Would you like to stuff my beaver?

Hi,

This morning, just as I was emerging from my morning yoga session, I was surprised to see Max (my neighbour’s son), huffing and puffing and coming in my rear entrance, a bundle of excited youthful anticipation. He was hurrying up the garden path, as I pulled up my yoga pants, and adjusted my hair.

Sebastian, my personal trainer, was as surprised as I was myself. He likes to come early to stretch me, as I’m sure my regular members are aware.

“Fiona,” said Max, bursting into my kitchen. “Can I take a look at your beaver?”

As you probably know, today is Canada Day. It’s a tradition in Huckleberry Close, to come over to my house on Canada Day, and look at my beaver, the centrepiece of the Canada Day party I always throw, to celebrate us throwing off the shackles of oppressive colonialism before Canada declared itself free of tyrannical rule from London. Actually, that’s not really true. We just all sort of agreed that we’d have a new flag and continue to be the friends we’ve always been. No one was being either tyrannical or oppressive, but it’s a good excuse for a party. And the centre piece of the party is my beaver, a stuffed animal that has become something of a mascot over the years. It’s traditional for us to enjoy some lovely Canadian Wines, from British Columbia (a place that is neither British nor Columbian), swap hockey stories and talk about Zamboni’s while apologizing to one another. We all eat poutine and make fun of people we love from Newfoundland, and generally act in an understated but quietly superior way, while listening to The Tragically Hip, 54 40, Five Man Electrical Band, Rush and many other great Canadian bands.

I told Max, “Darling, calm down. My beaver is open to everyone, just give me a moment to prepare it! You’ll get your turn. Just don’t get too excited. It’s Canada Day, you’ll have to pace yourself.”

We have so many wonderful traditions in Canada. Being Canadian means so many wonderful things to all the peoples of our country. We love our diversity, our first nations people and our ability not to elect a leader largely perceived as a psychopath and moron by the rest of the planet.

If Max gets over excited, of course, it will be over before it’s really started. It can happen to us all. I handed him a pot of maple syrup and suggested he put it out on the garden table while I went down to get the noble beast, and then he could examine my beaver to his hearts content.

This year’s wine of choice is Quill, a distinctive Rose from Vancouver Island, which is quite delightful and goes rather well with the short skirt I’m wearing. It’s light, a little cheeky and subtly stimulating.  The wine’s not bad either. I know we’ll be toasting Sylvester, who has decided to commit to a course learning to drive a Zamboni at the local hockey arena. I must get things ready for the party shortly, so this will be a short email.

It may come as a surprise to some of you, but Marjory (my delightful lesbian neighbor) got her hand stuck in my beaver recently while trying to replace some of the stuffing. She was wedged right in there! I know what you’re thinking, what was she of all people doing, jammed up there? Well, she does fancy herself as something of an amateur taxidermist. Strange woman. She’s from Alaska, you know. Eventually we got her hand out, but ever since she’s been acting most strangely. She’s said on more than one occasion that she wishes her hands were a little smaller. I can’t think why! It’s almost as though she’s never heard of lube. I understand it softens the skin nicely and taxidermists swear by it.

I hurried down to the basement and found my beaver, then carried it up to my garden table, already bathed in warm summer sunshine. In the sunlight I could see it has begun to look a little tired. I suppose one can not be surprised. After all, my beaver has been fingered by many over the passing years. And yet, surprisingly it continues to put a contented smile on many of my friends faces. However, I do believe a beaver should be well groomed and well presented. I will speak to my local taxidermist and have him restuff it later this month.

With this in mind I resolved to make a Canada Day offer to all my friends and members. Anyone who emails me with the words in the subject line “Fiona, I’ll stuff your beaver!” before the end of Canada Day, July 1st, can have a free membership to My Little Black Book. This is worth $2.95 a month for crossdressing gurls, and $4.95 a month to Admirers. So, get your digits moving and I can help get some more members in there. And of course, now you’ll be featured in The Fiona Dobson Crossdressing App, as a member of My Little Black Book, which has been downloaded by over 5000 crossdressers.

Have a wonderful week.

😊

Fiona

I kissed a gurl and I liked it.

Hi,

What a busy week it’s been here in Huckleberry Close. We’ve got a wonderful new installment of The Making Of A Mistress by Katia Thornwood, another episode in Oakley Dale’s advice column about How To Talk To Your Partner About Crossdressing, and of course all the fun of things going down in my kitchen. Today’s theme is a little unusual, being of a more Eastern European flavor.

But first, to Mildred of Colorado Springs. In reply to your question, I would suggest caution. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take your nephew to the US Mexican Border and abandon him. True, it’s not pleasant witnessing a six year old boy’s tantrum when he’s upset that mummy and daddy aren’t sending him to summer camp this year. However, abandoning the child at the border and suggesting he ask the nice man in the uniform about something called ‘asylum’ might be considered inhuman by some. Exposing him to a photo op and a kiss on the cheek from Melania Trump, on the other hand, would likely fall into the category of cruel and unusual punishment. By the way, if you’re interested in getting a cool T-shirt check this out. I have to say, kissing Eastern European women, in my experience, has often been a little like putting my tongue in an industrial vacuum cleaner that’s recently been used to clean up a toxic waste spill. Okay, I’m going to leave that one right there…

Of course, SebastianSylvesterMaxAliand I have all been watching the World Cup Soccer from Russia. We’ve also been getting some very interesting input from one of our Little Black Bookmembers, who toured in Russia and learned to speak the language some 20 years ago. Apparently she got about a great deal shortly after the fall of the wall, and found the experience strangely educating. She mentioned that she found it quite easy to master the local tongue. Among the most educational moments, she recalls, was when she was cornered by several members of the US Embassy staff, who took it on themselves to ‘debrief’ her in a Moscow hotel.  She tells me she was quite overcome. At least I think that’s what she said happened. Well, I guess we all serve our country in different ways!

