The Art of Petticoat Punishment by Carole Jean

Part 23 - Viole & Kat


I have commissioned and assembled art by Viole and related stories by Kat. Viole is a talented artist whose English language skills are good but limited and Kat is an excellent writer who has collaborated with Viole to provide guidance and a narrative framework for his art.

Viole's two principal characters are Elliott and Stacy.

Elliott's mother is a prostitute. His father is unknown and Elliot, now a teenager, has become surly and resentful at home and a bully at school. As he becomes more interested in things sexual, he begins to use his mothers panties in his masturbation fantasies. Eventually his mother catches him in the act and instead of being contrite he lashes out at her and her lifestyle blaming her profession for all of his problems.

Furious at his insensitivity she forces him to dress as a hooker and go out with her to see how hard she works to provide for him. During this outing, two of Elliot's bullying victims happen upon them. After Elliot's mother hears their jabs about the sissy who has been taking their money and terrorizing them. She decides to continue Elliot's punishment by first selling his services to these former victims and then by forcing him into the family business. Before long she decides to make it a full-time arrangement, and he is dressed as a girl every day, even at school.

Stacy is older than Elliot, also a bully and the leader of the skateboarding crowd. Stacy was very hard on Elliott after his circumstances changed . . . but his bullying ways backfired once his own mother took a fashion cue from Elliott's. Now Stacy understands Elliott's situation better (the difference being he doesn't work as a prostitute), although in his anger and resentment he's still hostile toward the younger boy, blaming him for his humiliating situation. Elliott gets revenge on Stacy by goading the older boy into chasing him . . . and then leading him to into an ambush by some of Elliott's clients who he promised could use pretty Stacy the way they had used Elliott in the past.


Download THE PERILS OF STACY for the complete illustrated story by Kat and Viole Item #404

Click here for more information

Here is a previously published story by Kat to introduce you to Elliot.



Elliott clapped his bare arms against the cold. The thin fabric of his dress afforded next to no protection, even for the minute area of his body it actually covered. Shivering, he licked his lips and tasted the horrible waxy sweetness of cherry-red lipstick. He blinked back a tear of misery and shame, and felt the weight of industrial-strength mascara on his lashes.

Elliott was sick with the knowledge that he looked just like a flat-chested version of every prostitute he'd ever mocked or harassed in this end of town. His situation would have miserable enough on a warm night, but the early spring chill compounded his humiliation with physical discomfort as well. The cold did help take his mind off the pain in his feet, at least.

Shit, now his feet hurt, too. He had never worn high heels before yesterday, and tonight he'd already spent what seemed like hours standing under his assigned streetlight in a truly crippling pair of skyscraper stilettos. He'd feel lucky if he could walk tomorrow.



His mother shot him a warning look from the next streetlight down the block. Swallowing, he put his hands back on his hips, pouted his lips, and managed a little strut to the curb and back. Although it was torture, his mother had insisted that this was the only correct way to display his "merchandise." Once she made up her mind, Elliott knew better than to argue.

A black sedan pulled up to the curb and Elliott felt his stomach turn itself inside-out. This could be it, his first ever. He blinked back tears of fear, knowing what his mother would do if he lost a sale due to smudged mascara. He forced his painted lips into an approximation of a smile and, swinging his hips as he'd been coached, sidled up to the passenger window. He felt his mother's gaze from down the block, just as an unknown number of eyes behind the car's mirrored window observed him with…lust? …fascination? …contempt?

The window purred open and Elliott's heart stopped as he counted at least five guys inside. They were all older than him, at least college-aged, and were drinking from open bottles in paper bags.

The sultry voice Elliott's mother had trained him in was forgotten. "Looking time good for guys?" he squeaked. Shit, what language was that?

The four passengers roared with laughter. One in back pounded the driver's seat. "See!" he shouted, "I told you it was him! What the fuck's wrong with you that you can't tell a little fag from a girl?"

"It was dark, all right? Shut the fuck up! We'll get some tail down the road. As for you," the driver shot him a murderous glance, "fuck off, Elliott."

The car screeched off, the passengers all calling his name: "Bye-bye, Elliott!"

"Nice dress, Elliott!"

"Hope business isn't too hard to swallow!"

Alone on the curb, Elliott was left shaken. What the hell had just happened?

He watched the car screech to a halt again almost immediately, right in front of his mother. In his confusion, he couldn't tell if he wanted her to go with them. She might go easier on him for losing the sale if she got it herself, but those guys had seriously frightened him. He watched her professional approach to the passenger window, then looked away.

