from Sissy Abi

Dear Auntie Helga,

I discovered your website a few months ago now when I was searching the internet to see if many other people shared the unique lifestyle of mistress and sissymaid, which my mother and I do, and I was surprised to find it was not so unique after all. As you accept letters, both my mother and I thought you and your readers would like to hear the story of my petticoating at my mother's loving hands. Before I do, however, as you took some time away from your website recently for personal reasons, we both hope things are better for you now, and we wish you all the best for the future. 2020 was a difficult year for everybody, and all any of us can do now is hope 2021 is a much better one with the role out of the vaccine.

2020 was a very unique year for me personally and for my mother, and pandemic was a key part of that, even though we have been lucky we haven't been affected by it directly so far. I hope that remains the same for us, you, and all your readers. Our thoughts and prays go out to those who have not been so lucky. We are currently experiencing another lockdown in my country, which doesn't affect my mother and I too much, but like everybody else we long for things to turn back to normal sooner rather than later, and hopefully things will once we have all been vaccinated.

Anyway onto my story. By the title of this letter, you may think I'm a teen or younger boy and my petticoating story has to do with me driving my mum to distraction while cooped up together during lockdown, leading to her having to dress me in girls' clothes to bring me under control and easier to live with. I'm sure that may have happened to somebody else during lockdown, but that is not my story. But I guess the end result was the same.

As the title of this letter suggests, the start of my story began back in March 2020 when virus got out of control in my country (and many others), and changed everybody's lives in some way or another. Back then I was a man in my mid-twenties, but apart from my general age things have changed a lot for me since then. Quick note before the rest of the letter, I have tried to remember the best I can the dialogue that was spoken between me and my mother back then, but it is probably not 100% accurate, as you might imagine.

Back in March 2020, I was paying one of my regular two to three-month visits to my mum in my old family home, in which my mother still lives on her own after I moved out a few years ago to be closer to my work. My mum lives right out in the sticks in the English countryside, so whenever I go out and see her I stay for a few days to a week, depending on what time I get off work. It gives us a chance to catch up and for me to enjoy some of my mum's home cooking and pampering. My mum has always been very kind and loving towards me, as her only child, and we have always had a very close, loving relationship as a result. That is why I'm happy to spend my free holiday time with her. Things have changed a lot since then, though.

The timing of my last visit (my first since Christmas 2019) coincided with the pandemic getting much worse and the strong possibility of a lockdown in my country being imposed to bring the virus back under control and stop the spread. I was trying to squeeze my visit in before a lockdown did come into force, as when it did come it would have meant it would be six months or more before I saw my mum again in person, which we both wanted to avoid.

However, a couple of days into my originally planned five-day long stay with my mum, the lockdown came into force in my country, therefore I could not realistically travel such a long distance to my place at the end of my visit, so I had no choice but to stay with mum during the entire duration of the lockdown. My workplace had ceased operating as well, so I had no work to return to anyway. I didn't mind being stuck at my mum's until the lockdown was lifted at all and not to return home or to my work. But as I had only planned on staying less than a week with mum during that visit, I had packed only the minimum amount of clothing for the duration of my original stay. I even only had the one pair of jeans I arrived in. I voiced my concerns to my mum, but she told me we would muddle through somehow, and that she still had a washing machine...

Little did I know at that moment, she was tempting fate, and so a couple of days later the washing machine broke down. As we were in the midst of a lockdown there was no chance of getting it repaired or replaced. Being a man, I tried to muddle through wearing the same few pairs underwear, socks and clothes everyday I brought with me for over a week, but one day my mum came to me and said I couldn't keep wearing the same clothes and underwear indefinitely without them being washed, and that I needed some fresh and clean ones. I told her that was impossible as we couldn't get the washing machine fixed and there were no clothes, or even charity, shops open to buy clothes from. I didn't really want to buy any new ones anyway, as I had plenty back at my place, and I was worried about spending what money I did have due to the uncertainty of my employment in the pandemic, so ordering something I already had online to be delivered wasn't really an option for me either.

"That's not impossible at all," she replied, "as I have plenty of fresh and clean underwear and clothes you could wear."

I was shocked at what she said, and thought she was joking at first, but she sounded deadly serious. "What? You want me to wear your knickers and things?" I asked in reply, after a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I don't see the issue. I'm the only one who is going to see you in them, and I couldn't care less what you wear in my presence. And it's not like you have any choice anymore. I've got plenty to keep us going for weeks, as I did a big laundry cycle a week before you came. I didn't mind wearing her tops so much, but skirts and dresses I wasn't so happy about. So, I asked if she had many pairs of trousers I could wear, as she had always been a very feminine woman (a 'girly girl,' you could say), and usually only wore dresses or skirts with tops, cardigans, hosiery and heeled shoes. She told me she had a couple, but they were dirty and need of a wash also, but she doubted they would fit me anyway, as I was of course larger in size and height than her (but not by too much), and that her dresses and skirts would be a more 'forgiving' fit, and more comfortable for me to wear anyway. I tried to protest, but she was not having 'no' for answer. I was stuck and I knew it.