Pictured above is Astrid, our special Sochi Soccer correspondent. She’s a very helpful student, who is helping us out. She’s studying Counselling Psychology, with a minor in Abattoir Management at Sochi University.

The other big news this week is that I opened up the membership of My Little Black Book to all who download The Fiona Dobson Crossdressing App. This means anyone who downloads the app can get access to the members listings free. If you wish to place a listing in the book, the price remains either $2.95 a month for Crossdressers, or $4.95 a month for Admirers. Anyone subscribing to My Little Black Book is now able to connect with over 5000 people who have downloaded the App. That’s a lot of crossdressers!

If you’re a loyal member of the my programs I would love to see you in My Little Black Book. If you’ve not done so already sign up here.

Have a wonderful week.

😊

Fiona

Download the App free today – and get daily updates. Download the Android App HERE.
You should probably be in my Premium Program.
Chastity Devices – Breast Forms – Wigs – Corsets

Are you reading the exciting adventures of Andy in “Clothes Maketh The Man”?

***Part 18 has just been released!***

Manipulated and taken advantage of by the evil Devina, Andy finds himself compromised into dressing. You’ll never believe what follows!
If you haven’t yet dived into the extraordinary serialised feminization adventure you can find it here:

Read the story – Clothes Maketh The Man http://fionadobson.com/clothes-maketh-the-man-part-1/

When was the first time you crossdressed? Do you remember the details? Check out one of our most popular sections on the website and read others experiences of the first time they crossdressed.

You can add your own story and find out how similar it is to others. If it’s an unusual story we may end up featuring it in our program.

My First Time

Lady Liberty.

Lady Liberty.

Hi,,
Every time I pull on a pair of panties, I am reminded of the hypocrisy of men in suits. These are the people who have looked critically at those of us who break conventions (often in a very soft lacy pair of panties), and yet who claim to know so much better than those of us on the lacy fringe of society.  These men in suits, who are so accomplished, have a total inability to pass a law requiring stronger background checks for gun owners – something 95% of adults (including gun owners) agree with.

It’s curious how some can be vocal about not allowing transgendered soldiers to serve, even though they are able, committed and willing – and yet these very same voices of moral rectitude fail to have the backbone to stand up and say “Actually, my children and I really do have a problem with you allowing every lunatic in the asylum to buy assault weapons.” Chief among these voices of righteousness is, of course, that of a man who got five deferments. Courage is not a word that seems to mean much to these people.

Those of us who see what is happening in the USA can only look on in sadness. No child should have to have ‘gun drills’ in school. It’s not normal. It’s unnecessary in the rest of the world. We look, shake our heads in consternation and say “Why?”. The rest of the modern world has got this right.

While many of my members have had to have the courage to accept themselves (a courage for which no one gets any medals), I wonder if any members of Congress have the courage to do the right thing, the thing they’re elected to do, and represent their members and stand up to the NRA. Fear of being criticized by the 5% is just too much for them. A Congress without the moral backbone required to protect our children seems to be one of little value to anyone.

When one explores the unusual sides of who we are, there’s a courage required that can only be accessed when one has total honesty with oneself. These ‘small acts of courage’ so outweigh what we see from some leaders that their words seem increasingly hollow, which wouldn’t matter much – accept that this is about the safety of our children we’re discussing. The words now need to be backed up with actions. Without that, all the men in suits are, are cowards.

I was surprised to find Sylvester, Max and Bernard rehearsing with their band in my garage this week.  How they come to have free rein throughout my house is a mystery to me. They use my expansive garage as a rehearsal space, since my wife’s car is still at the airport. She’s travelling, and is currently in Iceland, like everyone else these days.

It’s the time of year at which we usually have the Huckleberry Close talent show. This is a local fundraiser for the community centre and something I like to take part in. This year I’m helping the local Girl Guides put on some songs from Pirates Of Penzance. During rehearsals this week I got stuck in the props cupboard with one of the other parents while getting a Jolly Roger. Most embarrassing.

The sounds coming from the garage were a little disturbing. As you may know, Sylvester is a large man, rides a Harley and would look quite at home in the lineup of Metallica or Kiss. When he opens his mouth to sing, and the sound that comes out is a falsetto high pitched melody, it’s a little surprising.

After listening for a little while, I thought I should point something out to Sylvester.

“I never really thought of you as a protest singer, Sylvester.”

“I have many talents that are unappreciated by others,” he chimed in.

“All the same, do you think the line, “Bring me your huddled masses, except if they’re Muslim,” is really appropriate?  And this part, “We’ll give them a gun, but not a vote,” it seems a little inflammatory.”

“But it’s time our voices were heard,” said Sylvester passionately.

“I’m not sure the people you’re trying to reach are going to be attending the Huckleberry Close Talent Show. Well, I guess you never know who might drop by.”

“You don’t like the statue of Liberty reference?” said Sylvester looking a little disappointed.

“You know it was given to the new republic by the French?”

“Of course,” said Sylvester. “They’ve got lot’s of good things we could benefit from.”

“Military parades,” chimed in Max, while he adjusted one of the amplifiers and fiddled with a keyboard.

“Shut up, Max!” I said sharply.  “It just strikes me that if you were lift that statue’s nightdress, you might find more than you expected. Just sayin’.”

“X-rays,” said Max.

“Pardon?” I said.

“They invented X-rays – the French. Marie Curie. You can do all sorts of cool things with X-rays!”

“What are you on about?” I said testily. “You don’t ‘invent’ x-rays. You discover them.”

“You can’t X-ray the Statue Of Liberty,” said Sylvester, helpfully.

