On the Road

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On the Road

This is my attempt at the classic bad boy to good girl tale, given a sensible and loving mother.

I

Martha Broadbent was Alice's neighbor and good friend. Parenting Melodie, her 8 year old, was not easy for Martha. In fact, their first real conversation had occurred when she sought Alice's advice on stopping Melodie from cursing like a sailor. So, when she suggested they attend the Weston Women's Association “Modern Parenting” class, Alice agreed. She would not have otherwise, for after reading about the class in the Weekly, Alice thought “modern parenting” would mean nutty parenting.

Alice found the classes next to useless. The first was about the benefits of breast feeding, with the presenter urging that it be continued as long as possible – even refusing to give a firm cutoff age when Martha suggested that perhaps 10, the age of her son Robby, was too old to still be on the tit.

The next meeting was on the horrors of gluten, and the benefits of quinoa for children. Mary Ahemm (owner of Mary's Marvels, Weston's health food emporium) so scared Martha with vague allusions to autism and ADHD that she had resolved to put Melodie on a gluten-free diet. Alice researched the facts and managed to talk Martha down.

The third class, “Modern Child Discipline,” ended the group. While there had been polite disagreement with previous presentations, that class was different. Weston mothers were too invested in their favorite method of discipline to brook even the most non-judgmental criticism. The speaker thought spanking abusive, and suggested time-outs and grounding as better alternatives. Alice didn't think spanking was necessarily abusive, but liked timeouts and grounding better.

On the other hand, Katherine Mauser got increasingly red-faced as the speaker droned on. Finally, she could stand no more. Standing up, she said, “That's an excellent way of raising a juvenile delinquent. Spare the rod and spoil the child!” Alice thought she should know – the Mauser boys were frequent guests of the Weston police. Someone in the back shouted that spanking should be a felony, and suddenly everyone was yelling at once. Susan Sedate, chair of the WWA education committee, tried to restore order by suggesting that each mother speak in turn.

That worked until Sandy Loam said she'd tried grounding, but her daughter had simply snuck out. Rose Treely, sitting next to Alice, turned and said, “Too bad Dot isn't a boy. Sandy could petticoat her and she'd be too embarrassed to sneak out.” Katherine Mauser shot off, “a good whooping would take care of sneaking out.” Shouts of “abuse,” “parental rights,” “bullying,” “raising delinquents,” etc. erupted throughout the hall. This time Susan couldn't restore order. She finally turned off the lights and asked everyone to leave.

There were cold and angry stares at Petersen's Grocery for a week or so, but eventually things returned to normal – especially after Mayor Loudfellow suggested there be no more WWA parenting classes.

That was in April. Summer vacation began at the end of May. Weston was too small to have a pool, and most of the park equipment was geared to younger children. There was a basketball court, but it was dominated by the older teens. The younger teens soon grew bored with checkers and ping pong, and wondered Weston looking for excitement – a task as difficult as looking for glaciers in the Sahara. Often their excitement was breaking windows, painting graffiti or letting air out of tires.

Although Robby was younger than the vandals, he admired the older boys, who let him tag along. So it was that officer Loudfellow, the Mayor's son, caught Robby near a can of green spray paint and freshly painted green obscenity on the back of Mary's Marvels. Robby denied painting the graffiti. It was pretty high, so maybe he was telling the truth. Still, he refused to say who'd done it. Alice wound up paying to have the wall repainted.

“Robby, I was going to surprise you with a birthday trip to Disneyland. Now that money will have to pay for repainting the wall. Even if you didn't spray the wall, you hung with a gang that did – and you refused to help the police.”

“I'm scared of getting beat up.”

“I raised you to do the right thing, even if it is scary. It was scary when your father was ordered to Afghanistan, but he went anyway. Do you think he'd be proud of you if he were still here?”

“No.”

“Well, then tell me who did it.”

“I can't.”

“OK. You're grounded for two weeks and I forbid you to to play with older boys again. Do you promise to obey me?”

“Yes.”

A few days later, Ralph Dyer, who had painted the graffiti, knocked on Robby's front door and offered him an ice cream for not ratting him out. Robby knew he shouldn't go, but was bored and thrilled the older boy was paying attention to him. When they got to Petersen's, Ralph had him wait while he got the ice cream. Two minutes later Ralph ran by, threw Robby an ice cream sandwich and disappeared down the alley. Robby was still wondering why Ralph was running when Lars Petersen's iron grip closed on his arm.

Alice was livid when officer Loudfellow called her at work. Of course, she knew Robby hadn't stolen the ice cream. In fact, he told the whole story this time and was not charged. Instead, Ralph and his father, who ran Weston's only painting business, were both arrested. Alice even got her vacation money back. Even so, Robby had broken his word and disobeyed her.

Alice was still furious when they got home. “I trusted you to take your punishment like a man. Instead, you lied to me. It seems that grounding doesn't work with you. What should I do with you?”

“Spank me?”

She put Robby over her lap, pulled his pants down, and had at it. Martha, not knowing Alice was home, rushed over to find out what was wrong with Robby.

“Everything is OK, Martha … well, not really. I had to spank Robby. He was grounded, but broke his word, snuck out, and got in trouble with the law .. again.”

Robby was standing next to her, trying to fasten his pants with one hand while rubbing is bottom with the other.

“May, may I go to … to my room … please?” he sobbed.

