Author Topic: The POWER of Determined Females! (Read 6437 times)

Patti59 · « **on:** January 18, 2022, 02:13:47 pm »

Here is a Posting from the August Issue of PDQ! It is so Gratifying to see how a Mother, a Band Leader and Girl's at this school completely Dominated this boy and had him under their Control! What a Great Example of what Determined Females can and should do with the males in their lives!

PETTICOATED AT HIGH SCHOOL
from Molly

I was "petticoated"; all through my four years of high school; starting with my first year - not just once or twice; but on a regular basis. My parents were divorced, and I lived with my mother; who enrolled me in a small private school. I found out, on my first day there, that the school nickname was the "Highlanders" (Scottish), and when given my band uniform (to wear for concerts), discovered that it was a kilt/skirt; along with a white blouse, with a lace collar.

Up until that spring it had been exclusively an all girls' school; but started, that fall, to accept boys. I was one of only about a dozen boys, in a school of about 300 girls; and I was the ONLY boy in the school band (which my mother insisted that I participate in).

The teacher told me that they could not afford new uniforms just because I was a boy; thus I had to wear the "kilt uniform". We had some daytime school concerts each year, and several evening performances during each year. On each concert day, every band member traditionally wore the (skirt/kilt) uniform to school all day; thus I was the only boy in the school, during those concert days, wearing a skirt/kilt.

During the first such occasion, I arrived in my skirt, with great embarrassment, and very red faced. The kilt/skirt was wool, and would have been very scratchy against my skin; except for a requirement that everyone also should wear a petticoat. Along with my kilt, the band teacher (a female) also gave me a petticoat, and told me that wearing it was a required part of the uniform; and that she had already talked to my mother about this, and gained her approval for me to wear it.

My mother, in fact, arrived in the band room after school; when my band leader presented me with my uniform. They both thought it was very amusing, and both told me that I "looked cute" wearing my kilt and petticoat. The first time that they made me wear it, my mother took a whole roll of film of me, wearing it.

The first day that I arrived at school, in my kilt and petticoat; several of the girls surrounded me, at my locker, & pushed me into a nearby vacant room (without any teachers or school officials noticing); then reached under my skirt and pulled off my boys' underwear (keeping them), and then forced me to wear a pair of lacy nylon panties under my petticoat!

I was told that if my mother noticed the panties, I was to tell her that it was also a required part of the band uniform, and had to wear the panties, along with the white lacy blouse, petticoat and kilt, to school on each concert day. The girls made sure to check under my kilt, each concert day when I arrived, to ensure that I was wearing my "panties".

Of course, there were no limits, or end, to the teasing which I endured from the girls. They even talked the band leader into having numerous "dress rehearsals"; on the day before each concert, and to double the number of days when I was "required" to wear the "uniform" to school. In addition, the girls in the band talked the teacher into "volunteering" us to do several extra unscheduled concerts each year (i.e. during community events and celebrations, as well as at each of the local retirement homes).

This meant many extra days when I was required to wear my band uniform: my kilt, petticoat, and panties. Pictures of the band were posted in the hallways, to promote upcoming concerts. The girls in the photography club were in charge of publicity; thus made sure that I was prominently featured in the pictures. They were also doing photography for the school yearbook, and made sure to take several pictures of me, in my uniform; including when I was turning around, which made the petticoat lift up & outward, exposing it for a clear view, for all to see.

Just before taking the yearbook pictures of me, they ganged up on me, removing my blouse, and forcing me to put on a bra; then putting the white (sheer) blouse back on me. Thus, it was clearly evident, in the photos, that I was also wearing a bra. For my initiation into the "band club" I was made to go to a local fast food drive-in (accompanied by several of the girls) one busy Friday evening; wearing just the blouse, bra, petticoat, and panties (with no kilt). Thus, my petticoat was completely exposed to public view (as well as my bra clearly showing through my sheer blouse).

This was much to the delight of the girls, and other high school students at the drive-in. They made me go inside with them to order an ice cream cone, to the giggles and laughter of everyone inside, as well as everyone in the cars parked outside.
Molly

Patti59 · « **Reply #1 on:** January 18, 2022, 02:58:29 pm »

Here is another Great Example of what a Successful and Strong Woman can do with her man! This is an early example of some of the Strides that have been made for Womankind! This letter was from the November 2005 Edition of PDQ:

A PERFECT 1950s HOUSEWIFE

Dear Susan,

As a first-time visitor to your website, I confess to considerable surprise at the positive view many of your correspondents seem to take on the subject of male petticoating. While I’m sure there are cases in which submissive males do well with this treatment, I would like to share my own experience as an example of what can happen when it is misapplied.

My first (and last) paid job was as an errand boy at a local hospital. I was just 18, but I fell hard for a sophisticated and dazzling 30-year old doctor named Cecilia. Amazingly enough, Cecilia liked me as well, and soon enough we were spending many evenings together, she running her fingers through my long blond hair (this was 1969). Within a year, we were married.

As a boy I’d always assumed that one day I’d marry a younger version of June Cleaver, a little lady whose sole occupation would be keeping house for me and making me happy. Consequently, I found myself sadly unprepared for setting up house with a mature professional. An early shock came shortly before the wedding, when Cecilia announced that she would soon be starting her own private practice and so needed to keep the surname that was familiar to her patients. What she didn’t mention until later was that she expected me to change my last name to hers.

I was reluctant, but eventually did as she asked, giving my friends a good laugh in the bargain. There was yet more chortling when I had to fill the role of Cecilia’s secretary/receptionist for the first few years. As Cecilia worked to establish her practice we both worked long hard days; in the evenings I cooked our meals and cleaned the apartment while she read medical journals, or balanced our finances.

Our daughter Caroline came along just as things started to pick up in the practice. Cecilia hired a new receptionist, we moved to a big new house, and I became a fulltime homemaker. Every day Cecilia seemed more comfortable with being head of the household, and less interested in accommodating my male ego. Soon my beloved MGB was traded for a station wagon, and then shortly after that Cecilia finally browbeat me into getting my long hair done in the style of her choosing - one that I considered embarrassingly feminine.

One evening in 1974, shortly after our fourth anniversary, Cecilia took me away from the sink where I was doing the dishes. I remember wiping my hands on my apron as she sat me down for a talk. That was when she first explained to me how much further she expected me to go into the role of ‘housewife.’ We argued. She yelled; I may have cried.

