Each time that a new outfit was to be unveiled the effect on him was a wonder to behold as he pleaded most pitifully to be spared further humiliation. He never was, of course. He was always paraded, frills and petticoats on full view, before the small group of my mother, sister and a few close friends at some pretty hilarious gatherings. After all, as I explained to him, as people had gone to the trouble to design and produce such lovely outfits for him, it was only fair that they got to enjoy seeing him wear them!
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Most of the outfits were in pink or lilac or similar, which I felt were the perfect colours to bring home to him his new status and banish any macho tendencies that might remain. These events were really special occasions in the process of the establishment of my total petticoat discipline control. The ladies teased him mercilessly as he was compelled to act as the perfect model, curtsying and pirouetting and constantly being required to adjust his petticoats, straighten his stockings, adopt a feminine pose for the inevitable camera (he particularly hated that) all the ultra-feminine actions which he found so debasing. This was, of course, very much part of my plan to ensure his complete subjugation.