My Sister's Birthday

“Oh that's not fair!” I sulked. “She came to my birthday party.”

“Yes and your sister knows how to behave herself... unlike you David.” mum replied. “Close your eyes.” she said.

I closed my eyes tight shut as mum rinsed the shampoo from my hair. Jug after jug of water ran off my head and over my face, splashing off my shoulders and into the bath. Once rinsed, I opened my eyes.

“Now I want you to be a good boy and stay in your room until the girls have gone. Do you understand?”

“But I don't want to stay in my room when Janet's having a party. I want to join in.”

“You want to tease her friends, make fun of their dresses, pull their hair and be the centre of attention David.” my mother stated. “And for that reason, you shall stay in your room... out if sight, and out of mind.”

“Well, what if I get bored and just decide to come downstairs?” I said.

“Well you've got plenty of books and games to play with... you shouldn't get bored.” mum replied as she held open a big towel. I stepped out of the bath and wrapped myself in it as mum took to my hair with a hand towel. “And even if you do get bored... I think you'll find something to do that doesn't involve disturbing your sister and her friends.”

“Well.... what if I get hungry?” I said. “I'll have to get something to eat.”

“I think you'll find it in yourself to wait 'til the girl's have gone.” mum said. “Now
come on, put your vest on.” she said.

Mum held the gathered vest for me. I pushed my hands into the armholes and she pulled it over my head and onto my body. “Hey this is one of Janet's vests!” I yelped, noticing the lace trim.

“It is.” mum replied. “And this is a pair of her knickers.” she added, holding a pair white knickers also with lace trim.

“I'm not wearing those!”

“Oh yes you are.” mum said calmly. “And then you're going to wear one of Janet's party dresses.”

“Why?” I sulked as mum picked up my foot and stuck it though one of the lace trimmed leg holes. “I'm not even going to her stupid party!”

“No, you're going to stay in your room and be a good boy...” Mum said as she put my other foot through the knickers , “...but if like you said, you have to come downstairs for whatever reason, at least you'll be wearing a pretty dress and the girls can tease you for a change.” she explained with a mischievous grin.


David just stuck out his bottom lip and I knew I had him. I pulled the knickers all the way up and told him to tuck his vest into them. “Aren't they pretty?” I teased.

“They're horrible.” he sulked.

“Well the sooner we find you a nice dress to cover them up the better.” I grinned before leading him by the hand to Janet's bedroom. He glanced around nervously at the pink and purple décor. For many boys, there is nothing closer to an inhospitable alien landscape than a girl's bedroom. His jaw visibly dropped as I opened her wardrobe to reveal a resplendent display of frocks, skirts and blouses.

“Can you see anything you like?” I said to the bemused boy, “Maybe a nice pink one?” I suggested.

He shook his head and stuck out his lip.

“What about this one? Boys like blue.” I said, pulling out a pale blue frock with with a large frilly collar and lace trimmed sleeves. “No?” I put it back and pulled out a green spotty frock. “This one then.”

“I don't want to wear a dress.” he moaned. “Everyone will laugh at me.”

“Not if you stay in your room, be as quiet as a mouse and as good as gold.” I informed him as I began to unfasten the buttons that ran all the way down the back. On his face was a look of sheer defeat. He clearly couldn't believe I was making him wear a dress, yet appears to know full well there is nothing he can do about it. “You're going to look so pretty in this.” I said once I’d undone all the buttons. “It's a pity no-one's going to see you.” I said as David began to physically tremble. “Are you ready?”

He shook his head and murmured what sounded like a final appeal.

I looked him up and down. His pale thin legs emerged from lace trimmed knickers, into which a matching girlie vest was tucked. “Of course you're not ready.” I grinned. “You haven't got any tights on... or a slip.” I teased as I opened one of Janet's drawers.

"Why do i have to wear tights too?" he complained as I began to roll a pair of tights up his legs.

“Because they'll make your lags look nice and pretty." I said as I helped him into the pair of white lacy tights. "Aren't they nice?" I asked as i stood him up and pulled them over his knickers.

He just looked down at himself and stuck out his lip that little bit further. The petticoating pamphlet was right; once they've got their knickers on, they know there's no turning back They might not enjoy it but they will accept it. What the pamphlet didn't mention was just how much I'd enjoy it... and he's barely dressed yet!

