Boy Wearing Stockings

Boy Wearing Stockings
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Small Large 1XLarge 2XLarge 3XLarge XSmall
Classic Black Chestnut Brown Chocolate Brown Hazelnut Ivory + 2 more
LUANA Sheer Stockings For Garter-Belts
Classic Black Ivory Chestnut Brown Hazelnut + 1 more
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Small Large 1XLarge 2XLarge 3XLarge
Jet Black Navy Blue Hot Pink Neon Yellow Neon Green Scarlet Red + 3 more

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Ebony Black Hazelnut Hot Pink Neon Yellow Neon Green + 2 more

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New to the world of hosiery? Well, you've come to the right place! Stockings are a must-have accessory to your fabulous wardrobe. Here are the top three reasons why thigh highs are perfect for men :
To help you get started, here are the top 5 styles for your new wardrobe.
While the styles above are available in multiple colors, we believe that black is the right color to help you ease into the transition. Best of all, our all of packages comes in discrete packaging. Your neighbors won’t have to know your business.
At VienneMilano, we celebrate love, equality, and togetherness in of it's glory! Give our sexy stockings a try and call us anytime for help. Shop our collection of Stockings for Men today.
I wore garter stockings under my business wear for decades. At 6’ 2" I wore nude or light beige opera hose with a six short strap garterbelt. I love the gentle thigh massage from my stockings and tiny motion of the straps as I move about. Now retired, I wear stockings every day at home
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Over the summer Mom was very fussy with my
hair. She made sure it never got very long. Besides, I really didn’t care.
Just before school was to start, I fell off my bike and wrenched my back.  In
those days people only went to doctors if they couldn’t stop the bleeding.  Dad
checked me out and, except for a bit of pain I seemed all right.  After a few
days, I had trouble walking upright and it still ached.  As a result, one
morning after my bath (everything seemed to take place after my bath), Mom
brought in what I recognized as a corset. “It’s one of mine," she explained.
"It will do wonders for your back.  You’re just about my size and it is
adjustable.”  I looked at it closely.  It was quite formidable looking.  It
had a lot of heavy strips running up and down its length and a row of laces down
the back.  Before I could say a word, she had it wrapped around me and fastened
the front clasp.  I was turned around and the laces were tightened.  “I won’t
tighten it as I do when I wear it.  You just need support, not a new shape.”
She tighten it until it felt pleasantly snug, and my back felt better almost
immediately.  It reached from about two inches above my waist to part way down
my thighs. I immediately liked the sensation of its firm stiff grip.  Then I
noticed some things hanging down from the bottom of the corset. There were four
on each side of the corset.  Mom saw me looking at them.  “Those garters are a
problem, but I don’t want to cut them off since I will have to sew them back on
when you’re through with your back problem.”  We left it at that and I finished
dressing.

Since the corset wasn’t especially tight at
the waist, my clothes still fit.  The garters hanging loosely in my pant
(short) legs were annoying however.  They jiggled and rubbed back and forth
with every step.  Before the day was over I was enjoying the secure feeling the
corset gave me and my back did feel better.  However, the dangling garters
remained annoying.  The only real problem was bending, but with my back I
couldn’t do much of that anyway.  Besides, it would only be for a few days, I
thought.  I would have to wear it to bed.  Mom explained that it would help my
back correct itself much faster.  Since I was anxious to get better and be able
to go out and play, I went along with the idea.

Each morning, Mom would tighten the corset a
tiny bit tighter, so little that I actually didn’t notice it. However, the
garters remained a nuisance.  Every morning, I complained about them.  Mom was
adamant.  Finally the third or fourth morning, Mom finished my lacing and went
to her room.  She returned with a pair of silk stockings: nylon hadn’t been
invented yet.  “Since the garters annoy you and I don’t want to cut them off,
you can try wearing these.  They are very thin and flesh colored so no one will
notice you are wearing them.  They’ll keep the garters in place and you might
even come to like the way they pull on your legs when you walk.  Besides, your
knee socks will cover almost all of them.” I protested mildly as she drew them
up my legs.  I stood so she could fasten the garters. I took a few steps and
immediately I knew I liked them.  They hugged my legs and, as Mom said, they
pulled as I walked and gave me a pleasant feeling.

A few days later, I had become fully
adjusted to my strange undergarments and felt lost when they were removed for my
bath.   A young mind can be easily confused and mine was becoming just that.
I knew in a few more days I would shed Mom’s corset as my back was feeling much
better.  For some strange reason I seemed to dread the idea. I was in a
quandary.  I couldn’t tell mom I wanted to wear her corset.  Boys didn’t wear
girls’ clothes although I do recall seeing boys who were dressed in an
effeminate manner. Maybe the stories she read to me were true. Of course there
was my dad. Little did I know then? I could pretend my back pains were coming
back.  At best that might give me another week but inevitably I would lose.
  As I mentioned earlier, Mom had been gradually tightening the corset.  After
two weeks, my waist was smaller to the point where my pants almost fell off as I
walked.  I glanced in the mirror one night as I got ready for bed and noticed
that I was acquitting a girl’s waistline.  The next day, Mom measured my waist
and later returned from the store with new pants.  These fit my new waist
perfectly.  It did seem strange that she would spend money when she could have
taken in the waist temporarily.

