Synopsis: In which Kay decides that her son Jack’s behaviour is so bad that he too must dress as a girl.

Part Two — Jodie

Although my nephew Tom had been the subjected to petticoat discipline by my sister Jill, I really had no intention of getting my two boys into skirts. No really I didn’t. But I can’t deny that after that visit to Jill’s and seeing Tom (now called Tammy) the thought was never far from the back of my mind.

The summer holidays had begun and the kids were … well they were like kids, getting in and out of trouble; fighting with each other, fighting with friends, annoying everyone with their too loud music, upsetting the neighbours, damaging the flowers in the garden with a tennis ball. Tennis! I ask you. The garden’s tiny.

Four days had passed since I’d learned of Tom’s petticoating and I was at the end of my tether. Marvin was away at some sales conference so he wasn’t there to help me. "Look," I said to the kids one morning, "any more of your nonsense and I’ll take you round to Auntie Jill’s for a dose of her medicine. And you won’t like it." The boys just laughed at me. I meant it. I could see where we were heading.

Fifteen-year-old Jason had gone out for the day playing with his friend Carl. I had no idea where they were or what they were doing but at least it was out of sight, out of mind. Around lunchtime our neighbour Mr Goldstein knocked on the front door. He was fuming. Apparently one of my children had climbed into his garden and released his 12-year-old daughter Rachel’s pet rabbit from its hutch.

His daughter was distraught wondering if she would see the rabbit again, Mr Goldstein was distraught because she was distraught and I was distraught because one of my sons had caused it. When Mr Goldstein left, I tackled my younger son, eleven-year-old Jack about it. He confessed straight away. He didn’t seem to think he’d done anything wrong. "Stupid rabbit, stupid old Goldstein, stupid Rachel, stupid girl," he said. He said ‘girl’ almost as if he was being sick.

That was it. It might have been a minor misdeed but I’d had enough. I phoned my sister and asked her if I could bring Jack round for a bit of discipline — petticoat discipline. She said it would be fine. I said I’d see her in ten minutes and she said that she’d get some clothes out.

I told Jack to get in the car. "Where are we going, mom?

"To Auntie Jill’s," I said enigmatically. "For your punishment."

He laughed, not knowing what was coming. At Jill’s the door was opened by Tom, or rather Tammy, in the little girl pale pink party dress, ankle socks and Mary Janes that he’d worn when I’d seen him before only this time he also wore the light brown wig.

"Hi, Tammy," I said.

"Hi, Auntie Kay, Jack," he said as politely as before. "Come in."

"Tammy?" I heard Jack mutter under his breath. He suddenly realised that Tammy was really his male cousin, Tom. "Hey, why are you wearing a dress?"

"For the same reason that you will be wearing one in a few minutes," I replied.

"Me? Wearing a dress? Oh no," he argued.

Jill came into the hall. "Hello, Kay. Hello, Jack," she said. "Are you ready? Now I’ve got all your stuff out ready for you. Who do you want to help you put it on? Me? Your mommy? Or Tammy?"

Her tone of voice brooked no arguments. It was only a matter of who would help him get dressed.

Looking at the floor and avoiding eye-contact he mumbled, "Tammy, I s’pose."

"OK, you girls go upstairs. We’ll wait down here. See you in about twenty minutes, Jodie." Jack winced first at being called ‘girls’ then at his new feminine name, but he followed his cousin up the stairs.

I went into the living room with my sister and we had a cup of tea and had a long chat while the children were getting ready upstairs. Jill found her books on petticoat discipline and I glanced through them. Jill said I could take them home and study them more. Nearly half and hour after they’d left us, Tammy and Jodie returned.

My jaw dropped when I saw how feminine Jack (or should I say Jodie) looked. Like his cousin and mentor Tammy, he wore a little girl’s party dress (only Jodie’s was a pale mauve), white ankle socks and black Mary Janes. He had a short brown wig on his head that was lighter than his real hair colour but suited his colouring. Like his cousin he wore a delicate shade of lipstick, a touch of mascara on his lashes and his nails were coated in pink varnish. He looked demure and girly. Again he looked at the floor, not making eye contact.

I must say I was a proud mother.

"Oh you’re so pretty," said Jill. "Give us a twirl."

Jodie spun round embarrassed, his dress swirling out as he did so. He looked totally humiliated.

"Sit down here," said Jill pointing to a space next to her on the settee. Jodie plonked himself down.

