Dear Miss MacDonald,

I read with the greatest of interest the letter 'Mummy's Little Laundry Maid' in a previous issue. It has prompted me to write of my own experiences, which are somewhat different, but started in a similar way. My husband was always going out at night, not doing anything bad, but leaving me alone, and never contributing much to keeping the house neat and tidy. On one night a week he goes bowling (a game a find particularly boring), and he recently bought himself a bright red shirt which I thought looked cheap and common, but which he thought would really wow them at the bowling alley.

He wore it a couple of times, and must have then decided it needed a wash. I had the machine full of tea towels, a few of my things, and his singlets and underpants, which, like Mrs D. B.'s son, he never bothered to put in the laundry when they needed a wash. Anyhow, he just tossed the shirt in with the rest. When the washing was done, I was upset to find that the color in the shirt had run, and the other things, including his underwear, were dyed a delicate shade of pink. He was furious, and behaved as if I were to blame. Most of his underwear was fairly new too, and still had a lot of wear in it.

I told him that the things could not be thrown out, that we were not millionaires, and that he would have to wear them, like it or not. He shook his head vigorously, and said no, and he seemed to be on the verge of a childish tantrum. In that case, I replied, it would make a great story to tell our friends. I would not have to make anything up, just tell them that all his underwear was now pink, and that it was entirely his own fault, and that he had tried to blame me, and then had a tantrum and refused to wear it any more.

Even he could see how stupid and childish that would make him look (which is a pretty good description of most men anyway), and he must have known that the story would be around the bowling alley and the gym in no time, and would certainly reach his work as well, because he bowls with a couple of workmates. He had no choice but to wear them, and next morning I told him that he had better put on one of his pink singlets as well, as it looked chilly outside. I had some fun teasing him about his new pink 'panties', and he just flushed angrily, but remained silent.

Two nights later, he was to go out to the gym, but of course he couldn't dressed as he was. I just said that I would rather he stayed at home and did the washing up for once, and if he went then he wouldn't be able to exercise or swim, because everyone would see his pink panties in the changing room. Anyway, he did stay in, and did the washing up too, while I watched television.

About that time I decided to make a few changes to his new underwear look. I sewed up the fly of all his underpants, and sewed a ruffled trim of pink lace around each leg (just let me give a hint to those ladies who are thinking of pantie-punishing their husbands – you need to stretch the leg opening over something before you sew on the lace. This will mean that the lace frill will be prettily ruffled, while if you just sew the lace on without this precaution the leg opening will not stretch).

I told him that I liked our life better now, and wanted to improve it some more. Of course I said that if he refused to wear them I would just tell the whole story, including about him wearing pink undies, and saying that this was why he had stopped going to the gym. He realised that this would be even worse than before, and he was really in a corner now. I just hugged him and said that he must have felt much nicer wearing pink panties than he did wearing his drab male underwear, and that now he would feel even nicer. I think that did influence him too – the overwhelming power of petticoating was beginning to have its effect.

I still allow him to go bowling, but other nights he has to be at home, and to do his share of the housework, which is most of it, because I have done so much in the past. He does do the laundry and the ironing I am glad to say, and he wears his frilly pink panties to work every day, and now has to go to the toilet like a girl, which I understand has caused some comment. Of course he has not yet experienced petticoating to its maximum, all-conquering effect, but that will come in time. Next time we buy underpants for him they will be ladies' satin french knickers, trimmed with lots of lace, and baby pink of course. I am also thinking of getting him some tights that he can wear to work. I really like the idea of him having to go to the toilet like a girl.

So next time you go to the bowling alley, if you are in my part of New York, just think that one of the men there might well be my now very domesticated, pink-pantied husband!

Ms P. New York (Statten Island)

Well you have been very subtle in your approach, Ms P, and I am sure that you have a long way to go yet. Certainly making any male wear tights or pantihose will do wonders – any sexual excitement is instantly controlled, and he has no choice but to go to the loo like a young lady does. This in itself can produce much the same effects as petticoating, which is all to the good.

Ms P's husband does not sound as bad as some that we have to deal with, but nevertheless it is still a good idea to show him his place in the home. And wearing tights and frilly undies to work each day ensures that he is constantly reminded that he is under his wife's thumb. Hopefully Ms P will write again, and tell us of further developments.
Susan