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EDITED VERSION, due to refusal to publish this story, despite NO SEXUAL CONTENT....... A TRUE story of my school years.. It is only meant to give insight of my satin fetish and explain how things lead up to my other TRUE stories called BLACK SATIN SLIP and THUNDERSTORM. There will be more stories to follow, to fill in the missing years.

At school, I was always mistaken for a girl, due to my mannerisms and feminine appearance. I was also extremely shy. I quickly became a target for bullies, both male and female. I only had two friends throughout infant school, Martin and Paul, both of whom were also targets for bullies. When a much larger boy (Robert Cole) decided to pick on my friends Martin and Paul, knowing neither of them would fight back, I decided to stand up to Robert on their behalf. Everyone was afraid of Robert because of his size, and he knew it. After confronting Robert and telling him to leave my friends alone, he asked what I was going to do about it; so I hit him. To my surprise, Robert went down and a fist fight quickly pursued. After beating Robert into submission, challenges quickly followed from other boys in my year who wanted to fight me. Word quickly got around school about the boy who looked like a girl and how good a fighter I was; challenges started to come from older boys who also wanted to fight me. I quickly made a reputation for myself, I soon became the boy that everyone was afraid of and nobody wanted to mess with. I never considered myself a bully, I never started on anyone unless they started on me first, but I also believed in hitting them first, before they hit me.

Despite my reputation, most girls showed no interest in me, often laughing at me or making fun of the way I dressed, which meant I had no self confidence whatsoever. I didn't have a clue how to talk to girls, or what to say that might be of the slightest interest to them.


My mother once told me that I was a very unaffectionate child that hated to be hugged or even touched. I told her it had nothing to do with me being unaffectionate. As a child, I suffered from Koumpounophobia; a rare and irrational, but very real fear of buttons. The fear of buttons had a great affect on my life and the type of person I became when growing up. My mother always wore button up cardigans, and therefore I always refused any kind of physical contact from her. Like most people who have a button phobia, I always thought I was the only person in the world who was afraid of buttons. I was also embarrassed to tell anyone, fearing they would laugh at me. However, as I grew up, I slowly managed to overcome my fear of buttons, due to my insatiable desire to touch anything made of satin.

My first memory of encountering satin was my first year at school, two girls in my class both wearing identical satin tunic dresses. Their names were Debbie and Amanda. Debbie wore a gold coloured dress with a flowered pattern, Amanda wore a plain chocolate brown coloured dress. The dresses were very plain in design, like long sleeved t-shirts with elastic around the end of the sleeves. I was mesmerised by their lovely satin dresses and would have done anything to have a dress like that of my own. I later discovered my sister owned the exact same dress in pink satin; but not once did I ever see her wear it. My sister being older and much bigger than myself, her dress was too big for me to try on.

It was during a PE lesson that I devised a plan to touch Amanda's or Debbie's dress. My whole class was out in the playground. I told the teacher I needed the toilet, so she told me to be as quick as I could and hurry back. I ran back to our class room, quickly took off my t-shirt and put on Debbie's dress. I was shaking with excitement at how nice it felt to be wearing a satin dress, but I knew how much trouble I would be in if I were to get caught. I probably only had the dress on for a few seconds before I took it back off and put my t-shirt back on, then ran back to the playground to rejoin my class. That was my very first experience of cross-dressing. I did the same thing again at a later date to try on Amanda's dress. I yearned for the day I would be big enough to try on my sister's dress at home, but that day never came; her lovely pink satin dress just disappeared from her wardrobe and I never knew what happened to it.

The first time I discovered the wonders of a women's slip. I was playing with my toys on the floor in our living room, whilst my mum watched the television. I looked up and noticed something shiny under the hem of her skirt. I curiously asked my mother what it was under her skirt and she explained it was something only women wear. I asked mum if my sister also wore a slip, she said no, but maybe one day when she's older she will. My mother quickly scolded me when I lifted her skirt to take a look, telling me it was wrong to look up a lady's skirt.

