Hello Susan,

I have enjoyed your magazine since finding it on the net about a year ago, and decided to tell you my brief story.

At about the age of seven, my father and mother told me that the next time I misbehaved, I would be put in one of my sister's dresses as a punishment. Well, about a week later I must have done something wrong, as I was told that when my father came home from work I would wear a dress. I had to stay in the living room all afternoon, and watch as my mother placed out the things I would wear, as well as ironing the dress.

Leaving the clothes on display in the living room was part of the punishment, and my twin sister was having a wonderful time picking them up and giggling at me. She knew the clothes quite well because they were her clothes. There was a girls’ vest, which was quite similar to a boys’ singlet, but which felt softer, and had a little pink bow on the front of the neck, and girls’ white cotton panties, with lace around the legs. I was dreading having to wear them, because they looked so sissy, and my sister could read my consternation – girls are very smart like that.

A little girls’ slip with ribbon inserts and a full skirt completed my underwear. Then there was the dress. It was a front button lilac pattern skirt with a lilac top which had puffy short sleeves and a peter pan collar. When my dad got home, it took the two of them to get me dressed, and I stayed in the dress until bedtime.

A week later I must have done something wrong as I had to dress myself on Saturday, and stay dressed all day. This time I had to wear my sister’s party panties, a slip, little white socks, and white Mary Janes. I had to come down and ask my mother to tie the sash for me, and I was told I could go out and play if I wanted to - however, I chose to stay in the house all day.

Much to my surprise, part way through the day I sort of liked the dress. I would twirl in front of a mirror to see my pink lace underclothes. I helped my mom in the house all day. She liked my corrected behavior, and I felt she liked me better as a girl.

It was about a month later when I was punished again. For a whole month, I had to come right home from school and change into my dress, complete with underwear, and stay that way until bedtime. The weather was colder now, and so I was put in to a fluffy lambswool girls’ cardigan, with a teddy bear appliqué. I had to stand still with my hands behind my back while my sister did up the buttons for me. On weekends I was allowed to wear boys’ clothes.

I tried not to show it, but most days I couldn't wait to get home and "have to get dressed." After that month I was not punished this way again, but had to keep my dress and everything that went with it in my closet. Of course I wore it every chance I had. Mom never said anything, but my dress was always ironed, and my girls’ underwear clean and folded.

As I outgrew the first dress my mother put a larger dress in its place to "remind me to act proper". This went on for several years, but we never talked about it – nevertheless, she definitely knew of my dressing desire.

After I was married I told my wife about this, and mentioned I would like to dress from time to time. She thought I was kidding at first, but soon realized this was part of who I was. After forty years of marriage, I still dress at least once a week, and often do housework while dressed, which she really appreciates. I also wear nightgowns to bed several times a week, and make love at times in this manner. I love to be the submissive partner, and I think that this is a very important part of the fulfilling joy of petticoat discipline.

My sister and I have never mentioned my early punishment. She saw me dressed several times and was the source of my clothes. Petticoat punishment not only worked for me as a child, but has given me many years of enjoyment.
My very best wishes for your inspiring magazine,

Sandi
Florida

If only parents could be a little more tolerant and understanding when they notice that their son likes girls' clothes. Sandi'a mother was perfect - she wasn't disapproving, but she wasn't aggressively 'tolerant' and 'politically correct' about it either - which to me is just as bad.

She was easy-going, and quietly tolerant - her son always knew that he had pretty dresses and undies to wear when he wished. And that, in my opinion, is the best way.
Susan