“But you can X-ray someone’s ankle to see if they’ve got bone spurs,” retorted Max.

I felt I should leave, and headed back to my kitchen. It was definitely time for a glass of that South African Cabernet Sauvignon. Besides, I have to reply to five emails, which by chance is the exact number of deferments…

Ah, listening to the band rehearse I can see they’re going with slightly easier sentiments. The sound is drifting in through the kitchen window. I shall post the song below. I think it’s one Sylvester wrote for me.

But that’s not the main reason I am writing. I would love to encourage you to join my Premium Program. Don’t worry, not all the tasks and hypnosis sessions are as long and convoluted as this email. I think I can honestly say that the Premium Program is all about getting you to understand yourself and crossdressing at a healthy and enjoyable level. I receive some lovely emails about it, and always value the kind words my members share.

I’d love to see you sign up, if you haven’t already. It really does give you a chance to accept yourself as you are, and create yourself as you desire.

Wishing you the courage you need everyday.

😊

Fiona

Download the App free today – and get daily updates. Download the Android App HERE.
Meaningless Songs In Very High Voices.
Chastity Devices – Breast Forms – Wigs – Corsets

Max is getting busy.

Hi,

Max has been busy up in his bedroom this week, his hands a blur on the keyboard, as he works away like a busy little beaver upgrading parts of My Little Black Book. At least I think that’s what he’s doing up there.

“I hope you’re banging away at this. You know how much I want to get it up,” I told him.

He gets very intense when he’s working away at the computer. He works up quite a sweat sometimes, and even has to towel himself off.

“Oh, yes. I swear if I keep doing this I’m going to go blind!”

“What do you mean,” I asked.

“I’m spending so much time in front of the screen…”

“Oh, I see.”

Max is adding some chat functionality to My Little Black Book, so members can participate in an open chat with anyone else online. It’s in it’s beta test stage at present, but should be complete in about a week. Feel free to go in and play around with it, if you are a member. If not, you can join for a monthly fee of just $2.95 as a CD or $4.95 as an admirer.

As you know, Max has recently started working with my wife’s appalling friend, Amanda on Pig and Pig Farmer Weekly. You’d think she could find a busy beaver of her own, wouldn’t you? Instead Max is burning the candle at both ends.

However, that’s not the only reason I’m writing to you today.  I am so excited to tell you about some lovely new bras specifically for crossdressers that are coming on my radar. Several of my members having been trying out some of the ones available on my site and coming back with great feedback.

Mildred from Colorado Springs writes “My breasts are now bigger than those of most of the women I find attractive. I so want to find a suitable bra, but get very worried about buying them locally. I’m very shy and I feel there’s very little customer support for someone like me!”

Mildred, as you know bras are all about support. And there’s no reason in the world why you shouldn’t have a nice silky or lacy bra to wear either beneath your clothes at home – or all day for that matter. Here’s a link to my website that will help you find bras specifically designed for gurls like us. http://fionadobson.com/clothes/bra-gurl-like/    Have a browse around. The more you explore the more you’ll be able to nip those fears in the bud!

Thank you for the lovely comments I got about the Ghost story I wrote. The Foreshore Light went down well for many of my members.

Have a wonderful weekend, and if you check us out online you’ll likely find Julie or myself answering questions there this weekend and most evenings this week. Just look for the pop up box saying we’re there, and join us for a chat!

😊

Fiona

Continue reading “Max is getting busy.”

Strip Twister? Huh?

 ‘Imagine,’ Julie said, ‘if our Little Black Book members could post a chat message with a pic of themselves right there.’

I should say that on Julie’s insistence we’ve been playing a very intricate game of Twister with Sylvester and Sebastian. Now, I must admit that while Sebastian is very flexible, Sylvester is about as loose limbed as a fridge. In fact, now that I think about it, I have compared Sylvester to a fridge on several occasions.

Julie, by the way has a very mischievous way of playing Twister. It’s quite simple. She calls it Strip Twister, and one can only touch the floor with one’s hands or feet. Any slip up results in the loss of an article of clothing. Now, imagine that image uploaded to My Little Black Book.

Max was so intrigued by the idea that he got to work on it and now we have exactly what Julie was looking for. You can now log in to My Little Black Bookand chat with others, and upload images of yourself in the middle of a Strip Twister game, or anything else you feel like.

Don’t worry, the images scroll off after a while. You might post what you’re wearing right now, or how you’re doing some eye makeup or even a pic of your cat in drag, if that’s your thing… (Ilena!).

If you’re not already a member of My Little Black Book and would like to join the fun, why not go and sign up tonight.  You never know what’s going to pop up next!

Now, Sylvester is trying to get his leg over Julie. I think I’d better intervene.

😊

Fiona

Chastity Devices – Breast Forms – Wigs – Corsets


Continuing crossdressing adventures, and leotards!

Hi,

I am pleased to report that Bernard is making a slow but healthy recovery and seems to be over the worst after his unfortunate encounter with a carrot. I visited him this morning and when I arrived home from the hospital I found my wife’s appalling friend Amanda at my house. Max had let her in, something I’d warned him about, but he seemed to have forgotten. I was a little irritated as I had a lot on, and had to get to a jazzercise class which would start shortly.

As I hurried in Max silently mouthed his apology.

“Hello, Amanda,” I said as I heard her beige trouser suit rustle in my direction and she appeared from the living room. “Have you been having fun on the newsdesk?”

“Why, what have you heard?” she replied nervously.

I couldn’t really imagine what fun one could have on the newsdesk of Pig And Pig Farmer Weekly, but didn’t waste too much time thinking about it.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” I said. Had I known she’d be coming I would have been out.

“Well, I thought I’d stop by. Leo’s with me today,” she said, and glanced over her shoulder into the living room.

