Many of you are probably aware of my beautiful relationship and dress-up exploits with my cousin, Penny, when we were kids. So I thought it appropriate to post this Halloween story about Penny an me again here, with some appropriate updates.

Penny and I had always been close, but never more so then when we were very young and innocent. She was demure, girly, and outwardly friendly. And I, well, I was a typical boy; well almost typical. You see, I could talk with Penny, and she with me. I don’t mean just kids bantering, but serious sharing of our innermost feelings. It was about the second grade that I started to take an interest in girls- what they did, how they acted, and how they dressed. Although I hid this interest from my other friends, especially guy friends and classmates, for fear of being labeled effeminate, I readily explored the girls’ world through my play and talks with Penny. Now although Penny was a year younger than I, she seemed to enjoy our time together. So it was inevitable that she would offer the opportunity for me to really see what it was like being a girl for Halloween. Little did I know the significance of this event to my life's desires.

As I recall, we were in her back yard playing hopscotch when the conversation came around to the upcoming Halloween season. She was going to be “Tinker bell”, and her Mom had already got her a costume, complete with gossamer wings. My questions about her costume must have peaked her curiosity about my deep interest. She stopped and stared at me long enough for me to feel nervous.

“How would you like to attend a Halloween party that my girlfriend next door is having for us girls?”, she said. “ It’s only for girls, but that shouldn’t be a problem if we get you the right costume to wear. Please Ricky, pretty please. It’ll be so much fun! I’ve got just the things for you to wear. You are always wondering what it’s like to be a girl. This is your chance to find out beyond just dressing up with me ”.

Now Penny and I had dressed up before in her pretty party dresses and slips, but it was just between the two of us and her Mom. We both forgot about hopscotch. Penny described the costume she had in mind for me. It was her special occasion party dress outfit that she had got last Easter. I had seen her in it that Spring; a light pink satin dress with a sheer white organdy overlay with lots of frilly ruffles, ribbons, bows, and delicate lace. Now this was approaching the mid-fifties, and the dress, as I recall, typified the little girl fashion of the day with full skirts above the knees held out by poufy petticoat slips, with short puff sleeves, and lacey anklets and those cute black patent leather Mary Jane shoes. And did I mention pink satin panties with pretty lace ruffles across the bum, legs, and waist. Thes panties were just dripping with girliness! Yes, she had shown me those too!

But that was Penny. We had no secrets. My little boy's heart was pounding at the thought of being dressed in this little girlish confection. Penny dragged me inside, then into her bedroom, and pulled the dress and petticoat slip, satin hangers and all, out of the closet to show me. Even though I had seen them before, I could feel the excitement build as though I were seeing them for the first time. Something inside me said run, run now while you still have the chance! Penny must have sensed my impending panic and returned the dress and slip to the closet out of sight.

I told Penny that I didn’t know about doing this, but she reminded me that it would be only girls at the party and since her school was not the same as mine, I’m not going to run into any of my chums or their sisters there. I told her that my Mom would need to be asked, and Penny said that she would ask her Mom and have her talk with my Mom.

I really didn't want my stepmother to know because then my Father would know, and Dad would call me a sissy and all. I could see it now. " Why do I want to wear a girly dress for Halloween? And no Dad, I don't really want to take ballet lessons instead of the boxing lessons with you. I just wanna go to a Halloween party with Penny and her friends. Please don't laugh like that, Dad...."

The formalities between Moms was completed, and before I knew it, plans had been made for me to go with Penny to the party in her special Easter party dress. Talk about an emotional roller coaster, I was scared and elated at the same time! It was decided that I would wear a simple paper face mask of “Snow White” and a play wig to go with it. None of the girls except for penny and the Moms were to know that I was a boy, or at least that’s how it was intended, or I would not go.

I arrived at Penny’s home an hour before we were to leave for the party next door. I was a bundle of nerves. But Penny gave me one of her big hugs, and before long my nervousness started to melt away. Her Mom greeted me and asked if I was prepared for the big Halloween party. Her Mom was one of the nicest ladies you would ever meet- so understanding and kind.

" Yeah, right Auntie. Here I am, a guy about to go to an all girl party in Penny’s ultra girly party outfit dripping in frills, complete with her pink satin panties, and you want to know if I’m ready for this? Be serious!" , I thought to myself. Penny broke my mental silence by telling her Mom that we both were going to have tons of fun. All I could think of is if the guys back at my school and neighborhood ever catch wind of this, I’m finished, “Ricky is a sissy! Ricky is a sissy! Ricky is a…”, and there was no way I was going to live that down. The teasing would be merciless. Just no way!

