When I was a kid, I was overweight and got bullied about it at school. Back in the late seventies, girdle ads were still on the tv, and so I got taunted about needing a girdle, asked if I'd forgotten my girdle and so on.

At the start of the new school year in 1979, when I was only 14, I was on my way to school for the first day when some of my regular tormentors accosted me and took me of to a quiet back street. There they handed me a package - it was a box containing a long leg panty girdle. I tried to escape, but they caught me and started to undress me. As I didn't want to have my clothes ripped, I stopped struggling and they let me up. And, as they stood and laughed at me, I took off my trousers, took the girdle out of the box, stepped into it, and started pulling it up. They laughed even louder as I got it most of the way on and my eyes started to widen at the growing tightness around my thighs and backside. I sucked my belly in, struggled to fasten the four hook-and-eye clasps at the side, and then pulled up the zip. There I was - a 14 year old boy - wearing a girdle that covered me from halfway between my nipples and my belly button right down past mid-thigh. I hoped that they'd had their fun, but they wanted me to wear it to school, so I had to get dressed again.

And, as I walked stiffly beside them on the way to school, they made it clear that there would be dire consequences if I didn't wear it every day from then on. Apart from a dispensation on gym days - I couldn't be seen in the changing rooms in a girdle or covered in red marks where it had been, so I didn't have to wear it before gym class, but I had to put it on immediately afterwards - I wore it every school day for the next four years.

And, a few weeks after I had started wearing the girdle daily, they thought it such a success that they bought me another present - a bra. Not a simple lightweight one, but one of those heavy long-line ones with half-a-dozen clasps to be fastened. (It was weeks before I finally got the hang of fastening/unfastening it.) When I had it on, it overlapped my girdle by a good couple of inches. I always had to wear heavy pullovers - even in summer - to make sure no-one could see bra straps or cups.

And so, for the last four years of my school life, I - a perfectly normal straight guy - had to force myself into women's corsetry just before leaving for school and wear it all day. I had to travel to school - it was in a town 20 miles away - so I would put this damn stuff on at around 7am and not take it off until nearly 6pm. And, with my luck, on the gym days our class always seemed to be early, so my hopes for a day of relief would be dashed as I'd be in the toilets by mid-morning, struggling into my bra and girdle.

And the bullies always checked - several times a day. Even in that last year, they made sure I wasn't cheating. And how they enjoyed it. Seeing me struggle up the stairs or have to run for a bus in those early days would reduce them to tears or laughter. If there was one blessing in the whole thing, it was that they never used me for sex. I had dreaded things escalating in that direction but they never did. Apparently just having me suffer being in women's foundations gave them pleasure enough. But, after the shock of the first few weeks, I decided I was not going to give them the pleasure of seeing me suffer. So I soon learned to walk and sit normally, I laughed and joked with my friends and carried on as a normal teenager - I was even pleasant to them as they checked up on me. To see me smiling in one of our school photos, you would never guess what I had on under that uniform. But I lived for 6pm every day, when I'd arrive back home, go up to my room, unhook that damned bra and unzip/unhook that bloody girdle and throw them across the room.

You have no idea how long those four years seemed.