“How do I know you'll stay there? I need you where I can see you. Sit on the floor so I can keep an eye on you.”

Marsha listened as Alice vented. “Well, if it helps, I could baby sit Robby afternoons, but you know I work mornings.”

“That would help a lot, but I can't even trust him to stay home in the morning.”

“I don't need a baby sitter. (Sniff) I'll stay home … I promise.”

“You have demonstrated what your promises are worth. You do need a baby sitter. And … I don't want to hear another word out of you unless I speak to you.”

They sat silently for a while, thinking what to do. Then Martha remembered the last WWA class.

“This may sound ridiculous, but remember what Rose Treely said at the last parenting class? About how Sandy Loam could make sure Dot would stay home if she were a boy? Well Robby's a boy.”

“Wouldn't that be abusive?”

“I don't see how. It would hurt a lot less than spanking … besides, he brought it on himself. What do you think? I could loan you some things. I have a box full of outgrown clothes I was going to take to the consignment shop. Melodie's shorter than Robby, but bigger around.”

Robby stopped sniffling and started being alarmed. “Are you two talking about me wearing Mel's old clothes? There's no way in hell I will. I'll take them off as soon as you leave, so it won't work anyway.”

“Robert Francis Alister, I told you to be quiet. Do want your rear blistered again? … and watch your language! You'll do whatever I decide. I was going to say it was a silly idea, but your complaining makes me think it may not be so silly after all.”

“I'm sorry, mom, but I don't want to wear girl's clothes. It's not fair.”

“You had your chance to take your punishment like a man and you blew it. It seems perfectly appropriate for you to take it like a little girl.

“Martha, do you really think Mel's old clothes will fit him?”

“Yes, he's much thiner than Melodie. They'll fit around – they'd just be a bit short.”

“Good. If you'll get them, I'll get him ready.

“Robby, go fill the tub for a bath.”

“But I take showers.”

“Little girls take bubble baths.”

II

Alice left Robby to bathe in lavender-scented bubbles. As he did, she, Marta and Melodie sorted though the box of outgrown clothes.

“Is Robby really going to wear my old clothes?”

“Yes, dear, but I don't want you teasing him. That would be mean-spirited.”

“I won't mommy, but can I play with him? It would be nice to have a girl my age to play with.”

“If he wants, but don't be a pest. He'll be very embarrassed at first.”

When they finished sorting, Marsha and Melodie began packing up Robby's clothes. Meanwhile, Alice went to get him. Peeking in the bathroom door, she saw him playing with the bubbles just as he had when he was five or six.

“Time to get dressed sweetie.”

Noticing his mother for the first time, he blushed and stepped out of the tub, holding his hands over his shriveled boyhood. Alice held out a towel.

“Lift your arms so I can wrap this around you.”

Turning his back, he lifted his arms, allowing his mother to wrap the towel around his chest. She put another turban-fashion on his head, leaving his hair damp. Alice was surprised how much he looked like a girl. Nothing in his face or thin arms suggested he was a boy.

“Let's get you dressed,” she said, taking him by the hand.

Robby was shocked to find Melodie in his room – helping put the last of his clothes in a large box. Just behind her, two dresses and coordinating panties were laid out on his bed. He did not want to look at them. He burst out crying.

“Don't cry Robby, these were my favorite things before I outgrew them,” Melodie said, giving Robby a sisterly hug.

“Why don't you and your mother give us some privacy while Robbie gets dressed. Then I'll bring him over.”

“OK. See you in a bit, Robbie.”

The embarrassed boy could only blush more.

Alice had used toddler choices when he was younger, letting Robby “choose” between two things equally acceptable to her. She returned to the tactic now.

“Which outfit would you like to wear, sweetie? Your sundress or your sailor outfit?”

“They aren't mine.”

“They are now. Marsha and Melodie have given you all these lovely clothes,” said Alice, gesturing to an assortment of blouses, skirts and dresses hanging in his closet. “Of course, you could go nude. Melodie might enjoy the view. Is that what you want?”

“No … “

“Then do you want to wear your sundress? Or your sailor dress?”

For the first time, Robby looked at the dresses on his bed. One was pink with no sleeves and flowers all over it. The other was blue with short sleeves, a sailor collar, two rows of brass buttons on the skirt and white trim. Coordinating panties lay next to each – one pink cotton with roses, the other blue and white stripped nylon. There was no way he was going to wear a pink dress with flowers. At least the idea of a sailor was boyish.

“The sailor one.”

“What about it? 'The sailor one' is not a sentence.”

“I'll wear the sailor dress.”

“Is that how I taught you to ask for things?”

“May I wear the sailor dress?”

“What is the magic word?”

Robby knew the sooner he did as his mother wished, the sooner this ordeal would be over. “May I wear the sailor dress, please?”

“If that is what you want, dear, certainly.”

Robby wanted to say it was not what he wanted, but that would only make things worse.

“Step in,” Alice said as she held the panties open for him.

Reluctantly he put his feet through the openings and pulled them up under the towel. They were softer than Spiderman briefs, but the main difference was they only came half way to his waist.

Next, she eased the dress over his head. As she tied the bow in the back, Robbie realized his mistake. The skirt was flared out more than he expected. On Melody, it had come to just above her knees, but she was younger and shorter than he. On him, the skirt ended three inches below his crotch – putting his panties on display whenever he bent over. Again, he teared up.

