MY SON'S PETTICOATING - PART FOUR
from Deborah

Dear Helga,

I had every reason to be satisfied. Petticoating my son had removed the excesses of bad behaviour and attitude, turning him into a respectful, sociable and considerate person, albeit with a few unexpected side effects. There were a few odd moments along the way, like finding a pair of my panties underneath his pillow one time, and another where he had stretched another pair over a pillow, hidden length ways under the covers. How he thought I wouldn't find them, I really don't know.

Then there was his request for leotard as a birthday present to practice gymnastics. I had no idea he was interested in sport - bar football - but we spent an odd minute or two as he tried it on and wondered how to, ahem, toilet. I explained that the navy blue material was quite stretchy for a reason and pulled the material to one side to demonstrate. As it was an thin, elasticated one-piece, he came to understand why the material kept disappearing up into erm, channels, and why gymnasts spent so much time pulling the material back out! Then there was the time where I found him walking in a funny way and discovered he was wearing two pairs of bikini panties; one pulled to one side in one direction, the other on top, pulled to the other way, and a pair of waist-high mint coloured knickers on top all of them 'as an experiment.' Please, don't ask!

One Friday evening, the doorbell rang and opening the door, I found Martin's form master, Mr Richards on the doorstep. My heavy heart sank as I ushered him in and showed him through to the sitting room. His exclamation of surprise at meeting his pupil on entering was resolved when I also entered the room to meet a pair of splayed legs with white ankle socks and sandals peeping from behind the top of a sofa. The noise disturbed the legs' owner and disappeared. Martin stood up in his white dress around his chest after doing a handstand against the sofa. He tugged the dress hem down over his lemon coloured high waist knickers hastily and stood like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I asked Mr Richards and my blushing son to sit down.

To my surprise, the master waxed lyrical about the transformation in Martin and how he had come top in one subject and close to the top in several others. We both praised Martin and he managed to blush a shade deeper. He also praised my methods for the dramatic change in behaviour and was going to recommend it to other affected parents, particularly parents in similar situations to myself on the next open evening. He asked about my husband's views on this, but I explained that he was working away on business for long periods of time so I had to take it upon myself to condition Martin to bring him under my control. I explained that I suspected he was missing a role model to compare himself against. Mr Richards explained that Martin had plenty of teachers in which to emulate or compare himself against. Maybe he had found an equally effective role model? It was my turn to blush. We stood up, ready to leave.

He then rather hesitantly offered a suggestion. It was a training day next Monday which he did not have to attend. He could take Martin out for the day for a trip to the next town down at the coast as an instructive influence. Would I be interested? I thought it an excellent idea. He suggested that as it would officially be a school day, for Martin to be... suitably dressed? I agreed and arranged a time for Martin to be picked up. Saturday was spent in town purchasing a new gingham summer dress as the neighbour had asked for the borrowed items back and I had decided it was just going to be too warm for a full uniform. In the department store, I had held the school dress from the rack against Martin for size, much to the amusement of the shop assistant, several lady passers-by and myself and to Martin's mixed emotions of embarrassment and enjoyment.

Monday arrived and very early, soon after breakfast, a knock at the front door signaled the arrival of Mr Richards. Martin answered the door and shouted that they were leaving. I rushed to the door to give Martin some money for the day and waved them off, warning Martin to be on his best behaviour. I watched them go down the road, pausing, chatting and then walking on. I closed the door.

It was dark and quite late when I heard the front door open and close and one very tired son walked through the door with a bag and a small patterned packet. It was funny to see one white sock at the knees and another at the ankle. I asked him about the day and said it was very good. He felt drained. They had visited a museum, some old ruins and went down by the sea and walked along the beach and finally sat in a shelter and ate fish and chips.

I inquired about what was in the bags. He fished out a present for me which was in reality, awful, but very sweet of him to remember. An unexpected reward from his conditioning. I grabbed and opened the other small packet which contained... the red bikini panties with a kaleidoscope pattern he was wearing this morning, and many pairs of... school knickers? I looked quizzical. He explained that Mr Richards had discovered he was wearing those red panties, and insisted they go to an outfitters and purchase some suitable regulation school knickers as more appropriate and expected for a school day. It dawned on me that I'd been so busy that I'd forgotten to buy some replacements by rushing through the shopping on Saturday. Four pairs. Martin answered: No, five, and held his hem up to show the big dark knickers underneath he'd swapped with at an opportune moment while they were walking round the museum together. I rolled my eyes and made a note to refund Mr Richards some money when I next saw him. I dished up a meal from the oven and afterwards he fell asleep in front of the TV. The boy was tired after a good day.

Deborah


Thank you for continuing the story of your son's petticoating Deborah. His school performance and obedient nature certainly would indicate that his petticoating has been a great success.

Helga

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