The next morning I maintained an icy silence as I served her breakfast, ironed her pantsuit, and buffed her shoes and purse. That evening, however, she brought home a large package for me, which contained a frilly, full-skirted house dress. In the end I grudgingly put it on. I’ll never forget the self-satisfied smirk on Cecilia’s face as she zipped me up the back.

I suppose it’s no wonder I never really had my daughter’s respect. Within a year of donning my first dress, Cecelia was requiring me to wear dresses and the most feminine aprons at home constantly. Up to an hour before or after bed I could wear a lacy, frilly nightgown, and on authorized trips to the store, bank, or Caroline’s school, I was allowed men’s trousers, shoes, and shirts. The rest of the time I dressed in the fashions of my wife’s high school and college years, made up as a petticoated housewife who would put June Cleaver to shame.

Outside of home I was required to wear my dresses two other places. The first was my dressmaker’s shop, where Cecilia took me at least once a month. At that rate my walk-in closet soon became quite full; most of my dresses had voluminous skirts even without the petticoats I wore underneath, and they took up a lot of room. Eventually Cecilia had to allow me to start retiring my older dresses to the attic. Shoes were almost as bad; besides my one pair of men’s loafers, I had as many as two dozen pumps and dainty feminine sandals that needed storage too.

I might have been able to pass myself off as a woman, unnoticed, had I been allowed to wear dowdy skirts, concealing sweaters, flat shoes and mousy, unremarkable hair. However, my colorful period-reproduction dresses and skirts, with their voluminous petticoats, combined with patent leather heels and prettily permed and curled hair, drew such attention that when people saw me it was impossible to disguise what I really was. I felt humiliated all day every day, but then that never bothered Cecilia.

In the end, I suppose that petticoating me gave my wife exactly what she wanted. She got to have the perfect 1950s housewife that very few men - never mind women - ever got. But for me, looking back at the nearly thirty years we were together, I realize that the last twenty five were, for me, filled with humiliation and terrible frustration. And though my daughter would never admit it, I believe she also suffered from the lack of a father she could respect.

Shortly after my 50th birthday Cecilia was ready to retire at a very young, healthy 62, and I had hopes that she and I might travel the world as a normal couple, while my petticoats and dresses collected dust at home. That evening I served her dinner wearing a very lacy, frilly dress I knew she particularly liked. I flounced and I minced and I patted my hair. I even curtsied (something that I normally was loathe to do), then smoothed my petticoats and sat next to her. I’d been hinting about my travel idea for weeks, and meant to broach the subject again.

However, Celia said that she had become much too used to me in petticoats and aprons to consider such a thing, and in the end we didn’t go. I am still her devoted and submissive housewife, and I must say that after so long I would find it difficult to live in any other fashion.
Kat

Patti59 · « **Reply #2 on:** January 18, 2022, 03:14:19 pm »

This letter is from the December 2005 Edition of PDQ. It is so Satisfying reading these accounts of the Pioneering Strong Women of what we now call The New Age Lifestyle. These accounts should give other Women the Confidence that they may need in Feminizing the males in their lives!

GIRDLE AND PETTICOAT DISCIPLINE

Dear Miss MacDonald,

My wife, Judy and I live in Maryland and love your site. We read all the back issues over and over again, and look forward to each new month's letters followed by your comments, which we wholeheartedly commend. Thank you for all the hard work that you put in to maintain this free site and for the cause of advancing the domestic supremacy of females by petticoating and girdling disobedient males.

We have been married for three years and we both worked. Judy made much more income than I, and had an executive level job, and became quickly dissatisfied when I lost my job in computer networking when my company started outsourcing.

I stayed at home and it was agreed that I would do the cooking, washing, ironing and cleaning and household chores. It very quickly became clear that I needed discipline in my approach to housekeeping. I was going out drinking in the afternoons and spending most of the day playing computer games, to which I almost became addicted. Judy would chide me and make me promise not go out drinking in the afternoons and spending all my waking hours in internet role-playing games. I tried to keep my promises, but was too weak.

Judy has discovered your web site, and had taken its methods to heart. She told me that our first task was to rid me of all the hair on my body, and paint my fingernails and toenails in bright red

Judy said, "Michael, I need some things and you will go with me on a shopping trip on Saturday to visit my friend Sharon, who works at a lingerie shop at the mall.”

I whined that I could not go out with red fingernail polish, but she reminded me that she was in complete control and that it was for the best. She had already gotten her friend, Sharon, who worked there to become an accomplice. I was totally ignorant of the purpose of our trip, and Judy did not tell me what her intentions were.

Judy brought with her a large satchel. When Judy and I got to the lingerie shop at the mall I felt uncomfortable and even afraid to be inside with all the prominently displayed ladies’ undies. Judy took me over to Sharon and announced to her that she had a list of items that I would be required to be fitted for, because she had decided on a change of attire for me. I was shocked.

She said that I would need bras, Merry Maid’s all-in-ones with garters, girdles, slips, panties, camisoles, panty hose, stockings, full length gloves, garter belts and corsets. I was pushed into the fitting room, and told to try on the lingerie and then come out and model them for Judy and Sharon. I was so overwhelmed, I blushed furiously, and whimpered that I couldn't possibly wear women’s lingerie. Judy reminded me that I was to obey her wishes.

Still blushing, I took my pile of unmentionables into the dressing room and tried on the pantyhose, the long gloves, the panties, the all-in-one girdle and the white stockings snapped to the garter clips. I came out into the store trying to hide behind my arms. When I stumbled out of the dressing room, Sharon and Judy started laughing at my distress, and Sharon and her young assistant gave a cheer and a clap.

Everyone was telling me what a cute girl I was, and how lingerie brought out my pretty figure. I was mortified, but Judy brought out of the satchel a frothy petticoat and bloomers, which she had bought on online, and put them on me in front of everyone. She pulled out a pink frock and slid it over my head, but it was so short it showed masses of white frills and ruffles.

Next she pulled out a pair of black patent leather shoes, and a pink bonnet, which she deftly put on me. I was so stunned, I couldn't talk. Judy asked me, Michele: "How do you like your new look?" Do you like it?”

All I could choke out was, "Yes, dear."