I should explain, and I’d like to do this with the sympathy and delicacy this subject deserves, that Leo is what we used to call ‘developmentally disadvantaged.’ He is a very sweet young man, but has never really progressed beyond the early stages of mental development. Now, I should point out that in Canada we have a very inclusive approach to those less fortunate than ourselves, and we embrace those less able than the rest of us. It’s a point on which we stand with great national pride. Not withstanding my recent unfortunate episode with a homeless person, I believe we measure ourselves as a nation by how we treat the less fortunate. To us, universal healthcare at no cost whatsoever, for example, is an absolute no brainer. Which, in it’s way makes what happened this afternoon even more difficult to relate.

I made my apologies to Amanda and said I had to hurry to get ready for my Jazzercise class, and had to change, and so hurried upstairs. I had washed and prepared a few things, and as I gathered them together and put them in my bag, I realised I’d left some clothes lying in the living room.

I called down to Max, who came upstairs.

“Max,” I said, “I seem to have left some things in the living room. Some tights and a leotard, they’re probably in the living room. Can you be a sweetheart and see if you can find them. I think they may be lying over the back of the chair by the window.

With that I changed out of my office clothes and into a light summer dress. I’d slip into my dancewear at the studio.

It was then that I heard a commotion from downstairs, and the slamming of the front door. From my bedroom window I saw Amanda hurry to her Prius, and help her brother Leo into the passenger seat. I couldn’t think what had caused such a commotion, and a moment later Max was politely knocking on my bedroom door.

I opened it and stepped out.

“What on earth was that all about?” I asked.

“I think I must have said something to upset Amanda… I don’t know what I did. She just erupted.”

“Max, calm down. I’m sure it’s nothing.  Just tell me what you said.”

Max followed me downstairs, and recounted his words.

“I just walked into the living room and said to Amanda that you were changing upstairs and I had come down to find a leotard that was lying around in the living room.”

“That’s all you said?”

“Yes,” he said looking hurt.

“Those were your exact words?” I pressed him.

For a moment he closed his eyes, and then in a moment of reflection he said, “No, wait a moment… I came through that door, and then I said “Is there a leotard lying around in here?”… And that’s when she took off in a huff!”

“Oh,” I replied.  “You don’t think she thought you were referring to her brother, do you? I mean, his name is Leo… and he is… well, you know.”

We looked at each other ashamed of ourselves. I felt pretty sure I had an awkward phone call ahead to make to Amanda.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I thought I’d drop you a line and tell you about some of the spectacular leotards that you can find on my website. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. That’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? They’re versatile and fun, and as you’ll see can be worn either in a very femme way, or quite an androgynous manner. Check out the page on my site that tells you about them and you’ll find they’re fun and can make you look great.

Till next week.

😊

Fiona

If your mum comes in while you’re watching this, switch to porn whatever you do. It’s just easier to explain away!

Fire and Furry.

I’m emailing you having just returned from the heart unit, where I am happy to relate that Bernard is in the process of recovery from his rather unfortunate incident with a carrot.  This is much to the relief of Max, who for a moment thought he may have blood (or rather carrot juice) on his hands after shooting Bernard with the aid of Sebastian’s motorcycle. If this is all a bit confusing you may be able to catch up here.

I arrived home to find Sylvester sitting at my kitchen table looking more confused than a Trump supporter who had recently learned that he’d won a months free food at Hooters, only to discover that he had to complete a skill testing question asking him to calculate the area of a square measuring 2 inches by 2 inches, before being eligible to collect his prize. I asked Sylvester what could possibly be wrong.

“It’s this business with North Korea. My dad was out there years ago, and that didn’t go so well,” said Sylvester.

Now, in case you’ve been living under a rock – which might be the safest place to be under the circumstances – then you might be unaware that people are talking about the possibility of nuclear war. At times like this one is forced to ask the big questions. ‘What’s it all for?’, and ‘Isn’t there hope for humanity?’, and ‘What does one really wear for Armageddon?’.

As I looked down at my troubled friend, I was forced to conclude that one should always look on the bright side, and dress up for the occasion. Seeing Sylvester’s legs, also brought something else to mind, and consider that this is a man who looks like a gorilla and a fridge got together and created a baby.
I am of course talking about the need to deal with body hair when one crossdresses. The need to look one’s best supersedes all other considerations as the nuclear clock ticks toward midnight. Sylvester’s legs are very hairy, and if one is to meet one’s end looking fabulous either waxing it off, or at least disguising the body hair is a great place to start.

Not all of my members are able to shave their legs. For those who discretely dress without the knowledge of their partners, suddenly appearing without leg hair may be something of a give away. One member did successfully claim that their new swimming regime required them to remove as much body hair as possible, but this isn’t going to fly for some members.

In the quest to disguise body hair the fishnet pantyhose are your friends. Better still, try a fishnet body stocking. No one should be without one, in my opinion. If you’re unable to find one locally, you can follow this link and order one on my website.

So, the question remains, faced with the unpleasant eventuality of nuclear annihilation, what would your outfit be? Personally, I think nice summer dress and some heels, pretty pink bra and panties. Feel free to let me know.

Now don’t forget, you can now join My Little Black Book for just $2.95 a month by using this link – https://gumroad.com/l/mMgcZ.  Be sure to let me know once you’ve paid and I’ll get you set up.

😊

Fiona

Bernard goes beyond.

Hi,

Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the latest events around Bernard being shot in the chest with a carrot – if not you can catch up here – which has left us all very worried about his health.

To get you up to date, it wasn’t until several hours after he’d been carted off in the ambulance, following Max getting so upset about what he described as Sebastian and I doing yoga ‘doggy style’in my garden, that I managed to get through to the emergency department. The head nurse left me on hold as she went to see what had happened to poor Bernard.