I feel I must point out in this point in my letter - that although I have a very close and loving relationship with my mother, she could be firm, strict and controlling when she needed to be, especially with me, and didn't take 'no' for an answer when she felt she was in the right. Like most mothers could be with their children when they needed to be, I guess. However, my mother had plenty of experience being domineering when she wanted to be, as she had worked for many years in her twenties and early-thirties as an actual dominatrix at an exclusive men's sex club before she met my dad and had me. She never had sex with any of her clients or even gave them 'happy endings;' she just role-played dominated them to fulfill their kinky fantasies and desires. But I guess that is where she could fulfill her own desires as well, as a domineering woman, if she was indeed one. And when I began going to school, she stayed in the 'sex industry' by taking up a part-time job working in a sex shop in our nearest town. In that sense, she had always been a broad minded sexual person.

My mum was brought up by two very hippy parents, who didn't believe in conforming to society's normal rules, regulations, and general expectations of them to fit in and conform. So, they taught her to follow her heart and be who she wanted to be in life, no matter what that would end up being, as long as it wasn't anything bad. As such, she had always been a very liberal, open-minded person, who wasn't afraid to forge her own path in life, regardless of what people thought of her. Although she didn't follow her parents path of being a hippy, she has had pretty much the same open-minded mindset about everything throughout her life as her parents, including about sex, sexuality, gender, love, and alternative lifestyles generally.

Anyway, back to my story. She then told me she was going to pick some things out for me out of her wardrobe and clothes draws, and that was that. At this point, I have to admit that I've been curious about women's clothing and how they felt like to wear since I was young, as most men have I suppose, as they are so different to men's generally, but I didn't think I would end up finding out in such a manner. I also had no interest in becoming more in-touch with my feminine side or living a feminine lifestyle... at that point. But to my own surprise in the coming weeks my mindset would slowly change to a point where I was willing to rethink that and make the transition.

Not to get too ahead of myself in my story - that evening I went into my bedroom to find a pile of my mum's panties (I prefer the word to 'knickers' - as that word brings up images of big white women's bloomers in my mind) on the bed, some dresses, skirts, tops, blouses and other girly things. One particular light blue coloured dress covered in white flower petals shapes on it was the one my mum had laid out on its own with a pair of pink women's panties with a lacy trim on the edges, along with a pair of white heeled strappy sandals, like a woman might wear to go out on a warm day, a pair of white socks with lacy trim at the top of them, and a pink cardigan with a note on top of it. 'I want you to wear these clothes tomorrow without any complaints from you, or you're going to make yourself ill wearing those soiled clothes, mum.' Wow, I thought. My mum had clearly taken up her old 'dominatrix' mind-set writing that note to me. It seemed I had no choice in the matter, as I didn't want to get on her bad side while living with her again. I doubted she would do anything but scream and shout at me about it, but I didn't want to find out what else she would be willing to do to me to get me into her clothes eventually. Just wearing her clothes was the best option for me at the end of the day.

So, the next morning when I got up, I slowly put on the clothes starting with my mum's pink underwear, which all fit reasonably well, but were a little tight on my larger frame than my mum's. After a moment to compose myself and get a feel for my new clothes, I went downstairs, taking extra care not to misstep on the stairs in case I fell down them in my new mildly heeled shoes, to greet my mum in the hallway.

"Morning, dear. I hope my clothes fitted you okay," she said, seeing me. At least she didn't overreact or make that big a fuss over it, like I thought she might.

"For the most part, but some of the clothes are a little tight," I replied.

"That is to be expected, but with you wearing them I'm sure they will stretch and fit you better in time. Could you lift your dress up for me please?"

"What? Why?"

"I just want to see you are wearing my knickers, like I told you to."

Knowing it was pointless to argue with her, I lifted the skirt of my dress up to my waist to show her I was wearing her panties.

"Good," she said, and when she did I dropped my dress's skirt down again. "I know you may not like wearing my clothes or women's clothes in general, but they are fresh and clean, and therefore hygienic and germ free."

"You're not going to ask me everyday to lift up my skirt to check I'm wearing fresh underwear, are you?"

"Maybe for a little while, until I can trust you to wear them without checking. How do you feel by the way, wearing my... women's clothing for the first time, I'm presuming?" she asked me, clearly curious about my answer.

"I feel a little weird and different, but they comfortable and not as bad as I thought they would be," I replied.

"Good. Do you feel anything else?"

"Erm... like what?"

"Do you feel more girly, like you're more in touch with your feminine side?"

I really don't know why she was asking me that or what she really meant, but I decided to humour her. "A little, I guess. I can't really not be wearing women's clothing. And, in a way, they allow me an insight into what clothes feel like for you or any woman to wear."

"I'm glad you see it like that, as I'm sure this experience will bring us closer together as mother and child," she said, and then gave me a hug.

I'm not really sure why she said 'mother and child' instead of 'mother and son,' but I didn't think much of it in that moment of time. I just presumed in that moment, she saw me as both her son and her daughter. Little did I know then, but as the days and weeks went by, she started to see me more and more as her daughter exclusively and not as her son any more. And little did I know at the time, wearing men's clothing the day before I wore women's clothing for the first time would be the last time I would ever do so up until now, or perhaps even forever. Anyway, more on that later.