Penny broke into my thoughts with, “ We’ve got to get ready or we’ll be late. And if we’re late, all eyes are going to be on us and you don’t want that, believe me! We’re better off being a little early, Ricky”. Leave it to Penny to think of things like that, thank goodness.

Now, I hadn’t anticipated everything that was involved to get ready for this event (surprise, surprise ). I thought it was just get dressed and off we go. Uh uh. Apparently Penny and her Mom had thought of everything. Her Mom had drawn me a warm bath with lots of sweet smelling bubbles. Penny called it a "bubble bath". I came out smelling like flowers. It was a quick dry off and her Mom dusted me with a girly smelling powder- could have been baby powder if I were to guess.

The next surprise was one I hadn’t counted on. Penny’s mom took me aside and told me how she had talked with my Mom and had discussed my piddling when I was nervous, besides being a regular bed wetter. Penny’s Mom quietly said to me that she didn’t want Penny’s best clothes to get ruined, so I was gonna have to wear a diaper and rubber pants, but just for the party. And besides, I would have Penny’s pretty rhumba panties over them so they wouldn’t show much. Now this was something really to panic about! I hadn’t anticipated this, and was super mad that I wasn’t told about this earlier. I was reminded that Penny would be so disappointed if decided not to go now. Oh, man. I just wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere. After I calmed down a bit, Penny’s Mom had me lay down on a towel on her bed where I was summarily powdered, oiled, and pinned into a good old Curity double diaper followed by a frosty white plastic baby panty that she pulled over the diapers. I recognized the stuff as some of my night time diapers and plastic pants, so I was pretty sure that my Mom was in colusion in this conspiracy to have me diapered for the party. It’s one thing to have diapers on at night, but entirely something else have this bulky padding between your legs with crinkling plastic baby pants and try to walk normally at a party with other people without giving away the fact that you have baby diapers on.

Great! Now I'm going to be a sissy diapered baby girl. I’m just not going! That’s all there is to it. This is going too far. I didn’t ask for this!

Auntie sensed the crisis coming on and talked to me in a soft voice so Penny couldn’t hear, while she pulled on the ruffled satin panties over the diapers, pleading with me to not disappoint Penny. This was a tough call. I was mad and plenty upset, but penny and I were tight and we would do anything for each other. So I resolved to go quietly to my fate and hope I could keep my cool and not be discovered. Auntie had me sit up on the bed while she slipped on the white lace trimmed anklets and turned them down exposing the dainty ruffled pink lace. Then on went the shiny black Mary Jane shoes that I knew would fit me because Penny had me try them on during one of our earlier dress-up sessions. I could see my reflection in them like a mirror, they were so pretty and shiny! Auntie pulled me to a standing position, checked to make sure the diaper was all inside the baby pants, snapped the baby panty waistband, and gave me a playful but firm pat on my padded rump! It was just like what Mom did when getting me ready for bed at night. You don’t suppose... nah, gotta be coincidence.

Penny showed me her freshly painted pink finger nails and pointed me towards a table with cotton balls and a little bottle of stinky smelling pink stuff. She kind of grinned, but didn’t laugh at me, when she saw my puffy behind. I sat down and her Mom did the honors, one nail at a time, blowing on each one as it was finished. I gotta admit, they did look pretty. I let out a giggle and penny did the same. That helped to break the tension. Now that was a girly thing to do. I never giggle. I guess there’s a first time for everything. I felt the ruffles and a tiny bow on the back of my satin rhumba panties. I liked the feel. I was starting to feel different too, kind of girlish if you know what I mean. Penny’s Mom pointed out that there’s only a half hour left before the party starts.

Penny went to get the dress and slip, and her Mom gathered the skirts of the bouffant petticoat slip while Penny busied herself with undoing the buttons and untying the sash on the back of the party dress. Both the slip and dress made a symphony of noisy rustling swishing sounds as the material of either was in motion. I thought to myself that was good because I could hear the crinkling sound my baby pants made when I moved and the dress and slip should help to disguise that obnoxious crinkle, a little consolation to reduce my impending panic.

Auntie asked me to hold my arms up, and down went the petticoat slip with a flurry of swishing and crackling sounds as it was lowed and pulled into place. I had worn a petticoat slip like this before during some of the dress-up play times Penny and I had liked the feel. It was so slippery over my chest and legs. I had been told that it had what they called a nylon tricot bodice for the top part, and three poufy layers of tiered skirts that stuck way out and above my knees. The innermost skirt was of a slippery material they called acetate taffeta and the other two outer layers were of stiff nylon tulle netting with delicate lace trimming the hem of each skirt on the slip. Even the bodice had more ruffled lace, and more on the dainty satin ribbon straps. The whole petticoat slip was white except for two pink satin bows; a tiny one in the top center of the bodice and a larger one with a pair of ribbon streamers on the front of the outer net skirt layer. The hems of the skirts only came to a few inches above my knees.

