FIRST ENCOUNTERS
GRABBING THE RING!
(ANONYMOUS)
Although it was over 50 years ago, I still
remember my first time in petticoats in detail.
It was the summer that I was 7, my brother was 9
and our sister was 11, our father had just given my brother and me new bikes
for getting good grades in school all year, as he had promised. At lunch, my
brother and I started to argue about whose bike was faster and it was
suggested that we have a race to decide whose was.
When our sister said that the winner could wear
her clothes for the rest of the day, Mom laughed and said that it wasn't prize
either of us would want and said it was more like a penalty; it was changed to
the loser would have to wear her clothes for the rest of the day. My
brother, sure that he would win, agreed to it. Mom told me not to, because I
would loose, but I felt that I had to agree, because if I hadn't it would be
like saying that I knew his bike was faster.
When I saw that I was loosing the race, I put
every bit of energy that I had into winning, but my brother was clearly the
winner. My sister and I got along very well, but neither of us liked our
brother much -- he had a mean streak and was often very nasty. I was laying on
the grass trying to catch my breath when my sister walked over and said that
she was glad that I lost because she wouldn't have wanted our brother wearing
her clothes. Then she told me that she would find me something really nice to
wear, as if she was doing me some kind of favor.
Our mother had packed up all her best clothes
as she outgrew them and stored them in the attic. When my sister told me to
take a bath while she went to the attic and found something for me to wear, I
went to my mother and told her that she wanted me to take a bath and that
wasn't part of the bet. She told me that she understood why my
sister didn't want me wearing her clothes all sweaty and smelly, that I should
do it and that maybe it would all teach me not to make dumb bets that I
couldn't win.
When I finished taking a bath and went to her
room she had shoes, socks, blue panties, a full waist length petticoat, and
blue dress laid out for me. I really was surprised, I had been thinking it
would be shorts and a blouse or at worst a skirt. She told me to put on the
petticoat then handed me the blue panties and told me to take off my
underpants and put them on. When the dress was on, she saw that it was a
little too small -- she said that she would be right back and went to the
attic to get something else for me to wear.
Upon returning with a garment bag she told me
that it was one of her prettiest dresses; then she opened it and took out a
girl's very full pale pink petticoat, a darker pink nylon taffeta dress that
had two layers of sheer organdy over the skirt and puff sleeves, pale pink
panties with bright pink ruffles, a pair of pink single straps and pale pink
socks with bright pink ruffles. When she handed me the ruffled panties and
told me to take off the blue ones and put them on. I was dizzy
and thought that I was going to pass out. As soon as I put the pink petticoat
on over the white one and put the dress on over that she buttoned it, said
that it fit me good, and told me to sit on the bed so she could put on the
shoes and socks. I still remember the sound when I sat on the bed, it sounded
so loud, everything crunched and crackled like I had sat on a pile of potato
chips.
I looked for my mother to complain about the
way she had dressed me -- everything felt so strange, nothing that I had ever
worn felt anything like what I was wearing (my sneakers and clothes made no
noise) and I was sure that the swishing and tapping of the shoes would be
heard long before I found her. My mother wasn't sympathetic at all, she just
told me that I looked very nice and that I should thank my sister for giving
me some of her nicest clothes to wear.
When my brother saw me and started to tease me,
I told him that it wasn't that bad to try to play it down. He said that if I
liked wearing girls clothes, I was a sissy, I told him that didn't say that I
liked it but I was sure that he would. Our sister told him that he didn't have
to be jealous, she had lots of pretty clothes that he could wear and he went
off in a huff all insulted.
When my father came home, saw me in my sister's
clothes and found out what had transpired, I got a long lecture on how I
shouldn't make stupid bets because I might loose. When he got done, I
told him that wearing girls' clothes wasn't that bad and he shook his head and
walked away.
In the middle of supper my father stopped
eating, looked at me and said that I was to wear my sisters clothes for a week
and then tell him that it wasn't that bad. Then I knew that I had gotten
myself in a real mess.
It wasn't unusual for our father to take us all
out for ice cream on nice Friday evenings during the summer. When after supper
he said that we were going out for ice cream, I didn't want to go but I wasn't
given a choice. I knew that, being dressed like a girl on Easter Sunday,
everyone would look at me and, with my haircut, everyone would know that I was
a boy.
I still remember the woman smiling as she
handed me my ice cream cone and saying, "Your dress is very pretty, you're
dressed very nice...for a boy! The worst part was my father didn't allow any
eating in the car and I had to stand there eating ice cream with people coming
and going and standing around until everyone was done eating their ice cream.
Sunday mornings my father slept in while we
went to church. As soon as I got up, my sister dressed me up in some of her
Sunday clothes. I begged my mother to let me wear my own clothes to
church but she said no, my father would probably be up when we got back, but
she did get a silk scarf and tied it under my chin to cover my boys
haircut. There were enough girls all dressed up that I don't think that I was
even noticed.
Several days later, our mother went grocery
shopping and we all had to go to help carry the bags of groceries home. I was
so afraid that one of my friends would see me that if I'd have come face to
face with one of them, I'd have probably wet myself.
My sister always dressed me in two
petticoats, a full waist length and girl's full length over it. At first the
front of the petticoats would bounce up and down a lot. She had me take
shorter steps, not bend my knees so much and swing my whole leg forward,
Though I didn't realize it at the time she was teaching me to walk like a
girl.
By the end of the week, I was getting used to
having my sister dressing me up and walking around the house in her clothes
and, instead of feeling strange, I think that I started to like the way they
felt.
When my father asked me if I still thought that
wearing girls' clothes wasn't that bad or did I need another week to think
about it, I begged to wear my own clothes again. It wasn't because I didn't
like wearing girls' clothes but because I hadn't gone out to play in a week.
The clothes went back to the attic for awhile,
but then my sister started talking me into letting her dress me up when she
and I were home alone. At first it wasn't bad, it made her happy, she was
always very nice to me and made it seem like fun. One day, after nearly
getting caught several times, our mother was downstairs doing laundry, and she
wanted to dress me up. When I refused she said that she would tell our father
that I liked wearing her clothes, and that he would probably make me wear them
for a month, and then she could dress me up every day again. That changed
everything -- when I felt that I had no choice it took all the fun out of it.
It gradually tapered off, but it was almost two years before it stopped.
Several times I went to the attic and dressed
myself, dressing in secret, but it made me feel guilty so I stopped.
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