I don't know whether it was my own desire or my older sister's (with some prodding from my mother), but I was introduced to wearing tights, petticoats, and party dresses at a very early age.  For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated with frilly lingerie and dresses; and, by having the opportunities of feeling the soft, feminine material against my skin, I was never satisfied with just looking at pretty girls all dressed up --
I wanted to experience the feeling as often as possible!

During my childhood, in the 60's, when my dad was at work and my brother was in school, I was dressed up quite a bit; often with my mother's assistance and blessing.  You see, my sister was the only girl in a family of 5 kids, and I was the closest to her in age.  At the time, my mother must of thought, "What's the harm; he'll outgrown it?"  Little does she know that I never did.  Nor does she know that I still crossdress on occasion and it occupies a lot of my thought 4 decades later.

We had some good friends who lived down the street (a girl my sister's age and a boy my age) and we spent a lot of time at each others' houses. We were devastated when I was about 4 yrs old, to find out that this family was moving because of the father's involuntary work transfer.  Prior to the move, they wanted to have a birthday party for the daughter (Rebecca), but the mother wanted it to be a fancy dress party (which meant that Kyle [her brother] and I wouldn't be allowed to attend.)  I felt terrible, because I was as good a friend to Rebecca as my sister had been, and I didn't
like the idea of not being included.  I complained to my sister and mother, and they hatched a plan.

Since part of our play activities included dress-up games and I had no qualms about wearing a dress, my mother asked Mrs. Hess if I could attend if
 I was willing to dress the part and be one of the girls for the afternoon.  She mentioned to my mother that Kyle and Rebecca had asked her the same thing the night before. (Kyle was willing to dress up a be a "girl" for the day.)  Mrs. Hess didn't want the event to turn into a spectacle -- she didn't want the gender girls wondering what was going on or the other mothers in the neighborhood gossiping.  If she was to agree to it, it was going to be done right, including full dress, natural-looking wigs, and Kyle and I acting like real girls for the day.  Without a moment's hesitation, we agreed!

I can't describe the excitement I felt on the day of the party...After a bubble bath, my sister and I were both taken to her room and the dressing commenced.  I was given some silky panties and white tights to wear, then my mother dressed me in some of the most crisp, white petticoats I have
ever seen, followed by a pretty, red and white lacy party dress, with poufy sleeves, that tied in a large bow at the back.  Then, she slipped a pair
of white, patent leather Mary Janes on my feet.  How glamourous I felt!  My sister's outfit was nearly identical to mine, except her dress was blue and white.  For the occasion, Mom decided to to add just a touch of rouge to our cheeks and let us wear some of her lipstick!

We had to arrive at the Hess' early because she was arranging for the wigs.  Once we were all prepped and before the other guests arrived, we had a small celebration of our own, complete with about two full rolls of film, to capture the occasion.  The party was a blast; none of the girls there suspected anything (they thought Kyle and I were a couple of Rebecca's cousins from out of town), and that ended up being one of the best days of my life.


I had always been curious about the appearance of lacy, fancy petticoats and their matching panties. I was so jealous of my older sister who got to wear such lovely things. I was 13, and everyone was out of the house one summer day. I went to my 14 year old sister's room and opened her dresser drawers looking for her pretty things. I got out her prettiest ivory white full slip that had tons of lace. The panties were also generously laced and bowed. I stripped as fast as I could and put the slip on first. heaven!! I then pulled the panties over my hips and sat on the bed. I felt like the cutest sissy ever. I pranced and danced all over the room looking in the mirror at myself. I was standing at the mirror admiring my full lace bodice when I saw my mother looking at me in the mirror. She was not happy. She calmly went over to the dresser and got the hairbrush. she told me to pull up the slip and lay on the bed. She then smacked my pantied bottom about 20 times. She told me to get up, take off my sister's things and go outside and play! She told me to never do this again. I said "Yes Mame" and she left. She never mentioned the incident again. What's nice is that she knows I'm a CDer now and every year on my birthday she sends me a pretty slip and panty set. My sister never had the pretty lingerie that I do now! Thanks Mom!


In 1958, when I was twelve, my mother and I went to visit my Aunt Lois in Illinois. The night before we left, she reminded me to pack my suit so that I would have something to wear to church. I hated going to church, and I hated wearing that suit. It was scratchy wool and it felt hot and constricting, particularly in the summer time. I decided not to pack it and see what happened.

On Sunday morning, Mother discovered what I had done, and she was furious. Obviously, I couldn't go to church in jeans and a tee-shirt. I had a smug, self-satisfied expression on my face, thinking I had won the battle. Then Aunt Lois suggested that there might still be a way for me to go to church, even if I didn't have my suit with me. One of my cousin Bonnie's outgrown dresses might fit me!

The idea took the women by storm. I sat there flabbergasted as they laughed and planned things out. After two or three minutes, I flatly refused to wear girls' clothes. My Uncle Gilbert threatened to take me to the woodshed if I didn't obey, so I sat down and shut up.

After a few minutes, Mother and Aunt Lois took me upstairs and made me take off my clothes. They pulled a white elastic garter belt up over my hips and put a pair of sheer brown nylons on me. Bonnie came into the room with a pair of lemon yellow nylon panties with white lace and a frilly satin taffeta petti-slip that had layers and layers of lacy petticoats attached to it. They helped me into the lingerie; then Aunt Lois brought in a blue gingham peasant dress with puffy sleeves and white lace trim all over it. Finally came a pair of white patent leather t-strap shoes.

No attempt was made to disguise me as a girl or pretend that I was anything other than a boy in a dress, and butterflies of fear flapped in my stomach as we left the house and drove through the small town. This was a farming community, full of rough-and-tumble boys who grew up into hard-working, conservative men. I sat in the car silently, dreading what people would say when we walked into the church and they saw me.