"Good," she said, "because you will be wearing it from now on at home till you have learned how to act like a proper little lady.”

Judy paid for the items she gathered up and said, "Michele, you can take everything off now. Be careful not to run the stockings or you will wear your new outfit home.”

I could barely trip back into the dressing room with my new shoes, and petticoat swishing, and my dress bouncing with each step. I heard Sharon's young co-worker cooing: "What a pretty girl in her adorable new clothes."

All the time at home, I now wear my new clothes with the addition of red finger- and toenail polish and red lipstick to match. To tell the truth, I have become accustomed to everything but the red lipstick. I now do all the chores without complaint, additionally dressed in a full-length frilly pinafore which Judy bought for me online, and comply with all Judy's wishes promptly, meticulously, and without question, in appropriate attire.

Every week, Judy finds an excuse for an over-the-knee paddling. It is so bitter/sweet dressed like a little prissy girl and being spanked or sometimes caned for the slightest misstep. I have never again been tempted to go out drinking, or return to role-playing games on the internet.

Judy and I cannot understand why you have never advocated red lipstick and nail polish as a disciplinary method. Do you advocate nail polish and lipstick discipline as a way to control males? Still after all this time I am horrified when told by Judy to freshen my lipstick. I look in my compact mirror and am frightened by the reflection of myself with red lipstick. It feels like being magically transformed into a real female. We would like to hear your feeling about lipstick discipline as it is definitely the most threatening to me. When Judy has her girl friends over I feel most mortified by having to appear with red lipstick on my lips.

Some of her friends as well have adopted your dress discipline methods with husbands and sons.

After two years now of girdle and petticoat discipline, Judy has assigned me to write this account to you. I am sorry that it is so long. I am sure you will edit it to suit your site if you decide to include it. I fully appreciate what it is like to be a properly attired and humbled submissive husband to a dominant wife.

Thank you for your wonderful crusade of elevating the position of females around the world.

With great respect for your cause,

Michele & Judy

huberthowhow · « **Reply #3 on:** January 18, 2022, 03:17:21 pm »

Poor Kat.
I can only imagine Caroline's attitude towards her browbeaten father. Probably, she was so filled with admiration for her intelligent, domineering, and successful mother, that she eventually tended to regard Kat as a servant. The letter does not go into the father daughter relationship, but I doubt they were playing catch in the back yard.(His skirts would probably fly too much in the wind!)

Patti59 · « **Reply #4 on:** January 18, 2022, 03:23:11 pm »

Here is another Letter from the December 2005 Edition of PDQ. I really LOVE how Louise has made petticoating the males in the Family a Tradition, and how the Female members of the family have apparently Strongly Embraced it! Female Control and Power is the Future that we strive for!

PETTICOAT DISCIPLINE AS A FAMILY TRADITION

Dear Susan,

First, thank you for your wonderful site. I first learned of it about a week ago, and have spent most of my spare time reading all the letters posted to it. Please excuse the length of this letter and feel free to edit it, but I think you and your readers will be interested in my experience.

I had never heard of “petticoat discipline” until ten days ago. I should start by telling you that I am a 22 year old woman who has lived what I guess most would call a rather vanilla life. About eight months ago I started going out with Tracy. He is kind of shy and passive; in fact, it was I who asked him out for our first date.

I found him to be really sweet, always wanting to please me. It was a big change from other guys I have dated, who it seemed wanted only to take advantage of me. Anyway, we got fairly serious, talked about moving in together, and he invited me to spend the long Thanksgiving weekend (which was just last week here in the States) with his family, who live a two hour plane ride away.

We arrived on Wednesday evening, catching a flight after work. The door was opened by a cute young girl of about 13 or 14. She said hello to us, and to my shock, turned directly to me and curtsied. Before I could comment, Tracy’s mother came to greet us. She told the young girl to help Tracy with our suitcases, told Tracy to get changed, and invited me to sit with her and have a drink. After making myself comfortable, I went to the den, and there met her daughter, Tracy’s sister Elena. We talked about innocuous things for awhile, just getting acquainted, since this was the first time I met them, before Tracy’s mom, Louise, as she asked me to call her, changed the subject.

She asked me if I was aware of the term “petticoat discipline”. To make a long story short, it turns out that she was the third generation of her family to practice it. All males in the family for those three generations were subjected to it. The cute girl who opened the door was, in fact, Tracy’s brother Leslie, who is 16. Frankly, I was shocked. The idea that Tracy should dress as a female was not exactly something I was looking forward to seeing at that time.

My first inclination was to leave and never see Tracy again. But I decided to stay and hear what they had to say. As they were explaining to me all the advantages of having males serve them and obey them, not having to put up with all the tiresome male machismo, I began to relax and in my own mind explore the possibilities. At that point, there was a knock on the door, and Leslie, Tracy’s brother came in carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres for us. This time I took the opportunity to look closely at the boy. He was dressed in a black A-line skirt, black tights, a long sleeved pink fluffy sweater, and black skimmers. He wore tiny earrings, and had on light makeup, as befitting a young girl of about 14. He obviously was wearing a slightly padded bra, as there was just the hint of breasts showing. He was very cute.

That started me thinking about Tracy would look dressed in a similar outfit, though perhaps one for a more mature girl, and to be honest, I felt quite excited at the thought. It was at that point that I decide to stay for the weekend and learn more about this practice of petticoat discipline.

We soon afterward adjourned for dinner. There were seven of us at the table, not a one wearing pants. Four males: Tracy, his father, George, his brother, and Elena’s fiance, Phillip, and we three women. Phillip seemed to be the most ill at ease in skirts. He had been petticoated for the first time only two months earlier, and was still having a hard time adjusting to his feminization. While I won’t say that any of the other males were exactly comfortable, they were more accepting. I guess it is difficult for them when outsiders such as myself see them for the first time. Only Tracy and Leslie could have passed as girls. George was obviously a male in a dress and Phillip was too awkward, though with practice, he too might be able to fool some people.

As for the family history, petticoating was started by Louise’s grandmother, in Scotland in the 1930’s. Apparently Louise’s uncles were subjected to wearing girl’s knickers and petticoats under their kilts as punishment, and sometimes were put into their sisters’ dresses. Louise’s mother, who I would meet the next day for Thanksgiving dinner, made it a practice to dress her sons as girls on a regular basis, and not just for punishment. She felt it made them softer and more manageable.

