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The Petticoating League: The Secret Project (Part Two)


The Petticoating League: The Secret Project (Part Two)

For the first time he could remember, Peter Barnes felt profoundly grateful for the silky smooth pink knickers he pulled up over his thighs that morning.

It wasn’t that Peter had come to love his petticoating. Even after twenty years of being in the League, he still felt that internal shame whenever he pulled on pink knickers (even worse when - as in this case - they happened to be bright baby pink). But for today at least that shame was outweighed by the gratitude he felt at wearing such soft underwear - and with good reason.

‘How’s the nappy rash hubby?’ his wife, Amelia, had jested playfully as she reached into her own underwear drawer that morning.

In response to the comment, Peter had pressed his hands instinctively over his bottom: hoping to hide the shameful red marks from his wife. He regretted it instantly as his bottom stung at even the light touch of his own hands.

‘Awww, poor hubby,’ said Amelia, as she planted a kiss on his cheek. She pouted her lips and looked at him in the eye. ‘At least you learnt your lesson though?’

‘Yes, miss,’ he said. 

‘That’s a good boy’, she said, as she pressed her body against his. With her hair still wet from the shower, he could feel the droplets of water on her upper body. He sensed his penis stiffen slightly as their bodies touched.

‘Now that’s why I like to keep you cage free,’ she purred into his ear, as she rolled one hand gently over his stiffening member.

‘Thank you, miss,’ he said back, as he began to kiss her neck. He closed his eyes to take in her full scent and began to draw breath. And then the pain returned.

THWACK! Her wet hand made an exaggerated noise as she slapped it gently against his pantied bottom.

‘Now now, I’m not having you being late for work, Peter Barnes,’ she said as she wagged her finger playfully. 
Not waiting for a second admonishment, Peter scurried across the bedroom to fetch his neatly pressed trousers and shirt. He felt the last throes of his erection fade away as he pulled on his work clothes.

Amelia walked over to her wardrobe and began to survey her own clothes. Though she was working home that day, she was conscious that Roger Wasserman would be beginning work on the project that day. After enough years putting these things to the test, she knew very well how men worked harder when there was an attractive woman to impress. And she certainly intended to dress the part.

She pulled out a smart satin blouse, and a pair of stylish black trousers which always served to further flatter her hips and rear. A pencil skirt, she figured, would be too much: the aim was to incentivise him; not distract him. entirely. And in any event, as a devotee of petticoating, she had always enjoyed wearing pants around the men in the community, when so many of them were denied that privilege. The message might not have been subtle, but it at least amused her.

Ah, the male brain, she pondered to herself as she looked in the mirror - so very easy to manipulate. As she buttoned up her blouse, she caught herself reminiscing about her university days and how early she’d learnt to run rings around the men in her life.

One of her favourite little gambits back then had been to persuade any would-be suitors to wear lingerie - of her choosing - and pose for a picture for her perusal. It wasn’t always easy admittedly - you only had to look to the men’s body language to see how odd they often found the request. But she soon found that - provided the request was made in the right way - she could make their once firm resistance melt away like butter.

Most of the time she hardly looked at the pictures of the poor dupes in their satin pink frillies. A quick check, obviously, to make sure the subject was identifiable, and then she’d be off to the colour photocopier to make a few duplicates. This, as far as she saw it, was her insurance policy if she decided she wanted to break off the courtship.

She had heard from her older sister how difficult men could be in that situation - how some even refused to take no for an answer and would pursue the object of their desire around campus for weeks on end. And she'd been determined not to let that happen to her. So upon dumping a man she would give him an ultimatum: either go quietly and gracefully, or I’ll be circulating your little photo around campus. Needless to say it worked a treat.

As she walked down to the kitchen, she had a definite spring in her step. She planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek as he stepped out of the front-door and waved him goodbye.

She giggled to herself as she thought about that tube of nappy rash cream in his briefcase. He had looked so conflicted as to whether to take it yesterday - no doubt fearing how he would explain himself should anyone see it. Eventually he must have decided that physical comfort was more important: any easing of that unpleasant stingy sensation on his bottom was worth the risk of mere embarrassment. Judging by his reaction to her mild little spank that morning, she suspected he’d made the correct decision. 

The doorbell rang. Roger had arrived perfectly on time - another testimony, she figured, to the exceptionally standard of Madeline’s training. 

‘Roger!’ she said enthusiastically as she opened the door. ‘You know, I do like a punctual man!’

‘Well - I do try,’ he said with a smile.

‘All of the parts arrived on time, I trust?’

‘Oh yes - yes I think I’ve got what we need,’ he said.

She nodded with approval as she led him into the repurposed dining room. A couple of bedsheets had been pinned in place to signify his workspace and keep the floors clean. 

‘Does that work for you?’ she asked.