We were a few minutes late getting to the church, and my face burned with embarrassment as Mother led me up the aisle to the family pew. I thought everyone would stop singing the hymn and stare at me, but to my surprise, no one did. There were a few whispers, but no one said anything directly about my wearing a dress. After about an hour I relaxed and began to become aware of the incredible luxury of girls' clothes.

As we were walking out of the church and back to the car, every step I took made the petticoat swish back and forth across my nylon-covered legs and across the front of my panties. It was a bright, sunshiny day, but I didn't notice. I was mesmerized by the gentle but insistent swishing. And as we drove home, I lost myself in the exquisitely luxurious fabric.

When we got back, Mother told me to keep my cousin's clothes on for the rest of the day as a "punishment." Some punishment! I spent the day being acutely aware of the soft silky feeling of the petticoat and panties, and marveling at how luxurious they felt. That night, my cousin insisted that I sleep in one of her nylon Baby-Doll nighties with a matching pair of frilly nylon panties. These panties felt just as wonderful as the first pair had ~ and you know what happened.

The next morning, my cousin reclaimed her things. I was not dressed in her clothes again, but the experience had made a lasting impression on me, and when it was to go home, I snuck into the bathroom ~ took the petticoat and two pairs of my cousin's nylon panties from the laundry hamper ~ and hid them in my suitcase.

Everything was fine for the next six months. Then, just after my thirteenth birthday, Mother discovered the petticoat and panties in the box where I had hidden them. And there were a few things of hers there as well. The punishment she devised for that indiscretion was more embarrassing than I ever could have imagined. But that's another story . . .



I was in 2nd or 3rd grade and had a friend girl (you just don't have girl friends at that age). We used to play "school" together at her house, in her room. We were always left alone to play (we were such good children?). Well I was always the bad boy. Petticoat training started early! I don't know why I ever suggested she put me in her petti, but it became a regular play habit. I never undressed though (I was a definite prude then). We were almost caught (probably was) several times. That's another reason not to be undressing. Well we played together for several years till we moved apart. I have always loved girl's clothes. I just haven't always been able to dress when and how I want.


I've enjoyed every aspect of slips and petticoats for many years but had only experienced the desire to actually try one on a few occasions that for whatever reasons, didn't materialize. I either chickened out at the last moment or the opportunity didn't quite present itself in an acceptable manner to pursue.

It was Halloween, five years ago that I finally got my chance. One of my favorite pastimes over the years had been shopping in Vintage clothing, lingerie stores and thrift shops for unique slips and pettis to add to my wife's collection. I enjoy the conversations that arise from this pursuit tremendously. This particular day led me to a vintage clothing/ costume shop called "Tickled Pink". The owner was a mid-40's attractive lady who was more than happy to lead me to a rack with probably 100 different pettis of every color and description. All I had told her was that I was looking for a nice petticoat for a Halloween costume. She somehow interpreted my statement to think I was shopping for one to wear myself because she replied, " Here's a nice one that should fit you," and preceded to drop it over my head. I first flushed with embarrassment but, after quickly looking around the store and noticing no one present but the two of us, became swept away by the eroticism of the moment. For ten minutes she fluffed and adjusted several pettis around my waist, talking constantly about how cute they looked. I was in sheer heaven and couldn't imagine things getting any better but they did. Her assistant in the store chose that moment to arrive from lunch. She was about 19, very attractive and was wearing a sheer white dress that clearly revealed a lacy white full slip she was wearing underneath. She immediately came over and without coaching, joined in with her boss in trying to find me the perfect petticoat. She helped in pulling them over my head, adjusting the waistbands and seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in reaching under the many layers and fluffing the pettis to make them stand out to their fullest.

Needless to say, I went home that day with my first petticoat and a memory that will probably endure forever.


I was 6 years old and began to notice lingerie. But it wasn't until I turned 13 that this joyous feeling came over me. My sister was 3 years older and this was the spark of my wonderful experience. Watching all the girls in the fifties wear poodle skirts, I was always wondering how it would feel to wear petticoats. I stayed home from school. It was time to find out. Waiting for everyone to leave for work or school made me more excited, but waiting made the fire burn more inside of me. Finally, I was alone. I ran upstairs to my sisters bedroom and went through her panty drawer just to feel the silky fabric that I have felt many times before. There were pink, white and various other pastel shades. I've always felt guilty afterward that I had violated my sister's clothes. The guilt disappeared when I got the urge again. If I remember, she had five different petticoats, all different patterns and fullnesses. I would gently slide just one on; feeling the scraping of the fabric against my skin brought me sensations I had never felt before. I was in no hurry to test all five, as I had all day. I also liked to run downstairs and watch the petticoat flare out. This only increased my desired to an ultimate peak of ecstasy. I thought, "How wonderful it would be to be a girl and dress like this forever," but I was never disappointed to be a male. I tried all five petticoats one at a time, then had all five on at the same time. I also slipped on a skirt and sat in a chair and did different things to make the lacy hem pop out from the skirt. My desire is to wear lingerie of all kinds, but nothing skimpy, I will never forget my very first time. What such happy memories and experiences I had from that day. I continued to skip school a lot more and each time I had as much fun and enjoyment. I added wearing her bra stuffed with tissue and a pretty white full slip and wore a dress and blouse. Forty years later I still wear full slips, half slips as, well as the good old standby, crinolines.


