The Natural Sissy

Making the Best of Things

"Grandma is a despot...she terrorises my father and my uncle...and she more or less insisted that my cousins and me were petticoated as soon as we turned eight...like dad was...and if she is advising your mummy, you are in for a torrid time?" Adam Blackstone told me, leaning close to make sure that his grandmother and my mother could not possibly hear, and not pulling any punches as he offered me the benefit of his considerable experience. We were about five yards away from the bench they were sitting on, standing at the metal safety rail and looking out over the lake in Priory Park, whilst the ducks and swans fought for the bread people were throwing for them. Adam was holding my hand, as instructed, and we were staying on the main path like good little boys, keeping well away from the water's edge.

"You were eight?" I hissed in disbelief, looking up at my play companion, because he was at least a foot taller than me. Mrs Blackstone's youngest grandson had just turned sixteen and in year eleven at a mixed girl's school in Sevenoaks, apparently, which meant that his days as a petticoated boy were numbered. Once he had finished his exams in May, Mummy said that he would be considered a big boy and allowed to behave like one. But until then, he was just like me, it seemed, except that he had eight years of training and experience behind him. And a lot of priceless knowledge.

"Well, Mummy is really into the gender-neutral thing...so I did wear some dresses and stuff even before then...but that is when I went to petticoat prep school." He explained, using his free hand, albeit encased in a white wooly mitten, to push a strand of his bobbed hair back behind his ear. Adam was wearing a royal blue, double breasted overcoat, with a black velvet collar, pocket flaps and buttons. He also had a black velvet beret on his head, white tights and shiny black MaryJanes on his feet. My coat was pale pink, with a darker pink velvet collar and pink velvet buttons, worn over the sailor dress I had only worn for a couple of hours the day before. My MaryJanes were pink, as were my mittens. "Grandma has all grandpa's money to control everyone...not that Daddy would ever go against her anyway...he is too well trained for that, by Mummy as well as Grandma!"

"That's awful?"

"Not really...I mean, I am not saying I like it...not like some boys seem to...but I don't really know any different and I always knew that I was going to be petticoated...it's worse for you because you were a normal boy?" He suggested, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "And it is hard for newbies, especially if you've been in any trouble...so, you shouldn't be too hard on yourself...messing yourself is nothing to be ashamed of, really?"

"It feels like it?" I whined, feeling my eyes filling up again.

"Don't cry, Sebastian...you'll just end up back in your pushchair again and that will be no fun at all? You have to buck up and get on with it, because your mummy is not going to change her mind, is she? I expect they will let us go into the play area, if they stop for a coffee in the park café, since all the rough kids are still in school...and even if a turn on the swings is not what you really want to do, it is better than sitting in your stroller, right?"

"I suppose?" I said, doubtfully.

"Sebastian, you can't be miserable all the time? I've seen a lot of boys start petticoating and the ones who cope best are the ones who don't let it get them down too much...if you are put in a nappy, told not to touch it or leave your bed until your mummy comes, it is not your fault if you have to use it...so why get so upset about it? It wasn't your fault?"

"Because it is humiliating?"

"Which is exactly how they want you to feel...petticoated boys mostly behave because they are ashamed of how they look, or what they are being made to do...but if you accept that this is just your life, and make the best of it, then it just becomes normal?"