Now, as you likely know, Bernard recently had a heart transplant following a Tazering incident, and we were all most concerned that he may have been severely hurt by the flying vegetable. Additionally, Max was getting increasingly worried about the idea that he may have committed a crime.

I had the phone in my kitchen on speaker, as Max and I waited to be transferred. I remember the moment in some detail, as I had just finished freshening my nail polish and I couldn’t very well hold the cell. Really, though, that scarlet color is simply to die for!

I asked Max to paint my toe nails, as I waited on hold. I was standing there on one leg, my other foot on a bar stool, my tight leggings showing the well defined shape of my legs, as Max painted my toes. You know, you might think me a little cruel, but I do get a little thrill from the fact that his eyes would drift up my leg from time to time. Torturing the puppies is a secret pleasure of mine!

“Is that Fiona Dobson,” came the nurses voice.

“It most certainly is,” I replied.

“Yes, Ms. Dobson. Bernard has you listed as his primary contact.”

“Of course he does!” I said, attempting to keep the frustration from my voice.

“Well, Ms. Dobson, I’m sorry to tell you this…”

At that moment Max’s hand shakily managed to paint one of my toes.

“Just a moment,” I said, then turning to Max, “for goodness sake, Max. Please be more attentive!”

I turned back to the phone, “Go on, dear,” I said.

“Yes,” she continued, “I’m sorry but I have to tell you…”

“Max!” I shouted, as he slipped once more. “Do be careful!”

The nurse continued, “I’m sorry but Bernard is no longer with us.”

There was a pause, and Max fell pale. I took the phone off speaker mode, and said to the nurse, “But … How?”

“He’s no longer in the emergency department,” continued the nurse. “He’s been transferred to the Intensive Care Unit, he’s scheduled for heart surgery later today.”

Now, I am sure you know I am not an unkind individual. However, I do confess I thought briefly about leaving Max in his growing sense of panic. Mentally, he was already gathering a few things and ready to head to Mexico.

I arranged to visit in the morning, and hung up the phone.

“Don’t worry, Max. Bernard’s having surgery. I’m sure he’s got a good chance of a full recovery.  It was a nasty accident, that’s all. We can go to see him in the morning.”

With that, Sebastian entered the kitchen, doing his very best to be helpful. “I feel I should come, too. After all, it was my exhaust pipe from which he was hurt. I feel a kind of karmic obligation.”

“How thoughtful you are,” I said. “Max, my nails aren’t going to paint themselves!”

“Perhaps I could take him one of my nice recordings of relaxing sounds. That’s sure to make him feel better. Fiona, what’s the most relaxing sound you can think of. Whale song? The sound of the wind through a forest?”

“I think the sound of the door closing as Amanda leaves my house following one of her visits. That always leaves me feeling better,” I said.

“I think whale song might be more relaxing,” murmured Sebastian.

With that we did our best to put our fears for Bernard to rest. Max continued to do my toe nails and we resolved to visit the hospital the following morning.

And so it was that we decided to visit the following morning, Max and Sebastian bringing both guilt and karmic balance, and I some perfectly painted nails and a rather smart pleated skirt.

I shall let you know how things went next week.

Fiona

Max, we appreciate your service.

Before I go any further I would like to say that like my valued members I stand with all our brave people serving in the military regardless of color, gender or race. I strongly believe that anyone who has ever been exposed to the realities of conflict knows very well, we have other more important things to get on with, rather than focusing on distractions that do nothing but further the questionable agenda of one sad old man. Our servicemen protect our rights and freedoms – which is kind of the point, isn’t it?

I’ve received several emails from members of the services who are members of FionaDobson.com. All I can do is reassure them that their service is appreciated and that this will pass. Calmer heads will prevail.

Now, let me see if I can give you the short strokes to get you caught up with the exciting happenings here in Montreal. You may remember last weekBernard, my photographer, had been shot in the chest with a nefarious carrot. Unknown to me at the time Max had pushed the offending vegetable  up Sebastians exhaust pipe after becoming agitated while watching Sebastian and I doing yoga.

As the ambulance raced off Max sidled up to me, looking the picture of guilt ridden youth, and said “Fiona, there’s something you should know.”

I bent  down and picked up the carrot and frowned.

“What on earth is a carrot doing here?” I said, as the ambulance siren faded in the distance.

“Actually, I might know something about that…” said Max, where upon he told me the whole grissly story.

“But what on earth possessed you to put it there?” I asked.

“It was seeing the two of you in the garden. Seeing you do yoga, doggy style!”

“I think you mean downward dog. Well, these leggings don’t leave much to the imagination,” I mused.

At this point Sebastian, who had been inspecting his motorcycle for damage, wandered over.

“Pretty bad luck, that. You don’t often hear of someone being carroted to death.”

Several years ago a young man I was acquainted with had a nasty incident with a squash (that’s a marrow if you’re in the UK), but I thought it better not to mention it.

“You don’t think he’ll die, do you?” Asked Max.

“He was doing a pretty good impression of it, when he was choking here in the driveway, three minutes ago,” said Sebastian. “I always told him he should eat more vegetables.”

“He’s only just recovered from a heart transplant. I think the sooner we dispose of the evidence the better. Max, why don’t you get rid of that carrot and if anybody asks, the bike just backfired,  ok?”

“Why?” Said Max, looking genuinely niaive.

“Because, Max, if the wrong people ask questions, someone might get the idea you accidently murdered poor Bernard.”

“Urgh! Murdered?” Gasped Max.

Sebastian interjected at this point, “I’m not sure you can ‘accidentally’ murder someone.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Stammered Max.