Barbara was a 37 year old widow with a small child that I babysat for when I was 15. She was short, 5'1", small busted, with a very tiny waist. Her hips were more than ample, and she had very shapely legs (at 15 you notice all of this real fast). Despite the ample hips, she regularly wore knee or slightly over-the-knee full skirts and dresses with frilly petticoats underneath. With the tiny waist, shapely legs and her propensity to wear 3" or 4" heels while dressed, the petticoats always were a mystical attraction to me, as I imagined feeling my way through them to explore the hidden charms of this woman. The thought of smelling her scent and touching the satins, taffetas and crinolines as I moved up her stockinged legs to her garter straps and beyond rapidly became an obsession to me. Though I had not yet understood it, she very well knew the effect she was having on me and was working her spell to move me willingly into her petticoat power from the very first time I was in her home. When I would come over to baby-sit, she would insist that I sit and tell her how I was doing in school. She would always sit just across from me with legs crossed and petticoats teasingly displayed. As she crossed and uncrossed her legs, the vision of all that silk and satin leading to her "charms" was further amplified by the glimpses of stocking tops and garters. Just about when my arousal was becoming uncomfortable to the point of squirm, she would get up and leave for the evening. Naturally, my obsession led me to begin exploring her closets and lingerie drawers in order to smell and feel those "charms" as much as I thought I dared. As I explored, I discovered she was a real lingerie aficionado, with all types of corsets, fancy bras, garter belts, waist nippers, merry widows and silky panties with lots of lace. All colors were there, but especially black and red.

The petticoats took a whole side of the closet themselves. Most were knee length or shorter. She had all types of fullness from very bouffant to Victorian. The fabrics were rich in satins, taffetas and crinolines. Colors were red, white, blue, pink, black, and (my favorite) a deep magenta. It was only a short time until I had to feel them on me and I began undressing and trying them on one by one. I would rub them against me and admire them in front of her full length mirrors. My arousal would lead me almost to orgasm, so I began to wear her black silk panties and take them with me each time to protect the petticoats from stains. Silly of me to think she would not notice that her drawers had been rummaged in and panties were missing. Well, it had to happen: One night, by design as I later figured out, she returned early one night and had quietly moved into the hall leading to her bedroom where she could watch me while I played and enjoyed the charms of her lingerie. I don't know how long she was there, but suddenly I looked around and there she stood. Not angry, but like she was enjoying the show. This particular night, I had on her black satin petticoat with matching ribbons over a red crinoline to hold it out full. This was my "slutty" look and I was fully aroused and enjoying the sounds and feel of the fabrics as I wiggled my ass in front of her mirror. I was speechless. Caught in the act!. A full and pulsing erection, naked except for her petticoats and the contents of her lingerie drawers scattered across the bed. And the woman I secretly lusted for taking it all in. Without saying a word, she unbuckled her trench coat and took it off. She had anticipated this situation, I quickly understood, as I looked at her "attire". She had on a red satin demi bra, fastened tightly enough to nestle her small but firm breasts nicely at the top of the lace trim. Her nipples were erect and peeked pinkly from beneath the lace. Her waist was snugged a good 3" smaller than I remembered by a 18" black satin boned waist nipper tied tightly in back. Six satin garters with metal fasteners went down to the welts of her black stockings and held them in place on her creamy thighs. Her 4" spike heels seemed to be miles high as I looked speechless on the beautiful lingerie adorning her body. She entered the room and smoothly pulled on a shorter black satin full petticoat and spun slowly around giving me a good look at her from all sides.

"You like?" she said. I still could not talk. She then added, "I think you do. And I know that you have been doing this for some time. Now it is time to pay me for the pleasure. Follow me to the extra bedroom; you have some learning to do." Thus began about three years of satin pleasure as she taught me the wonders of femininity and all it's trappings. She taught me to dress and play many roles for her, which I willingly did. It even got to the point where she invited some other neighborhood ladies to share me. Was I surprised to find out who else in the neighborhood had a fantasy side like her. It was impossible to look at the mothers of my friends the same way after that. But it sure was more enjoyable. Finally, she initiated me into full service as a woman, which after much anxiety, I found I very much enjoyed "controlling" another through clever visual stimulation and oral handling of the "little head". I wish I could return to those days.


My first time was in the fifties. I had started dressing in my older sister's clothes already. But she didn't have any petticoats yet. As I recall, in 1952 -1953, when I really started dressing up, girl's fashions were sweaters and quite long, mid-calf length "tight" skirts. This left me with straight half slips, garter belts, etc. to practice on, but un-petticoated full skirts at best! As the fifties progressed petticoats began to hit the fashion scene. My sister ignored the fashion trends, and chose to wear full skirts without any petticoat support! How crude! It must have been in 1954 my sister was graduating from high school. She got a really pretty pink party dress (for her high school graduation) that had little baby doll puffed sleeves and an extremely full gathered skirt. Finally she had done it! The dress had an attached petticoat. As I recall it was a quite pretty one, with two skirts, both gathered at the hem for a nice flounce effect. The edge of the hem was nicely done up with pink satin piping, and there were some little pink satin bows on the flounce.

When I saw that dress, I knew I was going to wear it at some point. I got my chance, one afternoon when no one was at home, and was practically hyperventilating as I started dressing. My sister had also gotten some really pretty satin lingerie from our aunt as a graduation gift, and so that was the source of my panties, bra, garter belt and stockings! I was really doing it! I slipped on the satin slip that matched the (my!) panties. It felt great sliding over my head and down around my legs. (I know I didn't need the slip, what with the petticoats I was going to be wearing. I just happed to also love slips!). I felt as if I might faint as I just stood there, my hands against my thighs, pressing against the silk of my slip and panties. Christ, this was wonderful! I put on my shoes --- a pair of patent leather T-straps, and kept thinking about the final item I was going to dress in. It was great that I could put off doing the dress itself until the end. That way, my mood just kept getting more and more feminine and intense.

The anticipation of the petticoats was unbearable!