Next came the slip... a petti-slip to be exact. I made him give me a twirl before helping him into the dress. I took my time as I fastened the long row of buttons up his back. “Now you've got to promise me you'll keep this dress on all afternoon.” I said. “If you take it off before I say so, you'll be sorry.” I explained. “I'll make sure everybody knows you wear dresses, and if you think you can simply deny it... my camera's on the windowsill and it's been recording you getting dressed.” I said as I fastened the last few buttons. “Well, let's have a look at you.” I said, turning him to face me.

I told him how 'girls' should sit down without getting their dress all creased. He sat on her bed, scooping the skirt beneath him and I figured that was enough. I stepped over to the window and picked up my camera. I stopped the recording, rewound it a little and showed him a snippet of the footage. “I think you look nice in a dress... it's a pity it's going to be our little secret... isn't it?”

David gulped and nodded.

“And you promise to stay in your room and not come down to pester Janet and her friends?”

He looked up at me and nodded.

“Now I'm going to tell Janet that you've gone out with your friends, so she won't even know you're here... so unless you want her to see you, you'll be as quiet as a mouse won't you?”

He hung his head and nodded.

I routed out a pair of Janet's shoes which I guessed would fit him, and they did. “Come on... I’ll make you some lunch before Janet gets back.”

“I'm not hungry.” he sulked.

“Well I’ll make you a packed lunch then.”

I could feel the fear radiate from him as I led him down the stairs and into the kitchen. In retrospect, maybe I should have felt a little guilty as I basked in the warm glow of complete control, but that's guilty pleasures for you. I'd only recently come across the concept of petticoating and although highly unusual, was highly intriguing... put a boy in girl's clothes is like putting them in a straight jacket... it renders them powerless and completely obedient.

With that thought came an idea. I opened a drawer and took out a small sewing kit. I threaded a length of cotton onto a needle, then told David to come here and turn around. Without question he did so. I stitched the back of his collar together, and to be doubly sure I stitched the back of the waistband together too. “There you are... all done.” I said. “Now are you sure you're going to be a good boy and stay in your room?”

“Yes.” he murmured.

“Well I hope so... because if you don't...” I said as I looked him up and down. “...well... I think you're all too aware of the consequences.”

He didn't say a word when I gave him his packed lunch in one of his sister's pink lunch boxes with a silhouette of a ballerina, and the words 'love to dance' in glittery italics on it. I took him up to his room, but made sure he went to the toilet first, for obvious reasons. I couldn’t help but make him sit like a girl.


It felt like the longest afternoon of my life. The girlie giggles and yelps echoed up through my carpet. Footsteps sounded up and down the stairs as regular as clockwork and I was convinced that at any moment, my door will open and I’ll be seen, exposed and humiliated. I spent each and every one of some two-hundred minutes fearing I’d be found by one of the girls mistaking my bedroom door for the bathroom. Part of me wanted to rip the dress off, especially since my own irrefutably male clothes filled my drawers and wardrobe... but I believed my mother's threat.


Downstairs the girls played dancing games, pass the parcel, paper fashion and a host of other party games. They ate jelly and ice cream, drank fizzy pop, gossiped and giggled. Janet: the birthday girl loved every minute of her party. She was glad her usually horrid brother had gone to his friends and wouldn't be back until the party was over... otherwise he'd be teasing and taunting and pestering the girls as he and many other boys invariably do. Eventually the party drew to a close and Janet's friends were collected by their parents. Unseen from the upstairs window, David watched them climb in to cars or walk down the street, each wearing a pretty party dress just as prissy as his own, some more so!


“Can I take this off now?” I moaned as I sauntered into the kitchen. The table was full of bowls and plates bearing crisps, cakes and sandwiches, sausage and pineapple on cocktail sticks and a large bowl of jelly.

“Not yet.” mum replied. “Did you eat your lunch?”

I nodded.

“Did you bring your lunch box down?”

I shook my head.

“Well go and get it.” mum said.

When I returned, my sister looked at the lunch box and said “Oh that's a nice lunch box David, I didn't know you liked ballet.” I wasn't in a mood to answer back, so said nothing. “In fact I didn't know you wore dresses either... you look very pretty.”

“No I don't.” I moaned. “I look stupid.”

“Your sister's right David, you do look pretty.” mum smiled. “Now why don't you be a nice boy and help Janet clear the table.”

