Letter 7
From Hamish
Dear Miss Susan,

I enjoy your interesting website, and I thought you might be interested to hear about a wedding my wife Margaret and I recently attended in Scotland. I am a petticoated husband kept firmly under my dear wife's thumb, so it especially interested us. Not all of the details were immediately apparent, but we were able to fill in the missing pieces by talking to the bride's parents, and other people who witnessed this bizarre incident.

I have to say right up front that I had every sympathy with the boy in question, having suffered similar sorts of situations myself when I was his age. I must also confess that I found myself feeling ever so slightly jealous of him, a point not lost on my wife. She has reminded me of this a few times since, and has threatened to inflict a similar fate upon me. I must also tell you that Margaret had taken all of my own underwear out of my weekend bag, and replaced it with frilly knickers. So I have to admit that I was wearing little girls' panties during this whole episode.

The situation was a wedding of the daughter of some friends of ours in Perthshire. We had known Fiona all her life, and were delighted to be invited to her wedding. It was to be a traditional Scottish wedding, and Fiona had chosen to have two flower girls and two pageboys.

When we arrived at the church we saw Fiona arrive with her entourage. The girls looked lovely in their little cream and red dresses. They were only eight or nine years old, and were clearly loving the attention. The two pageboys were wearing traditional kilts - or so it appeared initially. The younger one, who was closer to us as they came down the aisle, looked about the same age as the girls, and looked splendid in his kilt. The older boy, who turned out to be thirteen, looked much less happy. In fact he looked quite ill at ease with his kilt and stockings.

I couldn't help but watch him as he walked uncomfortably behind the bride with his three companions. He looked awkward and embarrassed. At first I thought it was because he was of the sort of age where he probably wanted nothing to do with holding the dress of a pretty girl getting married, let alone with three other children who were a little younger than himself. On closer inspection, however, I discovered the real reason for his discomfort. This wasn't immediately apparent during the service, but became all too evident at the reception, and from conversations afterwards.

The reason he was looking so uncomfortable was that he wasn't actually wearing a kilt at all. He was wearing a little tartan mini skirt belonging to Fiona. The stockings he was wearing were not traditional Highland dress, but a pair of Fiona's old white knee length schoolgirl socks. And underneath the mini skirt he was wearing a pair of the bride's silky panties. Looking now at the photos we took of the ceremony we can see that his skirt is too short to be a proper kilt, and his socks have too many patterns in them to be proper stockings, but at the time we couldn't really pin down why he looked odd.

It turned out that he had arrived at Fiona's house with his mother as planned, looking resplendent in his kilt and stockings. As they were a bit early, the boy was sent out to play in the garden, where he slipped and fell into the fishpond. Of course, his stockings and kilt were completely soaked, as were his underpants. His mother was furious with him, as there was no way they could get him a replacement kilt, and it looked like he was going to ruin Fiona's big day. There wasn't even time for them to go back to their hotel and change.

It was apparently Fiona who had suggested he could borrow her skirt. The boy was most unwilling, but I gather had already received a spanking from his mother as a punishment for falling into the pond. There was nothing else remotely like a kilt, and Fiona's father was a very big man, so none of his clothes or underwear would fit the boy. Fiona's panties and socks were therefore his only option. I could only imagine his intense humiliation as he was dressed again in the bride's silky knickers, mini skirt and schoolgirl socks. He certainly looked very contrite throughout the service and reception.

I'm not sure if everyone at the wedding was aware of his fate, but we got a good look because he was sat with us later on, and we noticed that first of all his kilt (or skirt, as it turned out!) had no kilt pin, and wasn't wrap-around. It was just a sweet little pleated mini skirt. We also noticed one time that he hadn't been careful enough when he'd sat down. He obviously wasn't used to wearing a skirt, as the back of it had been lifted up, exposing not only his borrowed pink silky panties, but also the 'Miss Selfridge' label in the skirt.

Margaret wanted to go and tell the boy how sweet he looked, and that I had been forced to share at least part of his attire, but I persuaded her not to. She had no sympathy for my pleas not to reveal my secret, but did concede that the boy must have been having a wretched enough time without a stranger letting him know that she knew he was wearing a skirt and knickers. This didn't stop her teasing me continuously about my frillies the whole time we were away.

I wonder if the boy's mother got the taste for inflicting petticoat discipline on him. She couldn't have started with a more public display.


There is nothing sweeter than a pageboy at a Scotch wedding. They are really admired by women and girls, although often they do not look very happy themselves. The fact is, being a pageboy is an excellent excuse for a bit of subtle petticoating, especially for mothers who always wanted a daughter. And who can complain?

The boy mentioned in this letter could be seen as having got off rather lightly. I have been to a few Scotch weddings, and have seen pageboys done up is ruffled, lacy satin blouses, black velvet waistcoats, pretty cotton petticoats to make their kilts hang nicely, girls' nylon stockings, patent leather court shoes, floppy sissy berets, and, no doubt, frilly knickers, although I have not been in a position to confirm that directly. It certainly ensures that the pageboys don't get up to any mischief, and affords great delight to the flower girls in their white lace frocks and pretty posies.

Margaret sounds like another ideal wife, and it was nice of her not to make the boy's torments worse than they already were.

Much like the story around the fire, the occasional reprint from the past especially at Christmas can be a celebration of the season as Susan knew so well and offered a smile, another one from our Christmas 2001 Issue.

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