Fred s Day in Petticoats
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Married Into Petticoats free porn video
Married Into Petticoats a story by Prim
Chapter One: Something old, something new, something borrowed, something
blue
Simon Barber reached the top step behind Veronica and felt utterly flat.
Surely his wedding day should be brighter than this: returning to his
mother-in-law's house, carrying her coat over his arm as he waited for
her to open the front door. He turned to see his new bride on her phone
at the car. His wonderful Monica, together at last... although it would
be nice if she spent a bit more time with him instead of on her phone.
She gave a particularly throaty laugh: at least she was enjoying herself.
"Come on then," said Veronica, and he followed the wide waddle of her
pastel yellow skirt and the click-clack of her white high heels across
the hall. "Put my coat on the bannister."
What a friendly way she had of talking to her new son-in-law. Simon
breathed in deeply and did as he was told. As always. Was nothing going
to change, now that he was 'family'? She stood at the full mirror and
took off her wedding hat and face veil. Her precious, platinum hair-do
rose from the top of her neck, spreading to its widest on a level with
her crown, then finished on top like the flame of a torch, all supported
by two of her largest green earrings. Her lips were wrinkled into
dissatisfaction as she arranged the collar of her costume and fussed her
blouse jabot so that it spread more flamboyantly.
He stood attentively behind her. Now that they would be living together,
he wasn't going to give her any cause for annoyance. Past experience had
shown him the sharp side of her temper. He realised her brown eyes were
looking at him in the mirror.
"Put your jacket round the back of that chair," she ordered.
He complied, by which time she had turned and advanced on him. "Now," she
said, "take off your trousers and put them on your jacket."
Simon thought he must have mis-heard. On the other hand, he hadn't mis-
heard, and having to repeat herself was one of the last things Veronica
wanted to do. He found himself undoing his pants and stepping out them,
with the front door still open. She must have some reason.
"Shoes," she said, "and socks. Off."
Now that he had no pants on, this didn't seem such a weird thing to ask.
It was when Monica came through the door and closed it behind her that he
felt foolish, standing in his boxers, shirt and tie and nothing else. She
looked him up and down with a chuckle. He loved the way her blond hair
fell over her eye when she laughed. She looked gorgeous in her slim,
lilac costume and white heels with a white lily in her lapel.
"Mother, you haven't wasted any time," she said. "At least wait for me to
be here and see the fun."
"I don't believe in beating about the bush," said her mother, holding the
sides of the seat as she eased her wide beam onto the hall chair. She
took a restful breath and looked squarely at Simon. "Take my shoes off,"
she said.
Everything sounded like an order. Simon was looking weak in front of
Monica, but... she was her mother. He knelt on one knee, smarting
inwardly, and slipped off one court shoe, then the other. He got to his
feet, wondering when he would be able to go and get some pants on.
"Ah-ah," said Veronica, shaking her finger at him. "My tights next." She
stood up in front of him, her chins lifted, expecting him to attend to
her lower down.
Simon began to see the score. Monica's mother saw him as more of a family
member than he was expecting. Now he was allowed to help her to dress, as
far as taking off her shoes for her... and now her pantyhose too! Ah
well, he had better fit in with her plans. He knelt again, wondering how
to progress. He gathered his courage and slipped his hands inside the hem
of her skirt... onto her legs. At that point the sky should have fallen
upon him, but no. she was waiting... and he sensed Monica behind him. He
was privileged indeed.
His fingers encountered lace. The trimming around her petticoat. He
spread his fingers on her legs to get them inside her slip, and it was
narrow. Gosh... he was sliding his hands up the thighs of his new mother-
in-law! As his wife watched! He couldn't turn round, knowing Monica would
be amused at his expense. This was weird. Then his heart pounded.
"Er... Veronica... you're wearing your knickers over your tights."
She had been looking into the distance as he ministered to her, but a
frown pulled her eyebrows together. "Do you mean my panties?"
"Er, y-yes."
"Well pull them down then!"
A hot flush burnt its way from his face down to his neck. "Oh... yes,
Veronica."
He had to work out how he could do this politely. How does a groom take
his mother-in-law's panties off? He decided to reach up to the waist and
pull them down very gently.
"Hurry up, for God's sake!"