She also was the first to petticoat her husband. As Louise tells it, her father was first put into skirts on their wedding night and wore them, when so ordered, for the rest of his life. Louise carried out the tradition. I should point out that none of the males was abused in any way. They were not subjected to public humiliation. They were merely dressed as girls and treated as such. Those that could not pass as girls, like George, were not taken out in public. Both Tracy and Leslie have been out in public, and have been accepted as girls.

The weekend turned out to be most enjoyable. It was quite pleasurable to be waited on by these petticoated males. I found that it was very exciting for me to treat my Tracy as a submissive girl in bed, and have him dressed in frilly lingerie.

To conclude, I am keeping Tracy in skirts this weekend, and will have him serve me as my maid. I am even considering getting him one of those sexy French maid uniforms, with lots of short frilly petticoats and lacy panties showing. If you like, I will write and tell you about any adventures we may have in the future.
Regards,

Samantha.

Patti59 · « **Reply #5 on:** January 18, 2022, 03:33:18 pm »

From the January 2006 Issue of PDQ. Another Example of how a Woman took Control of her husband and son! Another Great Example of Female POWER!

A TIGHTLY CORSETTED FAMILY

Dear Susan,

I have contacted you a few times re my husband’s and son’s discipline. I believe that all males should be tightly laced. My husband has to wear a panty girdle and waist corset at all times, including to the office. My 13 years old son has been wearing a panty girdle since the age of 8. He has been put in to a corset since the age of 11.

I had his corsetry made by a lady in Brighton, Sussex. I am also a firm believer in giving them corner time for any misbehaviour. For this its girls’ vests and schoolgirl knickers, with white knee socks and Mary Jane shoes. Thirty minutes facing the wall with hands on heads is very effective.

I also, on some evenings and weekends, have them in party frocks or sailor dresses. I do insist on rompers at bedtime, which is 7.30pm for my son 8.30 for my husband. When they are in dresses I have them in rhumba panties over their panty girdles, and also in layers and layers of petticoats. I wonder if any readers can assist me with further ideas regarding disciplining them? We live inTruro, Cornwall, in England.

I like the new petticoated.com format, and please keep up the good work.

Suzanne

guest2 · « **Reply #6 on:** January 19, 2022, 01:12:08 pm »

Thanks for all of these reposts, Patti! I think there was only one that I clearly remembered. And with the demise of PDQ, it's great revisiting these letters.

guest10 · « **Reply #7 on:** January 20, 2022, 01:29:38 pm »

Such astounding stories of Modern Women imposing Their awareness of superiority over the malette. Yet so much more realization shall have the coming future generations of Womankind.

Especially impactful:

PETTICOAT DISCIPLINE AS A FAMILY TRADITION -- interesting that Samantha, a so former typical young woman never aware of Female First marriage situations so NATURALLY and immediately finds it fitful for Her as proper lifestyle.

GIRDLE AND PETTICOAT DISCIPLINE -- BRILLIANT account of how Michael (an out of work husband lazing around drinking and playing games) is confronted by his Wife Judy to the point She takes full charge informing he shall now increasingly live in sissified thrall to Her with the help of Judy, a Woman friend who runs a lingerie shop. Swiftly Michael is fully re-trained to proper malette role before many other Females, many of whom have also adopted reversing roles as heads of family over ladylike inferior males!

A PERFECT 1950s HOUSEWIFE -- But this is the account of Kat... a male who a brilliant and successful Female Doctor introduces him to a total role reversed marge in which Kat is totally feminized and controlled to the outside world even with his daughter seeing the feminized humiliation that is Her father's existence.

PETTICOATED AT HIGH SCHOOL --- Amusing account of a male student made to wear a kilt throughout High School, which so intrigued young Females there to the point of forcing him into various activities of sissy humiliation under Their command even to the point of including FULL BRA, PETTICOAT and PANTIES!

Patti59 · « **Reply #8 on:** January 20, 2022, 04:30:43 pm »

Here is yet another Great example of a Woman Taking Control of her hubbie! This is from the March 2006 Issue of PDQ:

ANOTHER DOMESTICATED HUBBIE

Dear Susan,

Thank you for maintaining such a useful source of information on sissies and petticoating.

I was introduced to the delights of being able to hand over the domestic chores when my husband, who I now call Julia, admitted to wearing feminine clothing during the early days of our relationship.

It would appear that as a young boy he was something of a sensitive child, and was regularly humiliated by his mother and sister, who at times took delight in ridiculing his sissy behaviour by calling him ‘Phyllis’ and threatening to buy him a dress. Eventually they carried out the threats and, following an embarrassing shopping trip, put him into pretty dresses, frilly underwear, stockings and girly shoes whenever he was caught crying or acting in an effeminate way.

Following such punishments, at bedtime he was put into a white feminine baby doll nightdress that his mother once owned, and pair of lacy panties. To the other children he was known as a bit of a sissy and was regularly subject to chants of ‘Frilly Knickers’ from the other children in the neighbourhood. His mother’s original aim was to try and toughen him up for a hard world, but it soon became apparent to all that he would never be one of the boys and he preferred to spend his time in the company of girls whenever he got the chance. It’s interesting that he still remains in contact with a number of girls from his childhood, but no boys.

However, he was attractive as a young boy and remains attractive to girls as a man. He is also very much attracted to females, and has had a string of relationships with some beautiful women over the years and many remain in contact. It must also be said that although he is not too well endowed, he is an extremely good, sensitive, and thoughtful lover. Women enjoy his company as they can talk about pretty much anything with him; he is a great listener, has wonderful taste in clothes and jewellery, and is a good shopping companion if you want an honest opinion.

My experiences into petticoating started when in the lead up to Christmas fifteen years ago, when asked what he wanted, in a half-jokey manner he said; “a couple of pairs of French knickers would be nice”.

Later that afternoon, I went out and purchased seven pairs of Charnos French knickers in a variety of colours, a few pairs of tights, and a high-waisted panty corselette from Fantasie. On my return I asked him to remove his clothes and take a bath. Afterwards I can remember slapping the back of his legs to get him to lift them up as he was helped to step into a pretty pair of pink nylon full French knickers, with a pretty lace trim to the legs. It’s disappointing that you don’t seem to be able to get them any more!