The other side of the street was in darkness, but Elliott spotted a shadowy figure coming toward him. Shit, what had Mom said about foot traffic? Was he supposed to charge more? Charge less? Refuse entirely?

He couldn't think. His mother's coaching kicked in. Reflexively he checked his garters, straightened his skirt, pulled his top down lower on his shoulders, pouted his lips and cocked his hip, all in the space of an instant. He told himself that everything would be all right, even as his heart pounded beneath his bra.

The figure emerged into his pool of light.

Oh, crap.

"Hey, looking good, Elliott!"

"What the hell are you doing here, Paulie?"

The other boy seemed comfortable in jeans, running shoes and a jacket. He took his time appreciating this sight of Elliott shivering in his skimpy outfit and unsteady on his teetering heels. "Some of the guys in my brother's fraternity do a lot of business with your mom," he sneered, "When I heard you were going to be out here yourself…well, I just had to come see how lovely you would look, all dressed up to please."

Elliott knew that Paulie, spoiled little rich snot that he was, would blab about this all over school tomorrow. Elliott would have to pound him, probably over several days, until Paulie finally shut up about it. With a little luck, Elliott's tough-guy reputation might just weather the damage as long as his mother didn't ever force him to go outside wearing a dress again.

If she did…well, that was too horrible to think about.

For now, Elliott could deal with Paulie at least. He'd smacked him around enough times before, it wasn't like he couldn't do it again. Elliott dropped his come-hither pose in favor of a tougher stance. "Get the fuck out of here, Paulie. Don't make me plant bruises all over your prissy little face."

"That's not a very nice way to talk to a customer, Elliott. Besides, you might break a nail."

Elliott stopped short. If his mother believed Paulie was an actual john, she wouldn't take kindly to Elliott chasing him off. Even if he could convince her that Paulie wasn't a real customer, Elliott would still get in real trouble if he did happen break one of his press-on nails. Accidentally damaging a heel, snagging a stocking, or tearing his top would be even worse – somehow he'd have to get rid of Paulie without getting in a fight with him.

Elliott stole a glance toward his mother's streetlight but she wasn't there. Had she gone with those five guys, or was she still around somewhere close by? Damn it, why did this street have to be so dark?

He lowered his voice. "Look Paulie, I'm giving you a chance to keep breathing. Move along."

Paulie shook his head. "I don't think so, Elliott. Remember when you had the hots for Jasmine Denny, and then she agreed to go to the homecoming dance with me? You twisted my arm every day that week. You made me say that 'Polly' is a girl's name and that I'm really a girl. I had to say it in front of Jasmine and everyone. Well, guess who's the girl now?"

Elliott realized his fists were clenched, and it felt like he'd already broken at least two nails without moving Paulie an inch. Shit, this wasn't going well at all. Elliott took a deep breath. Keeping his voice level, he said, "Yeah, well that was kind of a mistake, since neither one of us are girls, huh? Um… I guess if you want an apology…"

Paulie's response rang loud and clear through the whole block. "No, Elliott, I don't want an apology. I want to hear your rates. How much for a hand job?"

Elliott couldn't believe what he was hearing. Since his mother had first told him about his punishment, he'd imagined a hundred different scenarios of what the worst possible john would be like; huge fat men, hideous freaks, men older than his grandfather. The idea of being forced to service a little shit like Paulie, though, was worse than any of them.

He glanced back toward his mother's streetlight. Still vacant. "For you, eight hundred dollars," he said.

Paulie laughed. "I don't think so. Suppose you tell me what I could get for a hundred and fifty."

Elliott was getting colder and angrier the longer this dragged on. A hundred and fifty was a hell of a lot of money. He was glad his mother wasn't around to hear that figure. "Tell you what, for one hundred and fifty dollars I won't shove this stiletto heel right up your…"

He fell silent as a hand fell on his shoulder. Part of him wondered how his mother managed to come up behind him so silently in her high heels, but for the most part he all he felt was dread.

"I'm glad you find my son so attractive," his mother said, "for one hundred and fifty he can be yours for the night..."

You may download many other drawings by Viole of Elliot and Stacy Click here for more information



Here is a sample from Viole and Kat's 'Elliot's Petticoated ABC's' the full set is available Click here for more information


B is for babydoll
there's nothing you revile
so much as being clothed
In a dress of that style