Sylvia Petty's double Whammy (Kath and Carol)


I have endured so many embarrassing moments in my life as a transvestite. Here are two of the most embarrassing for me.

In 1958 I was about thirteen, and my cousin, Kath, and two of her friends, had come down from Liverpool to stay for a week. (My step mum came from Liverpool). We lived about ten miles west of central London then, so it was a handy base for them to stay and see the big city. They were all about 17 or 18 and they took over my bedroom for the week while I was moved into my little sister’s room on a camp bed. They looked so beautiful in their big dresses filled out with masses of petticoats, and I was so envious of them.  

Well, one day, I found myself alone in the house. Dad was probably working, Mum and Sis were out somewhere and the girls had just left to go to London for the day.

As soon as I heard the front door close, I shot back into my room, opened my wardrobe door and about nine net petticoats tumbled out. They were all in various shades of

pastel coloured net with some having lace overlays and others tiered with ribbons. I picked them up – touching them, smelling them, caressing them, even kissing them. Oh, I was in heaven. They were so beautiful and I could not resist them. I quickly stripped naked and put on all of the petticoats. I remember getting into a bit of a state because I didn’t have the knack then of how to put on several petticoats at once! There I was, dancing and flouncing about, twirling, jumping and writhing around on the bed. I was so “gone” in my gorgeous petticoats that I didn’t notice that Cousin Kath had come back! She came through the door just as I was prancing about! I nearly died of embarrassment and I think she did too!  I just sat down on the edge of the bed, hoping I would somehow become invisible.

But Kath just looked straight at me and said: “Oh sorry, I forgot something!” and walked straight back out again! I don’t know whether she told the other girls, but the incident was never mentioned again – not to me, anyway. But I could never look Kath in the face again without a shy, knowing smile!

Now move on fifty years! One of my wife’s best friends was Carol. She was in her fifties but was still very fashionable and had a lot of beautiful dresses and skirts. She was a divorcee, living on her own not far from us.

Carol also has two cats and liked to go away on frequent holidays. Naturally, the cats needed to be fed while she’s away and so guess who was asked to go round her house to feed them. Yes, it’s good old Sylvie! I even had my own key! I called it my ‘Key to Heaven!’ Well, what would any ‘girl’ do? Alone in another woman’s house with all her wardrobes just waiting to be explored? I simply couldn’t help myself - and help myself is exactly what I did. Over a ten year period, I wore just about every item of clothing Carol owned – including all her bras and panties! She was a size 16UK, similar to me and I never had any trouble getting into her dresses until one particular day.

Carol would often buy new dresses and I was always overjoyed to find a new dress in her wardrobe. One day, I saw this adorable Lilac polka dot dress. It had a flared skirt and was made of silk and must have cost Carol a lot of money. 'Thank you, Carol', I thought, for buying us such a lovely dress. This is me wearing it.

Anyway, I managed to get into it but although it was supposed to be the same size as the others, I reckon it was only a size 14. It’s amazing how often sizes differ from shop to shop. It still had the original labels on it so I don’t think Carol had even tried it on yet as it would have been very tight on her too. I pranced about, dancing and frolicking in our new dress and then came the time to take it off again.

Oh dear! I couldn’t get it off! I pulled the back over my head and started to wriggle and pull but to no avail. I couldn’t reach the zip so what was I to do? I sat down to calm down and cool off for a while with the dress still firmly stuck on me. OMG, I was so embarrassed and the effort had made me sweat, which made it even more difficult to remove the dress.

'Ok, one last effort,' I thought. I yanked the skirt over my head and started to pull again …RIP!! The back seam gave way and tore away from the zip for about six inches! Oh no! Our new dress was ruined! Even worse, Carol was now going to know that I had been wearing her dresses. What could I do? Well, there was nothing I could do. I put the dress back in the wardrobe, hoping she would think she had done it herself. I knew it would be too small for her.

I noticed the dress came from Debenhams, so I spent a couple of days trying to find the same dress in three of their stores so I could replace it. I even went on line, but I just couldn’t find one. I would just have to accept the consequences. OMG, what if she told my wife! Oh boy (sorry ‘girl’) was I embarrassed – especially when she used to come round to us for drinks every Wednesday and I had to face it out waiting for her to accuse me. But she never did.

Some time later, Carol was away again. I was surprised to find the lilac dress still in her wardrobe. Even more surprised to see that it had been mended! Did she know that I had been wearing her clothes? Was she too embarrassed to accuse me? 

However. My compulsion was stronger than my embarrassment or fear of being caught so I carried on wearing Carol’s clothes until her father died and left her his house to her and she moved away. We still see her occasionally, but I do miss not having the key to her wardrobe.

Did she know? I’ll never know!

Sylvie ([email protected])

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