I was out with my mum one day, waiting in a queue at a bus stop. The woman in front of us was wearing a thin white dress which was transparent in the sun. I tugged on my mum's hand and said loudly, "Mum, I can see that lady's slip under her dress." The woman turned around and looked at me; my mum seemed very embarrassed and apologised to the lady.


When I started Junior school my friend Martin moved away with his family and I never saw him again, which now meant my one and only friend was Paul. It was during our second year as a Junior, that a new boy called Eric joined our class. I remember Eric's very first day, when the teacher introduced him to the class. He stood in front of the class wearing a silver grey open neck satin shirt, under a black cardigan. A boy wearing a cardigan was enough to make yourself a target for bullies, but a boy wearing a shiny silky shirt to school was unheard of. Eric had several satin shirts in different colours and often wore one to school under his cardigan, which quickly made him the target of ridicule.

I only lived a 5 minute walk from school, so I was one of the few children that went home everyday at lunch time for my dinner. It was on my way home one lunch time, when Eric caught me up from behind. He told me he had seen me walking home the same way as him everyday and that we must live very close to each other. He then told me he thought I was very pretty and asked why I always dressed like a boy. He panicked when I threatened to beat him up and told him I was a boy. Despite not wanting to make friends with him, Eric was very persistent. He insisted on walking home with me at lunch times and kept inviting me round to his house for tea after school everyday, until finally I gave in and agreed.

I discovered that Eric's mother was a very scary, stern looking women, who reminded me of a school headmistress. She was a small but large busted women; she always wore long ankle length skirts and high neck satin blouses. After seeing his mum in her lovely satin blouse, I was keen to go round to Eric's house at every opportunity; I always wished that my own mother had dressed the same way. It was Eric's mother that forced him to wear a satin shirt to school, even though he hated them. I never told Eric that I was envious of him and loved his satin shirts.

Eric's mum was far more strict and controlling than my own mother. Eric had very little freedom to do anything. He was the youngest of three boys. It was obvious that all three brothers feared their mother, always looking down at the floor submissively when in her presence, and they rarely spoke to her unless she spoke to them first. Despite appearances, she was always very friendly and pleasant towards me.

Eric's mother would always insist on holding my hand and walking me home after I had stopped for tea at his house, despite me living only 2 minutes away. When I mentioned it to my mum, she said that Eric's mother was just being overprotective. When his mother took me home for the first time and met my mum, it turned out they knew each other from their own school days. I could sense there was something wrong as soon as my mum saw Eric's mum. My mother later told me that Eric's mum and her friends, often bullied her at school. Eric's mother later contacted my mum to apologise for making her school years a living hell, she deeply regretted her actions and wanted to put it to rest in the past. Although my mum accepted her apology, she refused to become friends with Eric's mum. I suspected there was much more to the story than I ever knew about.

Eric became best friends with both me and Paul. Being friends with me, meant the bullies left him alone.


It was my final year at Junior school, I wasn't looking forward to being a Senior, it meant I would have to wear a school uniform for the first time. It was a Saturday afternoon, with about one month to go before the summer holidays started, I was in the kitchen with my mother. My mum was at the sink washing up and I was making us both a cup of coffee. My sister (Kelly) had just returned from a shopping trip. Mum asked Kelly if she had bought anything nice and Kelly showed her the bag she was carrying. My mother looked really surprised when she peered into the bag, which made me curious.

"I'll go put it on, so you can see what it looks like," said Kelly to mum.

Kelly was extremely popular with the boys, she took a lot of pride in her appearance and liked to dress to impress. I was always envious of my sister for the nice pretty clothes she got to wear; I often wished I had been born a girl too. Kelly spent most Saturday's shopping for new clothes, always coming home with a nice dress or pretty feminine blouse. She was always out on a Friday and Saturday night, going to parties, even managing to get into nightclubs, despite being underage. Kelly had a part time job, washing dishes in a large hotel on Sundays, to fund her clothes habit. This gave me the perfect opportunity to sneak around my sister's bedroom and look through her clothes, sometimes, if I was feeling brave enough, I would try things on. I was aware that my sister had already stopped growing and I noticed some of her clothes were starting to get tight on me.

