Crystal's StorySite


Coming of Age

Panty Girdle Kid


My son was 13 when I made him start wearing a girdle. I had been building up to it for some time - in fact, it had been at the back of my mind ever since he had come to stay with me a year earlier. David's moving in had come as a bit of a surprise, but when his mother had died in a car crash there was really no-one else for him to live with. Things had been awkward at first, as I hadn't seen him since he was 5 and he didn't really remember me, but we had got to know each other pretty well over the months. Well enough, in fact, for me to finally feel comfortable about broaching the subject of cross-dressing. I had been wearing women's foundations full-time since my late teens -it was one of the reasons that my wife left me, and letting her have full custody of David was one of the conditions I had to agree to in order to prevent her making this fact public. Since David had moved in, I had given up on wearing bras and simply restricted myself to wearing a fairly discreet panty girdle that was barely noticeable under my trousers. So far he had never suspected, but I longed to be able to wear my other girdles and bras again. As I thought about how I could bring this about, it occurred to me that I had been roughly the same age as David when I first tried on my mother's girdle. Perhaps the way to solve the problem was to introduce David to the pleasures of wearing women's corsetry. I had no idea whether he had ever considered the idea, but it seemed worth a try. As the saying goes, "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree".

A few weeks before his birthday, I ordered him a couple of Playtex 18-hour long leg panty girdles from my usual mail order supplier. I intended him to wear a girdle to school when the new term started the following month, so I wanted something that would be firm yet not too obvious under his uniform. His birthday finally came around and, after he had opened the other presents I had given him, I handed him the parcel containing his special present. He tore off the wrapping paper along the top, grabbed the top of the first box, and finally pulled it free. His face was a picture as he stared at the model on the front of the box. He finally looked over to me and asked what he was meant to do with it. When I told him to take off his jeans and put it on, he started to smile as if it was all a joke. The grin soon faded from his face, though, when he realised I was serious. Over the next half-hour, I told him the story of how I had started wearing women's underwear and the pleasure that was involved in it. I even took down my trousers to let him see my own panty girdle. He seemed to be in a state of shock, and I had to tell him several times to put on his new girdle before what I was saying sunk in. He then burst into tears. I have to admit, I was more than a little irritated with him. If my parents had allowed me to have my own girdle when I was his age, I would have been ecstatic. Tiring of his blubbing and pleading, I took the box out of his hand and pulled out the girdle. The sight of it made him even worse -he was in a blind panic as he finally realised that he really was going to have to put it on. I grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him like a rag doll and screamed at him to pull himself together. This was the first time he had ever seen me lose my temper, and he froze in terror. I decided to take advantage of this and grabbed his belt buckle. In a few seconds, his jeans were round his ankles. He was still standing like a statue, so I pushed him down on the sofa, pulled his jeans off and forced one foot, then the other, through the legs of the girdle. Sitting astride him, I pulled the girdle up and, after a little wrestling, got it properly on him. He lay there in stunned silence, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling with a look of idiotic disbelief on his face. As I pulled him back onto his feet he looked down, saw himself in the girdle, and the water-works started again. But I was determined that he would at least give his new way of life a try. I told him to pick up his jeans and put them back on. Annoyed as I was, I had a little difficulty keeping a straight face as I watched him struggle to bend over and get back into his jeans. Finally, he managed to get dressed. To my relief, you could hardly tell what he was wearing underneath -that meant he would be able to wear his girdle pretty much full-time. He spent the rest of his birthday in front of the TV, sobbing occasionally. He knew better, though, than to ask me if he could take his girdle off.

For the rest of his school holiday, he spent every waking moment in a girdle. He soon got the hang of moving around normally when girdled, and was able to walk, stand up and sit down without giving the game away to anyone watching him. Even though I encouraged him to do so, he refused to go out with his friends. He even seemed embarrassed to meet them. I suppose I must have felt the odd moment of unease when I first started wearing women's underwear in public, so I figured that I'd give him time to get used to it. Never once did he argue about wearing it -I didn't even have to tell him to put it on in the morning. The only time that he ever showed any further resistance was when he realised that I was expecting him to wear a girdle to school. This led to a major hysterical outburst and, on the first day of term, I had to stand and watch to make sure he put on his girdle before leaving the house. I had warned him that it would leave marks on his body over time, so I would know if he took it off and only put it back on before coming home. To my pleasure, when I checked him as he came in, it was clear that he had been wearing it the entire day. When he told me that one of his teachers had made the throwaway remark that he looked like he had lost some weight, this was all the ammunition I needed. His shoulders sagged visibly as I pointed out that he couldn't stop wearing a girdle now without people noticing the change. I think it must have been at this point he finally accepted that this was the way his life was going to be from now on, for there were no more arguments over the issue.