At this point he was told that all his own underwear had been destroyed and that from now on he would be wearing ladies’ underwear at all times. I had anticipated that he would be pleading for his own underwear after a couple of days and in this I was not disappointed. Each morning he would ask me for his own boxer shorts back, and instead I would select a suitable pair of panties to put him in. At weekends he was made to wear the tights and the panty corselette underneath his knickers, often without socks. After three weeks he would put them on every morning without any fuss. From time to time I would embarrass him by saying; “There’s a good girl, aren’t those nice and pretty?” or “Oh it’s the cream ones today, isn’t it Miss Sissy Knickers”.

It didn’t take long before he wanted to dress fully as a woman, and he was sent out to purchase an outfit complete with foundation wear, tights, ladies’ shoes, a wig and makeup. He was also sent out to order a pair of suitably feminine glasses from our local optician. They took a little over a week to arrive, when he then had to return for the humiliating experience and embarrassment of being fitted by the female assistant.

The following weekend I asked him to dress-up for me. I felt a little distressed seeing him there for the first time in a complete outfit of ladies’ clothes, but I put this down to the flowered print skirt from Laura Ashley and the Marks & Spencer pink blouse with a bow at the neck (something I would never wear). I decided that ‘Julia’ suited the look, and that this was now was the most appropriate name to call him. At that point I realized that I needed a brandy to recover from the shock of my husband’s out of character taste for flowery prints, and as the house needed a clean, Julia was set to work with a list of chores while I put my feet up.

I have now told a number of my friends about my husband's little secret, and I am surprised at the mixed reactions from “Oh you poor thing”, to a non-judgmental questions and answers session.

One of my friends, a make-up artist in her spare time, actually bought him some make-up brushes the following Christmas and offered to help him with his make-up. After the initial embarrassment Pauline came over and following a long session of eyelash curling, eyebrow shaping and the application of foundation, mascara, eye shadow, lipstick and blusher he was ready to step into a new navy polka dot dress we had just bought for him from Marks &Spencer.

He actually looked quite attractive and quite passable, so decided to take him out for a drink and a meal in a restaurant a few miles away. My sister, who is highly amused by the situation and teases him relentlessly about his predicament, bought him a year’s subscription of Woman's World and a handbag with a spare pair of panties inside - you should have seen his face opening this on Christmas day.

I now send him out as fully dressed as Julia to Sainsbury’s to do the weekly shopping, Boots for his cosmetics, Marks &Spencer, Laura Ashley and Elvi for his clothes. Sometimes I accompany him and I find it amazing as to just how nice people are to him with things like the girl on the cosmetics counter giving him some concealer to put in his handbag.

As the neighbours are also fully aware of his little secret, we also don’t have to creep around anymore. He is invited out on our once a month ladies’ night out and is spoilt rotten by the other girls, who also tease him a little by asking what colour his knickers are, and make his tights are, or where his skirt or shoes came from. He will also make the tea if they pop round, and then makes himself scarce, and on one occasion I made him stand in the corner with his hands on his head much to their amusement. If he is in the kitchen ironing, they will often pop their head round the door as they are leaving to say “Bye Julia and thanks for the tea”, and will make some joke about “Would you like to come round to my place next to do my ironing?”.

The best fun I have is that when he is working away from home, I pack his suits, shirts, tie etc. just enough for his meetings and then proceed to send him off with no make-up or wig, wearing a pair of ladies’ trousers over some Falke contour panties (a great discovery), a panty corselette in a 38 C with silicon breasts, tights showing at the ankle, a plain blouse, a cardigan and ladies’ shoes. He then has to book into the hotel he will be staying at where it is obvious to all who take the time to observe him that he is a man in woman’s clothing.

He is told that he must take the evening meal in the hotel restaurant dressed in this way rather than go out. I understand that the female staff is generally friendly towards him and they will share a few laughs and giggles about his predicament and some will even ask if the breasts are real. If he is away for more than one night he is also told to lay out his pretty and feminine Miss Elaine nightdress on the bed in the evening, and must hang it up on the back of the door in the morning for the chambermaids to find.
All the best,

Louise Cooper

Patti59 · « **Reply #9 on:** January 20, 2022, 04:48:48 pm »

Here is a Story from the May 2006 Issue of PDQ of how a Female Executive has Taken Full Control of her marriage! This is just so AWESOME to see!

HOUSEMAID HUBBIE
Dear Miss MacDonald,

As an independent, strong-minded lady I have greatly enjoyed reading your wonderful website over the last year, and must congratulate you on your most excellent contribution to the subject of petticoat discipline. You have been the enlightened arbiter of the world of cyberspace for an extremely important dimension of the dominance of the female over the male.

I have been meaning to write about my own experiences for several months, but what finally acted as the catalyst for the application of well-manicured fingers to an under-used keyboard was the letter entitled A VERY SUBMISSIVE SISSY that appeared on 16th April 2006. In particular my eyebrow was involuntarily raised by the letter from the Sunday newspaper about the wife who humiliated her impotent husband by bring home her lover at the weekends.

I completely agree with the answer given by the newspaper, and your own sentiments on the need for faithfulness within marriage. In my view infidelity under any circumstances is totally unacceptable. However, sometimes an impotent husband may prove a positive benefit to a marriage.

I am 30y and my husband ten years older and we have been married for six years. In the first four years of our union my spouse was inconsiderate, and selfish. This was especially exemplified in our love-making which I found extremely unsatisfactory due to his aggressive and insensitive approach. Whenever possible I would avoid the trauma of his sexual endeavors with such hackneyed excuses as a headache, migraine, or it being the wrong time of the month.

Two years ago my husband was diagnosed with a cancer which resulted in the surgical removal of both his testes. For this to happen to a healthy 38 year old man was devastating for both of us. The operation left my husband completely incapable of sexual intercourse. The one residue of hope has been that the cancer has (so far) not spread further.

Yet on such tragedies can the gods bestow kindness. The unexpected departure of testosterone from my husband’s body has produced a new and much-improved man. Gone are the numerous flaws of a rampant male ego, to be, happily, replaced by a considerate, caring, docile man who is eager to please and to obey. Our sex life has, of course, ended and he now sleeps in a spare room whilst I remain in the marital bed chamber.