After our hug we went about our day as normal, with my mum not really even referencing to me wearing her clothes anymore. In fact, for the next couple of weeks she didn't really, only occasionally, like what I was wearing of hers any one day suited me or not.

After a week or so of wearing dresses and skirts with only small socks, I complained to my mum my legs kept getting cold and that wearing skirts didn't keep my legs as warm as wearing trousers would have.

"Well, there is any easy fix for that," she said straight-away. "You can wear a pair of tights under your dresses and skirts."

"Tights?" I replied.

"There's nothing wrong with tights or hosiery generally. In fact, I have same issue you have, except maybe during the summer, which is why I wear a pair most days myself. Why do think they were invented for women to wear under their skirts and dresses? They are the perfect complement to dresses and skirts. I usually always wear them even during the summer, just lower denier cooler ones. They help keep your legs warm, along with feeling sensual and feminine, and they fit just like a second skin. They also help hide legs imperfections and give your legs an even colour and coverage, like make-up for your legs."

"Okay. Can I try on a pair of yours then?"

"Of course, you only need ask. However, they might take a while to get used to, so like your underwear - I'm going to have to insist you wear everyday for a while to get used to them, at least for two weeks I would say. As I'm sure in that time you will see them as I do as essential wear under skirts and dresses, and will feel naked without them on your legs. But first, you will need to shave your legs, as you can't wear tights over ugly leg hair, as that would be very unsightly. I'm surprised I haven't insisted on that before now anyway with the bottom of your legs showing below your skirts. And nothing feels more sensual or wonderfully feminine as pulling on a pair of fresh pair tights over freshly shaven smooth legs."

"Feminine? What do you mean feminine? I thought I was wearing these clothes as I had no other choice, and gender didn't come into it."

"Well, I only probably said that as tights are one of the most feminine pieces of clothing and by simply wearing women's clothes you appear more female than male, and I guess it's just have I've been conditioned, how everybody's been conditioned, throughout their lives to see and tell apart men and women by what they wear. I'm not trying to turn you into a woman, dear, but by simply wearing women's clothing for a while you will become more in touch with your feminine side and therefore more female than you were before. That is not a bad thing, it's a good thing. And it is just until lockdown ends after all."

"Okay," I replied, but still suspicious about my mum's motives.

"Now, go up to the bathroom, take my shaving foam and razor, and shave your legs in the bath. Just strip down to your underwear and sit on the edge of the bath with your legs in it, wet your legs with shower head, lather them up, and then shave them with the razor. It's no different than shaving your face, just a larger surface area. While I go and sort you out some pairs of my tights. And once you've done shaving I will show you how to put them on."

I did as she asked, and went up to the bathroom to shave my legs. Once I was done, I walked into my bedroom with my mum sat waiting for me on the bed with a pile of different coloured tights on the bed beside her.

"Show me," she said.

I knew what she meant, so I lifted up my skirt to show her. She got up to take a closer look at them and even ran her hand down both. "I did as good a job as I could."

She smiled at me. "Their fine, dear, very smooth. Come over to the bed."

I sat down on my bed beside my mother. She picked up a pair of her tights and held them in her lap, and I noticed she had taken off the pair she was already wearing that day.

"Are these tights you have already worn?" I asked, as there none were still in their packets.

"Of course, everything you've worn of mine I have worn first, but don't worry they've been washed since I last wore them and so they are clean. I don't just have new clothes lying about, y'know? Anyway, you wearing the clothes I've already worn makes me feel closer to you, like a true mother and daughter, and I hope you feel the same."

"But I'm not your daughter, mum, I'm your son."

"I know; it was just an example, I didn't mean anything by it. Okay, back to the tights, please. Pick out a pair you like, and I'll show how to put them on."

I did, picking up a thick looking black pair in my hands. "Good choice," she said. "Now, you need to roller up each leg of the tights one at a time before putting them over your feet. You cannot just pull them on from the top like a pair of socks, as they'll rip. They are a lot more delicate than ordinary socks. Also make sure you don't get your nails caught in them or you could put a hole in them or ladder them."

I watched as my mum rolled up a flesh coloured pair of tights, put it over her right foot and pulled it up a calf, and then the other, with both of them on, she then pulled them up a little further up over her knees. She then stood up, pulling them up her thighs while lifting up her skirt at the same time, giving me a flash of her lacy red panties as she pulled her tights up and over them to her waist. She then pulled down her skirt down over her legs, before sitting down and giving me a smile.

"See, easy. Now, your turn," she said to me.

I copied her, and pulled the tights up my own legs and around my waist.

"How do they feel?"

"A bit tight, but my legs feel warmer than before."

"Why do think they call them tights, silly?" We both laughed. "You'll get used to them eventually, like I said."