I was curious as to what my sister had bought, so I deliberately hung around in the kitchen with mum. Kelly went upstairs to her room and returned minutes later, wearing what I thought was a dress, but turned out to be a matching, royal blue satin, shirt style blouse, and blue satin pleated skirt, with a black belt around her waist.

"OMG!.... That is lovely," mum told my sister, reaching out to stroke the silky fabric of her blouse.

"Fuckkk!...." I exclaimed, feeling aroused by how nice she looked. Both my sister and mum turned to look at me. Kelly frowned annoyed at my reaction.

"What's the matter with him?" said Kelly to mum.

"Excuse me?" said my mother angrily.

"Sorry!" I replied. "I just burnt my tongue on my coffee," I lied.

As I left the room, I heard my mother ask my sister, "Do they have the blouse in a larger size?"

"Yes I think so," replied Kelly. "Do you really like it that much?...... It's not the sort of thing you normally wear?"

I couldn't believe how nice my sister looked in her new blue satin blouse and skirt, the thought of my mum wearing the same satin blouse excited me. I had never seen my mother wear satin before, so was surprised by her reaction to Kelly's blouse.

I couldn't get the image of my sister in her blue satin blouse out of my mind. The more I thought about Kelly in her blouse the more turned on I got. Since reaching puberty, I often fantasised about my sister, usually after seeing her arrive home from school in her shiny white school blouse, she wore as part of her uniform.

That Saturday night, my sister went to a party, in her new blue satin blouse and skirt, she told mum she might sleep over at her friend's house. I knew my sister was sexually active, and thought how lucky the boy who fucked her that night would be. I lay in bed that night fantasising about my sister and imagined I was the boy who got to fuck her in her lovely blouse. I was getting myself so worked up I had to do something about it. It was around 1am in the morning, my mum was asleep in bed and my sister had not come home from the party, or so I thought. I crept downstairs to the bathroom and took my sister's shiny white school blouse from the laundry basket and put it on. The blouse wasn't what I considered to be proper satin, but the fabric had a lovely silky feel to it and a shiny satin sheen when it caught the light. To my own surprise, I realised the tiny buttons, which were slightly smaller than you would normally find on a boy's shirt, didn't bother me. I hadn't bothered to lock the bathroom door, suddenly the door opened and my sister was standing there looking at me..........

The following Saturday, I arrived home late in the afternoon after playing at Eric's house. My mum and sister were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. I looked at the carrier bag on the kitchen table and asked, "What is in the bag?"

"Nothing," replied my mother.

"Well, it that's the case, it would be empty and I can see it's not an empty bag," I told my mum.

"Nothing to interest you, then!" replied mum, "Unless you fancy a nice new shirt?"

My mother's comment surprised me, it was a very strange thing for her to say and made me suspicious. I couldn't help but wonder why my bitch of a sister hadn't said anything about catching me wearing her school blouse. Kelly laughed at mum's suggestion, knowing I had never worn a shirt in my life. I hated the fact my sister was laughing at me and didn't want her to get the better of me.

"I don't know?..... I'd have to take a look," I said.

"Go on then!.... Take a look," replied mum.

I picked up the carrier bag and peered inside. My heart started to pound with excitement. Kelly laughed out loud. I tried not to respond in any way to show my excitement at what was in the bag.

"Will it fit me?" I asked calmly.

"There's only one way to find out," replied mum. "You'll have to try it on."

Kelly found the whole situation very amusing, and I was getting annoyed at her, but I didn't want to let her have the last laugh.

"Okay!" I replied, "I'll try it on." I took the bag out into the bathroom to try on my new shirt.

"He's not going to try it on," said Kelly to mum. "He's fooling around."

"I know that!" replied mum.

I took the blue satin blouse out of the carrier bag and held it up to admire it. It was the exact same blouse I saw my sister wearing the week before, but this one was two sizes bigger to fit mum. I took off my jumper and t-shirt and slowly put my arms into the silky sleeves of the blouse, then slowly buttoned it up, one tiny satin covered button at a time, leaving the top two buttons undone. I fastened the three button cuffs, tucked the blouse into my jeans and adjusted the collar. Then I stood admiring myself in the bathroom mirror and smiled at how good I looked in my new blue satin shirt. It fitted me perfectly, loose and baggy on the large side, just how I liked to wear my clothes.

