Dear Sir,

I see that Jill is interested to know if any other ladies have come across cases of boys being brought up under pinafore and
petticoat discipline, so perhaps she would like to hear my own story.

When I was 16, we came to live next door to a widowed lady and her son, who was about my own age, and a few days later,
I had to call at the house for something. And you can just imagine my amazement when the door was opened by the very
sheepish and ashamed looking boy, dressed in a prettily embroidered and very childish white lace pinafore! He seemed to
know who I was, and he was blushing to the very roots of his hair as he led the way back into the living room, to his mother.

I could see that she was enjoying the situation for she called him over to her and said: 'All right dear---as we have company,
you may have your pinny off for a little while'. And, as she undid the buttons and tapes that held it at the back, she explained to
me that his pinafore was only worn when he was doing housework, to protect his other clothes, but I couldn't help realising, the
way it was buttoned up and tied, that it would have been quite impossible for him to have taken it off himself.

The pinafore was long enough to conceal what he was wearing underneath, except that his legs were bare and that he had on
knee-length white silk socks, but I really gasped when I saw just how he was dressed!---a white linen blouse, with a high,
starched Eton collar and white starched cuffs, and a short, heavily-pleated tartan kilt, and a wide, shiny black leather belt round
his waist pulled in so tightly that it was obvious he must be very firmly corseted underneath! But what really did shake me were
the tell-tale glimpses of frilly lace under his kilt, which showed quite unmistakably that this big grown lad was wearing
petticoats!
                                                                             Difficult to control

Seeing my startled look, his mother explained that he was now kept to the wearing of a pinafore and petticoats at home, as he
had started getting much too difficult and unruly to control. 'It really has proved most effective---he's a different boy altogether
now', she said, ignoring completely the fact that the helpless lad was almost sobbing with humiliation and shame at being
discussed with me like this. Adding to his misery, she told him to lift up his kilt, so that I could have a better look at his
petticoats, and as he did so, I could see, encircling his thighs, the elasticated leg of a little pair of white silk bloomers!

The whole thing, of course, was a completely new experience for me. I had never bothered much with boys, as I found them
much too bossy and demanding, but this pinafored and petticoated young man was obviously trained to respect and obey the
female sex. Just to prove it, I called him over to me and, after one pleading look at his mother, he came and stood by my chair,
and meekly allowed me to straighten out the frills of his petticoats and even to adjust the legs of his bloomers so that they just
showed as he moved about. His mother smiled approvingly, obviously feeling that it would do him good to be humiliated like
this by a girl of his own age, and she suggested that I come to tea on the Sunday, when there would he more time to discuss her
ideas and methods, which of course I eagerly agreed to do, especially as she promised that Paul would be 'more suitably
dressed' for my visit. She refused to say anything more, but assured me that I would find it amusing.

I certainly did! For, to my delight, he had now been robbed of even the slight masculinity of a kilt and was attired instead in a
really lovely 'little girl' type frock of cream velvet, with a wide ribbon sash and a fussy little lace collar and cuffs. It was quite
ridiculously short, leaving exposed not only his flounced and belaced petticoats but also a pair of deliciously childish button-on
baby knickers, and no matter how desperately he tried to hide them, every movement left them shamelessly and humiliatingly
exposed.

I had a really wonderful time---the first of many such sessions. At my request, his mother after that always dressed him in a
frock for my benefit, and although I admit that I was quite ruthless in my teasing of the poor helpless lad, I also grew very fond
of him. It was a thrill to he able to dominate and humiliate him just as I liked, and even when he was literally squirming with
embarrassment, he always remained docile and obedient. As he still does, for we have been married now for nearly five years.
And he is still subjected to regular petticoat and pinafore discipline, with the addition since marriage of babies' nappies as an
added corrective, whenever I feel that he is slackening off in any way in his love and respect for me.

Yours sincerely,

E. G., Wilts.

I am sure that Paul still has the greatest love and respect for his wife, and I don't think that putting him in nappies would be necessary very often. Here is yet another case where girlish frocks and underwear, as well as baby clothes for any sulkiness or naughtiness, have produced an ideal marriage.
Susan