Finally, I picked up the dress, lifted the skirt and petticoats, and slipped it over my head. I reached into the armholes, slid my arms through the cute little puffed sleeves, pulled the dress down, down to my waist, and pouffed the skirt over the petticoats. What can I say? It was superb! I remember looking at myself in the mirror. I just stood there, more or less wide eyed, and kept doing little things I considered girlish with my skirts. This more or less involved doing things to show off my petticoats, and to a lesser extent, the silk slip, panties, and gartered nylons beneath.

Well, I never stopped doing petticoats after that --- not until I became involved in a permanent relationship with a very nice lady who doesn't understand this petticoat thing. So that is my story about my first petticoating. What is yours?

Editorial comment by Tessy:

Of course, like most of our sisters, I relate strongly to your experience; matter of fact, I have had similar such experience. In hard times, I fall back on those wonderful memories.

But the intriguing thought, as I pulled that dress over my head (and thereafter) was and is: How exciting it must have been to take that for granted, as a girl: the femininity, the beauty, the cuteness. Did they really (do they really) appreciate what they have? I mean, really? Certainly never the way WE do! If we were girls, would we loose that? Maybe we, as physical males, only have that appreciation. The only woman that I know that has those same feelings is Dolly Parton. How do I know? Because she said so! Makes no bones about. She said that if she were a male, she would be a female impersonator!


Unlike most others who have posted their experiences at Petticoat Pond I did not have any childhood experiences with petticoats or any other feminine things. I was an only child and so did not have any sister's wardrobe to raid for things. I really don't think I would have had much inclination as a child to wear feminine things anyway. My odyssey into petticoathood did not begin until I got into square dancing.

I began square dancing in 1993, and I have to admit that one of the things I liked about it was the beautiful outfits the women wore, including all of the petticoats. I have always liked the frilly old time outfits that women used to wear, but in square dancing, I probably stumbled into the last place on earth where such dress is commonplace. After I completed square dance lessons in 1994, we had a graduation ceremony with an initiation. The initiation activities consisted of having the students dance in various awkward ways. One of the things the club did was to pick four each of the male students and four of the female students and have them dance the opposite part. Not all of the students were subjected to this, but I was. What we did was have a square of all men where the students danced the opposite part and the club members danced the regular man's part and a square of all women which danced the same fashion. Then the president of the club got up on the microphone and said something to the effect of "Just so our student guys will really know they are girls will some of you ladies share their petticoats with them." I was handed a petticoat and someone had to help me on with it since I did not have the slightest idea of what to do with it. All of us who had to wear these things slipped them over our trousers. Then the caller called a short tip which was a mess, since the student dancers who had to dance the opposite part did not have the slightest idea of what to do. I made it through that experience but it was harrowing for me. I had a pretty tight and very shy personality at the time and if someone had told me at the beginning of square dance lessons that I would have to wear a petticoat to graduate I think I would have quit lessons. If I had known on graduation night that I would be chosen as one of the students to dance the opposite part and wear a petticoat I would not have come. Well, I made it through that experience, but to be honest I do not even remember what the petticoat felt like because I was too embarrassed at the time.

By the way square dancing is really fun, and I expect it to be an important part of my life for the rest of my life. You will not meet a better, more friendly group of people anywhere than in square dancing. Now on to my first voluntary experience with petticoats: Having danced for a few years surrounded by a sea of petticoats, I decided several months ago that it would be an interesting gag to go to a dance cross dressed, which I had never done before, or even really had the inclination to do. Since the only woman square dancer who had clothes big enough to fit me had moved away recently I could not borrow the clothes and I had to buy an outfit. The lady at the local square dance shop, who was a friend of mine, was very helpful and, to save me a little money, sold me one of her old petticoats at a cheap price. I had a female friend of mine agree to go to the dance with me and we would both dress and dance the opposite parts. The place we chose to dance was out of town and we went there because the caller was a friend of mine and also because I had dated a girl who used to dance there. The dancers knew me, and since I had dated this girl there they knew I was not gay and would probably accept the way I was dressed as a gag, which it was. I did not really intend to become a cross dresser. We took my friend's truck and, since there was not any extra room in the cab, I had to wear my outfit all the way to the dance. I not only had the skirt, blouse and petticoat, but appropriate lingerie and a wig. I was not trying to pass myself off actually as a woman so, I went no farther than that in fixing myself up. I would not have known how to use makeup anyway even if I had been interested in doing that. When we got to the dance, my friend went to change clothes from her work clothes into jeans and a shirt so she would look something like a guy. I stood in the parking lot and realized that the moment of truth had arrived. I was really uncomfortable. My male ego was screaming at me not to go in to the dance. If I had had anything with me to change into I would have done it and blown off our original plan. However, because my friend's truck was so small, I did not have anything else to wear. I was really stuck. It was either go through with the plan or go home. I did not think it would be fair to my friend to make her go home since she had been kind enough to agree to be my partner for this dance, so I took a deep breath and went in. Everyone recognized me immediately since underneath all of the clothes and the wig the same masculine face was sheepishly peeking out. All started laughing, and I knew then it would be ok. The caller was rolling on the floor and, when I spoke to him on the phone a few days after the dance, he suggested that I come again to dance cross dressed. My friend took a long time to get changed, so I had to dance the first tip as a man, since there was another woman without a partner and we were needed to fill out a square. I felt ridiculous dancing the man's part cross dressed, since it was not what I had in mind to do when I came. After the first tip, I danced with my partner in the girl's position the rest of the night and it was wonderful. After I lost my self consciousness I noticed how nice the clothes, and especially petticoat, felt on me. I did not want to admit it but I was hooked. I now own four petticoats and about 6 square dance blouses and 6 skirts, with an assortment of pettipants and elastic belts. The only unfortunate thing I have to deal with now is that I would like go dance again cross dressed, but if but I do it on more than a rare occasion, I would get a bad reputation in square dancing. While square dancers are friendly, they are also quite conservative (which I also am, so I respect their views). I danced at that particular club because I knew they would accept it and I would not dream of trying to dance cross dressed most places, as it simply would upset a lot of people. So far the experience I have related is my only cross dressing dance experience. I will probably not venture to do it again until there is a costume dance in my area. Since I cannot dance crossed dressed very often, I have a few friends, (mostly women square dancers) who I dress up for. To get my dance fix, I have them twirl me occasionally, and it really feels nice. All of you other poufbunnies haven't lived until you have danced in your petticoat. If petticoats had feelings, I think that each and every one of them would look forward to being flared out when the person wearing them was twirled,
as that is what they are made for. If any of you poufbunnies reading this are male square dancers anxious to repeat my gag, please be very careful how you go about doing it. Even though the group I went to as a whole really enjoyed it, there were one or two minor problems, such as one of the dancers there who did not know me asking if I was gay. Now all I need is a wife who enjoys dressing me up. I am still single, but looking.


