My mum has insisted that I write to you as (in her words) a salutary warning to other young men.
I am 24 years old. I was at university, but had 'too good a time', and had to leave after the first year. Then I got a kind of dead end job, continued to have a 'great time', and eventually lost that job and was evicted from my flat. Mum said I could move back home, but under her rules. She got me a part time job with a friend of hers in an estate agency, and I have to go to college part time. I am not allowed out at all with my friends - bedtime is 9pm on weekdays and 9:30pm at weekends.
At first I thought that was a 'joke', and I stayed out after work on a Friday. The result was a burning hot bottom and a week of 6:30 bedtimes. So, I learned pretty quickly, and settled down to being quite well behaved. Last autumn, however, I did something that has resulted in my present predicament. After moving back home, I found that I became really 'fixated' on the display of navy blue knickers on next door's washing line every Monday. They belonged to Maureen, our neighbour's daughter, who is a big strong buxom girl some years younger than me.
To cut the story short, one night, I sneaked out in my pyjamas at about 10 o'clock and pinched a couple of pairs. I made it back up into bed,, and shoved the knickers under the bed. Unfortunately, I had been seen. Somehow, when the doorbell rang, I just knew it. A few minutes later Mum came storming into the bedroom with Mrs S. behind her. She just demanded, 'Where are they?' I tried a few half hearted denials, but got my ears boxed, and eventually produced the pants from under the bed.
They were both going on at me wanting to know why I took them and, of course, I couldn't come up with any kind of explanation. At one point, Mrs. S came out with, 'He's like a blinking infant, if he was mine I'd give him a good hard spanking'. Mum immediately answered, 'That's exactly what he is going to get'. She went out and came back with the wooden spoon, and down came my pyjama trousers and, with Mrs. S watching with approval, I really got a sound tanning.
Next day at work, I was dreading what would happen when I got home, because I knew I hadn't heard the end of it. When I got in, there was a big cardboard box on the kitchen table which turned out to be full of Maureen's old clothes which Mrs S. had been 'kind enough' to 'donate'. It was mostly school clothes: gymslip, old knickers, shorts and so on, but there were also a few other skirts and dresses.
I am tall but quite thin so I could get the things on, but they were all so short. I was made to change into gymslip, navy knickers and a white blouse. It felt funny putting on girls' knickers, but I have to say that I have never worn anything so soft and comfortable. To finish it off were white ankle socks and brown sandals. Then I was sent into Mrs S. to apologise for stealing and to thank her for the things. All the neighbours saw me going next door, Maureen was there and, as you can imagine, my face was bright red. Just as I was about to leave, Mrs S. opened a drawer and took out an old school tawse and held it up to me saying, 'If you give me any reason, my lad, it'll be this - with your knickers down'.
Subsequently, as soon as I come home every day, I have to change into the gymslip. On weekends, it is either the blue or green flower print dress. On Sundays it is the kilt, but not a proper kilt - just a girl's tartan skirt and, of course a petticoat underneath. Thank goodness I do not have to go out in the dresses, but in a way it is worse as unless I am actually at work, then I am kept in shorts, and they are not boys' shorts. The 'everyday' ones are girls' nylon gym shorts, which are hardly bigger than a pair of knickers.
Wherever we are, Mum is always kind of absentmindedly tucking my shirt into my shorts and pulling them up, which is very embarrassing in itself. The result is that I nearly always have part of my knickers on show either at the waist or legs. She has also sewn button-on shoulder straps onto some of my shorts, which ensure that they are always pulled up as far as they will go, so that my navy girls' knickers peek out below.
Maybe the worst pair are these 'split skirt' shorts which make me look as if I am wearing a mini skirt, even though they are actually shorts. Quite often on Saturdays I have to go to the shops with Maureen's grandmother to carry her stuff back. I really hate it when all the women in the shops are looking at me and sniggering. Then 'Gran' doesn't hesitate to start conversations with people, and explain why I am dressed as I am. She is also always taking me into jumble sales and charity shops, to rummage around and see what pretty, girlish things she can find for me.
She once found a pair of
shorts in bright yellow with a printed pattern, and lace round the leg.
I actually rebelled and said I wouldn't wear them. In the end, I
actually wore them to go home in - along with the marks of Gran's fingers
all down the backs of my legs. On top of everything else,
I now have a regular 6:30pm bedtime and every night, no matter who is there,
I have to go upstairs, bring down my nightie, nappy and plastic pants to
be changed. (Another time I could explain how I ended up having to
wear nappies.) My mum says that other boys
should know about my story so they can be careful about messing about with
girl's knickers in case they end up in the same kind of trouble as me.
No doubt all my readers
will agree that you thoroughly deserved your spanking and subsequent knickering
- fancy stealing girls' undies from the washing line at your age! Grandma
sounds like one of the old school of petticoat discipline enthusiasts,
and you are, I think, the first of my correspondents to be under the thumb
of three generations of females.