I myself had gone back to wearing a wider range of corsetry and was happier than I had ever been in a very long time. David, however, had become very quiet and withdrawn, and I would sometimes catch him staring sullenly at me as I went about the house wearing only my longline bra, open girdle and stockings in the late summer heat. It finally dawned on me what the problem was. He had got so into his new way of life that he was jealous of the more interesting underwear I had! That Christmas, I really went to town. I bought him frilly panties, tights, stockings, a couple of Triumph longline bras and, from America, a firm control Custom Maid long leg panty girdle and an equally firm control six suspender high waist Rago open girdle. To say he was speechless would be an understatement. He went so white when he saw his new underwear collection laid out on the bed that I thought he was going to faint. A couple of tears did slide down his cheeks as I helped him into his open girdle and bra, but I fancy they were tears of happiness. I didn't say anything though, as I didn't want to embarrass him - teenagers can be so funny that way. I showed him how to fasten stockings to his suspenders and how it was easier to attach the stockings to the rear suspenders when he only had the girdle half-way up. I told him how he must never pull on a hookside girdle the same way as with his earlier girdles -that he must always have it unzipped and unhooked before putting it on and must unzip and unhook it before taking it off. Once he was in his new girdle, I then had him spend some time practicing how to fasten and unfasten his bra behind his back. It took some time, especially as it was a longline bra and had so many hooks, but finally he got the hang of it. I had got the smallest cup size I could find for him, but I had worried that they would hang slack on him, so it was with some satisfaction that I noticed that he did fill the bra out a little. Not completely, of course, but he did have a slight but noticeable bust when he had it on.

I left him in his brand new foundations, lying on his bed facing away from me and staring vacantly at the wall. I don't know why he still insisted on keeping up this pretence that he hated it -I just knew he must be relishing the feel of the corsetry against his body and probably couldn't wait for me to leave so that he could admire himself in front of the mirror, just like I used to do at his age. Even though David had been wearing a girdle regularly for several months, he never seemed to take any pleasure in seeing himself in it when I was watching him. When dressing, he would always pull on his jeans or trousers as quickly as possible after putting it on, and would avoid catching his reflection in the mirror until he was fully dressed. If I didn't know him better, I would have thought that he was trying to deny the fact that he had it on at all, even though the feel of it against him would be something that was impossible to ignore. In reality, he probably thought he would lose face by telling me that I had been right all along, that he really loved wearing women's clothes and that he was embarrassed about having put up such fuss. And so he needed to keep up the poor-little-me act instead. Teenagers! Still, I felt really good about myself as I went downstairs -I was giving him the chance to do all the things I could never do when I was his age. I would have killed to be able to wear foundations full-time, so I could imagine how David really felt every morning, knowing he would be in one girdle or another until bedtime.

Another eight months have passed since then, and we're into another school holiday. Since Christmas, the routine has been the same. On a school day, or if he's going out somewhere, he wears his panties, a pair of tights and a panty girdle. At home, he wears panties, open girdle, stockings and bra. He doesn't socialise anywhere near as much as he used to, though, and no friends ever seem to come around. There are times even I struggle to get a civil word out of him. He just sits in front of the TV (at least his underwear keeps him from slouching), or plays with his computer or mopes around in his room listening to music (if you can call it music). I have a hunch that he simply loves wearing the open girdle and bra combination and he knows he can't get away with it outside. I'm glad that he's finally enjoying it, though it surely wouldn't hurt for him to utter a word of gratitude for what I've done for him this last year. Even now, I still catch him glaring at me when he thinks I'm not looking, though God knows what I've done to offend him. Honestly, there are times I think I'll never understand him.

Never mind, his birthday's coming up just before the weekend and I've got a real surprise for him that should improve his mood no end. As he's not too big a build, I really think he could get away with cross-dressing fully. At no stage of my life could I ever have pretended to be a female, but I think David could just about pull it off. I've just received his presents through mail order -a couple of petticoats and a few dresses, blouses and skirts. I've even bought him shoes. And, starting the day after his birthday, we're going on holiday for two weeks, where I've made the booking for myself and my daughter Davina! Not only will he be able to dress completely as a girl for a whole fortnight, but he'll be getting the unbelievable thrill of doing it in public. And he'll also be able to wear his favourite girdle and bra full-time. This is going to be a birthday to remember -I can hardly wait to see the look on his face!




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