My Aunt was a seamstress. She always made clothes for the various members of Our family. She made shirts and pants and shorts for the boys, and tops, skirts and dresses for the girls. She lived only two doors away, and was a constant part of my life.

It seemed to start very innocently for me at probably age ten or eleven. I was asked if I could come over to help out Auntie 'R' for a half-hour or so with some sewing. She was trying to hem a skirt and needed me to stand up very straight with the skirt on so she could pin the hem to make it even. Since I wasn't doing anything of importance, I went right over and supplied the 'body' for her. I felt a little embarrassed but she allowed me to have my pants on under the skirt since the waist was a little larger than mine...all I had to do was pull up my pant legs and stand there while she pinned away. I was done in a jiffy. She told me I made a good model and she asked if I could help out next week with another project. I agreed to do so.

The following week I went over again to help her out with a little girl's dress she was making for her niece who lived in another town. I was really excited, and no longer embarrassed, when she told me it was time to put the dress on so she could make the necessary adjustments. It was basically a pink dress with lots of ruffles and white lace. I fell in love with this dress and I was really sad when she finished all her work. It was to be a gift. I helped out with at least four fittings; the final fitting was a full dress 'viewing' with my mother and some other neighborhood ladies present! Besides wearing the dress and petticoat, I was asked (directed) by both my aunt and mother to put on white tights, complete with little ruffled socks and pink shoes with straps and little girl bows on the toes. I was assisted by both of them with this task, as I had never put on tights and shoes like this before. Everyone loved the little dress and gave their approval and I could hear them comment to each other about how cute I looked..."I made a cute little girl" they all said. But I was a boy, and although my heart burned to someday have my aunt make me my own dress like this, I somehow knew it would never happen.

Well, I was now appointed to be Auntie 'R's' fitting model for her nieces. I took part in many dress and skirt creations. I was in heaven. Eventually I grew and was no longer the correct size for my cousins. (I called them cousins even though they were really not directly related). The modeling didn't stop however; as I grew to the size guessed it!!...Auntie 'R' herself!! I continued to do this for another year and a half or so. Many of the final 'viewings' were done completely dressed in my aunt's clothes, and I mean completely. I think, in fact I know, that she knew I really enjoyed wearing pretty girls' clothes. I would show off her clothes that she had just made wearing everything female from head to foot. I got to wear her frilly little camisole that she put 'falsies' into to give the appearance of breasts, along with her garter belt and stockings that she had to show me how to put on and attach. Over that went some silky little panties and then the dress. The petticoat went on last, as it was pulled up under the dress. Last but not least, I got to wear her high heels, which were rather hard for me to walk in. They were sandal type with lots of straps. I loved every minute of it.

I was always trying on other items as well, to see what 'went' with what. Different tops, skirts, slips...different shades of stockings and different styles and types of shoes. It was wonderful.

I was still growing, however, not necessarily getting bigger but nonetheless 'maturing'. My last dressing up with her was perhaps the most embarrassing moment for me and probably the most influential experience of my life. I was probably about 12 and a half or so by now. I had spent the last three hours in total heaven as she frilled about me sewing this and that and trying out this belt with this necklace. She even tried out several shades of lipstick on my lips to see if the colors matched correctly. We had already tried several shades of nylons and at least four pairs of shoes when she got out of her drawer a new package of what looked like nylon stockings. She opened the package and took out the garment and handed it to me with a pair of little white gloves. The package was labeled 'Round the Clock - Agilon - a bikini with legs'. She told me they were pantyhose and that I had to put the gloves on before putting them on so they would not snag and run. She then left the room. My heart was racing as I gathered them and smoothed them over my legs. Now I noticed I had a major problem. Not with the pantyhose, but with a specific body part making it's first appearance in female clothes. A lot of things began working on me at this time. I was in heaven because I was dressed totally female again. I was wearing something new - pantyhose. The dress and petticoat really felt great against my totally-covered legs and the high heels added to the feeling all the more. The bulge in my pantyhose would not go away and I was flushed all over. I tried to hide the feelings as I made my way into her sewing room for her approval. It was at this time that this 'specific body part began' to leak uncontrollably 'in front.' I told her that I had an accident and soiled her panties and pantyhose. She pulled up the dress and petticoat and saw what had happened. Auntie hugged me and told me it was OK and this was very normal and a beautiful thing because I was becoming a man. She said she loved me very much but she also said we should not do any more fittings again and she hoped I would someday understand why. She went back to her drawer and got out a pair of white tights and handed them to me. Then she told me to change into them and to put on a pair of 'flats.' We rinsed out the pantyhose and panties and then hung them out to dry. Auntie told me to wait in the living room for her as she went into her bedroom to change. She came out dressed in a similar dress to the one I had on, complete with white tights and flats. Then she grabbed me by the hand. We went for a long walk outside - in public !! Everyone must have thought I was a young girl, because they never gave me a second glance. We sat in the park and talked for a long time. Auntie told me that she had always wanted a little girl to frill about. She wasn't sorry that she had two very young boys and she thanked me for allowing her to be "her daughter," if only for a short while. I told her I really enjoyed it and that I really liked some of her clothes. She seemed to understand what I was trying to tell her. We walked around the 'block' again and then went back home.