After fussing with the skirts and adjusting the satin arm straps, Auntie asked me to spin around fast so she could see how it looked. The skirts went straight out from my waist when I twirled and Penny giggled while her Mom just grinned. I would find out later why. I couldn’t put my arms down by my sides without encountering billows of stiff nylon net, and when I pressed the skirts down towards my body anywhere, it just bounced right back out again settling back to its original poufy state. It felt wonderful, especially when I moved the slip’s taffeta inner layer over the slippery satin of my rhumba panties! I found myself unconsciously swishing the petticoat skirts from side to side, before Penny remarked, “You really like my slip, don’t you Ricky.” I could feel my face turning hot with embarrassment as Penny remarked, “Look Mom, he’s blushing!” Penny’s Mom just nodded and smiled. There was no hiding the fact that this was one of the most girly sensations I had experienced with subsequent but well hidden reactions I won’t get into here. (Sorry to disappoint). Come on, I was only eight years old!

I was pulled back to reality when Auntie reminded Penny and I that I still needed to get into her Easter dress and time was running out if we wanted to get to the party on time. Now I could have gone prancing around in just that slip, and I would have been content. But the anticipation of putting on that pretty dress was just too much, and I immediately put my arms up for Auntie to lower it over my head and down over my slip. It was, how do they say, “to die for”. I was so engrossed in what was happening that I never once thought of my concerns earlier of my buddies at school finding out. The dress came down and settled over the petticoat slip, with the skirts of the dress standing out almost horizontally from my waist! Auntie adjusted the petticoat slip straps a little more because she said that too much of the petticoat hems were showing below the dress. She said, “ it’s all right for little girls to show a little bit of their slip but not a lot or it wouldn’t look proper. " OK Auntie, if you say so". And do be careful, Ricky, when you sit or go to pick something up, or your satin panties will be on full display for everyone to see. That goes for things like running or jump rope too. You won’t be able to avoid showing some of your panties, I’m afraid. Watch what Penny and the other girls do and do the same and you’ll be all right”. Penny had already showed me how to sit in a dress during our dress-up play so I felt ok there. But I now knew what Penny was giggling about earlier. Part of my satin panties ( and diaper padding, I assume ) could be seen anyway. Man, I wasn’t counting on this revelation. I’d have to figure something out before the party.

While Auntie is telling me this, and buttoning up the dress, I ‘m looking over the dress details. The short puff sleeves are of sheer see through organdy and have tiny elastics that keep the sleeve puffed up on my upper arms. The outer white organdy overskirt is sheer enough that the pink color of the satin layer comes through giving the dress a pretty overall effect. Penny told me that the dress had what is called a “Peter pan” collar and it was trimmed in small white organdy lacey ruffles. The dress bodice had more delicate white lace adorning it. There were a pair of tiny pink satin Picot ribbon bows on the outside of each puffed sleeve, and another larger one just below the front of the collar. The outer organdy skirt hem was also trimmed in lace. There were ruffles everywhere! The satin sash That Auntie tied in a big bow in the back was of a darker shade of pink. The whole effect was just so feminine and girly. And I was beginning to really feel the part!

Moments later, Penny's Mom reappeared back from Penny's closet with a delicate ruffly gossamer thing her called a pinafore. It too was made of heavily starched organdy. It was fitted over my shoulders over my dress and tied in a bow in the back by the attached organdy sash. Auntie explained that it was to help keep my dress clean. And I'm thinking to myself, "What keeps the pinafore clean?" Penny said that it was called a "pinnie". Ok, if you say so, cuz. The pinnie just added to the fluff of the dress and slip, and really looked kind of like what Mom wore as an apron.

With a few minutes to spare, Auntie sprays me with some kind of girly smelling perfume from Penny’s bedroom on my neck and wrists- something called “Love’s …” something or other. It smelled something like baby powder. I thought to myself that it was quite appropriate considering my state of dress, especially underneath. After more prodding, I gave another twirl and felt the dress and petticoat skirts trying to pull away from my waist. Penny brought out a “Shirley Temple” type wig with big sausage curls, and Auntie placed it on my head adjusting it here and there making sure that no stray strands of my own hair showed.

