I thought I would drop you a short note about my experience of ‘petticoating’.  If this one is of interest I would be happy to provide further reminiscences.

My Mum and Dad separated when I was seven years old, leaving Mum to bring up my younger sister and I on her own.

I don’t think I was a particularly difficult child, although I suppose the lack of a male authority figure must have had some impact.  When I was naughty Mum usually punished me with a smack, or being sent to my room.

I remember my first experience of ‘petticoating’ vividly.  For some time Mum had been on at me to clean my room, but I had steadfastly refused to do so – there was always something more interesting to occupy my ten-year-old mind.  This came home to roost one morning when I had run out of clean underwear.  I went to ask Mum where my pants were – and she took great pleasure in showing me.  They were all in a pile of dirty washing on my floor.

I felt a bit foolish then at not having cleaned my room when she’d told me to, but that was nothing to what she said next.  'You’ll have to borrow a pair of your sister’s knickers.  Stay here and I’ll get you some'.  With that she left the room, returning a minute later with a pair of my sister’s panties.

I felt sure Mum had deliberately chosen the frilliest pair she could find.  They were pink, with white lacy trim round the waist and legs, and a little white bow at the front.  She held them out and I meekly stepped into them.  Mum pulled them up for me and told me she hoped that in future I’d learn to do things when I was told.

I quickly got dressed so as to cover up the panties, but my sister knew I was wearing them and teased me all day.  Needless to say I set to cleaning my room so that I didn’t have to face the same ordeal the following day.

For the first time ever I couldn’t wait for the washing to be done, but even when it was Mum still made me stay in the knickers.  She said it would teach me a valuable lesson.

I remember feeling thoroughly humiliated at the time.  Wearing girl’s knickers at all would have been bad, but the fact that they belonged to my little sister – and she knew I’d been put into them – was much worse.

The experience had a marked effect on me.  Firstly Mum decided that this was a very effective form of punishment for me, and used it again whenever I had been bad.  As I got into my teens I went through that rebellious stage most teenagers go through.  During this time Mum extended the petticoat punishment from just knickers to complete girls' outfits.

Strangely enough, when she had dressed me as a girl I didn’t feel at all rebellious.  Although I initially hated the humiliation, and especially the teasing from my little sister and her friends, wearing knickers, tights and a dress did calm me down.  Once I’d accepted my fate I actually felt quite relaxed in a dress or skirt, and Mum was always much more sympathetic to me when she’d dressed me like that.  She even started to refer to me as her elder daughter, and called me ‘Rebecca’ – a name I still use today.

When I left home and got a job I found myself wishing for the comfort and security I’d come to find from wearing girls' clothes.  I bought myself some knickers, tights etc. and changed into them when I got home from work.

Some time ago I met my wife, who I’m pleased to say, understands my wishes to dress up.  She is even happy to ‘force’ me into a little girl’s outfit, just like the one my mum used to put me into.

Feel free to publish my e mail address.  I would be happy for your readers to e mail me direct, should they so wish.
Yours truly,

‘Rebecca’

Once again the relaxing and conforting effects of petticoats and frilly undies have made another conquest. I have mislaid Rebecca's e-mail address, so I would be grateful if she could write to me again. Even just a pair of pretty panties can be enough to gain all the wonderful benefits full petticoating.
Susan