Several weeks later she stopped over when my mom wasn't home and gave me a small package. She thanked me for all the help I was to her. Little did she know that I loved every minute of being dressed up as a girl... or did she ? I later opened the package to find a new pair of pantyhose and and the powder blue slip with white lace and matching panties I always admired.


I must have been about 5 because it was just after we moved and I started kindergarten the fall after we moved. My grandmother kept a large doll on a chair in the bedroom. One afternoon while we were at my grandparents house I was wandering around the house and ended up in the bedroom looking at the doll. I don't remember why, but I decided to try on the doll's dress. I was small, the dress was a little tight, but with a some wiggling around I got it on. I do remember the dress felt very nice and I was quite excited about having it on and I went to the living room to show everyone. I think they were a little shocked at first but then I got some hugs and was told that I was a very cute little girl. Then I was asked to put the dress back on the doll so nothing would happen to it. After that I didn't dress up again until I was ten.

In the between years, I always noticed what the girls were wearing. The girls I knew wore dresses with full skirts and petticoats. When my Mom went shopping I loved having the chance to touch some of the soft and fluffy things. I spent hours looking through catalogs trying to imagine how it would feel to dress up in all the wonderful things I saw there. No one ever taught or encouraged me to dress up. We lived in the country and I got to spend lots of time by myself. Where I was brought up people seldom threw anything away. When something wasn't needed or didn't fit anymore it was put aside in a box, or bag. The closest family had three girls. I was offered the chance to play dress ups several times, but I always declined. I was always very self conscious about the fact that I really wanted to dress up. I thought if anyone saw me dressed up they would be able to tell how much I liked it and then I would get teased a lot. One summer I decided to try on some panties. I was real excited and a little scared, but I was rewarded with the most marvelous experience I ever had to that point. From then on I started collecting and experimenting with girl's clothes. I did not want to steal so I would make secret trades of something from our old things for something from a neighbor's box of old things. As I tried on various things I found that the little girl's cotton lingerie wasn't nearly as much fun to wear as the silky soft nylon things of the moms and big sisters. As I explored around to see what wonderful girl things I could find mostly I came across panties and slips. I kept searching though because what I really wanted, what I hoped so much to find was a Petticoat!

One day a new box appeared. When I saw it I was very excited and could hardly wait until no one was around so I could look in it. Later that day I opened the box and started looking through it. About halfway down in the box I touched something very soft! I remember I got a shiver as I pulled it out. I was holding a short black velvet skirt and it was poufed up! As I looked it over, to my joy, I found that it had its own petticoat and panties. I almost got undressed to try it on right then, but luckily I stopped to think and remembered that I wasn't alone. I found a temporary hiding place for my new treasure and went on with other things. I had a hard time sleeping that night. I was SO! excited about having such a special skirt. The next day I had time to myself. When I went to get my precious new skirt I found the box was gone. I panicked a little, but I found the petticoated skirt where I left it. I ran so I could get ready to try on my new petticoated skirt. I had always been aware that the girls kept themselves very clean and thought I should be clean too whenever I was going to dress up so the first thing I did was take a bath and powered myself. When I was done I thought about the skirt having its own panties, but decided it would be best to put on a regular pair of panties before I put on the skirt. I remember that as I put on the panties I was shivering from being excited and scared all at once. As I stepped into the skirt I pulled it up ever so slowly. I wanted to enjoy every moment of ACTUALLY PUTTING IT ON!, and I was absolutely convinced that girl's clothes were magic. I expected that this very special petticoated skirt would actually turn me into a girl if I wasn't careful. I was in a state of rapture from how wonderful it was to be wearing that little petticoated skirt. I just couldn't believe anything could be that WONDERFUL! I stood there a long time twisting back and forth gently with the petticoat and skirt twirling softly around my legs. I noticed Everything! A slight breeze around my legs as the petticoats caressed and tickled my legs. The skirt pulling the petticoat out then wrapping it around me. A sweet smell that came in a breeze as I twirled. When I woke from my little trance I played! I spun around fast to make my petticoat go out straight. I sat down and jumped up, ran around, jumped, ran up and down the stairs, and went to the mirror to see what I looked like. The thought occurred to me, as I held up my skirt so I could see my petticoat, that I could be pretty if I dressed up all the way!

I didn't turn into a girl and that was good because I was happy being a boy. I just happened to love being a girl too! Still for a long time I thought that petticoats would turn me into a girl if I wasn't careful. I figured that either it was a secret that girl's clothes were magic and I wasn't supposed to know about it or I was the only one that knew about it. Either way I decided I'd better keep it real secret because I knew I would get picked on a lot if anyone found out. That didn't stop me though I just loved the feel of being dressed up and I liked the way I looked when I was dressed up.

Petticoats never did turn me into a girl, but they sure did bring out the girl in me.


I don't know exactly when I first became attracted to crinolines. I do know that by fifth or sixth grade I definitely appreciated the sight of petticoats peeking from the girls' skirts in my class. This was reinforced when my parents moved into a house in which my second floor bedroom window overlooked the local school playground. From seventh grade on for the next couple of years I would come home and go up to the window and watch the girls that had stayed after school to play on the playground equipment, swings, sliding board, sea-saw, and a jungle-gym. This was in the late '50's and I was most attracted to the ones wearing the fullest skirts and the most petticoats. Eventually I even talked my dad into letting me keep his binoculars up stairs so that I could watch the "birds". I don't think he ever did figure out my true motive. All this watching fueled a desire for some crinolines of my own. I was fortunate here because I also had an older sister who had just what I wanted. The challenge was to get to them when she wasn't around. The fear of getting caught along with the feel of the nylon parchment and net petticoats being pulled on is feeling that only another crinoline fan can fully appreciate. Our house had a large fan mounted up stairs so that when it was turned on a strong draft was created in the stairway between the first and second floors. I used to love to race down the stairs wearing my sisters crinolines letting them billow wildly in the breeze. I continued until I finally got caught, but that story is for another topic like "So They Caught You!"