We then both put our indoor shoes back on, and went about our day. The tights on my legs did make them feel warmer, but the clingy nature of them along with how they felt generally against my skin, my other leg, and my swhishing skirt when I walked about or sat down did make me more self-conscious of my legs than normal for a few days, but eventually I got used to them and noticed them less. I also didn't want to go back to cold legs, so I felt they were a necessary evil until the end of lockdown. Unknown to me at the time, a lot more stressful turn of events was about to unfold for me, which made having to wear tights on my legs a small worry.

After about a month in lockdown, my mum said to me one day it was high time we got out of the house for a bit and went for a walk outside, as we had been holed up inside (except for my mum going out alone once a week or so to do some food shopping at our local supermarket) since the beginning of lockdown, and she was starting to get 'cabin fever' from being inside 24-7. I of course protested, saying we needed to stay indoors because those were the lockdown rules, but she simply replied we were still allowed out once a day to exercise, be it a walk, run or bike ride. So, she insisted we finally got back out into the world for some exercise and fresh air.

I told her I couldn't go out dressed in women's clothing, as I was afraid of people noticing I wasn't a real girl, and so point and laugh at me. But she replied I was talking nonsense, and that I was just being lazy rather than worried about going out in public dressed in a woman's dress or whatever. She went on to try and reassure me that we lived right out in the countryside and not a town or city, and barely anybody else would probably be out and about as well, and that I already knew that from growing up there. I did know that, but going out dressed as a girl as a boy would be a lot different than when I went and about growing up there.

She then said she would do her best to make me up to 'pass' as a real woman, in case we did come across anybody else while out on our walk. I asked her what she meant actually - and she told me apart from dressing up in full feminine attire, I would need a mani and pedicure, and some nail polish applied after, some make-up on my face, one of her old wigs on my head, plus wear some perfume and jewelry, and one of her bras with some padding in, so it would look like I had a bust, like any other woman.

I went silent, shocked things had gone this far, and realized this was the last stage in me dressing up fully as a woman. I was not only wearing women's clothing, but being made up to 'pass' as one as well now. I wondered where all this would end... if at all. She tried to reassure me it would be fine, and that we needed to get out and about again to stay healthy and not end up gaining weight through being house bound all the time. She also said I would have to get used to going out dressed in my new clothes eventually, as it looked like lockdown wouldn't be ending any time soon, and I couldn't spend the rest of my life under a self-imposed 'house arrest,' just because I didn't want to go out dressed as a woman instead of a man.

I agreed with what she was saying deep down, as she was hardly asking me to go out in public nude or something just as bad, but I couldn't help feeling this was another step forward in my mother's secret and covert possible permanent feminization of me. And like everything else she has done to me so far - make-up, bras and everything else would become an everyday thing for me to wear like everything else she had dressed me in so far. And the most worrying part of it to me was the fact I didn't really mind when the initial shock at what my mother was asking of me had worn off. Was my mother's plan working and I was becoming more feminine in mind and body, or simply getting more in touch with my feminine side and having it come to the fore and overtaking my male side of me? Or perhaps because of my past interest in wearing women's clothing, I was 'gender fluid' and as much a woman as a man, and I only had taken on the mantel of a man throughout my life simply because of the genitals I was born with? I was beginning to wonder more and more. Anyway, if that was true, then it made my petticoating more bearable, and even enjoyable for me to explore the feminine side of myself with person I was closest to and trusted the most in the world.

After all the badgering from my mum, I relented and agreed to go out for a walk together in the countryside. She was delighted when I agreed, giving me a hug, making me feel better seeing her so happy, and that I had nothing to worry about as she was sure she could make me up to 'pass' as a woman.

"Okay. I hear tomorrow is supposed to be a nice day, so let's start getting ready now to go out on our walk tomorrow. I think she should start with me giving you a mani and pedicure, and then polish your toe and fingernails like a truly feminine woman would do," she said to me excitedly.

Defeated, I agreed and headed to her bedroom for her to go work on making me even more feminine looking. After she had finished with my mani and pedi, she painted all my nails with a dark-red nail polish, which smelled really strong, but I got through it. She then had me shave my legs again, along with all the parts of my body where it might show wearing my feminine clothes the next day. We then selected my outfit I would wear tomorrow together. I then got changed into my nightgown and went to bed, staying awake for a couple of hours worrying about the next day.

The next morning, I went downstairs to find my mum happily singing away to herself, clearly happy and looking forward to our trip out. After some breakfast, I went back upstairs to get dressed. I had actually decided upon a blue dress of my mum's, like I one I wore on my first day of wearing her clothes, a pair of flesh coloured tights, so it wouldn't be obvious I was wearing them, a pair of blue lacy panties, a pinky-purple cardigan, and the same strapy heeled sandals I wore on the first day of my petticoating. After pulling on my panties and tights, my mum asked me to join her in her bedroom, so she could put the bra on me, as she though I might struggle putting on a bra for the first time, along with some other things, like doing my make-up.

I walked into my mum's room to find her still wearing a silk dressing gown and sitting at her make-up table. Hearing me come in, she got up from seated position, and talked over to her bed where two bras were waiting for us. My mum then shocked me by slipping off her silk robe, exposing her naked breasts to me, as she was only wearing the same as me - a pair of panties, tights and nothing else. I immediately looked away, embarrassed to see my mum's naked breasts for the first time since I was a toddler, after being breast fed by her.