“There is no reason to cry. You look darling and your legs are to die for.

“Now, put on your shoes and socks.”

He hadn't noticed the black patent Mary Janes on the floor. A pair of socks were folded in one. Pulling them out revealed a two inch blue lace ruffle. Once he had them on, the ruffle formed a little tutu around each ankle.

“Do I have to wear these? They make me look like a sissy!”

“Yes, Marsha spent a long time coordinating the outfit and it is meant to be worn together. Also, I prefer a sissy to a delinquent.”

Finally, Alice helped him squeeze into the MJs. They were painfully short, but she managed to buckle them. “We'll buy a pair your size later.”

Once Robby was dressed, his mother began winding strands of his auburn hair around her finger.

“These are called 'pin curls.' Pay attention because I want you to set your hair whenever it needs it. I loved them when I was your age. Maybe you will too.”

She applied setting lotion to each curl and held it flat against his scalp with bobby pins. When his hair was all pinned, she set it with her blow dryer. Brushing it out to produced a short, summer hairstyle.

Seeing himself in the mirror, Robby realized that while he did not look quite like a girl, he looked very cute. He felt a strange tingle. Slowly he realized he liked looking cute. Knowing he should not, he felt very confused and started crying again.

Alice hugged him to her breasts. They had not hugged in a long time, and it felt nice to both of them.

III

The whole process from retrieving Robby from the police station to brushing out his pin curls had taken about three and a half hours. Now Alice had to return to work, for she was in the middle of an important project with a tight deadline.

“Don't worry, I'll make sure he stays out of trouble. Work as late as you need to,” Marsha said as Alice started her car.

Robbie had run to Marsha's to avoid being seen by the other neighbors. To say that he felt fragile in his short sailor dress, lace top socks, Mary Janes and pin curls would be an understatement.

Melodie was waiting in the living room. “You look so pretty, Robbie.”

Robbie felt like taking a bite out of her, but when he saw her face, he realized she was sincere. The realization reinforced his secret thought that he really did look cute. He didn't want to like the compliment, but he did. “Ah … thank you.”

“Would you like to play in my room?”

Robbie was not sure what she had that he might want to play with, but he was in no position to be rude. “Ok, I guess.”

Mel's room was large enough for a bedroom set, a large doll house, and a play table with four chairs and a tea set. Arrayed on shelves was an assortment of dolls, books, Legos, and other toys.

“Since you're all dressed up, we should have a tea party.”

Robbie was not sure he wanted a tea party, but he was on his best behavior and too tired to object. “That would be lovely.” Was that me talking, he wondered.

Leading him to the table, Mel introduced two dolls already seated. “This is Katelyn, and this is Missy. Mommy just taught me to make tea, so you talk to Katelyn while Missy and I make tea.” She indicated a seat next to a large display doll in a yellow silk gown. Robbie had seen such dolls in gift shops and always thought them very pretty. But, boys ought not to think dolls are beautiful.

“Did your mother make you wear that dress, Katelyn?” Where did that come from? Only girls and crazy people talked to dolls. “I suppose Mel is your mother. Well, she picked a very pretty dress for you. Yellow silk matches your hair.”

Robbie had never talked to a doll before, but wanted to be a good playmate ... Besides, no one else was there, so what was the harm? “My dress is very plain in comparison, Katelyn.” … “Oh, you really think so? That is very kind of you to say, but I like yours much better.”

“Yes, hers is prettier, but I have a party dress you could wear if you want. It's not silk, but it's almost as pretty as Katelyn's … isn't it, Katelyn?” … “She says it is … would you like to borrow it, Robbie?”

Robbie was blushing furiously. “I was … ah … just … ah.” What was he doing? He didn't know, and he couldn't think of an excuse that made sense. “Ah, no, my dress is fine.” My dress? … is fine? Really?

“OK. I made us tea and here are some cookies,” Mel said, setting a tray on the table and placing Missy in the chair opposite Katelyn. “Would you like to be mother?”

“Mother?”

“Yes, the one who serves. Since you're older. I thought you'd like to be mother.”

“I don't know how … and you're the hostess.”

“OK, then you can be Katelyn's little sister.”

“Little sister?”

“Yes, you're dressed like you're five or six. Katelyn is dressed much older.”

“Oh,” said Robbie quietly. He was tired and the fight had gone out of him.

After tea, they got on the floor with Katelyn and Missy to play with the doll house. Soon Robbie was asleep.

He woke as the sun was setting. Someone had given him a pillow and put a quilt over him. A doll in a yellow silk dress was nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn't recall how he'd come to have her or be sleeping on the floor of a girl's room. Then he saw the edge of his sailor dress and the whole horrid day came back to him.

He and Katelyn were alone. He felt a strange affinity with her. “Do you like looking pretty as well? You know neither of us are real girls, don't you, Katelyn?” … “Yes, I know you don't have to be a real girl to be pretty, but boys aren't as smart as you, Katelyn. Maybe that's why Mel made you the big sister.” He kissed her on the forehead and put her in her chair.

The Broadbent home had the same floor plan as his. So, he had no trouble finding the toilet. He wanted to pee standing up, but there was no fly in his panties, and he was worried about getting his skirt wet, so he sat. It seemed the right thing to do.

