Dear Susan,

The first time my mum made me wear girls’ knickers was when I was eight years old.  I thought you might like to hear about it.

It was during the school holidays, and we were due to go and visit my aunt and cousins, who lived near the seaside.  In spite of this, I didn’t like visiting them at all.  Mum would spend ages just talking to Auntie Elizabeth, and Sophie, my little sister, would go off and play with Amanda and Karen.  That just left me to either go and play with the girls, or sit quietly and listen to the grown-ups.  Neither was particularly interesting.

I admit that I was deliberately taking my time to get ready, so it should have been no surprise when Mum lost patience with me.  She frog-marched me into the bathroom and stood over me while I brushed my teeth and had a wash. Next she pushed me back into my bedroom and stripped off my pyjamas.  This wasn’t very nice – she hadn’t needed to dress me for many years.  I stood there naked, very grateful that my bedroom door was shut and Sophie wouldn’t see me like this.

Mum rifled through my underwear drawer, but it was empty.  She went off to the airing cupboard and returned with a pair of Sophie’s frilly knickers.  I looked in horror as Mum said that I’d taken so long to get ready she didn’t have time now to search for my own underpants, so I’d have to wear a pair of Sophie’s.

She was in no mood to be argued with, so I meekly stepped into the patterned pink panties.  I shuddered as she drew them up my legs, the lacy trim tickling my legs the whole way.  She pulled them tightly up around my bottom.  I went bright red with embarrassment.  I was sure she could have found a pair of my own underpants if she’d wanted to.  I suppose these were the first pair she laid her hands on, and decided to teach me a lesson.

The only consolation was that as far as I knew Sophie was not aware that I was wearing her knickers – how on earth would she react to her older brother being put into her panties? I let Mum put on my shorts and T-shirt for me, then she watched over me as I put on some ankle socks and trainers.  She pushed me out the door in front of her, patting my bottom as I walked out.

I felt wretched all through the journey, and it wasn’t just the unseasonably hot day.  I dreaded anyone finding out that I’d been put into frillies.

We got to Auntie Elizabeth’s house in about an hour and as usual she came out to greet us warmly.  Amanda and Karen followed her out, and quickly lead Sophie off to their bedroom to play.  I sat with the grown ups as they discussed boring things while drinking their coffee.  I finished my orange squash ages before they did, and was looking round for something to do.

After a few minutes Auntie Elizabeth turned to Mum and suggested that as it was such a nice day that we should all go to the beach.  I looked up – this didn’t sound too bad, and certainly much better than sitting around getting bored.  I waited in the kitchen while Mum and Auntie Elizabeth told the girls.

Within a few minutes we were on our way.  Although it took a while to get to the beach, when we got there it was well worth it.  We laid out our towels and settled down.  I was a bit surprised to discover that Mum and Auntie Elizabeth had put on bikinis under their clothes, so that they could sun bathe.  Then it turned out that Sophie, too, had borrowed a swimsuit from Karen.

While Mum and Sophie had gone off to buy us ice creams, Auntie Elizabeth asked me if I wasn’t hot in my shorts and T-shirt, and why didn’t I strip off?  After all, she said, boys’ underpants often look like swimming trunks, and no-one would notice.

I tried to politely argue that I was fine, but she was having none of it.  She thought I was just being self-conscious, and told me not to be so silly. She pulled my T-shirt over my head and made me stand up while she took my shorts down.  I struggled to stop her undressing me.  "Stand still!" she ordered. She thought I was just embarrassed about showing my underpants, but you know the real reason.

Karen and Mandy were by now looking on, and gasped when their mother eventually pulled down my shorts and revealed the panties I’d been put into.  I’m not sure who was the most shocked.  Auntie Elizabeth stared at the knickers, decorated as they were with little Tinkerbell fairy motifs, before quickly pulling my shorts back up.  I don’t think she quite knew what to say.  The girls, however, were giggling at the sight of their cousin in a pair of girl’s knickers.  Even a boy nearby was staring in disbelief.

I, of course, was mortified.  Now I’d been exposed.  I did up my shorts and sat in silence.  The girls were still giggling to themselves, but Auntie Elizabeth didn’t really know what to say. When Mum and Sophie returned with the ice creams it must have been obvious that something had happened.  After much questioning, Auntie Elizabeth simply said that she’d been trying to get me to relax, and had taken off my shirt and shorts.  She looked at Mum, who then realised what had happened.

All Mum would say was that she would explain later.  Sophie, of course, was dying to know what was up.  As she went off with Karen and Amanda I knew it wouldn’t be long before she found out. Sure enough after a couple of minutes she came running back bursting with excitement and said “Are you really wearing my knickers?  Are you?  Which ones?  Oh, do let me see!”

Obviously I wouldn’t tell her, or let her see.  In the end she kept on and on throughout the day, until I got so fed up with her that I pushed her away and told her to get lost.  Mum was furious I’d pushed my little sister, and told me, in front of everyone, that when we got back to Auntie Elizabeth’s house I would be spanked.

I hadn’t been spanked since I was four, which made it even more humiliating to have my shorts pulled down again and be hauled over Mum’s lap in Auntie Elizabeth’s living room. This time everyone had a good view of my panties, as I lay across Mum’s knees with my panty-clad bottom in the air.  The girls all laughed as I received twelve hard smacks on my bottom.

When the spanking was over I pulled my shorts back up, but it was too late.  In the eyes of my sister and cousins, and even my Aunt, I would always be a sissy for having been put into panties.

This was the first, but, I regret to say, not the last, time my mum forced me into frilly knickers.  If I pluck up the courage I’ll write again and tell you more.
Yours truly,

J. Lewis

I must say I feel sorry for you, because it was such a chapter of accidents, each step following inexorably from what went before. It was accidental really, but your mother must have seen that it had some effect, because you say you experienced pantie punishment again.

No wonder you are able to describe it so well. It is very common (see also Letter 11 from Brian) that one's first experience of being forced to wear girls' underclothes for being naughty is such an overpowering experience that the events of the day stay indelibly in the memory for a lifetime.

I would like to hear more. You write well, and further accounts of your mother's (or aunt's or cousins') techniques of petticoat discipline would be very instructive for our readers.
Susan