"Mum, I can see your breasts!" I said, looking down at the floor, and feeling my cheeks blushing red.

"Don't be silly, their only boobs, and modest ones at that. And it's not like you haven' seen and even touched them before - you just don't remember. So, don't be silly, you can look at them if you want. After all, we're both girls here, right?"

Oh, my god, she's calling me a 'girl' now, as well as showing me her breasts, I thought. But I decided to humor her to make her happy, and looked back at her breasts. "Sorry, I keep forgetting," I replied. Like she said she had modestly sized breasts, a C-cup max, but they were perky for her age, and they had a nice round shape to them both, with pretty pink pointy nipples at the front of them.

My mum smiled at me after hearing me refer to myself as a 'girl' for the first time. "I need to be topless to show how to put on a bra properly for the first time. It's an important lesson and milestone for any girl. There is nothing sexual in it. We should be proud of our bodies, no matter how they look, and not be so prudish," she said to me, and then leaned forward to pick one of the bras off her bed. "Take your bra." Once I did, she put her own bra around her back and held the unclasped straps in front of her midriff. "Put the bra straps around your back, making sure it's the right way up with the shoulder loops at the top, and then pull and fasten the straps together. That way you can see what you're doing." I did as was I told, with my hands shaking a little, and clasped them together. "Now simply pull the bra round your body, so the cups are the front, obliviously, pull the shoulder straps over your shoulders, and adjust it if you need to. You don't have any boobs to pull the cups up and over, but I can take care of that with some old socks." She picked up the old socks from the bed and used them to fill my bra cups with them until they were more or less the same size as hers. "There. Not only should they make you feel more like a real girl, but they'll make your dresses and tops fit better, as they are designed to sit over a bust line."

"What now?" I asked.

"Let's take care of your face and hair now."

She lead me over to seat at her vanity table, and had me sit down on it facing her, as she didn't want me seeing myself until she was done. She also didn't put her robe back on preferring to stay in just her bra, panties and tights. I guess she reasoned if I'm just going to be wearing just those things, then that's all she should wear as well. The first thing she did was put a tight fitting cap over my head to flatten down and hide my own hair. She then went about applying make-up to my face, and talking me through it, as she expected me to apply make-up to my own face in the future! I'm not sure what she meant, but I let her get on with it. She applied some primer to my face to begin with, then some concealer, and then some foundation. I kept my eyes closed through most this, as that was what she advised me to do. She asked me to relax and enjoy this first experience, and I surprised myself by doing so. She then applied some blusher to my cheeks, eye-shadow to my eyelids, mascara to my eye lashes, and finally some red lipstick to my lips. After she was all done, she stepped back and admired her work with a broad smile.

"Now for a squirt of perfume," she said, picking a glass bottle of it from the dressing table. "You've got to smell nice. This is my favorite, so you'll smell just like me. Mother like daughter." She squirted some on me around my neck, but was careful not to go too over board with it. It smelt very feminine and just the one my mum usually wore, which was of course lovely. "And of course you need some jewelry." She opened her jewelry box and produced a lovely looking necklace with some pretty stones at the front. "This was your late grandmother's and my mother's necklace. It was her favorite and most valuable piece of jewelry. She wasn't really one for jewelry, but would wear it on special occasions like weddings. I'm sure she won't mind you wearing it."

"As long as you're sure, mum, as it is so precious to you," I replied.

"Of course, I'm sure," she said, and stepping behind me with it. She wrapped it around my neck and clipped it together.

I brought my hand up to touch it gently when she did. "I promise I'll look after it for you."

"I'm sure you will. Now, every girl needs a pair of earrings when heading out. Luckily I have some clip-ons for you, as you haven't had them pierced yet." She clipped two matching earrings to my ear lobes with matching clear stones inside a flower petal. They squeezed my ear lobes tighter than I thought they would, but they weren't painful or anything. She then went to place a gold bracelet around one of my wrists, and that was that for the jewelry. She then went and got a lovely looking long blonde wig out of her closet, and put it on me. "This is one of my old wigs I used to wear when I was working as a dominatrix - for the clients who preferred a blonde." After fiddling with it with a few seconds, she stepped back to look at me again. "It looks great on you. It can be your hair every time we go out from now on, or even all the time, if you like. It's so much nicer than your short normal boy hair."

"Can I see myself now?" I asked eagerly, but nervously too, as I had no idea how everything had turned out, but I trusted my mum and her judgment. After all, she had forgotten more than I knew in turns of make-up and hair I had no doubt.

"Of course, just turn around," she replied.

I did and looked at myself in the mirror on top of the table. When I first laid eyes on myself, I barely recognized myself for a moment. I looked more feminine and like a real woman more than I could have ever hoped for. I was even speechless for a few moments looking at my new face and hair. Yes, I admit, you could still tell I was really a guy under all the make-up, but from a distance or to somebody short-sighted I felt confident I would be able to pass as a real girl, like my mum was aiming for and what I was hoping for if I was to go out dressed as a girl.