"Not like that," said Tammy. "You’re a girl. In a dress. You must brush your dress under your bottom as you sit down or it may get rucked up or creased. If your dress gets rucked up someone will see your pretty panties."

Jodie looked even more humiliated at the announcement that he was wearing panties. And pretty ones too.

"And lower yourself gently," said Tammy. "OK? Now try it again."

Obediently Jodie stood up and sat himself down carefully smoothing the skirt of his dress as he did so.

"That’s better. Now cross your legs at the ankles." Jodie did so. "Remember," said Tammy, "it’s not enough to look like a girl. If you can’t move like a girl, you’ll be spotted straight away and that could be very embarrassing."

Jodie seemed to be listening. He had a lot to learn.

"OK," said Jill, "let’s go over the rules."

Jodie paid close attention.

"One. Every time you misbehave, you get three days in a dress. Two. Very bad behaviour or repeat offences get seven days. OK? And we keep adding them up. Understand?"

Jodie nodded.

"Three," continued Jill. "There’s time off for good behaviour. So if you wash the car or clean the bathroom you could get a day off when you can wear your boy stuff again."

Jodie nodded again.

"Any questions?" asked Jill.

"I don’t think so," said Jodie.

"Now," my sister went on, "for releasing the neighbour’s rabbit you get seven days."

"Seven days. Shit," said Jodie.

"And for bad language, three days. So it’s ten days in dresses. You’ll need plenty of things to wear so let’s head for the shops and buy you a few things," said Jill.

"Go to the shops? Dressed like this? Someone will recognise me."

"Nobody will recognise you," I said. "You’ve got to go as a girl. You couldn’t try things on if you went shopping as Jack. But as you’re so worried, we could go over to Morton Wood." Morton Wood was a shopping centre about 10 miles away. It was unlikely that any of Jack’s friends would be there.

"OK," Jodie said with resignation.

All four of us climbed into my car; me driving, Jill in the front and the two ‘girls’ in the back. Tammy gave Jodie full instructions on how to get into a car in a dress. Jodie had to practise the action until Tammy was satisfied.

Fortunately at Morton Wood there are a few discount clothing stores. It can be quite expensive if you have to buy several outfits for your daughter — particularly if she’s really your son. If Tammy had had her way, we’d have bought three quarters of every shop but in fact we settled on three little girl party dresses, three skirts, four tops, four pairs of socks, six pairs of panties, a pair of Mary Janes and, of course, three silky petticoats.

Jill said Jodie could keep the wig but I decided to buy him one anyway. It was brown, shoulder length. We bought a few cosmetics and some cheap jewellery. Tammy wanted me to buy a bra and tights for Jodie but I said she was too young. However when the ‘girls’ were in the changing rooms with Jodie trying on a skirt, I surreptitiously purchased some tights and a training bra.

All in all I put just over  £400 on my credit card bill. I hoped it would be worth it. Jodie made a great effort to act like a girl and not give himself away. I drove back to Jill’s house and dropped her and Tammy off. Then we headed back to our house, Jodie sitting in the front seat, apparently unconcerned by the fact that he was wearing a dress and his knees were showing. He seemed to have accepted his new role very quickly.

I pulled onto our drive. "Oh no," said Jodie. "Rachel Goldstein is playing in her front garden. I can’t let her see me like this. Would you mind putting the car in the garage so that I can get out without her seeing me?"

I was amazed by Jodie’s good manners. ‘Would you mind?’ That wasn’t the way he normally talked. "Of course I wouldn’t mind," I replied. The petticoat discipline was working already.

Jodie had slunk down in his seat so that he was not visible from next door. I got out of the car, opened the garage door and then drove the car in. Jodie now got carefully out of the car and went through the connecting door into the house.

"Oh thank you, mommy, for doing that for me."

‘He’s calling me mommy,’ I thought. And his manners are excellent. Perhaps something of Tammy is going to rub off on him. "You’re welcome," I said. "Now I’ll get the bags from the car. You pop upstairs and I’ll bring your new clothes up and help you change."

Without so much as a murmur or even a questioning glance, he headed upstairs while I got the bags from the boot of the car. When I got to his bedroom he had already taken his dress and petticoat off and was standing in just his panties, socks and shoes.

I found a new pink top, removed the price tag and passed it to him. He wore it with a black miniskirt that fitted like a glove. I suggested he take off his wig and we put on the new one. It was long enough to put into plaits so I showed him how to do it, tying a pink ribbon in each plait.

Cute? He looked gorgeous.

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