It’s not about being less of a man – it’s about being a better person.

It’s always a pleasure talking online with my web visitors. I try to man the chat system at least three hours a day, and I’m always around on email.

Our Whatsapp Group for Elite Members is also a chat mechanism. Anyway, this evening I had a lovely first time visitor feeling a little ashamed as he’d never thought of himself having a feminine name. And yet they clearly wanted to allow this wonderful side of their personality to emerge. I am here for exactly this type of support.

One thing that got mentioned was, “Am I less of a man, wanting to do this?”

The answer, as so clearly demonstrated by Julius Braddock in An English Country Garden, is a resounding ‘No!’. If you read the remarkable story, you’ll see so very clearly that Braddock is no shrinking violet. As with so many of my members, Braddock is a person who has a developing personality, and a wonderful perspective on life. Be sure to have a read if you want an alternative view on issues of masculinity – and the development of the more complex person.

By the way, as we’re now launching our Patreon System, you should be aware that one way to get full access to all the services on offer on my site is to join the top level and become one of our Unicorns. For this you literally get it all!



Happy New Year – And Congratulations to Ashley, our new Crossdresser Of The Year!

Congratulations to Ashley Baron, our new Crossdresser Of The Year! Ashley secured an amazing 86% of the vote, with over 250 votes in our survey.

Ashley beat off (calm down Amber in Colorado) – beat off finalists Sarah Huckabee Sanders (last years winner) and Eddie Izzard (who we also love). See clips from each of these contenders below. You can read our recent interview with Ashley HERE.

If you’re feeling generous consider rewarding Ashley by using her Patreon account to show your appreciation HERE.

Last year’s winner, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, is known to some of you as  a member of the White House Staff, looking after media and communications. We’re not quite sure why she got so many votes last year – but votes are votes.

We love Eddie Izzard, who came in third. Here’s a clip anyway!

We hold the Crossdresser Of The Year voting between Christmas Day and Dec 31st each year. Submit your nomination from December 1st and the top three end up on the ballot. See you next time!

Step by step guide to bringing a friend into your crossdressing.

Many women love the idea of being with a crossdresser, but how do you approach the subject and introduce a friend to the idea of helping you crossdress? In this part of The Premium Program we look at strategies for engaging our friends or acquaintances in a safe and discrete manner.

I look at the idea of crossdressing services, and the use of a mistress, and the advantages of connecting with a friend, and techniques for doing so. Many crossdressers end up being surprised by how many women love to be with a person who is secure enough to move across gender lines and enjoy crossdressing. And some find it simply irresistable!

Go to the Premium Content piece HERE.

I’ve got some great new content in my Premium Program.

I’ve been adding some great new content to the Premium Program, which you can now receive in both email, and by logging in here. Be sure to subscribe today and support the site.

Remember, when you sign up for the Premium Program you’re also supporting members in the Free Program by helping to make the blog viable. Our free members are always grateful for the support given by our Premium Members!


Sylvester and Max are jacking off in my garden!

My goodness, if you could see what’s going on outside my window. I can hardly believe is! I’m standing here in my Christmas lingerie, and my heels, and quite shocked at what I can see going on out there!

Ali, my gardner has just told me, “It’s ok, Fiona. It’s just Sylvester and Max jacking off in the flower beds.”

Now, I know you can imagine me standing here in my flowing red silk robe, mouth open in surprise. I am staring out at the snowy Montreal scene, and everybody seems to be having a wonderful time! Oh, perhaps you should even be here!

Let me explain. I’m watching Sylvester’s muscle bound arm pumping up and down and Max, my next door neighbours 20 year old son laughing – I think he’s licking his fingers – yes, he’s spilled some Bailey’s Irish Cream on his hand, or at least I think that’s what it is. And Ali is watching, engrossed in the unfolding scene.

They’re laughing and very jolly, Sylvester’s face red with exertion, and he has a look of deep concentration. Apparently, Ali’s Smart Car slid off the drive in the snow as he pulled into the icy driveway. It slid into the flower bed, and onto a rock in the rockery. Max and Sylvester were already at my place enjoying a Christmas eve drink, and now the three of them are working away to lift the little vehicle off the rock and manhandle it back onto the drive. What Christmas excitement!

I should hurry along! Amanda, the queen of tweed will be here soon, and Bernard is coming over. My wife, sadly is travelling. She’s a slave to her job! In the meantime, we are a fun gang, all hoping that Christmas will go with a bang!

I know Sebastian wants to show me his mince pies and sausage. He has been making so many delightful treats lately.