Simon's politeness gave way to his instant obedience. She was soon
stepping her nylon feet out of the panties. He felt like a sheep as he
passed them to Monica. Yes, there was an amused smile not far beneath her
crimson lips. She reached forward and turned up his shirt collar,
loosening and sliding off his tie. He was grateful for her touch... but
now for Veronica's tights.
They were dark, almost black but sheer as they descended her legs. As
with everything of hers, very expensive. Simon did the gentlemanly thing
and straightened her skirt again down to just below her knees. He
breathed in, relieved that he had acquitted himself well in his role of
family care.
"Now put on my coat," she said.
He was lost. What did she mean? He looked to his wife. She lifted her
brows with widened eyes. "You heard," she said.
The hot flush of moments before became white hot. Put on her coat? What
on earth for? They were both waiting for him to do it.
He stepped over to the bannister, wondering what Veronica could have in
mind, and picked up the coat. It was in heavy satin, lined in lighter,
pale green satin, and slithered out into a full shape, almost onto the
floor. He rescued it and sorted out the wide collar, and wide sleeves
with deep turn-backs. He held it the right way up and turned to Veronica,
wondering. Her eyes flashed with fire.
"I told you to put it on," she said. "You live in my house now. You do as
I tell you."
This was incredibly direct. What on earth could she mean? He turned to
Monica and his mouth opened... but what should he say. She met his
hesitation with raised eyebrows again. "She's right, isn't she?" she
said. "She is in charge now. You'd better do what she says."
His bride, his lovely Monica, wanted him to look foolish in front of her.
A shock went through him, but its passing took a huge chunk of his self-
esteem with it. He became a foolish man in the space of an instant,
almost stupid, in front of Monica and her mother as he weakly slid his
shirt sleeves into the sleeves of Veronica's coat, dressing himself in
it. It hung widely on him, with a wide collar round his shoulders and
turned badk cuffs of duchess satin almost up to his elbows. His mother-
in-law took a step towards him, drew her coat together, especially at the
neck, and fastened the large button under the collar. She was mothering
him in her own blessed coat!
At that moment, voices arrived outside the door and the bell rang.
Simon's heart shot out of his satin chest. "It's the girls," said Monica
with a chuckle, and she walked over and let them in.
Into the hall stepped Shannon: so like her mother it was uncanny: blond
hair onto her shoulders, a high forehead that explained her intelligence,
brown eyes and every inch a woman. A stranger would have put her at 28
rather than 18. She took in Simon's appearance and gave a puff of
surprise.
"What on earth?" She snorted with derision. "I knew you were going to
take control, mother, but I mean..." She wore a waist length, grey faux
fur jacket dappled with black, and a black, skin tight micro skirt with
black patterned pantyhose and patent mules. She had a fuschia fascinator
in her hair, matching minimal jewellery of the same colour and a clutch
bag in her hand.
Simon was determined to pass off his appearance with a clever quip. "Your
dear grandmother's coat-stand," he said, and laughed. It sounded
pathetic, even to him. Needless to say, the girl almost sneezed a guffaw.
"Where's your sister?" asked Monica, as if she wanted to see her reaction
too to her deflated husband.
"Having a smoke of course," said Shannon from her grandmother's side
where she was grinning into the embarrassed face of her new stepfather.
Monica would have stepped over to the door but Veronica stepped in.
"Hold his hands for me," she said. "I want him dressed the part for when
Catherine gets here." She opened out her tights into two legs, took one
foot, and wrapped it round Simon's wrist as his wife held it still for
her. It was a job for him to go along with his mother-in-law's wishes,
feeling less happy about the lengths that this 'living with Veronica'
would require. The pantyhose was passed between his legs, then wrapped
round his other wrist and fastened tightly. he had about a foot and a
half of distance between his hands. The poor man was looking more than
perplexed; his chin was getting ready to break down crying. He lifted his
eyes to Monica's.
"Darling, I don't understand this little game," he said, his voice
trembling. "Can you tell me what you're both doing?"
Monica came out straight. "I always do what my mother wants, my dear, and
that is exactly what you are going to do from now on. It might take a bit
of getting used to for a simpleton like you."
His face turned pale and a swallow flexed in his throat. But before he
could take in what she had said, the door swung open and slammed shut
again, with Sophia joining them from her smoke. She too summed up the new
stepfather situation in one and stopped dead between him and the door,
made as if she was rubbing a mirage out of her eyes, and ran the rest of
the way in little girl steps on her sling backs. "Mom," she pouted with
her pink glossed lips, "you started without me. I hate you for that. Has
he started crying yet?"