Auntie and Penny each took one of my hands and led me to Auntie’s bedroom and in front of a full length mirror. I was at a loss for words. Even without a mask, I looked like a little girl ready to go to a party! I started to seriously think that I might have a chance to pull this off. Penny ran to get a tiny white purse and handed to me. Auntie handed each of us a present for the party, as we were going to do a swap I was told. As I turned to the side before leaving the mirror, I was shocked to see the very lower bum ruffle and below of my panties. They really weren’t hidden entirely. But what I really was shocked over was the fact that I could tell that those rhumba panties were puffier than they should be. If I could tell that I was diapered, I was sure the others at the party could tell too if they looked close enough! Where was that hole I need to climb into?

Penny assured me that it only showed a little bit from behind. So if I kept to the walls pretty much I would be ok, I was told. Just don’t bend over or lift my skirts! An hour, maybe two. That’s all time I’d need to be vigilant. I had a totally dry mouth. Auntie got me a glass of water (remember when tap water was safe?), and I drank most of it before I stopped. I didn’t want to come back from the party with a wet diaper if I could help it, because it would be difficult to get it off and back on in order to use the bathroom. Auntie, I found out pins ‘em on tight. Nothing’s ever easy it seems.

But Penny’s pulling at the bit, and wants to leave. So we get hugs and kisses from Auntie and we’re off to the party next door. "I hope I’m ready for this", I think to myself as Penny and I exit through the back door, skirts swishing in a symphony of beautiful feminine sounds.

Penny and I were half way out the door when her Mom reminded us to take our masks with us. She was going as “Tinker bell” and I as “Snow White” to her next door girlfriend’s all girl costume party. I began to wonder how I got talked into this, but realized that I really wanted this opportunity to explore the more feminine side of me . Penny had said that it would be an opportunity to see what it was like to be a little girl and I knew that she was right. The question that gave me anxiety was whether or not I could pull this off pretending to be a cousin of Penny’s. And let’s face it. My paper mask was the only real piece of costume that that I was wearing. The rest was Penny’s best pink satin and organdy special occasion dress with the usual trappings of a little girl of the fifties.

As Penny’s Mom handed us our costume masks, she asked a question that drew me up short. What was my girl name going to be when I was to be introduced to Penny’s girl friends at the party? In all the excitement, Penny and I had neglected to sort this out earlier. The girls would want to know my real name, not just “Snow White”! I fingered the hem of my satin dress while trying to think of an appropriate name when Penny suggested “Nancy”. At this point, with barely minutes left before the start of the party, I was willing to accept any girl’s name. I figured that Nancy was about as girly a name as any, so Nancy it would be. I’m a Nancy girl then. Hey, isn’t Nancy girl a name for a sissy? I thought it ironic that Penny should choose that name since here I was , a boy dressed in a frilly girly outfit dripping with ruffles, lace, and bows. Penny’s Mom quickly produced a pink hair bow and clipped it to my wig just before we started off again. I wondered what else we had neglected to think of. I started to get cold feet, but Penny had a firm grip on my pink finger nail painted hand and tugged me out the door in a flurry of petticoats and crinolines swishing and rustling loudly along the way.

As we walked over to her neighbor’s house, I looked down to avoid tripping. I couldn’t even see my shoes with these poufy skirts standing out so far. My skirts, bouncing with each step, hid my shiny black Mary Jane patent leather shoes and pink lace trimmed white anklets from my sight. All I could see were billows of poufy pink and white organdy and satin. And the feeling! OMG! What a feeling! A slight breeze blew up my skirts. Between this and the effect the taffeta slip was having on my legs, I thought it was no wonder little girls liked such pretty dresses and petticoat slips! We put on our masks, keeping our thoughts momentarily to ourselves.

Penny climbed the front steps to her next door neighbor’s home ahead of me and knocked on the door. A little girl about Penny’s age came to the door and gave Penny a big hug and “Hello” before glancing down at me.

“Cindy, this is my cousin, Nancy, that I told you about last week”, said Penny. Last week! Penny had been planning as far back as last week! Penny could read me like a book and knew I’d be pulled into this scheme well before I did. Not one to dally, Penny beckoned me to join Cindy and her inside for the usual “hello’s” and “nice to meet you” introductions. The air was heavy with the scent of little girls’ perfume. Party balloons in shades of pastels were everywhere. My nervous perspiration assured that I would be adding to that scent shortly. I was happy to see that at least Cindy also had a frilly dress on similar to mine; billowing skirts, short puff sleeves, tons of ruffles, lace and ribbons, but of a pastel baby blue shade instead of pink. We hugged, and I could feel our crinolines resisting our attempt at a close embrace. As we hugged, Cindy whispered softly in my ear that she knew my little secret! Oh man. Does everyone know I’m not a girl, I thought. Did Penny tell her? Penny wouldn’t do that to me, I told myself.