"So, what do you think?" my mum asked, clearly keen to hear my opinion by the tone of her voice.

"Wow!" I replied. "I look great! You've done a really good job, mum. You could be a make-up artist."

"Oh, I'm so glad you like it," she said, sounding relieved. "I was a bit worried you wouldn't."

I stood up from the chair and hugged my mum. "I love you, Mum."

"I love you too, dear, more than you'll ever know."

We hugged for the longest time, and in that moment I felt closer to my mum than any other moment in my life, that I remembered anyway. Our closeness in that moment was as close as we had been since when I was a baby in her arms nursing off her I had no doubt.

Eventually she broke off from our embrace, and she actually wiped away some tears from her eyes as she did so. "Come on, now, as lovely as this is, we're got to finish off getting ready to go out."

"I didn't mean to upset you, mum," I said seeing her teary eyes.

"You haven't upset me, just the opposite. I'm as happy now as I've ever been for a very long time. Things haven't been easy for me since you left home, and me and your father broke up. But I wanted you to go and live your own life, y'know? However, this time we've spent together over the last few weeks, regardless of the circumstances, has meant the world to me."

"It's meant a lot to me too. The whole wearing your feminine clothes has taken a bit to get used to, but I've got used to them."

"Perhaps you have found out a few new things about yourself in the process?"

"Yeah, I think I have."

"One last thing. As you'll be dressed as my daughter when we go, you will need a girls' name. I thought 'Abigail' would suit you," my mum said.

Again I was a little surprised my mum wanted to rename me with a girls' name, but with everything she had done to me so far, it seemed the next logical step in a way. "Is that would you would have named your daughter if you'd had one?"

"I'm not sure, but it is one of my favorite girls' names. Anyway, time is getting on, so you better go get dressed, and leave me to finish up my make-up and getting dressed too. We girls have got to look our best when venturing out in public."

"I'll see you downstairs when we are both done," I replied, before walking back to my bedroom to finish getting dressed. When I was done getting dressed, I went downstairs and sat down on the living room sofa to wait for my mum to finish up. It was a strange feeling sitting not only in women's clothes in full make-up and wig, but I was getting increasingly nervous about going outside dressed for the first time, to a point where I was shaking a little and feeling nauseous, but I hoped it would pass. After a little while of waiting, but it felt much longer due to my nerves, my mum came down the stairs dressed and ready to go. I joined her in the reception area of our home when I heard her there. She was looking at herself in the mirror, which we have hanging in the downstairs hallway and making some last minute adjustments to her hair.

When she turned round to look at me, she asked, "Are you ready to head out now?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," I replied.

"You don't need to 'freshen up' before head out? As there won't be much chance once we do."

"I'm okay; I went a few minutes ago."

"Good. Well, there is just one more thing you need, what every girl needs when out and about - a handbag," she said, and handed me a black leather one.

"What do I need a handbag for?" I asked, not really wanting one, which was a little daft of me, I admit now, already fully made up and dressed like a woman with a woman's name. But I guess handbags are seen as the ultimate female accessory, and I was still trying to hold onto the last of my dying masculinity in that moment.

"For carrying what you might need, silly. Your make-up in case it needs touching up, a brush for your hair, tissues, a purse for your money and cards, your phone, a compact mirror, painkillers, and lots more besides. Women carry all kinds of things in their handbags they might need when away from home. And as you've got no pockets, it's your only choice, I'm afraid."

"Okay, I understand," I said, and pulled the straps up my arm and over my shoulder, copying my mum with her own handbag.

"Let's go then," she replied, and opened the front door to her house and ushered me out. When she shut the door behind me and locked it, I instantly felt like a fish out of water being outside dressed as a woman, like my mum, for the first time. The outside breeze rippled my dress's skirt over my tights covered legs and blew strands of my blonde hair around my face and shoulders.

"Come on," my mum said ushering me down our garden path with a hand on my back to the waiting road beyond. Once we were out onto the road, she turned right straight-away towards the small local village not far away down the road in that direction.

"Are we going through the local village?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course. All there is the other way is endless fields and cows. Unless you want to end up getting muddy shoes and stepping in a cowpat we're got to go this way through the village I'm afraid. Don't worry, as you hardly ever see anybody about, even when there isn't a lockdown. Remember, there's no shops, or even a pub in the village, so people drive every where around here, unless they're like us and going out for a walk."

"Okay. I'm just nervous my first time out."

"You really needn't be, as you look lovely as a girl. Here, if you're nervous, hold my hand," she said, holding out her right hand towards me.

"I think I'm a bit too old to be holding my mother's hand."

"Nonsense, you're never too old. Now, come on, and hold my hand. I want you to enjoy getting out into the outside world again without being nervous somebody might see you."

After kept her hand held out and shaking it at me, I relinquished and took her hand. But I was quickly glad I did, as I felt instantly better after doing so.

