. I was wearing Cathy's blue mini dress and walking in small mincing steps. Worse than that, my hips were swaying as I favoured my right leg, making me look even more girlish. I had not noticed before but my hair had grown quite long over the past 4 weeks, as I had no opportunity to visit a barber shop. To complete the picture, I had boobs – the socks I had used to stop the lacy cups of my underwear itching had filled the cups enough to look like tits.

Before I could start changing my clothes, 2 of my friends came to the house. "Hello Adrian, we saw you coming back and wanted to see if you are ok"

Dad poured us each a juice and left us to chat. I sat with the boys still wearing my dress and tights and still having my bra padded with socks just wishing they would leave me alone long enough to get changed. Eventually, after what seemed a really nice visit, they decided to go. But before leaving, Gareth said something that scared me silly.

"You look like a girl Adrian, when you're well enough to come out your going to be my girl. Although, I may be willing to share you with a few of my friends. Just be sure to wear something pretty and I won't have to break your legs again" Then he smiled and walked out the door.

  

  

  

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