“Of course you didn’t. But anyone dumb enough to believe that Bernard was shot in the chest with a carrot is dumb enough to believe it was murder. It’s better all round just to say there was a bang and Bernard collapsed.”

I handed Max the carrot. “I suggest you feed the evidence to your rabbit.”

😊

Fiona

Max shoved his carrot up Sebastian’s exhaust pipe!

What an extraordinary week it has been, with the most exciting things happening about the place.  But before I get into that, I will first answer a couple of quick questions from my valued members.

Yes, Ellie in Texas, when you have a costume party to celebrate your ten years NRA membership a piñata is a very suitable idea for a game, though we do not generally feel that putting ammunition in it as prizes is a very good idea. Perhaps crystal wine goblets or a decanter would be better.

Olive, in Halifax in Yorkshire, we find the best remedy is to plunge your plums in boiling water. Both Julie and I enjoy making jam, too! What a small world it is.

As we revel in a beautiful summer here in North America it’s definitely time to delve into your wardrobe and find a mini skirt. Whether it’s to do a private set of selfies, or get out in the park and brave going out in public, the summer gives us all a great excuse to expose our legs to sunshine and get a beautiful tan. You’ll find one of my very popular self hypnosis recordings that so many of you love right HERE.  Of course, in the Premium Program there’s many to help you along. If you’re already a member I hope you’re getting the most out of these. If you’re thinking about joining the Premium Program enjoy the self hypnosis filehere and see how you feel. It’s likely to harden your resolve to getting into a lovely skirt.

And speaking of hardening my resolve, Sebastian my personal trainer was over at my place just yesterday. He came over to give me a yoga class, and afterwards he gave me a very enjoyable massage. I was out in the sun, in the back garden, with Sebastian rubbing some oils into my aching muscles, when I noticed Max, my neighbours 20 year old son, watching us from his bedroom window, which overlooks my garden.

I should point out that Max has shown growing curiosity about me in recent months.  He’s not quite sure what to make of me, I think. Either way, seeing Sebastian rubbing my thighs so intimately seemed most disturbing for him. Whilst Sebastian was hard at work, as it were, Max was suffering.

Unknown to me at the time, Max was indeed so agitated that he went downstairs to his mother’s kitchen, took a large carrot, and then went out into my driveway, and pushed it right up Sebastian’s exhaust pipe! Sebastian, I should say, rides a little Honda scooter. It’s very cute. Not as big as Sylvester’schopper, of course,  but that’s another story.

Nothing good ever comes from jamming vegetables places they shouldn’t be. Believe me, I should know, my cousin works in an emergency room at the hospital. Anyway, after inserting his nefarious carrot, Max returned to his bedroom.

Sebastian was just finishing me off, (phrasing), and our yoga session was coming to a very happy ending.  It was not a minute too soon, as Bernard, my photographer, was due at my place to discuss a shoot we have next week for one of the advertising agency clients. I like to work from home, and Bernard often drops by.

I was just seeing Sebastian off, when Bernard arrived. Sebastian straddled his scooter and hit the starter, just as Bernard was walking up my driveway. There was a phut, phut, BANG!

Next thing I knew Bernard was lying on the ground gasping and clutching his heart. You may remember he had a heart transplant just about a year ago, after an unfortunate Tazering incident at O’Hare.

At first I thought the shock of the backfire had given him a heart attack. Then I saw the carrot, fallen to the ground, beside Bernard, who was by now convulsing and looking decidedly peeky.

“Hold on, Bernard,” I said as calmly as I could. “I’ll call an ambulance!”

He gurgled as first Sebastian and then Max, appearing from next door ran to him to help.

As I rushed inside Sebastian was telling Bernard that he wished he’d brought his homeopathic first aid kit. This didn’t seem to comfort Bernard, who was gurgling and coughing up blood.

I called the ambulance from the phone I’d left in my kitchen, and then hurried back to the increasingly pale form of Bernard lying in the driveway. He was reaching out in front of him, clutching at the air.

“It’s OK,” I said as calmly as I could. “The ambulance is coming.”

“I can see a light,” said Bernard, his eyes glazed over.

“Go toward the light,” said Sebastian. “Go toward the light!”

“Are you sure?” I said. “I thought you were supposed to go away from the light.”

“They’re calling me,” babbled Bernard, still clutching his chest, but fading from pale to a blue color. With that he seemed to go limp and give a final sigh.

A moment later the ambulance pulled into my driveway. The ambulance service here really is very good, and they have such very nice uniforms.

They loaded Bernard into the ambulance. Max was flapping around like an old woman, fawning over Bernard, and looking terribly distraught. As the ambulance pulled away and headed toward the hospital, I thought he was going to run and get his bicycle and follow it. Even then, I realised something was amiss.

As the ambulance siren faded Max turned to me and said, “Fiona, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Now, I’m going to tell you exactly what happened next in my next newsletter, because it really was so extraordinary. Let’s just say that the truth really does set you free, but at what price?

I hope you’re having a better weekend than we are!

😊

Fiona

THE MIXTURES : "THE PUSHBIKE SONG" (1970)
Sebastian’s Health Tip For The Week: There’s no better way to get out and about and keep in shape than on a bike.

Bigger breasts – generally a good thing.

Hi,
I always listened to my mother’s advice. She would often say things like, ‘If you have something to say about someone, make it something positive.”I’ve always thought this is very good advice. It’s kept me out of trouble, mostly, however this week I had a situation in which this seemed to backfire.As you likely know, Amanda (my wife’s appalling friend) has a habit of dropping in unannounced at the most inopportune of moments. She was with us just last weekend on one such unplanned visit. I have asked Sylvester, who is something of an inventor in his spare time (see Sylvester’s Boner), to come up with some kind of early warning device to avoid such situations.

