Dear Miss Susan,

I sent you a few of my experiences in petticoat discipline last year.  I thought you might be interested in the next instalment from the discipline I suffered while I was growing up.

The incident I’m writing to you about centres on my little sister’s twelfth birthday party.  I was fourteen, and Mum had been making me wear knickers on and off for over a year.  I also had the party dress and tights I have previously told you about.  Much as I hated the humiliation of it, looking back, I do have to admit that being dressed in frillies did make my behaviour much better.

As with many of these reminiscences, I couldn’t remember all the details, but Mum and Sarah, my wife, discussed this one in embarrassing detail when we went round for lunch last week.

Vanessa’s twelfth birthday was her first at secondary school, and she was keen to make a good impression on her new friends.  She decided she wanted a big party at our house, complete with dancing and a birthday tea.  Mum was happy to go along with that, and suggested she have fancy dress.

Vanessa was delighted, as she loved dressing up, and this would give her another excuse to do so.  She chose a theme of cartoon characters, and set about helping Mum with the preparations.  I played no part, assuming that I would either stay in my room or go out with my own friends when she had her party.  I couldn’t think of anything worse than a dozen twelve-year-old girls filling the house with their silly laughter.

Mum didn’t say anything to me about having to go to the party, so I didn’t bring the subject up.  Vanessa, meanwhile, had decided that she would go as Alice in Wonderland.  They went out the weekend before the party and bought this little blue dress and white apron, plus a couple of other bits and pieces.  Much as I wasn’t really interested, I had to admit that she did look like Alice in it.

It was only on the evening before the party that Vanessa asked me what I was going to wear.  I told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t going to go to her stupid party.  Mum looked up from her newspaper and said, “You most certainly are going to your sister’s party.  I’ve been waiting for you to ask for some help with your costume, but as you haven’t I assume that you’ve sorted it out yourself.  And for your rudeness just now you can go upstairs and put your knickers on!”

This had become a familiar scenario.  Whenever Mum thought I was rude or unpleasant she would send me up to my room to change into the pair of Vanessa’s knickers she now kept in my underwear drawer.  I didn’t need to be told to put on the vest and socks as well.  I also knew better than to argue.  It was bad enough having to put on girl’s underwear again.  If I argued as well, I knew I’d get a spanking across her knee when I came back downstairs.

So without saying a word I went upstairs and meekly changed.  I even made sure I tucked the vest into the knickers like I’d been told.

Vanessa was used to seeing me dressed this way by now, but she still giggled every time.  It wasn’t only being made to wear girl’s clothes; it was that I felt so exposed in just underwear.  The knickers I had on this time were made of thin white nylon with little lacy frills around the legs and waistband, and a little rose at the front.

It made me feel even more ashamed knowing that Mum could make me dress in this humiliating get up just by telling me to.  I felt I should have put up some resistance and made her dress me herself, but I was too scared of being spanked again.

I went back to the lounge and demurely sat with my knees together on the settee while Mum and Vanessa discussed what I should wear to the party.  Vanessa mischievously suggested I should go as Alice, the same as her.  Mum laughed but much to my relief told her not to be so silly.  I thought she would say that it was silly suggesting I wear a dress to the party, but she actually said it was silly because it was too late to go shopping now.

I couldn’t imagine the shame of going to my little sister’s birthday party in a dress, even though it was a fancy dress party.  I told Mum this but she told me to be quiet.  “You’ve had your chance to talk to me about your costume and you chose not to take it.  So now you will come to the party in what I decide for you.  If you’re not careful,l you can come just as you are!”

I looked down at my lacy vest and frilly panties.  Although I had worn them many times now, only Mum and Vanessa had actually seen me dressed this way.  I could see from the expression on Mum’s face that she was deadly serious.  Vanessa’s friends would die laughing if they saw me like this.

As would be the case in most homes, we didn’t have many cartoon character costumes lying around, so whatever I ended up wearing would have to be made from what was available.

I listened for a while to their suggestions, before venturing again that maybe it would be best if I didn’t go. Mum turned to me again in a frustrated tone and told me that she was fed up with my childish comments, and sent me to bed.  It was only about eight thirty, but I had to do as I was told.  She even made me sleep in my knickers and vest, although she let me take the socks off.

As she put me to bed she told me that she and my sister would decide what I would wear to the party, and that I had better behave nicely during the party, or there would be big trouble.  I drifted off to a worried sleep.

I woke the next morning when Mum brought me a cup of tea and told me to get up and washed.  I did so and wasn’t very surprised to be told I would be wearing knickers and vest again.  This time was even worse because I had to go and ask Vanessa to borrow them.

I’m sure she picked out the girliest pair of panties she could find.  They were purple nylon with big pink flowers all over them.  Around the legs and waistband were big white frills – they must have extended about half an inch from the actual knickers.  I couldn’t recall seeing them before.  When I looked at the label they said they were for age 8 to 9.

Vanessa giggled again as she handed them to me, and I hung my head at having to accept this humiliation from my younger sister.  I took them back to my room and put them, and another vest, on.  The knickers were quite tight, because they were really too small for me.

