Petticoat Punishment Quarterly #5

She told me to get dressed in all the clothes laid out on my bed and not to forget any of them, as she would check up on me within fifteen minutes and then she was taking me out. I about died when I went into the room and saw she had a put out a complete girls' outfit for me. At that time, I hadn't been subjected to petticoat punishment for nearly six months because I had been very careful to be good. But now I stood before my bed and stared at the pink nylon panties, white anklets, a white satin and chiffon party dress, and girls' shoes. I was horrified but knew mom would dress me by force and make my punishment even worse if I didn't put all those sissy clothes on with haste.

Minutes later, mom came in to check on me and found me all dressed up and crying on the bed. She said, "What's wrong with my little girl, are you OK? You and mommy are going out, so come on, let's go to the car."

I was so scared I cringed and hurried out to the car before any neighbors saw me. Once in the car, she said we were going to Dying to Change, a beauty shop run by a friend, and I was going to have my hair done up proper. Like many boys at that time, I had long hair, and I liked it -- but as a boy. Yet, now, I was about to have it styled like a girl! We got to the shop and mom forced me to go in. Her friend greeted us as we entered. Mom said, "Here's my little girl. Give her a nice curly perm, like you used to give my kid sister."

Being a boy I didn't exactly know what a 'perm' was, but I cried because I knew perm meant a permanent style put into your hair. Actually, they were just scaring me, and instead of a real perm, Amanda, the lady, just slathered smelly setting lotion on my hair put it in rollers. I was petrified as she sat me under a dryer to set the curls. Once it was dry, she styled my long hair into a mass of fluffy curls that stuck out like Shirley Temple. That was bad enough, but then she really dealt a blow to my masculinity as she decorated my hair with tiny bows. Mom paid her and then forced me back to car. I ran the whole way not looking to see if anyone noticed me.

Mom drove us to Mason's Department Store. I cowered behind her as I tried to hide. She ran into a woman she knew. I didn't know the woman and she didn't know me, and I was stunned when mom told her I was her daughter, and I was crying because I was extremely shy. I felt stupid because I was all dressed up like I was on my way to a party with the fancy white dress and my big new hair style. The woman wanted to know what the occasion was since I was dressed to the nines. Mom told her it was no special occasion, and I just loved to dress up in party clothes everyday. The woman laughed and said condescendingly, "Oh, how nice." The cashier told my mother I was a lovely little girl so nicely dressed compared to the sloppy clothes most girls liked to wear. Mom said I had just gotten my hair done and was a little shy and upset and avoiding people.

When we got home, many of the older neighborhood kids were hanging out in the yard next to our house. I refused to get out of car, but she made me and told me I had better get used to other people seeing me looking like a girl because I was going to be wearing girls' clothes for quite some time -- maybe forever if I did not comply. The kids stared at me as I ran into the house; it was terrible. My two sisters were home from school, and they ridiculed me, told me I was a pretty girl and proud to have me as their new little sister again.

Soon after, dad came home from a metals wholesalers' convention he had been attending downtown, took one look at me in disgust and asked mom "How long is this going to go on. I thought he outgrew this sissy stuff." I cried when mom said, "Maybe forever." Dad grumbled he had to go somewhere and practically ran out of the house not even bothering to stay for the dinner my sisters had all ready. Mom took a number of pictures of me, and then as we ate, my sisters gave me a running commentary about how to act like a proper little girl with little tips on how to sit, stand, walk, handle myself at the table, etc.

It wasn't even eight o'clock when mom told me it was nearing my bedtime and directed me to wear the things laid out on my bed. The 'things' turned out to be a pink waltz-length nightie with a lacy, wide, petticoat-like bottom hem and a matching set of large panties with ribbon bows that scared me just looking at them. I sat pouting in my room until mom came in. In just the nightie and panties, mom said I could go out and watch TV with my sisters, but I stayed in my room and cried myself to sleep.

I had bad dreams that night with the petticoating and also because mom had told me she was taking me shopping again in the morning ... 

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