Marsha and Mel were cooking dinner. Robby offered to help. He was given an ruffled apron, and asked to make pudding. He had no idea how, but Mel showed him. It might have been from a box, but it tasted wonderful and Robby felt a sense of accomplishment.

When he sat to eat, Marsha showed him how to brush his skirt under so it didn't get wrinkled. Later Mel whispered that she could see his panties, and he learned to sit with his legs together.

IV

Alice came to pick him up about 8:00.

“Hi, mommy. Did you finish your project?”

“Yes, I did. Thank you for asking dear.”

“Did Robbie behave?”

“Yes, she did. She and Melodie played tea party and dolls, then she fell asleep. When she woke up, she helped by making a delicious pudding for dessert.”

Robbie was unused to being a “she,” but was in no position to complain.

“I am relieved Robbie caused no further problems.”

“She didn't. I'll be home about 12:30 tomorrow. She can come over then.”

“Thank you.

“Robbie, we need to hurry to get you shoes before the stores close.”

His feet ached from a day in MJs at least a size too small. So, the idea of right-sized shoes was very welcome. He became frightened when he realized he might be shopping in his sailor dress and tutu socks. His fear grew as they walked to Alice's car, rather than the house.

“Mommy, can't I change into boy clothes first? I can't run away with you next to me.”

“It's already late and I want to get to the mall before the stores close. Besides, your boy things are all packed away in a safe place.”

“I look like a sissy.”

“How else should a boy that plays tea party and dolls with little girls look?” Alice was still angry, but regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth. “I should not have said that. Boys can play dolls if they like. I can even get you one of your own if you behave. Would you like that?”

Robbie was trying to figure out which was worse – his mother thinking he was a sissy or her buying him a doll. So, he said, “I don't know” – not in answer to her question, but in talking to himself. That is not how his mother took it.

It took Alice forty-five minutes to get to the Easton Mall – where they'd be unlikely to meet anyone they knew. As she drove, she decided to see how interested in dolls Robbie was. After her bad start, she decided to ease into it.

“So, did Mel tease you?”

“Well, she said I looked pretty. I was getting mad, but then I saw she meant it, so I said 'Thank you.'”

“I am proud of you – and she's right you do look pretty.”

“Boys shouldn't look pretty.”

“There is no 'should' to it, dear. Some boys look pretty and some don't – it's just how God made them. You're one of the ones who look pretty.”

“Oh.”

“So, was she nice after that?”

“Yeah, she invited me to play with her in her room. She has lots of stuff – dolls, a huge doll house her dad made – even Legos.”

“So, what did you play?”

“Well, her mom taught her how to make tea so she wanted to have a tea party with Katelyn, Missy and me.”

“Katelyn and Missy? Are they friends of hers?”

“Naw, they're dolls. Katelyn is the kind they have in gift shops. She has a real pretty yellow silk dress and lots of lace. Missy is an American Girl doll. I think she's Mel's favorite cuz she took her to make tea while I talked to Katelyn.”

Alice was surprised that Robbie noticed gift shop dolls and even more that he talked to them. “It must have been nice to sit next to someone so pretty. What did you two talk about?”

“She's just a doll, mommy – but we did pretend talk about how pretty our dresses were. Of course, hers was the prettiest”

“There's no harm in talking to dolls. I did it when I was your age. So, then what?”

“Well, Mel wanted to rearrange the furniture in her doll house and I guess I fell asleep on the floor.”

“And then you helped with dinner when you woke up?”

“Yeah, I thought I should help. I got to make pudding. It was fun. I could make some for us sometime.”

“That would be lovely, dear.”

It was 8:50 when they arrived. The mall was open till 10:00. So there was plenty of time, but Robby was scared again and did not want to get out of the car.

“Can't I just stay in the car? Please, mommy,” he begged. “Everyone will think I'm a boy in a dress.”

“You are a boy in a dress, but no one will know unless you tell them. Plenty of girls your age are Tom boys. Anyway, you can't stay in the car. I don't know your size in girl's shoes, so you need to try them on. I could put lipstick on you to make you look more like a girl.”

“I look enough like a girl already, thanks.”

“If you look enough like a girl, there's no reason not to come in. Hold my hand.”

Holding Alice's hand made Robbie feel better. When they got to Payless, she sat him down and measured his foot.

“I want to find you in this chair when I come back.”

Once he was alone, Robbie started feeling anxious. A girl in shorts and a baseball Cardinals' tee came over and sat next to him. She looked about Mel's age

“Did your mom make you wear that outfit?”

“Yes, she did.”

“I thought so! Your hair and the way you walk tells me your a Tom boy like me. No sane girl would ever pick that outfit. Am I right?”

“Yeah. I hate lace and skirts. I wish I was dressed like you.”

“You got to stick up for yourself girl! Tell your mom you don't want to look like a six year old. I'm Sandy by the way. You?”

“Robbie.”

“Nice to meet you Robbie,” she bubbled as she shook his hand.

“So, is she trying to femme you up?”

“Well, I was grounded, left the house and got in trouble with the cops. So she dressed me like this to keep me home.”

“I can see that. It's kind of embarrassing, ain't it?”

“Yeah, these socks look like little tutus.”

“Yeah, freaky. … did you get a training bra yet? All my friends have them, so I got my mom to buy me some,” she said, quickly pulling up her tee to give him a peek.

“Oh! … I don't have any.”