Cindy carefully and slowly moved her arm down and brushed the skirts over my bum as if to confirm something, and smiled. I knew she could feel the padding of my diaper and rubber baby panties underneath my ruffled satin rhumba panties. How many others know, I thought. I briefly contemplated a quick getaway.

“I like your dress, Nancy. You look so pretty in it. It looks a lot like Penny’s Easter dress”, Cindy remarked as she fingered the lace hems of my dress and petticoat slips. Is there isn’t anything this girl doesn’t know about me, I thought in a state of semi-panic! I glanced at Penny and she must have read my concern, because she walked up to Cindy and me and said, “ OK, Let’s break it up, you two. Let’s go in with the other girls Ric..ah Nancy.” Not a good start, I thought.

I leaned over to penny and whispered, “She knows!” Penny gave me a look of surprise. The three of us went into the next room in a swishing, rustling flurry of taffeta, satin, organdy, and nylon net. There was such a flurry of swishing and rustling noise that the other girls were already looking in our direction as we entered. It seems that our skirts had introduced our arrival before we entered the room! Introductions were politely made with the five other little girls, as well as with some of their Moms. There were some remarks on how pretty our dresses were, and we reciprecated in kind. Cindy’s Mom seemed to have a knowing smile. The room was full white and pastel colored dresses on the seven, well actually eight, little girls if you included me, all with billowing full skirts, including some of the Moms, dressed in pretty “June Cleaver” type shirtwaist dresses with buoyed by stiff net petticoats. There was constant chatter with the occasional giggles.

I worked my way back towards the wall to reduce my “exposure” of my padded satin rhumba panties to all present. But at this point, I didn’t know whether everyone knew or not about me being a boy and a diapered one at that. I pushed down on the satin and organdy skirts of my dress in an attempt to hide my panties as best possible, but it was futile, what with the stiff crinolines and taffeta of my petticoat slip under it all. I noted that some of the other little girls wore dresses short enough that their lacey panties showed as well when they twirled or turned fast. I felt a little better knowing I wasn’t the only one displaying a bit of satin and lace undies. No wonder it was to be an all girls party. Boy, would the guys back home enjoy laughing and teasing these girls, and especially me, if they could. So I just folded my hands in the front of my billowing skirts. I noted that I couldn’t move back against the wall for support because the front of my dress would tend to billow up even more exposing more of the front of my pink satin rhumba panties. The wonderful feel of the feminine fabrics, I decided, was at least one consolation I could draw from my situation. I knew this must be a big reason girls, at that time, loved to wear these poufy dresses. Nothing could be more girly, or in my case, more sissy or Nancy girlish!

“ Here’s your chance to listen to what girls talk about when boys aren’t around, Ricky”. Oops, sorry. I mean Nancy” Penny said to me aside. “Sorry for my slip earlier. I don’t think anyone caught it, except maybe Cindy. Honest, I don’t know how Cindy knows about you. I didn’t tell her. Then again, my Mom and her Mom are real chummy, so my best guess is that Cindy overheard them talking.” Penny indicated that she’d see Cindy and make sure she didn’t blab to all the girls my sissy status, assuming she hadn’t already.

Penny reminded me about taking small steps, eating and drinking with dainty motions, and sitting while in a dress with feet together, especially one this poufy with all the petticoats and crinolines making it stand out. Just plopping down without smoothing my skirts would likely draw some unwanted attention from the Moms as well as the other little girls. So to be sure I had it right, Penny sat down with me to make sure I did it all right. I passed with flying skirts! But I still have to hold down my skirts by keeping my hands in my lap. Otherwise, like penny had said, my satin panties, and diaper of course, would be on full frontal display to all who cared to look my way. Not a good thing, I decided, as I smoothed my skirts and played with my lace hems for something to do.

After some cookies and milk, the Moms rounded us all up for a game of musical chairs. Now I’d always played this game pretty much for keeps, being a little bit aggressive as little boys are expected to be. Penny had anticipated this too and warned me to be careful because pushing and shoving wasn’t expected from proper young ladies, especially when in their frilly dresses. I figured that forewarned is forearmed, and so I was determined to be on my best little sissy girl behavior.