I first became aware of petticoats in the mid 1950's while in middle school. Our school, in Southern Texas went from the 4th through 8th grades. I was in the early stages of learning and discovering myself, and trying to grasp onto this force that instinctively drew me to the clothing of girls of my peer group. I was so fascinated with the colors, the sounds, the softness and fullness of petticoats, that I took every opportunity to gaze at, dream about and walk closely by girls who wore these lovely skirts, filled with layer upon layer of nylon net and lace. Just a chance opportunity to brush past one of these full skirted girls, listening to the crush of taffeta against net, would make my day. To slyly gaze up the stairway as I slowly walked to the second floor of the school building would expose my eyes to so many lovely sets of petticoats, and then when entering the class room, again to view these lovely girls all sitting with their full shirts pushed out toward the isle so that they could squeeze into their single seat school desk, would again expose all the beauty of each girls beautiful set of petticoats. It was a wonderful time in my life.

Being a single child and living with my grandparents, I really had no opportunity to experience petticoats at home. I did have many friends who had sisters. These girls, being conscious of the current fashion trends of the mid 50's all had petticoats. No two sets of petticoats were the same. As petticoats began their fashion run with the full skirts of the 50's the number of layers must have progressively gotten larger (and heavier). I overheard girls talking about going to San Antonio to get these, or such and such. It became quite the fashion for at least one full school year. The sets I was able to examine, seemed to have a minimum of 6 to 8 different petticoats all worn together. Colors were mixed, for the most part being light pastels and shades of white. Lace edging were on many of them. Riding my bicycle down the street I would often see petticoats spread out on porches or patios drying. Of course it was necessary to wash and starch your petticoats or the crispness and fullness would soon disappear. I suspect some girls added a new set more often than they washed and starched the old sets. Many of these young ladies carried a heaviness on their hips, with 5 or 6 sets of petticoats hanging on them for a full school day.

My first experience of actually trying on petticoats came one afternoon shortly after lunch. I had gone to my friends home to do something, what do boys in middle school do with wasted afternoons? As usual, I walked into his house, no one locked or even closed their doors in our town, in the 1950's unless you were leaving for vacation! Finding no one around, I walked through the house ending up in the living room at the opposite end of the house. There, on the floor, was a huge mound of petticoats, sitting just as someone had stepped out of them. I was so overwhelmed, I had to sit down. I remember that the window air conditioner was running and I peeked down the hallway, listening for any noise of returning friends. Not hearing or seeing anyone, I quickly striped off my Levi's and jumped into the circle of nylon, lace and net, pulling the whole set onto my hips and up to my waist. The aroma of perfume and the feel of the nylon and net against my body so overwhelmed me physically, that I fell to the carpet and lay there for what seemed like many minutes. The feeling of actually having these beautiful petticoats upon my body left me in somewhat of a state of shock! I regained my senses and became frightened that someone would return and see me, quickly stepped back out of them and into my Levi's.

Since that day, petticoats have been one of my everlasting loves. Need I say more?


My mom started dressing me up at Halloween as a girl when I was about 7 or 8 yrs. old. I'll always remember that first dress...taffeta (very full with layers and gathers), a red satin square dancing style petticoat, wig and makeup. Then in the mirror, I was surprised to see myself as a really cute girl. It was my Mom's dress (she was short)-but still probably knee length on her--ending up like a bride maids tea length dress on me.

My best friend across the street was also dressed like a girl---I guess our Mom's got together on this one. I really didn't want to dress like a girl, but since my best friend was getting dressed like one, I decided to go along. This was my very first experience wearing girls clothing! I remember walking around the neighborhood all dressed up, it was a cool night, and the taffeta seemed extra "shimmery" against my skin.

As I walked around the neighborhood, I started to like the way the dress and petticoat swished as I walked. It felt really nice against my legs--and became fun to swish my dress back and forth as I walked. Towards the end of the street, we ran into some "real girls" from the neighborhood...and I got real nervous. My heart started beating fast! Would they recognize us? What would they think? And wouldn't you know it--the three of them came right up to us! They didn't take long to figure out who we were...and then they started fussing over us. "Oh you look soooo cute, who dressed you...etc." They kept trying to lift up my dress and petticoat to see what I was were wearing underneath! That was embarrassing. I just started liking girls...and never got attention from them before. Boy did I get attention that night! It was great! Obviously, I never forgot it.

My Mom dressed me like that again the following year, (per my request because I liked the way it felt when I walked). The third year she dressed me in a little girls party dress and petticoat. It fit me perfectly! I'm not sure where she got it from...I didn't ask. I remember my Dad saying to my Mom when I got home...enough is enough with the girl costumes...that was the last year for awhile. Too late - I was hooked. I would sneak the dresses and petticoats when nobody was home. A few years later, while wearing a taffeta dress and petticoat, the swishing stimulated me for my first "hard time". Only the beginning.......