‘Oh very much so - that’s great.’

‘Oh goodness, wait,’ she said, as she rushed over to scoop up a small pile of unused nappies in the corner of the room.

‘Goodness, I’m sorry - I did try to tidy up everything in here but inevitably you always forget something, right?’ she continued - doing a decent impression of a woman who hadn’t planned the whole thing in the first place. 

Roger mumbled something and shuffled slightly awkwardly. She tried not to show her amusement at his bashfulness.

‘Ooh, I just had a thought - would Madeleine like to try these? They’re a new brand we found online but I have to say we love them,’ she said, holding up one of the bulky plastic nappies at his waist level.

‘Oh, erm… Madeleine, erm… We don’t actually practice nappy discipline, Miss Barnes. I mean, no judgement on those that do but you know we - ‘

She cut him off. ‘Oh no problem! I can never keep track of these things. I know you all have your panties, but I’ll be damned if I can remember which one of you boys is caged, and which ones wear nappies..’

‘Yes I suppose it’s a lot to remember - well thanks for the offer anyway,’ he said - now blushing redder than her husband’s backside.

‘Well if you change your mind,’ she said with a smile and wink. She laughed internally at her own joke: like it would be his decision anyway. Ha.

She walked to the dining room with a satisfied smile on her face. One little wave of an adult nappy and your workman turns into a stammering little boy. Amelia Barnes - you sure still have it!


As Max crouched behind the dilapidated fence, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. After sprinting for several blocks, he found himself panting hoarsely as he tried to regain composure. Thank goodness for all that cross country training or he really would have been screwed, he figured.

As his fight or flight mechanisms faded, his rational brain kicked back into his action. Wait, he thought. How on earth had they known?

He looked down at his own waistline. There was no doubt that there was some extra padding below his belt but nothing particularly conspicuous. Plus he’d made sure to have his jumper tight around his waist to provide some extra cover.

And even if they had noticed the bulkiness - a prospect he’d been dreading - how on earth would they have known immediately what it was? Goodness knows secondary school boys did not wear nappies so would anyone guess that? His brain raced to try to think of a logical explanation but nothing came to mind.

He pledged to sit there for another ten minutes. That way he could be sure they’d given up the chase. Then he’d find a spot in the bushes to do that pee he needed.

That’s when he heard the footsteps - and then the voices. His stomach dropped and the panic returned. 

‘Here here, little nappy boy - where are you hiding?’

It was the voice of Ryan Mackie alright. Just as he feared. But wait - where was it coming from?

‘Come out here and show me your nappies, you little baby!’

He breathed a sigh of relief. Mackie was on the other side of the corrugated fence. With all those brambles, it would take him at least ten minutes to get round to his hiding spot. And with four potential directions to scarper, Max would almost certainly be safe. Wait for Mackie to move on and he could finally empty his bladder, he figured.

That's when he had a familiar female voice, cooing in a slightly child-like tone from some 30 yards away. ‘Awww widdle baby got away!’

‘Damn it. I wanted to take that little punk’s shorts,' cursed Mackie.

Then the girl’s voice again. She was getting close to Mackie - and by extension Max himself.

‘Aww it’s okay honey.’ 

Coaching there waiting for his chance to pee, Mx heard the unmistakable sound of smooching lips. Whoever this girl was, it seemed like she was fone of Mackie. Even through the thick fence and branches, he could hear their every word. Shifting awkwardly, he crossed his fingers and willed them to move on.

‘Well what if I told you he’s not the only boy in this town that wears nappies?’ she said.

All of the sudden it hit him. That voice - it was Amber Longley. 

‘Wait, what?’ Mackie sounded baffled.

‘Well I’m just saying maybe there are a few other boys in school who wear nappies. And I know exactly who they are.’

‘You have to be kidding me…’

‘Nuh uh.’  Another smooching sound. ‘And maybe if you give me half of those cigarettes I just might give you some clues.’

He tried to block out the sound of the kissing as his stomach went into freefall. This was bad: Amber Longley’s mother was a senior part of The League - the petticoating organisation to which his parents belonged. There was a decent chance she could know the name and whereabouts of every petticoated boy in the borough. And not just the boys - the dads too. He cringed at the very thought of that information getting out.

As the smell of cigarette smoke and teenage perfume wafted up, Max found himself filled with terror: his most embarrassing secret might be about to be revealed. To make matters worse, he could no longer hold back on that pee.

As his mind filled with the humiliating possibilities that might await him, Max Barnes wet his nappy.
Things are certainly hitting up. Amelia clearly enjoys her work and seems to have developed a real knack for her job.   Wink 

And a very good reason for every local petticoatee to be on high alert at the end there; it’ll be interesting to see where that leads - a special ‘Petticoat School’ maybe.  Big Grin
So great cannot wait for more
What a delightful story!

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