Neither Mum nor Vanessa would tell me what costume I was to wear to the party, only that they’d been working quite late to finish it.  I was full of dread.  All morning they were preparing the food and the room where the disco would be.  Both Mum and Vanessa had put on old pairs of jeans and T-shirts to get things ready.  I had to help too, even though I was still only allowed to wear those purple and pink knickers and a vest.  It struck me that this was yet another depth to my humiliation – being the only male present, but with the females wearing trousers and me wearing just frillies.

I was beginning to get really worried about what I would have to wear to the party.  It was only half an hour before the first guest was due to arrive, and I was still in just little girl’s underwear.  Vanessa had gone upstairs and Mum had helped her into her Alice outfit.  She was really excited, and jumped up and down, making her dress fly about.  Then Mum said to me to come upstairs to get ready.  It was with a mixture of dread and relief that I approached and entered Mum’s bedroom.  I was relieved that I could at last cover up my knickers and vest, but dreading what I was to be made to wear.

I sat down on the edge of the bed as Mum explained that they’d wanted something for me that complemented Vanessa’s Alice outfit, but that could be made from what we had in the house.  And what they’d come up with was…the White Rabbit.

White Rabbit didn’t sound too bad, but it was.  When Mum explained what the outfit consisted of I made quite a fuss, which ended up with me being hauled over Mum’s lap for another spanking.  This time she even tugged my knickers down to my knees.  I could see Vanessa looking on from the doorway as my bare bottom got redder and redder.

When she’d finished spanking me she pulled my knickers back up, and dressed me in the homemade White Rabbit costume.  It consisted of white patterned tights (the ones Mum had bought me some time before), and Vanessa’s white ballet leotard.  Mum had sewn one of her powder puffs to the bottom as a rabbit’s tail.

I reluctantly put the tights on myself, but Mum had to help me with the leotard.  It was a bit too small for me, but because it was stretchy she managed to get it on me.  There were three buttons at the back, which only just did up.  I realised I was now imprisoned in the leotard, as there was no way I could undo the buttons myself.

If felt so humiliated, especially when I looked in the mirror and saw not only the little white tail on my bottom, but also that because the leotard was a bit small, the leg holes had stretched up.  This meant that my purple knickers, with their frothy frills, could be clearly seen through my tights.  With my tights and the leotard both being white, I could also make out the outline of my purple knickers through them.

The humiliation still wasn’t complete, however.  On my head I had to wear an Alice band with two big floppy ears attached.  I also had to wear one of Mum’s waistcoats.  It was red with shiny buttons. It only came to my waist, which seemed to accentuate how exposed my bottom was.  With the little powder puff rabbit’s tail as well it was worse than being naked.

Mum completed my outfit with some make up giving me rosy cheeks, freckles and whiskers.  I saw myself in the mirror and gasped.  The outfit was completely skin-tight, giving me no protection at all from the gaze of Vanessa’s friends.  On top of that it was all girls’ clothes again, and worst of all, they’d be able to see my frilly knickers under my tights.

I pleaded with Mum not to make me go downstairs and confront the girls, but she was determined.  “If you’d joined in sooner,” she said, “you could have chosen your own costume.  If you leave me to choose then you have to accept my decision.”  With that she patted my bottom under my rabbit tail and sent me off.

You can’t begin to imagine the humiliation of being a fourteen year old boy wearing a leotard and tights, and being paraded in front of a dozen twelve year old girls.  The little fluffy tail sewn onto my bottom, a waistcoat emphasising the fact that I had nothing on below the waist, and a pair of floppy rabbit ears made it almost intolerable.  And as if that weren’t bad enough, it took the girls less than a minute to notice I’d been put into girl’s knickers as well.

For the whole afternoon I was taunted by Cinderella, Snow White, Minnie Mouse etc.  I had no choice but to join in with the games and dancing.  Mum had already threatened to spank me in front of the little girls if I was naughty.

Looking back I think what made the whole thing so terribly humiliating was being so exposed to the girls.  I wouldn’t have chosen to wear a dress or anything, but wearing tights and a leotard was really no better than having to spend the afternoon in knickers and vest – especially as they could all see my knickers anyway.

I even had to be taken to the toilet by Mum, because I couldn’t undo the leotard buttons myself.  I felt so childish as she took off the waistcoat, and then peeled down the leotard, tights and knickers in one movement.  She also made me sit down on the toilet, just like a girl.

Mum said that if she’d thought of it she’d have put a little nappy and plastic baby pants on me, so that I needn’t have worried about going to the toilet.  That would have been just too much to bear – everyone would have seen them under my leotard.  I certainly felt very childish as she pulled the knickers and tights back up and secured the leotard again.

The party seemed to drag on for ages, and even at the end there was the further humiliation of the girls’ parents seeing me in my White Rabbit outfit.  The very worst bit of the whole afternoon was when one of their mums told our mum that ‘Vanessa’s sister looks fantastic’.  I could have cried.

After that afternoon there were many more occasions when Mum made me wear girl’s clothes or other humiliating outfits.  If you would like to hear them I will send them in.
Love,

Becky

This is a fascinating memoir of being petticoated as a young teenager, and I don't think that that there is any doubt about the answer to Becky's offer to readers, 'If you would like to hear them I will send them in'.
Susan