“Well pester her until she gets you some. You'll feel a lot older. I do. … I see her coming back. Nice talking. Bye,” and she was off.

“Did you have a nice chat with that girl? Did she think you were a boy in a dress?”

“Yeah, she was nice. She thought I was a Tom boy and said I should ask for a training bra.”

“Would you like one?”

“No! No! It was just what she said.” Robbie was turning beat red.

“I finally found Mary Janes in your size. They didn't have black – we can get you a black pair in the fall. Let's see how these white ones fit. … Walk to the end of the aisle and back. …

“Well?”

“They fit okay, but I really don't want girl's shoes.”

“And I don't want you leaving the house when your grounded. … Now take off your MJs and try these sandals. They're the same size, so they should fit. They'll be more comfortable when it gets hot.” The sandals were also white, with a one-inch cork wedge sole and a bow on the toe.

“Couldn't I have plain flat ones?”

“And pretend they were boys' when you sneak out? I think not! Put your new MJs back on, and I'll pay for everything.”

As they checked out, Alice saw shoulder bags on sale. “Dresses don't have pockets. You can carry your things in this,” she said, handing Robbie a white purse.

“I skipped dinner, let's get something at the food court. Do you want anything?”

“I'm not hungry.” Truth be told, he was almost nauseous being in public dressed as he was and carrying a purse.

“Then, here's $10. Put it in your purse. Buy me a lamb gyro and a diet root beer while I rest my feet.”

“Mommy, please?” he pleaded.

“You look fine. Even another girl thought you were a girl.”

“Yeah, but she also thought I was dressed like a six year old.”

“You chose your outfit. Tomorrow you can try all your new things and choose something you like better.”

Robbie suffered no further embarrassment, but still felt like a complete sissy opening his purse to pay for his mother's dinner.

Alice wanted to talk more on the way home, but he fell asleep.

V

Since he'd napped the day before, Robbie woke before his mother. By the time he was on the toilet, he was awake enough to realize he was wearing blue cotton baby dolls he didn't remember putting on. As he washed, he saw that his pin curls were crushed. They sprang into shape after a little brushing. Pulling a curl out and watching it spring back was a new experience. It was almost as if his hair was alive.

Determined not to repeat yesterday's mistake of dressing like a six year old, Robbie tried all the dresses and skirts in his closet. Each time, he looked in the mirror, primping his hair and turning this way and that. When he realized what he was doing, he was embarrassed, but not enough to stop. He finally narrowed the choice to the floral sundress his mother had laid out yesterday and a jean skirt with a white ruffle. The sundress was longer, but its floral print was just too girlie.

The skirt needed a top. His male teeshirts were gone. Power Puff Girls, Disney Princess, and My Little Pony graphic tees were too much, so he chose a white blouse with puff sleeves and a Peter Pan collar – though he knew neither of those terms. Plain white ankle socks and his new MJs completed the outfit.

When he finished, he did a little spin. It was fun to make his skirt flare. He stared at the mirror. … The jean skirt and white blouse made him look his age. … His mother was right – some boys were pretty and he was one of them. As long as no one teased him, being pretty wasn't so bad. Yesterday, two girls had been nice, and no one teased him – maybe dresses would be OK – at least for a while.

Robbie heard his mother showering. So he went to the kitchen, determined to make up for some of the trouble he'd caused. He put on an apron, washed yesterday's dishes and mixed a batch of pancake batter.

“How many pancakes, mommy?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Robbie?”

“I'm the Wicked Witch of the West and I turned him into a girl – hehe,” he said is his best wicked witch voice. “Now answer quick – before Dorothy throws water on me and I start meltingggggg… ”, he said wriggling down toward the floor.

“Hehe – I'll have two, please.” Alice gave Robbie a hug and kiss that made him feel loved and forgiven.

“That's a nice outfit. You look very pretty this morning, Ms. Wicked.”

“Thank you. You do too. Turquoise is a good color for you, mommy.”

“Thank you.” Alice thought how much more pleasant the new Robbie was.

After breakfast, they hugged and kissed good bye. “Remember to go over to Marsha's at 12:30 … and eat lunch first. I don't want her thinking she has to feed you.”

“I will mommy. Bye.”

“That's a good girl. Bye.” As she was driving off, Alice realized she'd said “good girl” instead of “good boy,” but it was too late.

Robbie had a lot to make up for. He worked until 11:00 making beds, straightening, and vacuuming. The house looked noticeably better. Again, he felt proud of himself. It was a good feeling.

He played on his tablet, but his standard games bored him. Looking for something new, he found a lot of dress-up games. One had both boy and girl models, and you could put the girl's clothes on the boy. He gave the boy auburn hair and blue eyes like his own. Sadly, the game had no pin curls. Still, he enjoyed dressing the boy so much that he lost track of time.

He realized it was late when his stomach growled. He wolfed down a PB&J sandwich – not a very ladylike way to eat, he thought. It was 12:35 when he knocked on Marsha's back door.

“You look more grown up today, Robbie.”

“Thank you. You look very sweet in your sundress and matching bow, Mel.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you eat yet?” asked Marsha.

“I did, thank you. Why don't you eat with Mel? I'll wash the soup pan and breakfast dishes. I want to show how much I appreciate you helping my mother.”

“You don't have to do that, dear.”

“I know, but I'd feel better if I did. I've been a lot of trouble lately.”