Shortly after his surgery I found for the first time in our relationship he was willing to perform housework and other domestic duties which I started to impose. To emphasize his new role I purchased several particularly feminine-style pinafores, which I insisted he wore at all times about the house including in front of visitors. When I was promoted to chief executive of the wholesale fashion house for which I work, I decided he should give up his much lower paid job and become my full time housekeeper. He accepted his new position without argument or rancour, and even admitted that he enjoyed housework and took a pride in keeping our large home spotless.

Noticing that he seemed to enjoy wearing his pretty pinnies I decided to immerse him completely in his domestic servitude by having him dress as a housemaid. I had a lady dressmaker design and produce several suitable outfits, including gingham house dresses with white lace aprons for cleaning, and the more formal maid’s black dress with white lace collar and cuffs and pinafore for serving at table. He was extremely reluctant to wear these clothes, feeling he was being completely deprived of what little remained of his already impaired masculinity. However, such was my authority over him by this time that he meekly and tearfully submitted to being dressed in his new uniforms by the dressmaker. The next day he became Muriel - my maid.

He now spends all his time in the house dressed in his housemaid uniforms and has become respectful and obedient. He curtseys and bows to myself and my guests and has fully accepted his new life as a humble servant to a successful woman. I allow him to wear men’s clothes in public but I have occasionally taken him out dressed as a woman which he always finds terribly nerve-wracking. He is quite small for a man and can pass dressed as a woman in most circumstances. Certainly, some of my visitors - both male and female - have not at first realised that Muriel was not all that she seemed.

Despite the fact that he is now my maid he is still my husband and, unlike the lady in the newspaper letter, I would never dream of becoming sexually involved with another man. Of course, I have men friends who sometimes take me out to dinner or the theatre, but it never progresses further. I have a very maternal attitude to Muriel, and I would describe our relationship as more akin to a mother and her devoted daughter that simply a lady and her live-in maid. Muriel has admitted that her enforced castration has made her more relaxed and contented with life and that she now enjoys being my loyal dedicated housemaid.

I am certainly not advocating that husbands should be castrated, but my experience clearly demonstrates the benefits of removing the demon testosterone from what was once an unhappy marriage. I realize that the other ladies writing to this website have succeeded in feminizing and dominating their husband or sons without recourse to such drastic action. This is no doubt testament to their natural strength and superiority over the male but, perhaps, their successes have also been aided by a latent desire in their loved one to surrender to a happier life as Mummy’s little girl or lady’s maid. I strongly suspect that had my husband not been so unfortunate as to lose his manhood our disagreeable relationship would have ended in an acrimonious divorce.
Sincerely yours,

Chacasta Chalmers
Herefordshire
England

Patti59 · « **Reply #10 on:** January 20, 2022, 05:24:07 pm »

This one is from the June 2006 edition of PDQ. This is EXACTLY what The New Age Lifestyle would be all about! Would LOVE to hear others thoughts on this Letter!

A PRETTY BRIDESMAID

Dear Miss MacDonald,

I am a single male in my late 30s who unfortunately does not have a strict wife or mummy to impose much-needed discipline, and subject me to regular petticoat punishment. I dress as a little girl and a baby girl in the privacy of my own home, and would love to share this with an understanding lady who would treat me like a small child. I have also occasionally been out dressed as a adult woman.

A few months ago I stayed with a dear cross-dressing friend, Helen, in California where we were invited to a wedding of another cross-dresser, Susan, to a very dominant lady. Susan was the “bride” and wore the most gorgeous full length white wedding dress with a lace veil. She looked stunning. Her “groom” on the other hand was dressed in a man’s dark suit with shirt and tie and sporting a short male haircut. What made them look even more convincing was that Susan had a small build and could not have been more than five feet four inches tall whereas her husband-to-be must have been close to six feet (helped possibly by built-up heeled shoes) and was broad shouldered.

The two pretty (cross-dressing) bridesmaids wore beautiful knee length pink dresses with matching pink Mary Jane shoes and white stockings. There were about twenty guests most of whom, like Helen and myself, were en femme, plus a few real girls. The ring-bearer was the most angelic looking boy in his late teens called Timmy, who was dressed in a traditional little boy’s navy blue velvet short trouser suit with a wide white lace collar and cuffs, lace-trimmed white ankle socks, and black patent leather Mary Janes. He was evidently the groom’s younger brother and was frequently dressed like this as a punishment by his sister at home.

Susan demurely promised to “love, serve, honour, and obey” her husband, who then took her into his/her strong arms for a tender kiss. We girls just sighed and wished we could have been the bride. Afterwards at the reception she told us she would be the traditional housewife, and would stay at home to do the housework and fuss over her new spouse. It seems that the groom was a female weightlifter, and very muscular and they had met through the local gym a couple of years earlier. I also spoke to Timmy who, despite his 19 years, had a delightful childish lisp and mannerisms and was now lovingly cuddling a little girl’s doll. Although he was shy and embarrassed by his sissy appearance he obviously admired and respected his sister greatly.

It was all wonderfully romantic. How lucky for Susan that she can now spend the rest of her life loving and serving a strong assertive lady. How many of us reading petticoated.com would adore being in her place.

Love and kisses,

Caroline

Patti59 · « **Reply #11 on:** January 20, 2022, 05:29:41 pm »

Another Letter from June 2006 and how Women are able to keep their husbands and sons in their proper Feminine Place!

STILL USING PETTICOAT MANAGEMENT ON MY HUBBIE AND SON

Dear Aunt Susan,

I have written several letters about my husband John and son Richard, regarding how I keep them in petticoats and corsets etc.

Well it has been very hot for the last couple of weeks in Cornwall. So, as my husband has been on holiday, I decided to keep him in just a cropped stretch top with matching briefs and a mini sarong. He also has to wear lace ankle socks and Mary Jane shoes.

My 13 years old son has been dressed in very short flared satin and laced tops similar to the boy in your August 2005 issue (the boy having his hair curled by a bevy of girls). He has been dressed in matching knickers and ankle socks with M.J. shoes.

I have not had them in the usual corsets or pantie girdles, owing to the heat. My son has to be dressed like this as soon as he arrives home from school. When it is bed time, I still insist on them wearing pretty rompers. I also insist on daily bubble baths for both of them, which I still supervise. I also insist they are both kept depilated, which means having a complete waxing at the salon every 3 to 4 weeks.

