Forced To Wear Her Panties: A Sissy's Descent

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As a teenager I always used to spend about ten days each year with Cousin Clare and her parents. Clare wasn’t actually my cousin, but her mother and my mother were at school together, and it was a convenient way to refer to her. Clare was an only child.

It made me feel a little sexy sometimes as it swung across my shoulders if I wore a tank top. Every night I’d have to sit there and brush it to bring out the oils, she said. Long hair takes time, she said. Do it right or not at all was her motto. No wonder I never wanted to keep it nice before but then, I had all summer, only school would be starting soon and I knew she wasn’t going to let up on the hair or anything else. She seemed absolutely relentless about my grooming and deportment. I suppose it wasn’t too bad but I was beginning to have some doubts about myself lately. I felt, I don’t know, different somehow but just couldn’t put my finger on it. I think I was acting differently too, I don’t quite understand it! As far as I was concerned, I was beginning to look darned feminine to go along with all my girlish chores. I didn’t mind helping Aunt Rose out but these feelings I was having were most peculiar. I believe I was becoming accustomed to the gentler side of life and continued handling of Aunt Rose’s lingerie was having a peculiar effect on me, like, I actually caught myself wondering what it felt like to wear something so soft and silky. I noticed I wasn’t complaining about stuff any more like I did when I first came there. I just sort of accepted things now as they were.

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Oh, sorry,” she said. She relaxed her grip. “Is that better?” She gave it a little rub, and I just gulped, and nodded ‘yes!’

I was about to graduate from grade school, 14 years old, and ready to conquer the world. Mom and Dad said I had an attitude problem. I saw it as more of an expression of independence. Well, they were going to Europe for a year because of Dad’s job and I was to stay with Aunt Rose. She was my father’s sister and had bankrolled his import business. He pretty much did things her way or not at all even though he was president of the company. I rather say that as whipping out on his part but he was my dad and I had to respect that and all the money he made anyway. Suddenly I almost jumped out of my skin and my heart stopped as the bedroom door opened, and there in the doorway staring at me, was my mother, with my sister Sally peering right behind her! At the house I was shown to my room, a different one from normal. It looked like a large box-room and had several extra items of furniture, including a big old dressing table.

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I was brought up in a village in Hertfordshire in the 1950s and 60s. I lived with my mother and sister, my dad having taken off to find some excitement when I was quite small. My sister Sally was about a year older than me. Sally tended to look down on me, both because of her age and the fact that I was a mere male! Mum, while she was very kind, was very Victorian in her outlook. She tended to regard any discussing of sexual matters, almost anything below the belt, as rather dirty, and never tried to give me even the slightest hint about puberty or the ‘Facts of Life’!