“OK, if you insist. I'll never be one to turn down free help.”

After lunch, Robbie and Mel played with Katelyn and Missy. Later, he joined Mel as Marsha taught her to sew. He learned to thread the machine and sew straight lines. By the end of the week both he and Mel had made simple skirts for Katelyn and Missy.

After wearing his skirt and blouse outfit two days, Alice insisted it be washed and Robbie wear something else. As the sundress was his second choice, he wore it with his wedge sandals. The heels were not high, so he soon got used to them. He even liked being a bit taller.

Since nothing bad had happened, he'd become less self-conscious about wearing skirts. They were cooler and more comfortable than pants, so he was starting to prefer them. Something else felt good about skirts, but he could not quite put his finger on it.

VI

Robbie's next shock came Saturday, when his mother told him she needed to buy him a Sunday dress for church.

“I can't wear a dress to church!”

“I don't see why not.”

“Because people will see me and call me names – maybe beat me up.”

“No one did any such thing at the mall.”

“No one knew me there.”

“And no one knows you at St. Joan's in Easton. That's where we're going.”

“Can't I be a boy when I'm with you? It's not like I'm going to run away.”

“You're a boy all the time – but you behave better dressed as a girl. You never helped with dinner, cleaned the house, or even talked to me much before you started wearing dresses. Now you're a perfect angel. Besides, I know you like being pretty. You do like looking pretty don't you?”

“No!”

“There's no use lying. I've seen you looking in the mirror – swinging your skirts and playing with your curls.”

Robbie couldn't talk. Instead, tears rolled down his cheeks.

Alice held him close. “It's ok. Some boys have a lot of girl inside. You are one and I love that about you. So, there is no need to cry.”

“But I don't want to be a sissy!”

“Why not?”

“Because no one likes sissies.”

“Well, Mel likes you, and that girl at Payless was friendly enough.”

“She didn't know I'm a boy.”

“No one needs to know unless you let them.”

“My friends will know.”

“Oh? And who are these so-called friends? That Ralph Dyer who got you arrested twice?”

“I don't know,” he sniffled

“Now tell the truth. OK?”

“OK.”

“Do you like being pretty?”

“Yes,” he said in a very small voice.

“And do you like wearing skirts and dresses?”

“Yes.”

“So why can't your mother buy you a beautiful dress and show off how pretty you are?”

“Boys aren't supposed to like wearing dresses.”

“Well, I don't see why not. Girls wear pants. So, boys can wear dresses if they like.”

“I guess.”

“Good. Now go wash your face and brush your hair so mommy can buy you a fab dress.”

The next day a new girl was in the communion line at St. Joan's. She wore a cream dress and white Mary Janes. Her green waist band was a striking contrast to her auburn curls. Just visible through her bodice was a lace training bra. Several people commented on how radiant she looked.

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Maybe we would have less

Maybe we would have less jerks around if this form of punishment was used worldwide. I get the impression that Robbie or should it be Roberta may just stay around and the old Robbie will fade away like a bad dream. Very nice if it were so.
Janice

Thank You

Thank you for commenting. I think we need to be very careful with children. Each is needs to be nurtured in a way that will best realize their individual potential.

I am more interested in the dynamics that break foolish constraints than in day to day life. So, this will probably be a one of.

Love, Andra

Parenting

Raising a child is not an exact science.

It is an ironic cruelty that when we see the results of our parenting we no longer have the opportunity to put what we have learned into practice.

In the late 1960s I had the opportunity to work with rats in a laboratory environment. I was in college and attempting to earn a minor in psychology.

The rats were “naïve” in that they had no world experience.

We placed them in “operant chambers” which were small glass boxes with feeding mechanism built into the wall. The rats were starved down to 80% of their normal weight. They received food pellets as rewards to proper behavior. The rat’s behavior was “shaped” by moving them through increasingly more precise approximations of the behavior desired. For example you would first reward them for being in the correct half of the operant chamber, than the right fourth, then for touching the food pellet bar, then for depressing the food pellet bar, and finally for depressing the pellet bar 25 times in a row without too much stopping.

I grew up on a farm and maybe because of that I was by far the quickest at training my rat. There were about 150 students in the course and we were competing.

What I learned.

1.) Positive reward works. I was able to train my rat to do complex behaviors strictly through positive rewards.
2.) Negative works, but is very inefficient. We tried repeatedly to “extinguish” unwanted behavior using electrical shock. It was a slow process and very erratic.
3.) In my opinion the use of positive reinforcement is so powerful that when used on human beings it crosses the line to manipulation. I never did get my minor in psychology although I had plenty of hours. I refused to take any more behavioral psychology courses because I thought it was changing me as a human being.

I’ve worked with humans for over 45 years since training rats. I used the principles of positive reinforcement I learned to successfully create extremely large and successful sales forces. I also used my above conclusions as a coach for tennis, basketball, football, soccer, and volleyball. I had excellent results shaping my players.

My four children turned out to be quite nice people and very productive. I avoided corporal punishment almost entirely. I never “spanked” any of my children, although there were times I really, really wanted to.

In my opinion, my children came with unique personalities. I could barely influence them one way or another. I found my best influence was to give them strong encouragement and support in their interests. They became Phi Beta Kappas, great parents, and outstanding business people on their own.