My mother and sister think I'm doing the right thing with the way I'm dealing with my family. Sarah-Jane, my sister, keeps her ten years old son in petticoats the way I do. She is a single mum. She is a firm believer in girly dress discipline. We both wonder, if any one could tell us, where we could obtain training bras for our sons. I have some fancy lace and satin ones for Richard, but would like some cotton, or cotton and lace, ones for the summer. My sister has only been introduced to your web site recently, and she thinks it is wonderful. Well, I must say goodbye for now.
All the best,

Susanne

Patti59 · « **Reply #12 on:** January 21, 2022, 09:54:31 pm »

From the July 2006 Edition of PDQ. This is a really Fantastic Letter, showing how a Determined Woman has Feminized her husband and son, and then exposed them to other Women! This is how The New Age Lifestyle will continue to grow!

PETTICOATING IN HOLLAND
Dear Susan,

For two or three years I have been a reader of your website PDQ, and I love it: it’s a very lovely website, and I have learn a lot about petticoat discipline from it. I will tell you my story.

I am a Dutch woman and my name is Ellen. I am 44 years old, and have been married for twenty years to my hubby John (46 years old), and we have a son Steven of 16 years.

When we married twenty years ago, I was still studying at the University of Eindhoven, in the Netherlands. I was studying law, and was in my last year. At that time hubby John was already working in the library as a clerk in our village, Terneuzen. The total staffing in the library was five people: four women and John.

After one year of marriage I finished my study at the university, and started as a judge’s assistant in our local court. After two years I was promoted.

Some months later one of my female colleagues was informing me about my hubby - she had seen John several times with another lady (one of his colleagues, Ann, she was also married), walking and kissing in the park. It wasn’t good news, but I was very happy she told me.

I had at that time a very busy job, and at home I had to do all the household chores because my hubby didn’t help in the household, because in the evenings he was always doing other things, such as going to training for football, and on the weekends playing football.

Driving to home I made already the decision that there would be a complete change for my hubby, and I would offer him the choice: “obey, or a divorce”.

That evening (Wednesday evening) after I was finished with the housework, I was asking my hubby if it was true what my colleague was saying about him. At first he ignored me, but after thirty minutes he confessed, and was saying “sorry” it will happens never again, but this was not enough for me. I told him, from today you will obey me or we will divorce. He was shocked about this ultimatum, but he said, “Ok, I will do everything that you want.

So the first was telling him he had to stop playing football, and that from next week he would be helping with the household chores, and that he had to go with me shopping next Saturday. He hadn’t been shopping with me before.

The next Saturday we went together to the shopping centre, and the first shop we visited was a lingerie shop. I went to the desk and asked the shop lady whether it was possible she showed us some corselets with suspenders, open bottom girdles with four or six suspenders, and long-line bras.

At that moment my hubby looked at me and says “Ellen I think you are too young for this kind of lingerie, and I don’t like the idea that you will be wearing this.”

My answer shocked him totally, but the shop-lady was already smiling because I had her informed on Friday afternoon.

“John you are right, it is not for me but for you, and it is not the first time you have worn a bra, is it?”

Six months ago, when I arrived at eight in the evening, earlier than planned, I found my hubby in our bed wearing a bra, panties, panty-hose and a nightie. He went red and wanted to take them off, but I said, “Keep them on for tonight.” The next morning he had to go to his work with panties and panty-hose under his normal clothes.

The shop-lady handed over my hubby the long-line bra and the girdle, and said to go to the changing room and put them on so we can see if it is the right size. Totally embarrassed, he went to the changing room, and about 15 minutes later we checked to see if they were the right size.

He was blushing when we checked him, and they were the right size for him. Now I handed over the corselet to him while the shop-lady got him nylon stockings and panties. I ordered him put on his corselet with his stockings and panties and you can wear them under your normal clothes. Before we left the shop I bought for him still more: two pairs of pink lace panties, four pairs of black stockings, a petticoat, a pink nightie, and of course his girdle and long-line bra. When we were leaving the shop my hubby was carrying a very big bag with his lingerie in it.

In the next shop for lady’s wear I bought him two black skirts, two white skirts, and two frilly blouses buttoned on the back, two housemaid dresses, and four very frilly pinnies.

As soon as we arrived home Saturday afternoon, I ordered my hubby: “Go upstairs, take off his normal clothes, keep on your corselet / stockings and put on your petticoat, maiden-dress and pinnie.”

About 30 minutes later he came downstairs in his new outfit, the next order for him was to telephone my mother Mary (she lives two miles from our home, and was divorced when I was two years old; she is a very strong and independent woman) and invite her for the dinner this evening so she can see you in your new role.

My mum was of course totally surprised to see her son-in-law in the frilly maiden dress, and when I told her what he was wearing underneath; a corselet with stockings, was she delighted, and after she had heard the reason for his punishment, she said that this is the right decision you have taken.

From the next Monday morning when he goes to his work he wears under his normal suit, a tight girdle with stockings, a pair of panties, and his long-line bra, and that is now his usual underwear (he only wears a bra in the winter when he is wearing a thick shirt).

About seven months after I started petticoat discipline for my hubby, our son Steven was born. I stayed at home for the first three months after the birth, before I started work again. From then my mum took over the care for our son, and my hubby started to work part-time (four days a week instead of five days). So every Wednesday he was he at home helping my mum in the household, of course in his maiden-dress and with the right lacy women’s underwear.

For two years my hubby has worked only three days week, so he has more time to do the household chores. All our lady friends have seen him in his lady’s clothes and lingerie, during visits to our house. Next year we will move to another (much bigger) house, and then my hubby will stay at home, so then he will be full-time housemaid and wife.

My son was kept, by mum on my request, in girls’ clothes such as dresses, skirts, tights until he was six years old, and then I bought his first trousers for going to school. However, I kept my son in nappies and plastic pants until the high school (nearly 13 years). At primary school he wore girlish underwear, thick tights, and nappies with plastic pants under his boy clothes.

For his ninth birthday my mother bought my son his first panty-girdle, panty-hose and pinnie, so he could from now on help with the housework. The panty-hose was for going to school in the summer, instead of thick tights.

In his holidays, before he started high-school, Mum and I bought for him an open bottom girdle, stockings, and a padded bra, and I had good news for him: no longer had to wear nappies and plastic panties.