"What are you doing out there?" called out mum.

I walked back into the kitchen to show off my new shirt; my sister's jaw suddenly dropped in astonishment. My mother was also speechless and didn't know what to say.

"It fits me nice," I said smiling. "So I can keep it?" I asked my mother.

Kelly glared at my mother with her jaw still open, still in shock.

"Yes, I suppose so," replied mum.

"WHAT!......" said Kelly, astonished. My sister was no longer laughing.

"So do they have it in other colours?" I asked. "I'm going to need some white shirts when I start Senior school next term for my uniform"

"I'll see what I can do," replied mum.

"Mum.... You can't seriously let him keep your new blouse!" said Kelly.

"It's okay..... If he wants it, it's fine by me," replied my mum, winking at Kelly.

"I'll leave it on then. I'll wear it now," I said, smiling at my sister, knowing I had just got the last laugh.

"Could you go to the shop and get me some milk, please?" asked mum, "We are running short."

"Sure, no problem," I replied.

Mum handed me some money and I headed for the front door. I heard mum say to Kelly as I left the room, "Don't worry, there's no way he'll going out dressed like that. He's messing about."

As I walked along the road to the shop in my new blue shirt I felt extremely pleased with having got one over on my sister. I absolutely loved the feel of the silky satin material as it fluttered gently against my body in the cool breeze. I couldn't wait until Monday morning to show off my new satin shirt to everyone at school. As l left the shop after purchasing the milk, I heard one lady say to another, "Was that a girl or a boy?" The other woman replied, "She was wearing the same blouse as my daughter has, so I'm guessing it was a girl. Otherwise it was a very pretty feminine boy." I was so use to comments like that, I didn't care.

Monday morning arrived and I got dressed for school, wearing black trousers and my new blue satin shirt. It wasn't cold outside and I was keen to show off my new shirt, so I saw no reason to wear a jumper or jacket. I left the house and proudly walked to the park gates, where I always met up with Eric and Paul. They both stared at me as I approached, then turned to look at each other, but neither one said anything. I was a little disappointed to see Eric wasn't wearing a satin shirt that day.

"You two okay?" I asked.

"Yeah!" they both replied, as we started to walk to school.

There was a strange uneasy silence as they both kept looking at me, admiring my new shirt, but neither one said anything. I knew it was strange for them to see me wearing a shirt, so I thought nothing more of it. As we arrived at school I got lots of looks from the other pupils. There were a few sniggers of laughter, but I had no reason to believe they were laughing at me.

The bell sounded and we all headed for our classrooms. As I sat down at my desk, there was lots of laughter and whispering around the class, but I just ignored it. I sat proudly, showing off my new blue satin shirt.

"Okay!...... Settle down please," shouted the teacher. Mrs Harvey looked across at me and frowned. There was still sniggering from around the class, but that was nothing unusual, so I had no reason to believe it was aimed at me. Mrs Harvey slowly walked across to where I was sat, she looked me over and said, "Hmmm!...... Nice blouse." Most of the class laughed out loud, except those who sat close to me. It made me feel good, that Mrs Harvey liked my new shirt, but I was somewhat confused, why my teacher had called my shirt a blouse.

Later that morning we were reading from a book during an English lesson, I don't remember what book it was, but the teacher would make each pupil stand up and read a few paragraphs each. When it came to my turn, I stood up. Mrs Harvey looked at me and said, "Perhaps Blousie would like to come and stand out the front so we can see him better?" The whole class erupted in laughter when the teacher called me Blousie. I went to the front of the class and Mrs Harvey pulled out a chair and told me to stand on it, "Perhaps you would like to stand on the chair, so we can all see you in your pretty blouse," she said. The whole class erupted in laughter once more. I stood on the chair reading out loud to the class, trying not to cry; the whole time I was wondering why my teacher was trying to humiliate me, but she had never done the same to Eric when he wore a satin shirt.