Julie and I were helping Ali in the garden just yesterday afternoon, where he was pruning my bush. We’d polished off a bottle of Riesling, when I heard a timid squeaky voice coming from the direction of my neighbour’s garden. Ali and I walked over to look over the hedge, and there was Marjorie, Max’s mother. You’ll remember that Max is my neighbors 20 year old son. A strange boy, but very helpful.

“Oh, Fiona,” she said. “I need your advice.”

Ali, ever helpful, cast an eye over her flower beds and then chimed in, “Really madam, it’s alright. I can see your vulvodynia is blooming early this year. It just needs a little more water.” Ali’s English lessons are rather unconventional, however he does wonders in the garden.

“That’ll be all, Ali. I can take this from here.” I said, dismissing him to go back to tending to my bush.
Marjorie was gawping at me in a puzzled way trying to fathom what we were talking about. Ali’s Syrian accent is still quite strong.

“That strange woman you had in the garden this weekend. She wants Max to work on some magazine.”

“Oh, Amanda. Yes, she’s the editor at Pig and Pig Farmer Weekly. It’s the Washington Post of the agricultural sector. A bastion of the fourth estate,” and then I added doubtfully, “and one of the only media organisations to endorse Mr. Trump.”

“Oh,” she said, as though suddenly understanding. “I just wondered, what’s she really like? I mean, I don’t want my darling Max working for just anyone.”

I stifled the urge to say that that was exactly who Max should work for – anyone who would give him a job. ‘Just anyone’ seemed a perfect description, given his work ethic. He is a lovely boy, and very capable when it comes to tech tasks, but other than that his talents are best described as aesthetic.
“Hmmm, what’s she really like…” I mused. That was a tough one. I remembered my mother’s advice, and it could have been the Riesling talking, but responded “She has fine breasts. Very fulsome.”
“What,” said Marjorie, a little taken aback.

“A full bosom,” I reiterated. I really couldn’t think of anything else positive to say.

“That’s all you can tell me about her,” she stammered.

“Well,” I blundered on, “she sees things in black and white. Somewhat judgemental, some might say.” My mind slipped back to the incident with the adult toy and Hannibal, my dachshund. “It’s not surprising, I suppose,” I went on. “It’s all connected. Black and white, Friesians cattle, dairy farming and breasts…”

Marjorie stormed off, muttering and shaking her head. I have the feeling she’s never really approved of my lifestyle. I really can’t think why.

And in that very vein, I have a lovely self hypnosis file for my many friends who have recently been asking about breast enlargement. This is a lot of fun.

Self hypnosis is one tool for this, but there are a few other methods you can use. One of the most effective, though discrete is the use of soy milk.  If you choose a flavored one, like Vanilla So Good, and just be sure to drink a good size glass a day, you’ll find it gradually has a very beneficial impact. Soy contains isoflavones, a plant oestrogen that is similar to the estrogen that you humans produce. It is these isoflavones that give soy its cancer-prevention properties. Researchers have expressed concern that the estrogens in soy protein may affect the hormone levels in men – which suits us fine. Drinking more than usual quantities could result in breast growth in men. High consumption of soy protein, equivalent to over three litres of soy milk a day, could lead to hormonal shifts.

I’m not a fan of using HRT pharmacy. I find it’s not a good idea to put anything into your body that can’t at least phone you the following day and tell you how much they enjoyed it.

You can find the hypnosis file here: http://fionadobson.com/hypnosis/breast-enlargement-for-crossdressers-self-hypnosis/

There’s some food for thought. If you join the Premium Program we introduce you to a few practices that can stimulate these shifts. If you haven’t signed up yet, now is a great time to do so.

Have a wonderful weekend.
😊
FD

We’re firming up our members.

First of all, I feel I should address a matter of concern to many of my members. Angela in Arkansas asks, ‘Is it possible that White House spokesperson Sean Spicer and Sarah Huckabee Sanders are the same person? I have never seen them appear on camera together.’

I am so glad you asked me that. Naturally I am a keen commentator on political matters – my views being held in very high regard in some circles. I have several sources close to this matter and let’s just say that you’ll be seeing a lot less of ‘Sean’ in the coming months. I protect the confidentiality of my members very diligently as you know, so I am precluded from saying more. Suffice to say that Sean may be accepting himself as he is, and creating himself as he wishes. I can neither confirm or deny whether he is a member of my programs.

This weekend I have organised a barbeque for my friends. Sadly, my wife is travelling, leaving me to entertain myself. As I slipped into a new bikini and tiny pink skirt today, I found myself considering how very lucky I am.

I have such an eccclectic group of friends. Sylvester with his unusual tattoos and enormous chopper. Bernard, my photographer always wanting to expose himself. Sebastian, my personal trainer, who incidentally has just taken up pole vault. I very unusual choice of sport.

And of course, who could forget Max and Ali – still rummaging about in the arboretum looking for his hoe. This weekend I am also playing host to Katia Thornwood and Julie, who’s been hard at work (literally) stimulating new male members.

Perhaps I should explain that. We had a special promotion last week, for father’s day. This resulted in some wonderful new men joining my Little Black Book as admirers. I am thrilled to see the list of members growing and firming up all the time.

I said to Julie just the other day, “Julie, you need to take the members in hand, firm them up and make them grow!” She’s been breathlessly applying herself.

As my friends started to arrive for the barbecue and Sylvester busied himself at the grill, I joined the boys in conversation.

“But, Sebastian, darling! Why pole vaulting. It seems so… I don’t know, suggestive.”

“Not at all!” He insisted, turning his sausage on the grill. “Personally, I think it shows great self coonfidencel”

“Well, if you say so,” I said. “Mind you, it’s all a little dangerous, if you ask me. Plunging your great pole in a slot and getting up like that. It reeks of over compensation!”