About two years ago I found your petticoat discipline web-site, and the special number on corsets was very interesting, so at that moment I got the idea to put my son in a corset. The problem was I don’t have experience with corsets, I was explaining this problem to my mum, who is 65 years old, and has had about 50 years experiences with corsets: she was 12 years old when she was fitted in a corset by her mother.

My mum said it was a great idea to put Steven (Stephanie) in a corset, and she proposed that next Saturday I will go shopping with him to the corset shop that makes them for her, which is in Hulst, about fifteen miles from our village, Terneuzen.

The next Saturday morning my mum and son, fully dressed as girl and going out for the first time shopping as a girl, went to the corset shop. My son didn’t know why he was taken out by his grandma. About five hours later they arrived back from shopping, and I was surprised when my mother and son took off their coats - my mother and my son were in a same woman’s suits and my mum was telling me he was also wearing underneath the same corset as her, with support stockings, a long-line bra and a full-petticoat. After the corset shop my mum had taken him to a shop for lady’s wear, and bought for her and my son a full outfit.

So, my son had left that morning dressed as a girl, and now he was dressed as an adult woman. The next week he had his birthday (15 years), and I had invited my friend and neighbor Nicole, a single mother and her daughter Sue (also 15 years, she is one month older), both of whom know that my hubby and son are kept in dresses and skirts, and that they have to do all the household chores.

During this party I was telling my friend Nicole and her daughter Sue that he was now wearing a corset with support stockings and a long-line bra, and that is very different from Sue - in spite of her also being 15 years old, she doesn’t wear a bra, because she is very slim for her age. She nearly always wears jeans, as does her mother.

For six months (as a surprise for his 16th birthday) my son has been working on Wednesday afternoon and Saturday as a paid housemaid in the household of my friend Nicole and her daughter, Sue, and when I sometimes visit my friend Nicole on a Saturday, it’s very satisfying to see that my son is full dressed as a pretty housemaid, and my friend Nicole and her daughter Sue are in jeans. I intend that he will be working as a housemaid for the next two years (until August 2008), and then he will probably be leaving our village to study at the University of Amsterdam.
Regards and a big hug,

Mrs Ellen Koster-Bos
Terneuzen, the Netherlands

RadicalFeminist · « **Reply #13 on:** January 22, 2022, 09:03:09 am »

What an awesome collection of letters from empowered women. Petticoating is such a powerful tool that is liberating for both the women and males. I can happily share that their are many new mothers who are adopting this practice. Especially after the last few years of covid and home schooling. The term petticoating is some what outdated as many mothers prefer to keep their sons as princess boys or raise them to be gender creative. Even thou the terms are different the goals are the same to eliminate unwanted toxic masculinity and raise sweet feminine boys.

Patti59 · « **Reply #14 on:** January 22, 2022, 10:18:51 am »

From the September 2006 Edition of PDQ, what a Mother and her sister did with the mother's 15 year old son, after a Statement that changed his life!

A ‘NATURAL’ FOR PETTICOATING

Dear Susan,

I have just found your fabulous magazine, and wanted to offer my own little contribution. My experiences date back to the 1960s. My mother and aunt, who was living with us back then, and I, where watching television one evening - I cant remember what the program was, but I remember that it was one of the variety programs of the time that were very popular. The artist performing on the TV was Danny La Rue, a famous female impersonator.

Being a little naïve - I was only 15y at the time - I could not believe that it was a man in a dress. My mother and aunt just laughed at me, and told me that there were lots of female impersonators in the entertainment industry. I still did not believe them, saying that a man could not look that pretty. That sentence changed my life: my mother and aunt both assured me that any man could look like a woman once he was in a dress and make-up, and they both dared me to let them dress me as a girl to prove their point.

At first I said no, but they kept on at me and eventually I gave in. My aunt, being eight years younger than my mother, said that I should wear her clothes as they were more fashionable, so it was to her room that we went. I thought that they would just put me in a dress and a bit of lipstick and that would be the end of it, but I was so wrong. We were no sooner in her room when mother and my aunt told me to completely strip off all of my clothes, and was handed a pair of blue see-through nylon knickers to put on. Mother said that as I put them on I should try and tuck my little thing in, so that it would not show, so I left the room to undress and came back in two minutes later wearing the knickers. Mother and aunty laughed, and handed me the matching blue bra. I had no idea how to put it on, so Mother helped me.

They then proceeded to dress me in the most feminine clothes imaginable: suspender belt, stockings, petticoat, and finally the dress. I had no idea of female fashions at that time; I just remember thinking at the time that it was a very pretty dress. Mother sat me down and gave me a white pair of court shoes with a two inch heel. I put them on and was told to walk round the room, and it was as though high heels were made for me - even Mother said that I took to heels like a duck to water.

That wasn’t the end of it, I was then sat down at my aunt’s vanity table, and she ‘did my face’, as she put it. Being the 60s my hair was longish, so my aunt brushed and combed my hair into a feminine style using large amounts of hair spray. Mother in the meantime had gone to get her camera, and took a whole roll of film of me as her ‘new daughter’.

It was then that I looked into the mirror for the first time and could not believe my eyes. I now truly believed that a man could look like a woman, and in my case a pretty one. I don’t know how long I stood looking into the mirror, but I became aware of my mother and aunt looking at me with smiles on their faces. It was Mother who was first to speak. She asked what I thought of my new look. I could hardly answer, and I don’t even recall what words came out of my mouth.

I do remember my aunt saying to my mother that we will have to lock up our wardrobes. Mother laughed and said that she had better buy me some dresses of my own. I tried to protest, but Mother just smiled. I stayed dressed for the rest of the evening, and it seemed so natural being dressed like that. When it was time for bed Mother gave me one of her prettiest night dresses to wear. It was the end of the most wonderful evening I had ever spent.

The next day I was dressed again, and spent the whole day as a girl. It wasn’t long before I had my own clothes and make-up, and was dressing as often as possible. I left school later that year, and, as a special treat for passing my exams, Mother took all three of us on holiday to Butlins for two weeks, but the real treat was that I went as her daughter.

I know that your magazine is about mothers petticoating their sons as a punishment, but for me it was a ‘petticoated awakening’. Mother unfortunately is no longer with us, but I still live with my aunt, and have been her niece for the best part of forty wonderful years.
Love,

Annette

New Age Lifestyle

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