I understand what fiction is and that authors aren’t bound to express only those opinions they truly believe, but when I see a story that suggests a parent is a “loving” parent because they use petticoat punishment I can’t agree.

Forcing a child to do something that goes against their will is a very extreme measure. Spanking is considered a crime in some legal jurisdictions. Ask Adrian Peterson how many $millions it has cost him to punish his child. My parents punished me like he punished his children and it was acceptable – at that time.

This story was very well written and I’ve given it a kudo. However, it made me shudder.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Re: Parenting

Dear Angela,

I am sorry you found the story chilling, that was not my intent. I have written you privately to further discuss the issues you raise.

Love, Andra

Manipulation

Thank you for your offline email. I agree with most of what you said.

I especially agree that we all "manipulate" each other daily. Gender identification is based on constant affirmation and expressed displeasure at our actions by those around us. When we're very young our parents probably have the greatest role in that process.

I was chilled by this story in that I felt that very fine line between motivational support and manipulative punishment had been crossed. Perhaps I missed it in the story, but I didn't see signals from Robby prior to the punishment that would have suggested he was transgendered.

This is a excellent story that allows thought.

Jill M I

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Nicely put, Angela

I though Andragyne wrote the story very nicely too.
I would be interested to know how the students on your course did when they dressed their rats in pretty dresses - was it really so unsuccessful?

I've heard rumours but very few stories about petticoat discipline that I believe are true. I'm sure any actually true stories would be of very harsh and restrictive parenting, and therefore certainly a little cruel, though worse cruelties were more common back in the day; but certainly these days I would think it vanishingly rare that anyone does this, compared to the number of boys brought up being forced to dress as, well, boys.

Most of us had to suffer the latter, so a story like this is a delightful catharsis, a few minutes of imagining how - albeit impossibly for most of us - it could have been different.

I've given Andragyne a hearty kudo too.

Does it need to be a standalone?

You have a nice story that seems it has not ended. It would be nice if Rob the girl could find her own name and identity. Even Rob the boy resurfacing part-time as a boy could be part of the continued story.

Hugs, Jessie

Jessica E. Connors

Jessica Connors

Re: Does it need to be a standalone?

I was not planning to continue, but you are right, the story is incomplete. I'll only promise to consider what you wrote.

Love, Andra

This was a very nice story.....

D. Eden's picture

Although it did make me cry - I think mostly because I had the same thoughts and feelings as Robbie when I was a child.

I must say though that I agree with Angela - I strongly disagree with the entire idea of petticoat punishment. It is definitely a form of psychological abuse, little different than the entire idea of forced feminization.

Although I do feel that there is a time and a place for corporal punishment (yes, my children were spanked at times), it is better used as a last measure than as a regular punishment. Like any negative punishment, it's effectiveness lessens with overuse. Actually, once my children understood that it was not an idle threat on my part, the need to spank them essentially disappeared.

Positive reinforcement of good actions is much the preferred method, but I found that it worked much better in conjunction with the knowledge that the negative reinforcement for improper actions was there as well. In other words, once my children understood that they would be spanked for certain actions, the fact that doing the right thing led to them being praised and rewarded had a much deeper impact.

Let's look at the current practice of giving every child who participates in a sport the same trophy. Although I agree that we need to acknowledge the act of participating, as well as the effort put forth by the children, if we reward everyone the same we belittle the actions of those who excel. If everyone is special, no one is special. We are all the same, and that is not only a fallacy, but it is a road to mediocrity and ruin.

We need to acknowledge participation, but there must always be a greater reward for extreme effort, as well as a greater reward for supreme achievement. When I was a child, we all received a certificate of participation, then rewards were given for those who put forth the greatest effort and showed the most improvement (even if they weren't the best), and then rewards were given for winning. Yes WINNING - the idea of not keeping score is ridiculous. As a coach, I can tell you that every kid in the game was keeping score - as was every parent. To pretend that there was no score is simply stupidity.

In much the same way, if we punish to excess it serves no actual purpose. The impact of excessive punishment is exactly the opposite of the desired effect. It breeds anger and contempt, and it simply loses it's effectiveness. Children learn, and they use that knowledge. It is important that we teach them the correct things.

My ex-wife was a screamer. She would scream at our kids, but never backed it up. She would issue idle threats that never amounted to anything. She would threaten, but never follow through; an example, she would ground one of our children as punishment, and then give in within an hour. Her punishment was non-existent and our children soon learned to ignore her. As I stated, she taught them the wrong thing.

Anyway, I digress. This was a lovely little story, and I would love to see where it goes. Have you given any thought to continuing it?

Dallas

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

I'm Surprised - Let's Discuss It

I'm surprised by the amount of discussion generated by what I saw as more a writing exercise (trying my hand at a standard form) than a disturbing tale. Yet, empirically, the story is clearly disturbing. I would like to explore why with the help of anyone who'd like to comment.

(Yes, there are no signs of feminine tendencies before the petticoating. Still, the petticoating is not the punishment, but a means of implementing the punishment, which is grounding.)

Why is the idea of petticoat punishment both disturbing and a recurrent (and so appealing) theme? I think it's appealing because if an authority figure petticoats a male, he need not feel guilty about expressing his femininity. If that is so, why should a male feel guilty by expressing femininity? Women don't seem to feel guilty about wearing men's clothes.