The bell sounded for break-time and everyone went out to the playground. Paul said he didn't want to play with me or be my friend anymore and walked off to join some other boys from our class. I turned to Eric and asked "Do you still wanted to be my friend?"

"Of course I do," he replied.

"So what's wrong with Paul?.... Did he say anything to you?" I asked Eric.

"We were both wondering why you wore a girl's blouse to school today?" he asked.

"It's not a blouse, it's a shirt. You wear satin shirts to school all the time," I said.

"Yeah, I know I do, buts that's not a boy's shirt, it's a girl's blouse," replied Eric. "I think my mum has the exact same blouse in red."

"I don't understand what you mean!...." I told him. "Girls wear blouses and boys wear shirts. They are the same thing, just different names depending on whether it's worn by a boy or girl. If a girl was to wear your shirt, it would be called a blouse.... Wouldn't it?" I asked.

"No!... it would still be a boy's shirt, but when a girl wears boy's clothes, nobody seems to care," he replied.

"I don't understand what the difference is!" I told Eric. "How is my satin shirt any different to you wearing a satin shirt?"

"Because it buttons up the wrong way!" he replied.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"A girl's blouse has the buttons on the left and a boy's shirt has the buttons on the right. Surely you know that?" asked Eric.

I looked down at the buttons on my shirt to see which way it fastened, then looked at Eric's shirt to see which way his fastened. He was right, our shirts fastened on opposites sides. I went up to a girl from my class wearing a nice blouse and took a look at her buttons, "What are you looking at?.... Blousie!" she said, mockingly.

For the first time in my life I was wearing an item of clothing with buttons, but I never knew that a boy's shirt fastened differently to girl's blouse, until that moment. How could I have possibly known? Suddenly I felt foolish and embarrassed.

"Have you ever seen me wear a shirt or anything with buttons since you've known me?" I asked Eric.

"I've never really given it much thought, but now you mention it.... No I haven't," replied Eric.

"So how could I have possibly known?" I asked. "I honestly thought that it just depended on whether it was worn by a girl or boy, as to whether it was a shirt or blouse..... Don't you think it's a bit petty what side the buttons are on?" I asked.

"I suppose so," said Eric.

"So why didn't you or Paul say something when we walked to school this morning?" I asked Eric.

"Because neither of us wanted to get beat up," he replied.

"You're my friends"..... Why would I beat you up? Are you really that afraid of me? I asked him, concerned.

"Everyone is afraid of you, don't you know that?...." he said. Eric's admission to being afraid of me did not make me feel good, infact I felt ashamed that my best friend feared me.

When I went home at lunch time for my dinner, I was angry and close to tears. I confronted my mother about my new shirt. "Did you know this is a girl's blouse I'm wearing?" I asked.

"Of course I did," she replied. "I bought it for me."

"But you offered it to me as a shirt..... Your exact words were, 'unless you fancy a nice new shirt'?" I told her.

"So what's the problem?" she asked.... "You seemed very happy when I let you have it."

"The problem is, I thought it was a shirt, but it's not. It's a girl's blouse. The buttons are on the wrong side," I told her angrily.

My mother laughed and replied, "Who cares what side the buttons are on?.... Are you really going to worry about something so trivial?" she asked.

I immediately calmed down when I heard my mother's reply. "That's exactly what I said to Eric," I told her.

"If you don't want it, I'll have it back. I didn't force you to wear it," she said. "So you won't these then?" she asked holding up a carrier bag. I instantly recognised the carrier bag she was holding.

"What is it?" I asked, knowingly.

"I got you three white ones in a bigger size, for when you start Senior school next term for your uniform, I also got you a black one and light blue one, which I thought you might like to have now," she said, holding out the bag to me. "But if you don't want them, I'll take the white ones back to the shop and I'll keep the other two myself."

"Nooo!.... I'll want them," I replied, grabbing the bag excitedly. "Like you said, 'who cares what side the buttons are on'?"

For the next three weeks until the end of school term, I wore my new satin blouses to school with pride, not caring what others thought. Everyone called me Blousie from that day on.
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