James hadn’t forgotten about the outfit waiting for him when they arrived home with several bags of shopping each.
He offered to help his mother put it all away, but his mother suggested that he goes and changes first.
She passed him the pack of white ‘school’ socks and said.
“Try a pair of these too.”
The first item he donned was the cream blouse.
He got into a bit of a grump as he struggled with its reversed buttons but eventually fastened them all.
The button-through skirt was easier, although he did unfasten all eight buttons before realizing that only the top few would have been enough.
Its hem landed a few inches above his knee and although pink, its dusty hue means it’s not what he’d call a ‘girlie’ pink.
He perched on the edge of his bed and pulled the socks up his legs.
They’re the style that the uncool, daggy, or mummy’s girls wear at school, having that vile pelerine knit.
He visualized how some of these girls always have at least one of them twisted whilst others are forever straightening them and making sure the tops are even.
He pulled on his trainers before reluctantly returning to the kitchen and the first thing his mother said was,
“I think your deck shoes would have looked better than trainers.”
James suggested changing them but his mother said that it doesn’t really matter.
“Why mention it then?” he asked.
“No reason, I just thought your deck shoes would look nicer.” she smiled.
“Turn around, let’s have a proper look,” she asked. James turned and his mother commented,
“I see you’ve got your socks nice and straight.”
“Some of the girls at school always have them wonky,” he said as he looked down at them.
He looked up at his mother and saw a beaming smile sweep her face. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied.
“It’s just nice that you know how to wear them properly.”
“It’s not rocket science.” James dryly replied.
“Why is she so chuffed that I managed to pull my socks up?” he thought as he began putting away what little is left of the shopping.
Over supper, James’s mother tells him that he does look nice in his blouse.
James complains that it’s too lacy before asking if he’ll have to wear the brown tartan dress tomorrow.
“Well it would be nice if you did.” his mother replies, adding that he hasn’t worn it yet.
“But that means I’ll have spent the whole weekend dressed as a girl,” he comments.
His mother reminds him that he did wear boy clothes when they went shopping, and points out that he’s not dressed as a girl, but as a petticoated boy.
“It’s not so bad wearing nice clothes now you’re getting used to them is it?”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to wear frilly knickers with my name on,” he replied.
“Why can’t I wear normal knickers as normal girls wear?”
“Because you’re not a girl… but I know what you mean, your knickers are very fussy.”
The next day as his mother is helping him fasten his stockings.
James suggests that maybe normal tights would be easier than these.
“I know but normal tights would scrunch up all the frills on your knickers.”
“Not if I had normal knickers.” he instinctively retorted, before realizing what he’d requested.
James felt himself begin to blush as his mother held the brown tartan dress open.
He stepped in and put his hands through its sleeves, before turning around so his mother could fasten him in.
James looked down and wondered if he’d ever get used to seeing himself clad in such girlie clothing.
“Which shoes shall I wear?” he asked.
“Well… your deck shoes I suppose.” his mother replied, before telling him that he’d need some ‘proper’ shoes before long.
James knew what she meant so didn’t bother enquiring as he pushed his stockinged feet into a pair of white deck shoes.
“There… that looks nice enough.” His mother said once her son was fully dressed.
“Not bad for a charity shop find eh?” she added.
“At least it’s not really prissy,” James mumbled.
Just as the previous Sunday, today was a normal lazy day spent in front of the TV, flicking through books and magazines and doing the odd chore such as tidying his room and putting his laundry away.
His mother did the bulk of the housework (as usual) and prepared the Sunday roast.
She put a stack of dinner plates, placemats, and cutlery on the kitchen table and asked James if he’d lay it.
“Four plates?” he asked, noticing there’s four of everything instead of two.
“Yes.” his mother replied. “Granny and Granddad are coming for lunch.”
“What!?” James gasped. “Today?”
“Well we wouldn’t be laying that table for four if they were coming tomorrow.” his mother grinned as James’s face dropped.
“Now don’t worry… they both know that you’re being petticoated,” she told him.
“And Granny’s looking forward to seeing how nice you look.”
“Yeah and Granddad’s going to think I’m a sissy.” James sulked.
His mother insisted that his grandfather would think no such thing.
“It’s a shame he can’t see how nice you look too,” she added since his Granddad (her father) has been blind for the last six years.
His grandparents arrived within the hour and his grandmother did indeed gush over how nice the boy looks in a dress.
“Some ribbons in his hair wouldn’t go amiss,” she said.
“What’s it like?” his grandfather asked, before James’s outfit was described in great detail… right down to the tiny little love heart pattern on his stockings.
“Well that doesn’t sound too bad.” his Granddad said, before asking the boy to lead him to his place at the table.