Despite my apprehension we walked through the small village without passing or even seeing anybody on our way, except an older woman doing some gardening at front of her house, but she didn't take any notice of us. My confidence started to grow and my nerves subsided after passing through the village. When we came to the church on the outskirts of the village, we turned off the road down an unpaved footpath running along side it, which was lined with pretty pink and white blossom filled trees either side of it, which smelled lovely as well. We walked past the graveyard at the back of it and out onto a small windy lane. We followed it a while still hand in hand until we turned off onto another unpaved country footpath running alongside a gently flowing little river. We walked alongside it quite a way enjoying the suns rays on our faces, the singing of the birds, and the noises of the river beside us. For a moment there I even forget I was wearing women's clothing, let my hangs up go, and just enjoyed being outside again. It wasn't until that moment did I realize how much I missed the outside world, and dressed as a woman or not, I realized I needed to go out more often.

After turning off from the river, back a bit more in the direction of our house, we came to a wooden bench just off the road from another country lane road, overlooking a lovely view of fields, woods and houses dotted here and there. My mum suggested we sit down on it and had a rest to admire the view, as we had been walking for at least 45 minutes by that point, and my feet was getting a bit achy in the heeled sandals I was wearing on my feet, even if they were only an inch or so. We sat and talked for a little while, before winding our way home in a circular walk back to our home. In the end, we were out for nearly 2 hours, but it didn't seem like that. My nerves had evaporated by the end of it, and I felt a lot more confident in my new clothes. My mum and I agreed to go out at least once a week from now together for a walk.

Our walks out during my country's lockdown were pretty as uneventful as the first, even though we tried to vary our route each time, as much as the feminine dress we wore together each time we went out together would allow anyway. However, during one of our weekly walks we did come across a middle-aged woman out talking her dog in the village we passed through, who knew my mum. They got chatting for a bit a safe distance apart (of course), and the woman didn't take much notice of me, thankfully, to begin with anyway. In the end though, she took more of an interest in me when the conversation eventually swung round to me. My mum told her I was her daughter, but I could tell, we both could, by the way she looked at me she knew I really wasn't her daughter. But my mum then told her I was really her son come daughter, as I was transiting. She smiled at me hearing that, relaxing me a little, and told us whatever made me feel and comfortable in my own skin I should do it regardless of what anybody else thinks, and that I did make a pretty young woman, and she only noticed I was really a boy when up close. She told us she had a distant cousin in her family who transitioned from boy to girl not that long ago, and that they haven't looked back since, and that she was sure I would be the same. She also commented on how I also looked just like my mum and not just in clothing terms. I didn't say much to her, but I did thank her in as feminine voice as I could muster in that moment for all her kind words before we went off in our own directions.

A few weeks later at the end of lockdown, my mum and I sat down to talk about what happened next. My mum came straight to the point and said she really loved us being together again, and didn't realize how lonely she was until my extended stay, and that she wanted me to move back in and live with her for the foreseeable future. I told her I had a job to go back and my own place, but she told me she would support me, and I wouldn't have to pay rent or anything like that. This offer sounded too good to be true, and I got the feeling she was holding something back, so I asked her what she wanted in return. She then came right out with it and said, if I did move back in it with her it would be as 'Abigail' and 'Abigail' only, with a year long commitment from me I would live purely as her daughter, while wearing her clothes I had worn at hers throughout lockdown.

To tell you the truth, I had been half expecting her to ask me this, so I had thought about it a lot already. Sitting on her sofa with my mum, dressed similarly, and having the last couple months getting used to and falling in love with women's clothes, I couldn't imagine ever going back to wearing my old boy clothes again.

So, I smiled at her, and simply said, "I thought you'd never ask."

She looked at me stunned for a moment, surprised I think by my response, but then her eyes filled with tears and she practically leapt on me to hug me. When she finally released me, after some kisses on my face too, she wiped some tears away from her face and eyes, and told me I had made her so happy by not only agreeing to move back in with her, but I would be dressing as a girl too, her daughter, all the time while I was made it extra special. She told me it wasn't like she had always wanted a daughter, as she knew mums and daughters could clash a lot, especially during the daughter's teen years, but seeing me dressed like her, and the softening in me along with the change to a more feminine mindset made her want to keep me this way permanently while I lived with her. She said she would've hated it if I'd gone back to wearing men's clothes, after I had got used to wearing hers and women's clothing generally. Smiling, I told her I couldn't imagine that either, as I thought I was gender fluid, and I was just as happy living as a female as a male.

"Oh, you don't realize how happy it makes me to hear you say that," she said, beaming with joy.

I couldn't believe happy I was clearly making my mum, but it made me very happy too. "I love you, mum," I said.

"I love you too, more than you'll ever know."

There was something I wanted to know, though. "Why do you only want a year long commitment from me, instead of a permanent one?"

"Well, a permanent commitment is a very long time. At least this way, we can sit down once a year and discuss whether or not you want to carry on living with me as a girl, or you want to change your mind and pursue a different path in life. I don't want to ever force you to stay or live full-time in women's clothing if you ever come to change your mind about either thing. Your happiness in life is my number one priority in life. If you are happy living here as my daughter, then I'm happy. If you're happy living back as a man somewhere else, then I'm still happy."

