from Sydney

Dear Auntie Helga,

I always look forward to the beginning of every month, because that is when you post a new set of letters about petticoating and forced feminization. As I suspect is true for many men, I find it very comforting and reassuring to know that there are others who have experienced the shame and humiliation of this form of treatment when they were growing up. Thank you.

I don't know, however, that I've read any letters that involve the kind of victimization I was subjected to, in the sense that in my case it was a younger step-brother who was the one who petticoated me over the course of many years.

I was 11, and my sister was 15, when my widower dad married my step-mom. Our new blended family also then included my step-brother Trevor, who is two years younger than me, and my step-sister, who is one year older than my sister. I should also note that my dad travelled a lot on business, and in any case, I think he was kind of intimidated by my step-mom, which may explain why she set the rules of the house and why my dad almost never intervened to stop the bullying and petticoating I was subjected to. I also think he was pretty disappointed in me for letting myself be petticoated by my younger step-brother.

The problem I had was that even though Trevor was two years younger than me, I'm quite small, and when he was 9 he was almost as big as me and was way tougher and more aggressive than me. Not surprisingly, I guess, he didn't like having another boy become part of the family, and he started bullying me right from the start. Sort or establishing who was boss and protecting his turf I guess. I was really afraid of him, and he knew that, and he bossed me around unmercifully, including making me do chores for him, like straightening up his room. If I didn't do what he said, or complained, he would get me in some painful way. It was not pleasant.

My step-mom knew what was going on, but never helped me out. In fact, it was pretty obvious that he was proud of the way Trevor was able to dominate and control me. One day, for instance, just a few weeks after we all moved in together, I overheard my step-mom on the phone with someone and she was telling the person about having gotten married and about the new blended family, and she was telling the person on the phone that her new step-son was a weakling and scaredy-cat and girlish and how proud she was of the way Trevor was able to be the stronger one. She even said that it was as if there was only one real boy in the family. She then told her friend that Trevor had told her he was even thinking about making me wear panties as a way of demonstrating his complete authority, and she had told him that doing that would be fine with her if that's what he wanted to do, and that it would be pretty funny if that's what Trevor did.

For the next few days I was scared as could be that Trevor would make me wear panties, but nothing like that happened for about a week, and I'd stopped thinking about it when, basically, out of the blue, Trevor came up to me one day after school and told me that he'd decided I should start wearing panties instead of boys underwear. I begged him not to make me do that, but he just laughed, and then I asked him how long I had to wear them. He said every day and if I knew what was good for me I'd do what he said. So then the two of us went to see my step-mom, and I had to tell her that Trevor wanted me to wear panties all the time and then I had to ask her if she could replace the underwear in my dresser with panties. She laughed, smiled at Trevor and called him her little man, and then went upstairs and got some of my step-sister's old panties and put them in my underwear drawer. Then, in front of my step-mom and Trevor, I had to change into a pair of panties.

The shame I felt at that moment was intense, and even though I knew it was pointless, I begged Trevor again not to make me wear them and begged my step-mom to tell Trevor not to make me wear panties. But my begging just made both of them laugh, and my step-mom said that whether I wore panties or not was up to Trevor. She also said that seeing how I'd started to cry like a little girl just showed that Trevor's decision to make me wear panties was probably the right thing to do. Somehow or other, even after that, I held out hope for a while that if I was good about wearing panties for a few days that Trevor would let me go back to wearing boys underwear, but he didn't, so after that I had to wear panties all day every day, for years, until I graduated high school.

As long as I did what Trevor said, things usually were not worse than that, but sometimes they were. When Trevor had friends over to the house he would boss me around even more than usual, as a way of showing off for his friends I think. Almost always he'd make me pull down my pants to show his friends how he made me wear panties, which was pretty humiliating. But the worst was the summer just before I left home for college. At the beginning of the summer, Trevor gave me a girl's bikini bathing suit and made me wear it in the backyard sunbathing every day. It wasn't long before I had a classic bikini tan, which meant I couldn't go places, like a swimming pool, where I would have to take off my shirt. When he made me show off the tan to his girlfriend, she thought it was hilarious, and also said that it made it look like I had little breasts, and that led to them deciding I should wear a bra, and so after that, at home at least, I had to wear a bra all the time along with the panties. My step-mom thought it was all pretty funny, and a couple of times when I got upset and complained about having to wear a bra, she just said that I was lucky that Trevor let me wear any boy's clothes at all.

At the end of the summer, I finally left home and left being picked on and petticoated by Trevor, although it did take about another month before my bikini tan marks faded.

Thanks again for your wonderful web site.


Thank you so much for your kind words about my site and for being a regular visitor. It would seem that Trevor's treatment; putting you into panties, along with your stepmother's consent, has led you to prefer them or at least harbor the feelings you experienced in your youth given your monthly visits here,

Auntie Helga

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