Being a busy househusband, I have only recently discovered your site. I was delighted to find that your readers' experiences are similar to my own.
I grew up as an only child to a single mother in a rural area of the U.S. during the 1980s and 90s. She owned an antique store, and I was fortunate enough to live in an atmosphere filled with curiosities from the 19th and early 20th centuries. In addition to running the store, my mother sewed period costumes for local theatre groups, costume parties, and so on. One day when I was ten years old, I saw a pretty, late 19th century girls' dress my mother had just sewn for a customer. While my mother was outside, I tried it on. She came in sooner than expected and caught me. When asked why I did it, I explained, as clearly as a ten year old is able, that I liked girls' clothes and feminine things. Mother was not angry. She only said, "In that case, I'll make some clothes for you. Just don't touch the customers' items."
Although I didn't realize it, my life changed that day. Since it would take many pages to cover everything, I'll just very briefly describe the highlights. Mother not only made and bought clothes for me, she taught me a lot about being a proper, old-fashioned girl. I couldn't wait to get home from school when Mother would have a dress waiting for me along with a chemise, pantalettes, stockings and high button black shoes. As soon as I was dressed, Mother and I would drink tea while thumbing through old clothing catalogs and fashion magazines. I admired the pretty ladies of the Gilded Age, but Mother insisted I always dress in plain, ankle-length housedresses with long sleeves and high collars as befitted a modest, chaste girl. After tea, Mother had me practice speaking, acting, and dining like a girl. I let my hair grow, and each afternoon Mother fixed it up in a "bun," making me look like an old maid. I complained, but Mother said she had many things to teach me and that fancy hairstyles would only get in the way. Over time, she taught me to sew, cook, do laundry and keep house. I became so adept as a domestic that Mother started calling me "Gail," after a devoted maid she once knew.
Little changed until one morning when Mother saw evidence on my nightdress that I had been abusing myself. Since I knew she could see through my lies, I admitted that I had been naughty at least once a night. Mother replied that she had suspected as much, having recently found pictures of scantily clad ladies under my bed. She said that such a thing was disrespectful to her and to women in general. She said it was ultimately my responsibility to avoid lustful thoughts during the day, but she developed an effective regimen to help me put a stop to it at night. At bedtime, she'd snugly diaper me and put me in plastic pants, after applying copious amounts of petroleum jelly to prevent diaper rash. Then she'd add a very strong, modified thick paneled panty girdle to discourage excitement. Finally she'd tie two gigantic, whimsical mittens on my hands and bind them together, making naughty behavior virtually impossible. My only relief was the rare nocturnal emission, which Mother said might happen.
As I look back on it, giving up self-abuse had a motivating effect on my personality. I became so enchanted by Mother's power and beauty that I tried desperately to please her by being the best maidservant possible. Sometimes, I did my chores so quickly in an effort to avoid naughty thoughts that I grew clumsy, forgetful, and silly. Mother calmed me down with a good old-fashioned corseting. She pulled the laces tight, subduing me in a matter of seconds. She taught me to breathe in a shallow, delicate manner which reduced my energy and made me feel ladylike. Often I was corseted during meals to teach me to eat tiny portions, thus keeping me slender and lithe.
As far as I knew, all these things were unknown to anyone else until Mother introduced me to a friend of hers on the day after I graduated high school. It turned out that my mother's friend, who lived in another state and had raised her daughter in a female dominated household, had been giving Mother advice concerning me for years. Her daughter, Rachel, was gifted intellectually and slightly younger than I. She eventually wanted to earn a graduate degree, marry a househusband, and raise a family. We became friends, and before she left for college, we talked about marriage. Rachel wanted to have a good start in her career and a nest egg before she settled down. She told me she wanted to marry, but that I might be 25 years old or more before she was ready. She, her mother, and my mother discussed our future together. All three women wanted me to vow to remain a virgin in household service to Mother until Rachel decided to wed. I was crestfallen, but I agreed. Rachel was true to her word, and then some. Although she phoned me occasionally, visits were rare and I spent nearly a decade as a wistful, but dutiful maidservant to Mother.
Then one day, when I was about to turn 27, Rachel and her mother visited unexpectedly with shocking news. Rachel had experienced a moment of weakness and was in the family way. She was tearful and contrite, and I tried not to judge her. As Mother wisely said, such things happen among highly stressed career women nowadays, and at any rate, what's done is done. I was stunned and confused, but we all agreed that Rachel and I should marry immediately. We had a private but beautiful wedding, and Mother was proud to present me to Rachel as an obedient virgin who truly knew how to keep house as well as keep his place. Sometime later, Rachel delivered beautiful, healthy fraternal twin girls.
Rachel and I have been married for ten months. I adore her, and do everything I can to make her happy. She prefers me barefoot in an ankle-length chemise, busily keeping house and tending the babies. I have my hands full taking care of them, but I enjoy it immensely. All is not as I had hoped, however. Since Rachel is a mother now, she is not eager to have more children anytime soon; therefore, she sees no reason why I should not remain a virgin indefinitely. On our wedding night, she put me in a CB3000 which I wear 95% of the time. Rachel says I'm fortunate to be the helpmate of a successful woman, and that the responsibilities of being a devoted househusband and exemplifying a gentle, submissive male for our daughters are too crucial to leave to an un-chastised, and therefore selfish male. Perhaps she's right. In any case, I'm too busy to think about it. I have a wonderful family to take care of!
Thank you for your letter Gail. I am so happy for you both that you are now a very happy and devoted house husband, you are a great example to other husbands to devote themselves to their mate's happiness.