Finally it was decided that my back was
healed and I would return to my uncorseted self.  The first day was a
nightmare.  I was so acclimated to the corset that I could hardly stand when I
got out of bed.  A hot bath helped a lot.  I was dried and dusted as usual.
When I returned to the bedroom to dress, I hoped that my corset would be lying
on the bed, but no such luck.  I was bitterly disappointed.   It never
occurred to my ten year old mind that I should regret having to give up wearing
a woman’s corset.  After all, Dad wore one. By the second day I missed the
secure and pleasant feelings it had given me more than I could have imagined.
I heard it said many years later that wearing a corset was habit forming; some
even called it an addiction.  Mom had hatched her little plot carefully.
Actually the back problem gave her an opportunity that she might have had to
wait weeks or months to find.  Without the back excuse, I might even have
protested wearing it. Instead I fell into her plan, literally.  The constant
reading at bedtime of the unusual stories probably helped warp my thinking. I
had come to like the stories. In fact I found them fascinating.  I was going
to become her pretty boy without realizing it.  Mom had been watching me and
noted my displeasure.  She knew why I was upset.

One afternoon, a day or two later, she
called me aside. “You seem to be walking strangely, does your back bother
you?”  Like a hungry fish I took the bait.  I wanted to wear the corset and
she, still unbeknownst to me, wanted me in corsets.  With my tongue in cheek, I
lied and said yes.  Within minutes I was back in the corset and stockings.
She laced me tighter than usual saying, “This may help.”  I don’t know if it
would have helped but it sure felt good.

I had another problem. School was about to
start.  I could hardly wear a corset and silk stockings, even with the knee
socks, to school.  I would be close to the other kids and kids notice
everything. A few of the boys wore corsets. It was not unusual for boys to
wear corsets in those days, but they were looked at as having ‘strange’
parents.  For the several weeks I had been wearing the corset, silk stockings
and knee socks, my contact with other people was casual, on the street, shopping
and church. Besides, I would never see most of those people again.  The church
was dimly lit, so discovery was improbable.  Mom had all the answers.  She had
been a teacher until I was born. It was decided that she would home school me
for a while. While I secretly hoped I could wear a corset forever, I expected
that the back thing would come to an end in a few weeks and my corseted days
would end forever.  Besides, fall, with its cooler weather, was on the way and
the short pants and sissy knee socks would also have to go. By October I would
be back in school sans corset. My hair was kept boyishly short. “We wouldn’t
want anyone to think you were a girl, would we?”, Mom frequently commented. By
October, the kids would be kidding me about trying to look like a girl. I would
have preferred looking like a girl, long hair and all. I probably would have
been ignored.

My back was never mentioned again. I just
kept on wearing the corset and stockings. I was sent back to school late in
October. The faculty was skeptical but they had seen just about everything over
the years. They were paid to teach, not criticize, so they accepted their
pretty boy. At first I was the laughing stock of the school. I was mortified.
The girls were more sympathetic and more than just curious. The boys finally let
up and more or less accepted me as a product of a strange mother. They realized
that there was nothing I could do and finally actually felt sorry for me.

My corset was laced progressively tighter,
a little at a time, until the back laces met. I had yet another new set of
short pants to accommodate my shrinking waistline.  It had been done so
gradually that I didn’t realize it or have any discomfort; just an indescribably
pleasant feeling of well being.  I was much too young to realize that the
sensations would someday have sexual connotations. For now it just felt good.
For reasons I didn’t know, my knee socks were replaced with even fancier lacy
ankle socks or anklets, showing more of my stockings.  Since the latter were
very thin and flesh colored they were hardly noticeable.  I must have been
incredibly naïve not to have connected the pretty boy stories with my own
situation. But then ten year old boys aren’t too swift.  I was becoming a
pretty boy and didn’t realize it.

It wasn’t long before mom decided that my
corset was no longer suitable. Of course she didn’t want me to know that I was
going to have my waist reduced even more, so she just said that she wanted her
corset back and mine would be replaced. I never wondered why she just didn’t
take it and drop the whole corset idea. The next day we took the trolley
downtown.  I was to have a custom corset fitted at a corset shop.  On the way,
Mom explained that the new one would fit much better because it would be
designed for a boy shape.  That of course was a white lie.  She knew I was
going to have a woman’s corset of proportions I couldn’t imagine.  A sign in
front read, “JOANNE’S CORSET SALON”.  I was embarrassed going in, but then
again any passersby probably assumed that my mother was the customer and I was
being dragged along.

We were expected.  The receptionist greeted
us saying, “Is this the young man who is to be fitted for his first corset?” I
wished the floor would have opened up and swallowed me.  While I had come to
love wearing a corset, I didn’t want the world to know.  We were led into the
fitting room where we met Joanne.  She was a pleasant looking younger woman
who, by the stiffness of her movements, obviously wore a very tight corset, even
to a young boy’s eyes.  I was told to remove all my clothes and put on a short
slip. I had never worn a slip and the silky feeling against my body was more
tha
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Boy Wearing Stockings

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