It was so different playing musical chairs with dresses and petticoats on. After one round, I got into the game and quickly forget what I was told. Cindy and I started to tussle for a seat when the music stopped and after a flurry of swishing skirts and crinolines, I emerged victorious on the chair. But Cindy, who I had tussled with, scowled at me with visible contempt, as she just flipped the sides of her skirts by the hems and stomped her foot. Well she had pushed too, I said to myself. But before I could act or think further, the music started again and we went swishing and rustling around the rows of chairs again. This time when the music stopped Penny, who was next to me, just firmly bopped me, bum to bum. I lost my balance and started to fall with skirts and petticoats flying. I hit the floor with a soft thud on the carpet with my dress and petticoat slip in disarray. The worst of it was that I knew that my billowing skirts had bounced off my chest in the fall and landing, and there was no way my well-padded panties would be overlooked by those facing me! I could feel my face getting red with embarrassment.

Cindy extended a hand to help me up, which I took, and the little vixen let go when my bum was about half a foot off the carpet! Back down I went. This time, I fell backwards onto my back with my skirts flying up over my chest and face. I was ready to cry. A mom started lift me up from in back under my armpits as I made a valiant attempt to cover myself again with as much taffeta, net, satin, and organdy as my fingers could grab. But I was sure the damage had been done. My eyes began to fill with tears. I wanted to run away right then and there. And probably would have it weren’t for a couple moms holding me to steady me while doing their best to shake out my skirts. My wig! What about my wig! I reached up and by a miracle, found my wig to be essentially in place, held on with the aid of the elastic band on my mask, thankfully. Penny apologized profusely, but I knew she “bopped” me to indicate her displeasure in my roughness with Cindy.

“ I am so sorry, Nancy. Please forgive me. Please. Are you all right?”, she asked with apparent genuine concern. I was getting mad now; mad at myself for not being smart enough to stay focused on my need to stay in my feminine role of the moment. I had grossly embarrassed myself, and Penny in turn. And I learned an important lesson in the process. Apparently, I had been lucky enough to preserve my little girl masquerade. Had I done the same with my diapers and baby panties? There were no giggles or laughter as the result of my fall that I could tell. My skirts may have preserved my modesty on the initial fall, but when Cindy let go of me, I was sure that they could see that my satin rhumba panties covered a shameful diaper and plastic baby pants. Why didn’t anyone laugh or make fun of my situation? Off to the side, I continued to get my numerous skirts in order with the help of Penny, Cindy, and her Mom as the game of musical chairs continued to its completion. I was glad that attention was now drawn away from me, allowing me to regain my composure. I sat on my clouds of billowing crinolines, and asked Penny if anyone had seen my bulky satin panties. She answered, with sympathy in her eyes, by nodding her head in the affirmative.

I played with my skirts counting them, one at a time, from the hems, starting with the outermost Organdy layer on the dress and working down to the innermost taffeta layer next to my legs on the petticoat slip, smoothing out each layer as it was uncovered. I counted five layers, and then counted them again, and again, to take my mind off of what had happened.

As the musical chairs game was winding down, and a prize awarded to the winner, Penny came over with a pretty little girl that looked to be four years old. Penny introduced her as Sarah. Sarah was dressed in a pretty white short bouffant skirted dress similar to mine, all poufed out by billowing crinoline petticoats. Penny indicated that Sarah had something to tell me. Sarah leaned over to me and whispered to me that I shouldn’t feel bad that I had to wear diapers because she had to wear them too. And with that, Sarah lifted up the front of her skirts to prove it. I looked away because I had been taught that boys just don’t peek at girls pretty undies, at least not when they are looking. Another blooper! I was supposed to be a girl, and girls show each other everything; dresses, petticoats, slips, panties… everything without embarrassment. Sarah’s confused look went away when I looked back at her and remarked how pretty her dress and undies were. She had on a cute blouse slip with pretty satin bows on the skirt. And she had adorable pink plastic baby panties over her bulky diapers. Her expression changed to a smile and started to giggle playfully. The other girls apparently knew of Sarah’s situation but refused to tease her about it, just as they had done with me. Penny winked at me. Girls definitely think differently from boys! Things might not be that bad after all.

Sarah returned the compliment and we all hugged just as cheers and clapping went up at the conclusion of the musical chairs, and we were joined by the others with a flurry of skirts loudly swishing and rustling from the feminine music of layers of taffeta, satin, nylon net, organza and organdy. The conversations changed to clothes, fashion, school, and the latest programs for kids on TV. As the other little girls sat down, I noticed that we all pretty much looked the same in our frills and costumes. It was girl talk with an occasional giggle here and there. I fingered the organdy lace hem of my dress while in thought. I had made new friends. I didn’t care what they knew or didn’t know. But I knew I was happy.