This is almost de'ja'vu for me. I was five plus years younger than my sister, who also graduated in '54. The earliest I can remember is at the age of six or seven when I would sneak into my sister's closet and slide up inside a formal skirt that had a net skirt over a taffeta underskirt. I had only a few minutes to take in the exquisite pleasure of the sound and feel of taffeta against my skin. On the very rarest occasions was I able to take it off the hanger and try it on. The stimulation of taffeta against my naked skin was, and still is, beyond compare to anything I have experienced in terms of sensual pleasure. Why I went in her closet, I have no idea.
( I realize this is the first time, but the latter reflects the sum total of my dressing between ages of 5/6 and 18.) In about third grade I remember my sister had a slip that was made of crinoline material. I knew the material because I had asked my mother what the material was. I would often take a detour through the dining room to stroke the material while it was laying there waiting to be ironed. I remember my mother asking why I wanted to know. That Christmas or maybe the following Christmas I came across a pink taffeta petticoat and a red crinoline petticoat laying on the box that was used to store Christmas decorations. I took frequent trips to the basement just to stroke and nuzzle my face in the materials. After a few weeks of the petticoats not being moved, I snuck them upstairs to my room and hid them in my clsoet. Now I could relish the wearing of them. I took them with me whenever I went to visit my aunt and uncle's farm. Wearing them underneath my jeans and shirt I would go out to the pasture and, after removing my jeans, I would parade around, enjoying the double petticoats brushing across my legs. In '55, my mother cleaned my closet, throwing the petticoats away. Though she never said anything, she did refer to a psychologist who then sexually molested me. He was also the first one to tell me that I was not the only boy in the world to dress up in girls clothes. I also learned the term "transvestism." As for the petticoats, I have yet to find duplicates. In the last two ears of my sister's high school years, she had a party dress that had a black wool top and a striped taffeta skirt. With easier access to my sister's closet, I was able to wear the dress and my two petticoats and felt absolutely wonderful. One other frequent occurrence when I was in grade school was the Kresge store in my hometown. When entering the store, three sides of a rectangle counter were covered with tacked up crinoline petticoats. Every time I would walk in, I would walk around the counter just to brush my hand across the petticoats. It killed me not to have money in which to purchase one more of them. The petticoats of the 50's were my passion and my life; they also were my stumbling block. My only wish would have been to have found only one person who would have said "It's okay; you are not alone" when I was in grade school. Unfortunately there wasn't, and I lived for a decades with the fear of being caught "with my petticoats exposed." Is it any wonder I am a late night person and probably the fastest strip artist in my part of the state?


It all started innocently enough. Tim was a local neighborhood friend who was pretty cool to hang around with. As our friendship grew tighter, I started staying the night with his family more often. One of the first things I noticed about his family was that his mother was an exceptionally good looking woman. One time when I was over, she sat with us in the living room, watching the T.V., and she started folding laundry. When she folded her panties, which were a lavender purple color and a satiny shine, I almost had a heart attack.

Eventually she moved out of her husband's house because they were divorcing. I helped them move out. Susan herself handed me the underwear drawer, her underwear. I saw nylon panties, shiny bras, a purple polyester tap pant, and what I thought at that time, a big fluffy black slip. I thought about her clothes all night.

I would dress up in her clothes whenever I could. I couldn't wear her camisoles or bras, I was a growing teenager and her upper body was smaller than mine. Fortunately her panties, slips, and a few nightgowns fit me. I'll never forget the night that his mother had gone out of town and I would have to sleep in her room. When he went to sleep, only his grandmother stayed awake, and she was hard of hearing. She was in the living room watching the T.V. Susan had a dimmer light in her room, so you could adjust the light, and I turned this up enough to be barely seen. I crept over to her dresser to see all of her silky delights. When I was through, I had put on four pairs of satin hipster style panties, one nylon, and three of her nylon briefs. I slid into a black half slip, then a white nylon slip, and over it all I wore the most divine creation the world has ever known: I slid into her black petticoat. With it's loose yards of fabric flowing over my body, it sent electric charges to my brain. I played in her clothes for three hours, I always came back to her petticoat. It was so beautiful, it made me feel beautiful, and I would whimper in girlish delight at the experience of wearing Susan's black petticoat.

It started becoming an obsession for me shortly thereafter. I started finding more and more clever ways to wear her clothes. This also led to more more chances of getting caught. One time, she returned home early, and I had it all on. I had to throw her underwear in the drawer as they came off my body, I did manage to separate her panties so they wouldn't be noticed overlapping each other. Some of the silly things I did was take her clothes to my room, put them on in the laundry room while the others were bathing, and put them on in her room while the others were bathing, I was always finding ways to get closer to her clothes. I loved pretending that I was Susan, and I loved twirling in that petticoat. It was so feminine, I was as pretty as a girl in her clothes.

One time I was watching T.V. in Susan's room. My friend came to me and announced that he was going to take a bath. The bathroom is about five feet from her room, but I wasn't going to let this stop me from feeling pretty. I knew the risks, as I dropped my pants and reached for her panty drawer. I couldn't resist the temptation to grab her panties, feel them, put them on. By now I knew everything she had--I had a certain order I put on her clothes, for maximum sensation. I was putting on the third pair of satin panty when I heard the bathroom door open and footsteps. Quickly I slid into my jeans, over the panties, hiding my underwear in her drawer, but I had to leave the drawer open. He came in and joked around while the tub filled. Internally I had died a thousand times. I was wearing his mother's panties.

He never noticed the drawer, and eventually he went back to the bath. I was out of control by this time. You see, I had worn her clothes so often that I felt like I was part owner of them. I had fantasies about telling her this and announcing to her that I would wear her clothes any time I came over. I felt I had a right to her clothes. I put on everything, but I slid her petticoat on last. I started twirling around to watch it fly up. Then the door flew open. In walked Tim's sister and his female cousin. I stood there in plain view, dressed in her mother's underwear. My heart sank, I had been caught. Sheepishly I grabbed my clothes and walked out of her room. I changed in the downstairs bathroom, leaving the underwear in the floor. I walked out and never returned.

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