From Lesley

Dear Susan,

No more news of my 'petticoatee', Penelope, this month, he is still awaiting fearfully the unveiling of his new winter outfit in the Autumn. My petticoating of Penelope has awakened a general interest in me regarding the subject of enforced petticoating of men, either as a punishment or simply for the amusement of the superior sex, and has found interesting accounts in a number of different walks of life. One area which seemed to me to be particularly promising was that of petticoat discipline in the work-place. There would surely be no better way for a female workforce to show a man his true status in the factory or office than to get him into petticoats, but having trawled through the back-numbers on your site I can find no references at all to this area.

My interest in this was first aroused at the first place I worked, when I was a junior in the accounts department of a factory making cosmetics.The stories of the activities of the factory girls in carrying out initiations or punishments of male victims was the stuff of legend. Being separated from the main factory I never saw anything myself, but heard a reliable account from a colleague who was doing some work in one of the factory offices of a young man, I believe a summer temp. on leave from college, who had offended the women in some way, being tearfully paraded round the factory wearing a baby-doll nightie, and heavily made up in the company's complete range of cosmetics! With this group of tough and sexually-aggressive women around there was no doubt which was the dominant sex in that plant.

I was reminded of this incident when I read a letter in an issue of 'Madame' magazine about similar treatment meted out to hapless male victim. Headed 'Clive's Comeuppance', the letter told of the fate of a young man, promoted to a supervisory position in a factory producing ladies' undies, who came to regret his high-handed attitude to the girls! A group of them warned him that unless he stopped his harassment they would take the law into their own hands and 'teach him a lesson'. His fate was sealed when he laughingly told them they 'couldn't touch him!' They decided (and how I agree!), that a thorough petticoating was the best way to put him in his place, and planned accordingly, using their skills and the factory's equipment to produce a suitably humiliating costume.

Waiting for a day when the senior management were all away at a meeting, they used a girl the unfortunate Clive was known to fancy to lure him to a quiet part of the factory to meet his fate. Finding himself in a room with about 50 women he was soon overpowered and stripped. He was then forced to stand on a low table, hands on his head, whilst the young girl who had lured him there in the first place made a very nice job of shaving him. His biggest surprise was yet to come, I will quote from the letter, which I have kept as part of my collection of 'petticoating classics' :-

'He soon realised what was about to happen to him, and I will never forget the look of real fear on his face as the girls flounced the mass of frillies in front of him and told him that he was to be our little girl for the evening'. He is then forced to put on a frilly pair of bloomers, and then come the highlight of the story to me, his petticoating: 'Clive was in tears by this time, as Susan told him that he was to be put into petticoats and a party dress as his punishment. The girl who had produced the petticoats had gone for very full can-can type, and she laughingly flounced each separate tier and skirt in front of him, making sure each petticoat, he was to wear two, was fully flounced, making sure that his party dress would be properly 'skirted' over them, ensuring maximum fullness for the dress, and maximum shame to Clive! The first petti was pulled up over his panties, and adjusted for length, the second one had to be passed over his head and again adjusted. The two petticoats gave a tremendous fullness, but had been deliberately made just short enough to leave the frilly legs of his bloomers on show.

I guessed he must have had at least eight three-tiered skirts in his petticoats, which were made of stiffened paper nylon material that rustled delightfully as he walked! Two ribbons were then pinned to the waist bands and passed over his shoulders to prevent the heavy petticoats from slipping down and spoiling the look. As we stepped back to admire this fantastic creation Clive was a broken man- tear streaming down his face as he bowed his head into his chest, all fight gone from him - I realised then we could do whatever we liked from now on, this was the end of Clive's rule!'

I'll bet it was! The letter goes on to describe in superb detail, his party frock, and elaborate pinnie, how he was paraded round the factory, and his eventual change into overall and turban to help the cleaners, before being thrown out into the street to make his own way home thus attired! This must surely be the finest way possible for any group of women to turn the tables on a 'Jack the Lad', and I would love to hear from any readers with similar experiences. Did it work? I can do no better than refer back to the end of the letter: 'Poor Clive never lived down being turned into pretty, frilly Shirley ( the name the girls called him). Not a day passed without him being asked if he wanted his dress on again, or being told to be careful his petticoats weren't showing! His enforced dressing in such ultra-frilly clothing had totally crushed him, along with our imaginative humiliations, and he would never be a nuisance to women again. He was in no doubt that if he ever stepped out of line again he would get more of the same and we often showed him his party outfit hanging in the locker room just as a reminder!'

More power to the petticoat,

What a superb letter to start off the August collection. I don't know how this technique would go at Tom and the rest of the lads who operate the presses wouldn't be very practically dressed for the job in baby doll nighties and frilly frocks. They are an easy going lot, and the only trouble I usually have them is the lunchtime games of eucre and cribbage: these tend to keep them past the requisite 30 minutes.

My appearance around the door of the works canteen followed by a couple of sharp hand claps normally produces a bit of uncomfortable boot shuffling, unless somebody is playing a particularly strong hand, in which case a glare from Miss Gribble behind the counter is enough to inform me that her boys will be back at work in a few minutes, and in the meantime the presses can bloody well wait.

P.S One more point: you refer to your 'collection of petticoating classics'. Lesley, you could help this magazine and its readers a great deal. Could you please scan those letters, or photocopy them, and post them to my new address? 'Petticoat classics' are what 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly' is all about. I would love to see what you have.

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Letter 5