"No-one's going to be crying," said her grandmother, "but I need you and
your sister to give me a hand with him. I need that to start with."
Sophia looked where she was pointing... at her waist. "What? My belt?"
"Yes... take it off, my lady... and Shannon, help me with my coat."
Monica looked on as her mother and Shannon lifted the bottom of the satin
coat up to his shoulders, and higher. there were four buttons on the coat
- large ones - and Veronica fastened the two lowest ones, which were now
held up at her son-in-law's face.
"This turns up like this," she said, lifting the collar of her coat so
that it enclosed the back of his hair and came round his cheeks to in
front of his face. "Your belt, darling... goes round here like this." It
was a fashion belt five or six inches deep, in white elasteine, with a
vertical gilt buckle which she clipped together around the bottom of the
coat while Shannon held it in place. In effect, Veronica had created a
second, larger collar around the first, with the bottom of her coat
surrounding his head in apple green duchesse satin, with the paler green
of the lining on the outside.
Both the girls spluttered with laughter at the sight of their stepfather.
The coat was doubled up from his waist, leaving the tails of his shirt
below and nothing else. Simon Barber did his best to interfere with the
way he had been wrapped and belted but couldn't: the coat was buttoned
and the belt was too tight to be moved since the highest he could reach
his front hand was up to his waist. They all stood and laughed at his
ridiculous acrobatics as he tried anything he could. The worst thing for
him was Monica's attitude.
"You look as pathetic as I always knew you would when the time came," she
said, undoing the bottom of his shirt, then tying the ends in a bow at
the curved base of the coat lining at his ribs. Her hands closed on his
cock as she looked into his miserable eyes. "And you were right too,
mother. He likes being dressed and laughed at. Look at this."
She showed Veronica the stiffness that was already there. The girls went
wild.
"Let me hold it," said Sophia, who was always more likely to be forward
in this matter than her sister. "I've got your cock in my hands,
'Daddy'," she said, adding sarcasm to the word. "Or should I say:
'Nancy'?"
Veronica stood in front of him and straightened the two 'collars' of his
coat while her grand-daughter fondled the defenceless member. "There,
Monica: what do you think?" she said when they were tastefully arranged.
Her daughter was beaten to the reply by her phone ringing in her bag. She
took it out, glancing at the screen, and put it to her ear. "It's
Catherine," she said and stood alongside Sohia as she was listening, and
put her hand alongside her daughter's so that they were both holding onto
Simon's cock.
"Yes, honey," she said. "We've got him ready for you. How long will you
be? ... Oh that's brilliant. See you in a minute then. Today is getting
better and better." She clicked off and looked into her husband's moist
eyes as her fingers continued what her daughter had started, with his
cock now completely erected in their hands
"A friend of ours is going to be with us presently, my dear pansy-boy.
She is really looking forward to meeting you," she said.
Simon had tried cringing out of reach, and putting a hand in the way, but
neither could prevent the females from holding them just how they wanted
to. "I... I'm not a pansy-boy, Monica..." he said. His voice was a mere
squeak compared with a few minutes earlier.
"I think you very soon will be," said his wife with another of her
throaty laughs, and she fondled him with a little more purpose, making
him moan with arousal. Shannon was feeling left out.
"Come on, you two. I haven't even got to touch him yet."
Veronica had the solution. "Catherine will want him in the sitting room
when she arrives, so let Shannon lead him there... by his 'thing'."
Her grand-daughter jumped at the idea. "Yeh-yeh, let me hold his
'thing'," she said.
"Perhaps it should be his 'clitoris'," laughed her mother, passing the
erection into her daughter's hand. "I think that's what it's going to be
in the not too distant future." Sophia had to be told to let go of it,
and Shannon pulled Simon forward with a whimper as he followed her
limply... a coat on legs.
They had no sooner arrived in the sitting room than the door bell rang
and Monica went to get it, while her daughters sat Simon down with a rush
of satin, with one of them sitting on either side of him. His penis was
theirs to play with... a helpless toy. He was so ashamed, he couldn't
bring himself to speak a word to either one of his stepdaughters. His
mother-in-law sat opposite, a smile of satisfaction animating her face.