I think the reason is: because women have lower social status than men, a man takes a step downward when he expresses his femininity. A girl being a Tom boy or a woman being more masculine is taking, or trying to take, a step up. So, the underlying value here -- what makes petticoatting seem abusive -- is a morally defective view of gender status. It is degrading to dress a boy as a girl, but elevating to dress a girl as a boy. Men and women should have equal status, pay, say, etc.

Maybe this does not matter. Even if the social structure is wrong headed, it is still a social reality that females have lower status. So being displayed as a sissy is socially degrading, while being displayed as a Tom boy is not. Does that make it immoral? Or is it moral to oppose this abhorrent premise? Maybe it is moral to oppose it, but not to enlist unwilling children?

Another thought I have is that everyone has masculine and feminine sides. Because of social pressure, males unnaturally suppress their femininity. If so, might it not be a good thing to have a boy out of his comfort zone long enough to overcome his submission to social pressure? Of course, there is no excuse for breaking a person's spirit or causing depression.

Another gauge of morality is intent. If the intent is primarily to help a child realize her potential, an act is subjectively moral, even if objectively wrong-headed. If the intent is to use the child as an object of gratification for whatever drive, the opposite is true.

I hope for some reflective responses.

Love, Andra

pretty crime

Hi Andra,
I agree with you fairly wholeheartedly in terms of fiction. In reality I have no idea, I'm not a parent, but I think bringing up kids is a very delicate thing and while almost everyone is damaged by the process, one seeks to avoid as much damage as possible. I think petticoat punishment would be far less damaging than many other punishments that have been used, but perhaps it would cause some damage nonetheless.

I don't think the issue some people have with stories like this is to do with gender values in society, though that is definitely a vector in the punishment. I think the problem is the crushing of self-expression, of the personality, which in most people is gendered one way or the other at a fairly young age, and punishment such as this is considered by those who object to be an attack on a core element of personality development.

I agree that much of what society holds dear as "gender" is a hollow shibboleth and children are brainwashed in society into attitudes about gender that seem largely tangential to any underlying truth. Still identity does need to form in a social milieu and perhaps all social systems are more or less arbitrary. Brought up as a boy in this society certainly did me a lot of harm, so I guess for those who feel happy as boys, twisting that may do them some harm too.

If kids are harmed perhaps by petticoat discipline, if it's done, other kids are harmed by the lack of it. No one asks, in a way that a youngster can answer honestly, whether they are transgendered during upbringing unless a major problem arises and certainly my day most TG kids knew well to hide what they felt and probably had little idea of what those feelings were. It's getting better, younger and younger people have access to information and are being listened to when they express dissent about their gendering, the future may be much better if understanding continues to grow and puritanical attitudes continue to fade.

I think there are valid issues being brought up by some of the commenters. That is, they would be valid in a parenting forum. However I like your story and I like stories like yours. I did not for one second think you were publishing a treatise on good parenting and I took it to be a fantasy story by someone who has feelings about gendered upbringing, probably from personal experience, like I have. A fantasy of what might have been, a sense of innocent longing dressed up in a real world scenario, sehnsucht - with perhaps a tinge of schadenfreude at the fictional character being forced to suffer what we suffered but in reverse.

Keep up the good work.
XX
AD

Thanks

Thank you for the thoughtful comment and kind words. I certainly agree that parenting is difficult. We are all imperfect and do imperfect jobs -- perhaps over correcting for faults in our own up-bringing and under correcting errors reflecting our vices. I have never liked stories in which a dominant person takes joy in the destruction of another, and crushing a child's potential Is particularly evil. Still, children are resilient and can rebound from many mistakes.

My upbringing was a mixed bag with pros and cons. I tended to accept and reflect my mother's values and had seminal feelings which, if nourished, might have lead to a very different life. So, I tend to favor the idea of letting children taste a range of gender expressions. No one objects to parents telling children they must taste foods they do not like the look of.

Love, Andra

Alice

licorice's picture

the way she acted really turned my stomach very badly. She seemed to be getting a kick out of humiliating Robbie.

That was not my intent, and

That was not my intent, and re-reading, I missed it. What part are you thinking of?

Love, Andra

Socio-political hyberbole!...

...With the pen you can make any made up character bend to your cockeyed ideological demogogary. The only thing the kid was guilty of in the story is being enticed away by ice cream. Certainly a punishable offense but because of the potential danger posed by others. Low and behold the punishment is ok because it uncovered another closeted sissy. Look another fanciful problem solved by a fanciful notion that does not have any basis in fact. The reason I'm reacting this way is because someone said 'maybe'. This is my way of saying yeah but probably 'NOT'! Fiction and fantasy are not a solid basis to arrive at an unwarranted global conclusion.

I have seen...

...very few of these stories where the punishment was not permanent. Plus the virtues of petticoat punishment over spanking disolve when you read the stories and you find out that spanking was included as part of the process not to mention the other forms of punishment also being extolled as part of that process. When ever I have been in punishment albeit in life the end of the tunnel was always what allowed me to endure. I knew that I would not always be in high school and that is what allowed me to endure the assholes who did not know better than to leave me alone. 'THIS TOO SHALL PASS'. You can't keep beating on a kid beit physical or mental.

Get a grip. The story is a

Get a grip. The story is a fantasy, not a scholarly discourse. Love, Andra

I still don't understand how

I still don't understand how such innocent and pretty story managed to call out so heated discussion.