And The Page Boy Wore A Girdle...

I've been crossdressing for years now, though God knows how I developed the desire given my earliest experiences back in the mid seventies.

I had just turned 13, and the family were going to a wedding. Being related to the bride, I had been drafted as a page boy and, earlier in the summer, had been fitted out for a costume, which had hung in the wardrobe ever since. The great day finally came, and I was sent upstairs to get dressed - and I couldn't get into the trousers. They almost fastened, but not quite.

My mum went mental at me - there was me, tears running down my face as she shouted at me, then got into an argument with my dad, and so on and on. In a lull in the storm, she looked me - I had grown a lot in the previous year and was almost as big as she was - and stamped off into her bedroom. she came back within a couple of minutes and threw something at me, snapping at me to put it on.

I stared in horror at the thing I was holding - I had seen enough TV ads to know what a panty girdle was, and I couldn't believe that she was serious. Even my dad was taken aback, and started to say that it was a bit much, but my mum cut him off in mid-sentence - it was either try the girdle or miss the wedding and let her family down. I can still remember the way my stomach fell to the floor as my dad nodded, turned to me, and told me to put it on. I just stood there frozen, so my mum stormed over, pulled down my trousers, which I stepped out of, then held the girdle for me to put on.

And, bawling with shame as my dad looked away and my sisters grinned, I stepped into my mother's panty girdle.

Which she then pulled up briskly. The sudden tightness around me caused me to catch my breath. "Suck it in", she said, slapping my stomach, so I did. And she fastened the hooks and zipped it up. The tightness around my stomach and backside was unbelievable, and the long legs gripped my thighs more than half-way down to my knees. Leaning on her shoulders for balance, I gingerly stepped back into my trousers. She tucked my shirt in and tried to fasten it. And they fitted near perfectly. "Count yourself lucky," she said to me as she tied my tie for me. I could hardly believe my ears - she'd just forced me into her girdle and was now telling me to count myself lucky.

Of course the day was sheer agony. I walked stiff-leggedly out to the car, and my sisters taunted me mercilessly as we drove to the church. My mother warned them to keep quiet about this in public, but every time I made eye contact with them that day they giggled and, when they thought no-one was watching, would slap my taut backside and ask if my girdle was killing me. I thought they were going to pass out laughing as I tried to negotiate climbing the steps outside the church.

It was just after 8 in the morning when I put it on, and it was nearly 10 that night when I finally got to take it off again. I'd only been able to take it off for a few minutes during bathroom breaks. I'd stay in there for as long as possible, staring at the thing round my ankles, until my dad would eventually knock on the door and tell me to hurry up, and I'd have to pull it back on again and fight back the tears as I fastened myself into it.

If it had been that one day, then it would have been bad enough. But, as I had always tended to be slightly chubby, and as my mum had a fixation about dieting and losing weight, it had stuck a chord with her that I looked better with a girdle than without. So I got the ultimatum - lose weight or wear a girdle.

When I struggled to fasten my school uniform trousers later that year, I was duly sent on my way to school securely girdled. When sheer misery lead to me comfort eating - on came the weight and so on went the girdle. When she thought I was defying her by not losing weight, the girdle became a permanent item of clothing for me - dad tried to talk her out of it, but eventually settled for the quiet life, telling me that I just had to lose weight like mum said and then everything would be fine. When I developed slight boy-boobs, I inherited one of her bras, which I had to wear around the house.

Just over a year later, we had a blazing row when she asked me when I was ever going to do what I was told as I was getting too big for her cast-offs. So, in a fit of adolescent pride, I said she should buy me my own stuff for Christmas. Which she did. So on Christmas morning I opened a parcel containing tights, a couple of longline bras and a couple of long leg zip-side girdles. She glared at me, thinking I'd back off. So I glared defiantly back at her, took off my jeans and t-shirt, and put on tights, a girdle and a bra right there in front of the entire family - being new, they were much tighter than her cast-offs, but I was damned if I'd give her the pleasure of seeing any expression of shock on my face as I fastened all the hooks and zips. I put my clothes back on again over it all, and reached for another parcel.

"Of course, now that you've taken them out of the wrapper, we can't take them back to the shop. And I didn't pay all that money for nothing, so you're going to have to keep wearing them."

"Fine," I said.

"Fine," she said.

And that's the last time we ever spoke about it. And it's also the day I started wearing my own corsetry full-time. I cried myself to sleep for a few nights as it sunk in what I'd done, but by the time I left home to go to university, I would have felt undressed without my foundations.

And all because of that bloody wedding!




deleted deleted
26-30
2 Responses Dec 13, 2012

It sounds like it was very rough on you and took its toll. But you hung in there. Do you wear a bra and girdle now?

Have you tried cosulting a therapist to talk it out and un burden yourself after so many years or torment by your mum?

That is a first among first crossdressing experiences and thanks for sharing. It sounds like your mum is a pretty strong willed woman. But she did introduce you to the joys of wearing a panty girdle and then a long line bra too. But I am curious, how did you handle it at school? That could be an interesting story in its self.

I can imagine it was rough for you and that is too bad. But I certainly would be interested in hearing about your first few months in school wearing a girdle.