"Thanks mum." I leaned in and we both gave each another big hug.

After splitting, we carried on our conversation. "If there anything you would like from me? My mum asked.

"Erm... maybe an allowance, as I no longer have an income of my own."

"I'm sure I can arrange something. Anything else?"

"Not really."

My mum then put a hand on one of my knees, and looked me in the eyes. "That's not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about, and ask you."


"As you are so happy to dress as a girl all the time, and as I'll be providing for you, as well as living in my house rent free, I would like you to do something else as well for me to help earn your keep."

I thought I had already earned my 'keep' by agreeing to dress as a woman from now on while living with her, but I wanted to hear what she wanted to ask me. "What's that?"

"I would like you to not only be my maid, but my sissymaid during the day. You will do all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, ironing, and generally anything I ask of you."

I remember frowning at her, as I had heard of maids, but not the 'sissy' variety. "What's the difference between a normal maid and a sissymaid?" I asked.

"Well, as a sissymaid, you would completely submissive to me, and to do everything I ask of you without backchat, even if don't like it all that much. You would not only take care of all the household chores, but you would also take complete care of me, and provide more personal services for me that an ordinary maid wouldn't do," she replied.

"Like what?"

"Things like dressing and undressing me, washing me in the bath or the shower, removing my body hair, mani and pedicures, like I did for you. You would wait on me hand and foot, give me massages, foot rubs, and so on. Anything I ask of you really. Being my sissymaid you would be fully submit to me, and dedicate yourself to me and me only, even if that means you have to give up some things you like. You'll do anything I ask of you, no matter what it is, without question. But I don't want to force anything on you, as I love you and care about you too much to ever do that, so it'll remain your choice."

"So, you'll become my dominatrix?" I asked in reply.

"No, not exactly. I would be more like your mistress. But we can role-play sometimes if you like. If you do agree to become my sissymaid, the only thing I would ask of you is to at least try everything I ask of you without question, and be accepting of it, even if you don't like what I have asked you to do. At least for the next year you have already agreed to dress fully as a girl."

"If I do all the jobs around the house you do now, what will you do with your free time?"

"I have a few ideas, like writing my memoirs from working as a dominatrix to working in a sex shop, as I have a lot of interesting and eye opening stories I would like to get out onto paper, before I forget them in my old age."

"Mum, you're not that old."

"Thank you, dear, but this pandemic has brought home the fact we are all mortal, and we should make the most of the time we have. I'll give you some time to think about it, as there's no pressure from me to make a decision yet from me. Take a week or more if you want."

I could see how much me becoming her sissymaid meant to my mum. "I don't need to, mum. I love you so much, and after helping me to discover my feminine side, I would do anything for you. So, yes, I'll be your sissymaid for at least the coming year."

"Are you sure? There is no going back after you do agree and commit fully to being my sissymaid, as once I start buying the things you'll need, like a pretty French maid's dress, I won't accept you changing your mind."

"I am sure, and I won't. I see how much this means to you. I'll be your sissymaid."

"That really is wonderful. I'm sure you'll love being my sissymaid once you get used to it, as you are submissive in nature, especially since wearing female clothing all the time, and I have always had the opposite mindset. I think we completely compliment one another's personalities. I am dominant and you are submissive. I think we'll both take to our new roles in our relationship like ducks to water. Just you wait and see."

"I trust you completely, mum. You always know what is best for me. I'm sure I'll love my new role as your sissymaid and you as my mistress, and I'll take to it like a duck to water, like you say."

And (spoiler alert!) I did. But I'm going to save the story of my sissymaid training at my mum's still loving hands for a future letter, as this one is already very long. If you are interested in hearing more, of course. Since becoming my mum's sissymaid, my relationship with my mother has gone onto a whole new level, and in some unexpected directions, but I don't want to give away too much yet. I also wanted to make the point at the end of this letter that everything that has happened between my mother and I since the beginning of my petticoating has been completely consensual on my part, as my mother has never forced or overly pressurized me into doing something I didn't really want to do or try. Our relationship is built on a foundation of love, trust, and acceptance first and foremost. We have as close a relationship as a mother and son (or daughter) could have now, and we are both very happy together, with love to spare for one another. I know you publish letters from people who have forced others, or been forced, against their will to wear women's clothing and maybe even becoming a sissymaid, which we personally have no problem with, as dressing as a woman and femininity generally is such a wonderful thing, and 'each to their own,' but that is not how our relationship works at all, and we both wanted to make that clear.

I hope you don't mind the long length of this letter to you, but as this was such a momentous turning point in my life, I wanted to include as much detail as possible in it. Goodbye for now.

Sissymaid Abigail (or Sissy Abi, for short)

Dear Abigail, What a wonderful letter, thank you so much for sharing it with me and my readers. Your mother has opened a whole new world for you both, the details you provided bring home the reality of your transition, that is always appreciated, so well written as well. I would love to share this soon and of course am very interested in hearing more about your life as her sissymaid.

Thank you again and please pass along my regards to your mother.

Auntie Helga


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Letter 7