“Don't you mean 'girl'?” my sister said. “I mean, he's not dressed like a boy.”

“I'm not a girl.” I stropped.

“Well you are wearing a dress David.” mum said, clearly loving every ounce of my humiliation. “So why don't you at least try to be a good girl and help your sister clear the table?”

“I don't want to be a girl.” I sulked.

“Well... if you prove to me you can be a good girl... I’ll let you be a boy again.” mum grinned. “And being a good girl means being nice to your sister, helping us tidy up and being pleasant and polite... so lets wipe that sulky face away shall we?” she said jovially, dabbing my cheek with the dishcloth.

I forced a smile.

“That wasn't so hard was it?” Mum said.

I shook my head.

“Now why don't you go and help your sister, say thank you to her for letting you wear one of her dresses, and ask her if she'll chose a pretty name for you?” mum said with a smile.

I could think of lots of reasons not to do any of the above. But trapped in a dress with video evidence in addition to my mother and sister's testimonies, I felt I had no choice but to do as asked. I wanted to die as I approached my sister. She may be younger than me, but she's just as tall as me. I mumbled my thank you. She insisted I speak up. I muttered my thank you. She suggested I speak clearly. I said “Thank you for letting me wear your dress.” She said I was welcome, but since she's never liked it, said I could keep it.

“That's very kind of you Janet.” mum said. “Say thank you David.”

I muttered a reluctant thank you.

“You're welcome... David.” my sister said. She was enjoying my humiliation just as much as mum was, if not more so. “Would you like me to chose you a pretty name? One that's a bit more girlie than David.”

I glanced at my mother, hoping she'd free me from this turmoil. But she smiled and slowly nodded, prompting me to say yes. I looked at my sister, gulped and nodded

An evil grin swept my sister's face. She made me help her tidy the table of the half-eaten jellies, cakes and sandwiches whilst she 'had a think'. Ten minutes later she'd made her mind up. “Cindy!” she said.

“Like the doll?” mum replied.

“Yes.” Janet said. “Then I can dress her up in lots of different outfits. She's the same size as me so...” she smiled as I just wanted to die.

“That's a lovely idea.” mum said. “Don't you think Cindy?”

“I don't want to.” I moaned.

“Well that's not the attitude Cindy.” mum replied. “Good girls like you usually love dressing up.”

“I don't want to be a girl.”

“Well like I said David...” mum said in her serious voice, “...if you prove to me you can be a good girl... I’ll let you be a boy again. And if you don't want to be a good girl today, we'll just have to try again tomorrow, and the day after that if need be.”

“And we've got school the day after tomorrow... Cindy.” my sister pointed out.

I cast her a stern gaze before looking pleadingly at my mother.

“And I'm sure you'll look just as pretty in a pinafore.” mum said.

I felt the blood drain from my skull as I imagined sitting at my school desk wearing one of the girl's pinafore dresses with white knee socks... and everybody laughing at me. I begged my mother not to make me go to school as a girl, but she just shrugged and reiterated what was expected of me. I looked down at my dress, swallowed what little pride I could find and muttered, “OK.”


The next morning I awoke wearing one of Janet's nighties. Mum even put one of her 'princess' duvet covers on my bed. I pulled on my bathrobe to hide the nightie and went for breakfast. Mum asked me if I enjoyed being a girl yesterday. I nodded, hoping the admission meant I wouldn't have to be a girl again today. Thankfully mum did allow me to be a boy again, and much to my relief she also made my sister promise that she wouldn't tell anybody about me being 'Cindy' for the day.

“OK.” she said. “But I hope I don't have to wait until my next birthday before I see her again.”

“Nooooo!” I thought.

Mum looked at me and smiled. “Well I think David enjoyed being being a girl much more than he expected... so I expect we'll see Cindy again before long.”

"I don't think so." I said to myself as I scooped up the last of my cereal.  I went up to my room and removed the Tinker Bell nightie I'd slept in. I pulled on my own underwear, my own t-shirt and went to the wardrobe to fetch a pair of my own pants. My heart sank as I saw the six or seven outfits Janet had dressed me in the previous day... outfits she insisted I could keep. I recalled how I pretended I liked each and every one of them... but I was only pretending... [gulp].


  1. your one sick mother

    1. And you're one crap speller.

  2. the mother is clearly a sick woman.

    1. Clearly... but it's fiction so don't get your knickers in a twist eh?