After the musical chairs concluded, all “us girls” were summoned to an alcove off of the kitchen to bob for apples. All the girls seemed to be enthusiastic about the prospect of apple bobbing. And so there was a flurry of satins, taffetas, organdies, and what not as we filed into the alcove. There was a large punch bowl in the center of a small round table with an orange tablecloth on it under the bowl. We girls crowded in to get a closer look at the apples floating in the bowl of water. We were pressing against each other as our crinolines offered considerable resistance. This feels nice I thought to myself as the two girls on either side of me squeezed in even closer. The backs of our dresses went up in an effort to find space where the skirts could go to accommodate more free space. Our puffed short sleeves crunched against each other as we leaned over the table to get a better view. And I realized that anyone standing behind us was getting a good view of all those pastel and white satin panties with oodles of lace ruffles and satin bows. Except that Sarah’s and my panties were really a waterproof pair of rhumba panties that covered our dydees. I kinda wished that I could step back and take in the view of all the little girl femininity on display in back of me. I was momentarily distracted by the crowded rustling of the multitude of skirts around the table. It was actually noisy with all the skirts in motion rubbing against each other. Only the chatter of the little girls competed with this sound. But I have to admit that I loved the noise.

Curiosity got the best of me and I took a step or two backwards in order to take a glance at the multitude of pastel and white colors of the massive petticoat slips and party dresses surrounding the table. There were pinks and baby blues and yellows and lavenders. It was as though the table had acquired its own massive set of skirts of a rainbow of colors. And there was a circle of rhumba panty ruffles ringing the table below the crowded layers of raised skirts. It was beautiful!

My spot was immediately filled in by organdy, net, and satin, as though I had never been there! I loved this little girl world to which I’d been invited. My thoughts were interrupted by a nudge from Cindy’s Mom gently prodding me back to the table with some soft words to the adjacent girls to make room for me at the table. My skirts again were crushed against those of the girls to either side of me and I could feel my dress and petticoats rising in back again exposing my rhumba panties for anyone to see.

Snap went a camera with a flash, then another. I guess the Moms were not going to let this photo opportunity go away without some due attention.

As we stood elbow to elbow around the table, Cindy’s Mom gave us a few verbal instructions on how we should “bob for apples”. I knew the secret to success at this was to locate the smallest apple that I could get my teeth into and go from there. We were paired off with a partner across the table from each other, and we would be “bobbing” in pairs at a time to avoid what would have been the inevitable bumping of heads had we all attempted this at the same time. Penny was my partner across from me. We would be the second couple to go “bobbing”. Large clear plastic bibs were secured around the necks of the first pair of “bobbers” to protect their pretty party dresses. And they lifted their masks in order to “bob”. Lifted their masks! I began to panic. What if any of the girls recognized me? This is not good I thought to myself. I decided to lift my mask at the last instant before starting to “bob” for an apple, and then pull it down in place immediately after and hope for the best.

It didn’t take long before it was my turn with Penny. We had to keep our arms and hands behind us when “bobbing”. I pushed my mask up just enough to get it out of the way of getting wet as I leaned over the table and placed my hands behind my back in compliance with the rules of the game. I could feel my skirts and crinolines being crushed by the edge of the low table as I bent over to begin my “bobbing”. I could feel coolness on the back of my legs as I realized my skirts were being forced even higher behind me. I nudged a smaller size apple towards Penny, but as I did so, I felt my wig start to move forward just a bit! I attempted to bite into a bobbing apple without success. I could feel of the crushed crinolines against my legs. It was a serious distraction. They tickled my legs making it hard to concentrate. I was successful in retrieving an apple in short order and breathed a sigh of relief. Immediately I lowered my mask in place as I came up with the shiny red apple in my mouth. My wig just needed a slight adjustment which I attempted to do when I pulled my mask down with a minimum of distraction. In my nervousness of the moment, I realized that I had just tinkled in my diaper a little bit.

The girls clapped and raised a cheer each time a “girl” came up with an apple. It was a delightful time by all to be sure. As we pushed away from the table, our skirts were once again freed up to bounce back to their normal bouffant status around our waists. I watched the other girls fluff out their skirts to maximize their fullness and did the same with my many layers of skirts. And again, the crinoline petticoats and slips resumed their beautiful poufy shapes. Some of the girls took to swaying from side to side or twirling and I did likewise. It was intoxicating. As I did so, I could feel the skirts tug at my waist as the centrifugal force from the twirling and swaying tended to fling the skirts outward. It truly felt heavenly. And the sensation when the slips and crinolines finally settled back against my legs was delightful. No wonder girls like to twirl when they have full skirts and petticoats on! There just is no other feeling like it!