With his grandfather’s hand rested on his shoulder, James guided him to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for him.
“Thank you.” his Granddad said as he sat.
“So… how are you getting on with this petticoating malarkey?”
“I’d rather I didn’t have to do it,” James replied.
“It’s weird having to wear girl’s clothes.”
“Oh I’m sure it is.” his grandfather replied.
“When I was about your age some of my friends were petticoated by their mothers…”
“Really?”
“Oh yes.” the old man said, clutching his white stick.
“They all said it was very strange, to begin with too,” he added.
“But they soon got used to it, as did the rest of us.”
“You were petticoated too?!”
“No no no.” his grandfather chuckled, “We got used to seeing them in their dresses and bonnets… after a few months it just seemed normal like they’d always worn them.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” James mumbled.
“And at least I can dress like a boy at school.”
“Well you’re one of the lucky ones.” his grandfather said.
“In my day, petticoated boys wore their dresses all day, every day.”
“I suppose I am.” James figured.
After a moment he said, “I still don’t know why she’s doing it.” he paused.
“What’s the point of making a boy dress like a girl?” he asked.
His grandfather asked if he’d been getting into trouble or if he’d been playing truant from school, been accused of bullying, refusing to help around the house, or tidying up after himself.
“No,” James replied, claiming that he’s generally quite good.
“Well in that case it’s to make sure you stay that way.” his grandfather replied.
“Good boys can end up on the wrong side of the tracks occasionally… but not a petticoated one,” he explained.
“You may not realize it now but it’s for your own good.”
“That’s what Mum says.”
“And she’s right.”
“What are you two talking about?” James’s mother asked as she entered the kitchen, followed by his grandmother.
“Oh nothing… just chatting.” James’s Granddad replied. “What have you to been up to?”
Granny chirped up and said she’s been having a look at James’s new dresses.
“Your party dress is delightful!” she gushed.
“And I can’t wait to see you in your sailor dress,” she added before claiming that that style was very popular when she was young.
“We wore them with a straw hat,” she added.
“Ooh that’d be nice.” his mother said as she prepared to serve the Sunday roast. ‘
They chatted as they ate and thankfully for James, not just about him.
“It’s not like you to eat everything.” James’s mother said when the main meal was finished.
He normally leaves his leeks and sprouts but not wanting to risk an ‘outing’, he felt it best to just eat everything regardless if whether it meets his approval or not.
“Would you mind clearing the plates ready for pudding?” his mother asked.
“Yes, Mummy.”
His mother smiled as for once, he didn’t need prompting to address her properly.
“They’re ever so polite aren’t they.” his grandmother said.
“Yes they are.” his mother agreed.
“They’re almost perfect,” she added.
After the meal, James and his grandmother settled in the sitting room whilst his mother took Granddad for a walk around the garden.
Before his eyesight failed, Granddad was a very keen gardener and although he can’t see it, he likes nothing more than being led around the garden as his daughter describes all the flora and fauna to him.
Meanwhile, James is blushing profusely after his grandmother said,
“Your mother tells me you’ve got some very pretty knickers on.”
“Er… yes.” James gulped.
“May I see?”
“Er…” James says as he stands and slowly lifts his dress.
“Oh my they are pretty… and your name’s on them too!” his grandmother gushes.
“Do you wear them every day?” she asked.
James frowned and nodded.
“Unless I’ve got PE at school, then I can wear underpants,” he informed her.
“I’d rather wear normal knickers,” he added.
“I’m sure you would.
Knickers are so much nicer than underpants.”
“I didn’t mean…” James began just as his mother and grandfather entered.
“What are you two talking about?” his mother inquired.
“James was just showing me his knickers.” Granny replied.
“They’re ever so pretty.”
“They are.” his mother proudly replied.
“Wouldn’t a pair of tights be more convenient than stockings?” Granny suggested.
“They seem ever so old-fashioned.”
“I think James would prefer tights.” his mother replied.
“But I prefer stockings, especially with such fussy knickers… tights would just scrunch all the frills up.”
“He was just saying he’d prefer normal knickers,” Granny added.
James wanted this line of conversation to end sooner rather than later, and thanks to his granddad’s interjection about the garden, it did.
After an hour or two, James’s grandparents left.
He helped his mother with the washing up and told her what his grandfather had said about the petticoated boys he used to know.
“It was quite common in those days.” his mother said.
“And unlike you, they all wore their dresses for school too…”
“I know… Granddad told me.” James replied.
“…and for church on a Sunday.” his mother added.
“I’m glad I don’t have to go to church on a Sunday.”
His mother smiled down on him.
“But it’s nice that you’re wearing a Sunday dress.”