Moments later, a cry of greeting flooded into the room.
Catherine Del Mar was Spanish, from the island of Tenerife by origin, and
was a young 50-year-old. Her face was either intensely serious or
smiling, depending whether she was working or enjoying herself, while she
wore her jet black hair tied back in a lively pony tail or bunch. Today
it was a bunch, fastened in a multicoloured ribbon in a bow. She was in a
rainbow cotton print dress with a beige woollen jacket worn open over it.
She carried a heavy shoulder bag, which she planted on the floor before
going to Veronica for a hug. She would have hugged the girls too but saw
how they were occupied, and this drew her attention to their stepfather.
"Well, here he is," said Monica, doing introductions. "Simon Barber.
This," and she looked at her husband whose face was beetroot and almost
crumpling into tears, "is Catherine Del Mar. Doctor Catherine Del Mar.
Someone who you will be spending a lot of time with." The doctor's face
glowed with delight.
"Monica, you've got him looking lovely already," she laughed.
"That's my mother's doing," she said. "She's only had him in the house
for five minutes and she's got the girls playing with his dolly."
"But you said we could," carped Sophia. "Right from the start you said
that that was the plan."
"Yeah," chimed in Shannon. "He would be our little stepsister, you said,
and one thing we would be able to do would be to play with his lollypop."
Monica looked at her new bridegroom to see the reaction these revelations
would bring. They brought an outburst of tears, as if he had coughed
spittle down his chin and his tear ducts had quite simply overflowed.
"Oh my," said Doctor Del Mar, opening her bag on the floor and taking out
of it a see-thru plastic purse. "I think what he needs is a little
sedation. Something to turn him in the direction you want, Veronica." She
moved closer to the settee where her patient's bare legs were held
between the pantyhosed legs of his two stepdaughters. "If I can sit next
to him," she said; "what I will need is someone behind the settee to hold
his head still. I've got something to make our little bridegroom more
delicate... and more peaceful."
Shannon gave up her place and moved behind the settee, and a moment
later, her stepfather's head was gripped immovably inside his apple green
collars while Monica leaned over him and opened out the collar sides to
make his face available.
"This one will make him weak," she said, pushing the narrow end of a
funnel-shaped flask up his nostril. A flat bottle containing the product
hung in front of his mouth, while Simon convulsed with a cry of shock,
trying to shake his head and desperately trying to reach his nose with
his front hand. It wouldn't go past his waist.
"He might struggle for a minute or two," explained the doctor, preparing
a second flask the same, "but then that will be it. This one will rouse
his feminine side."
"Oh give him that one," said Veronica, laughing for the first time since
she had got back to the house. "He's going to be a cutesy little girl as
he makes progress upstairs."
The flask was inserted into Simon's other nostril, and this time Shannon
held his head more tightly so that all he could do was cry out... a wail
of horror. The doctor used a clip to attach the two flat bottles
together, then pushed them further into his nose... right up his nostrils
so that he wailed... and she clipped them in their higher position. His
wriggles didn't stop; if anything he struggled twice as powerfully so
that his stepdaughters cursed him and held on tight while the doctor
finished her task by taking a large baby pacifier from her bag on an
elastic loop. She opened his teeth with one hand and pushed the teat
inside his mouth with the other. "This'll make the sissy breathe through
his nose," she said, "and take his medicine like a good girly."
Everyone laughed as Simon Barber seemed to stiffen from his head to his
feet in the middle of them, using his tongue to reposition the pacifier,
but after a few moments he had to give up. The docter closed her plastic
pouch and sat watching him, as they all did, until his cries weakened
into a succession of sighs and his eyes sank into half-lidded drowsiness.
His penis was bolt upright, inviting Sophie's hands again, and Doctor
Catherine turned to Shannon behind him.
"Thank you for your help, dear. I'd better let you join your sister in
helping him develop a taste for what lies ahead."
Veronica clapped her hands, for Catherine's benefit. "A lovely start,
sweetheart," she said. "Why don't we get himj upstairs to my flat and we
can start the clown on his training?"
Taken from Prim's Petticoat Pansies #7 at
www.primspetticoatwendyhouse.com
***
In Chapter Two: Simon's Conditioning Begins in his Mother-In-Law's
Apartment
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