Cindy’s Mom clapped three times loudly to get our attention to announce that it was time to open our gifts and suggested that everyone take a seat. There was a flurry of feminine swishing and rustling as the girls and I complied. Penny and I opened ours while the other girls were doing the same. Penny opened hers first and squealed with delight at the pretty locket she had received. I opened mine slowly in anticipation, and there resting under tissue paper were the most beautiful baby blue satin rhumba panties I had ever seen. I blushed a profusion of shades of red, but my mask that was still in place did not give it away. Penny held them up for all to see and announced that she might just have to borrow them from me some time. She held them up to me and there was another flash of a camera in my direction. Laughter went up. I cowered meekly in response to the unwanted attention.

“ OK, now everybody unmask”, declared one of the moms! My heart was in my throat! I hadn’t anticipated this. But now was the time of truth to bear all. I hoped that my wig would be sufficient to still preserve my true identity as a boy. Penny took my hand in hers and whispered that everything will be all right. I squirmed in my chair, my skirts reminding me as I did so that I was, in fact, dressed head to toe as a little girl. My hands went to the sides of my chair for support and instead I came up with a handful of satin and crinolines! My satin panties seemed to slide effortlessly over the smooth seat of the folding chair on which I sat. I was being accosted by feminine feelings and sounds. Then I realized my big mistake!

I had delayed in taking off my mask. As a result, all were now looking at me with my mask yet to be removed. How stupid could I have been not to have foreseen this! Now all eyes would be trained on me as I removed my mask. I put my hand on my head to hold the wig in place and slowly lifted the mask over my head. I was waiting for it. The “Oh my gosh, she’s a boy!” reaction. But it never came. Apparently the coaching on girls’ mannerisms that Penny had given me along with the attention to detail in dressing and preparing me for the party had paid off. A camera flash went off in my direction. I turned to see Cindy’s Mom with a camera. She winked a knowing wink at me. Now all were milling about in polite social little girl conversation.

A girl named Doris came up to me and said she thought she recognized me from somewhere. Then I realized that Doris went to the same church as I did. I thought my goose was cooked!

“You look somehow familiar but I can’t remember from where. Your eyes look very familiar.”, Doris remarked.

Coming to my rescue, Penny said, “you must be mistaken, Doris. Nancy isn’t from around these parts and goes to a different school.” I waited for Doris’ reaction to Penny’s comment with trepidation.

“ At first I thought you might be from our church, Nancy. There’s a boy that could be your twin brother that goes there”, commented Doris. “ Do you have any brothers around your age?” I was getting more nervous by the minute, figgiting with the hems of my skirts. Had to think quick.

“I have a baby brother, Doris. But I don’t think he’d qualify. You see he’s only one year old.”, I said.
Penny, the savior that she is, pulled on my hand and said she wanted to introduce me to the other mothers at the party, leaving Doris to ponder our brief conversation. In a flurry of swishing and rustling skirts, we made a speedy exit to the other side of the room.

After meeting briefly with the mothers, Penny and I joined a small group of girls who were obviously talking about fashion. The bouffant styles were the subject at the moment. Penny remarked how she loves the poufy look, and has a couple can-can net petticoats at home she loves to wear under her poodle skirt and her church dresses. I cringed at the mention of the word, church, after our chat with Doris. They remarked how pretty they thought my party dress was, and asked how many petticoats I had under it, and could they see them closer. I lifted my skirts in a manner that allowed the girls to examine each layer to their satisfaction. Penny and the other girls did the same as though this was an expected courtesy. I was in heaven in all this taffeta, organdy, tulle and nylon net being displayed. And I could feel my excitement growing, if you know what I mean. I thought of what I would have missed if I had chickened out and declined Penny’s invitation. And truth be known, I was ready to go to the next all girls party dressed as I was.

Well, the party started to break up and Penny and I left with me feeling very much a part of the girls. I had totally enjoyed myself, and my costume. I didn’t want to take it off. Penny and I skipped to her house using the hop-scotch chalk marks on the walkway as we went. We twirled and frolicked the whole trip back. I couldn’t get enough of that heavenly feeling of taffeta and net rustling against my legs. Oh, what a feeling!

But all good things come to an end. And so I reluctantly undressed from my feminine trappings and donned my pants and underwear and sneakers; in a word, my boy clothes. I indicated to Penny what a wonderful time I had had and hoped that we could do it again in the near future. She handed me the satin rhumba panties I had worn and said, “Until next time, Ricky”. I so hoped there would be a next time. We hugged and parted company.

Yes, there would be a next time, but as they say, “ that’s another story”.