“Its all about keeping it stiff,” said Sylvester, ever helpfull

Sebastian glanced at him, doubtfully.

“We’ve got pills for that,” chimed in Ali, from where he was showing Max the difference between a Chrysanthemum and Chlamydia.

Ali has been doing rather well with his English classes. One would never guess he arrived from Syria just six months ago.

 

“Sebastian ,” he called over toward the grill. “You’re obviously overcompensating, my young friend. I have some friends who can help you with that.”

I sometimes wonder what they teach him at that English class. Nonetheless, his integration seems to be coming along nicely.

I’m watching as Max tries to engage Katia in polite conversation. Now that really is the lamb attempting to lie down with the lion. I think I should go and interpose myself between them before Max ends up being served up on a skewer.

For those of you who don’t know Katia, she is a somewhat stern woman. Statuesque and beautiful, but very commanding. Her wonderful travelogue is being published on my website at http://FionaDobson.com in episodes – look for The Travelogue Of Katia Thornwood. You’ll be hearing more from her. Suffice to say that her holiday entertainments went far beyond looking at temples in Cambodia.

I hope you have a lively weekend and enjoy the summer weather. By the way, as I mentioned, we’ve had an influx of male  members (phrasing) in My Little Black Book. Now’s a great time to join, if you’re not already a member.

We have a major expansion of our website underway. My objective is that there should be something new almost daily for you to check into and occupy yourself with. Check it out and come back whenever you feel a little femme. You’ll love what I’m doing!

😊

Fiona

Imagine if some of your graduating class could see you dressed. What might they think?
Are you reading the exciting adventures of Andy in “Clothes Maketh The Man”?

Manipulated and taken advantage of by the evil Devina, Andy finds himself compromised into dressing. You’ll never believe what follows!
If you haven’t yet dived into the extraordinary serialised feminization adventure you can find it here:

Read the story – Clothes Maketh The Man http://fionadobson.com/clothes-maketh-the-man-part-1/

Not yet signed up for the Premium Program? Take your time, but when you’re ready jump in and join the fun.  You can sign up for full membership – US$ 35 a year – here: http://fionadobson.com/premium-program/

A man at my backdoor, with an enormous tool in his hand!

As I started work on this today I was surprised to find my neighbors son, Max, at my back door. He was standing their holding an enormous tool in his hand. It quite took my breath away!

I said to him, “There’s no way you’re coming inside with that!”

He was, however quite insistent. I explained to him that if he had to go about waving that enormous thing of his, he should try seeing it was properly lubricated and prepared. Finding some oil I took it in my hands and worked the lubricant into it.

Now that I think about it, I don’t think Max had experienced someone doing this to him. A crossdressing gurl just taking control like that. I guess he may have felt a little over excited. who can tell? Life is full of these unanswered quesions. Like why my friends always use my rear entrance, and not the front door.

Max seemed to enjoy the attention, and I knew he was excited to get inside. As I worked the lubricant deeper and deeper, and stroked his tool I could see he was becoming more agitated. These young boys are so easily overwhelmed. It’s so important to maintain eye contact, when someone is getting near the peak of  their anticipation, don’t you think? I gave him the can of oil and left him to it.

I turned my back on him, and said I had to get an email off to my friends, and the sight of me walking away from him was simply too much. I think he took one look at my bum in my tight leggings and was squirting his fluid everywhere! What a mess. Anyway, I have to get on with this email! When I first asked him to help me with some repairs and chores this was not what I had in mind.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I thought it might be nice to focus on two things in this email. The first will be moisturizing and the second foundation. These are two essentials for anyone wishing to feminize their skin a little. Mositsturizing takes care of the tone of the skin, while foundation looks after color.

Regardless of age, male skin is often left untreated and dry because we are taught from an early age to wash, often using harsh soaps and no further treatment is really encouraged. What I’d like to encourage here is the regular use of a moisturizing lotion around the eyes and the sides of the mouth and nose area..

In your on going quest to feminize, this can be quite enjoyable. Those who have been following me a while will know I am a fan of gentle and subtle change. To start moisturizing every day, following a shave and brushing your teeth, is an almost undetectable but enjoyable process. You will soon find yourself feeling more feminine and your skin quality improving. Likely no-one but you will notice, but you will feel a little more feminine with this simple start to the day.

Now, as far as foundation goes, this is possibly something you don’t want to put on everyday as it is likely to be noticed. Although later, as you become a little more proficient at bringing subtle changes into you life, you may want to start using a little foundation each day, at first it is something that you can start practicing in private at home.

Doing self portrats? Foundation takes away the shiny reflections of your skin in photos. Yes, if you are into taking selfies when you dress, you need to know about foundation! To some degree you can achieve the same effect with a little talcum powder, but too much and you look very pale. Rather as though you’d walked in on Max playing with his tool, actually.

You can buy foundation at virtually any drug store. If you have to, asking the assistant to help you, ‘for your wife’, you’ll find they jump right in. Now, while the safest thing to do is go for a general mid tone foundation, at least to start, if you do need to choose a particular color here’s a helpful tool that will get you started: http://www.temptalia.com/foundation-matrix/scratch First choose an undertone, and then your skin tone, and it will list a range of the most available foundation types, along with prices etc..

Next time you decide to take a few selfies be sure to put on a little foundation first. It will make all the difference! For a great tutorial about how to apply foundation, try this Youtube video: https://youtu.be/TyeMrEYcMoQ

If you are not a full member think about signing up – http://genr8tor.com/membership/ . When I see payment go through I will start you on your path. I work though everyone’s messages a couple of times a day and work to get you moving quickly. I know you’ll love it. Email me to let me know you’ve upgraded.

🙂

Fiona.

Looking back to the early 1990’s, this video looks a bit different today.