I hope you have a lovely Christmas! Have a wonderful holiday and remember, be careful if you are driving in the snow. Otherwise you too might find yourself licking Irish cream from your fingers after jacking off in someone’s garden!

Merry Christmas,



Memories for Christmas – By Mollie Blake

In this gentle and poignant piece of Christmas writing Mollie Blake demonstrates how well she understands the world of the crossdresser and gender fluid members of this site. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Incidentally, she passes on the very best fo seasons greetings to all our members.  Feel free to write to her care of myself –  Fiona.

“So you’re in the car now?”

“Yes,” David replied, keeping his eyes straight on the road in front of him. “The traffic’s crap even though I waited until after the rush hour.”

“Every hour’s rush hour these days. Wait until Brexit. It’ll be quiet then with no lorries delivering stuff from Europe. How will you survive without that German shampoo?” Lucy started chuckling.

“Yeah, well, I wish they’d all fuck off the damn roads right now.”

“I don’t know why you’re so impatient to get to somewhere you don’t want to be!”

“I know. Stupid, hey? I’d rather spend Christmas with you. But…well, he’ll be on his own, and I’ll feel bad about it.”

“Stop whining. You’ll be back before you know it, and we’ve got New Year’s Eve to look forward to.”

Lucy was right. Spending three days with his dad wasn’t the end of the world.

Two hours later, David turned into Monarch Avenue. He was met by a plethora of multi-coloured Christmas lights adorning garages and edging lawns. Reindeers sparkled in dazzling white, and glowing overweight Santa Claus’ added blotches of strawberry red to break the night’s blackness. Then his eyes fell on the one house that stood out in its “nondescriptness.” Number 4. Once his home.

“Good journey?” his dad asked, just as he asked every time David stepped through the door. It was a rhetorical question—he was never interested in David’s answer. He just turned and headed back to his chair in the living room.

David dropped his bag at the bottom of the stairs and followed him. His eyes landed on a three foot Christmas tree threaded with multi-coloured lights and dotted with gold baubles. “You put a tree up then?”

“It’s Christmas, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” David didn’t bother to mention his dad hadn’t put a tree up for the past three years. He simply did what he always did when he came to visit—walked over to his dad and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s good to see you, Dad.”

They both knew he was lying.

David flopped into the chair beside the fire and gazed at the flames dancing beneath the blackened chimney. Memories of his mother crept into his head, and he closed his eyes and dreamed for a few minutes. Then he dragged himself into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. He opened the fridge door and took out the salmon sandwiches his dad had made earlier, just like every other Christmas Eve, and placed everything on the old veneered tray. Just as his mother used to do.

The men shared their supper in the living room. The TV flickered away in the background, the babble from a Christmas game show alleviating the stilted conversation between father and son.

“You got a card from Angela?” David asked, his eyes landing on the extra large card on the mantelpiece. His mind flashed to the lilac pashmina his elder sister had sent him from Australia—he would enjoy wrapping it around his shoulders in his childhood bedroom later.

“Yes. She can’t come again this year.”

His dad sounded disappointed. Following the major family row just a year after their mother died, Angela emigrated to Australia. That was ten years ago and she had been back to the UK three times. She had visited David three times. She had only visited their father once. David remembered her final words before leaving number 4 Monarch Avenue in Notting Hill, London.

“You’re a bigoted, heartless man. He’s lost his mother and needs your support to grieve for her, but you can’t see your own son. You won’t look past his make-up and clothes, and love him for the man he is. He’s still David. I hope he can forgive you. Because I can’t.”

And right there she had signed away all hope of happiness.

Well, maybe not all hope. But now every year David felt obliged to spend Christmas with his lonely father who didn’t love him for who he was.

David got up and went over to the fireplace to read his sister’s card. There was a small photograph of Angela with her husband and two daughters.

“Meg and Caitlin are growing up. She says they’re all well.”

“It’s a good picture of Mitch.”

David sighed. Angela’s husband was forty-two, a former rugby player, and built like a brick shit house. A perfect alpha male. A perfect opposite to David.

His dad continued. “Damn pity they can’t make it over again any time soon. He’s busy coaching some boys to play rugby, a proper man’s sport. They mentioned him on Sky Sport the other day. Coached a team to win some trophy in Melbourne.”

David’s paper on robotic research was mentioned on the BBC news recently, a programme his dad watched religiously, but there was no mention of his own son’s achievement.

“I might go and see them in the new year. Angela might be able to get time off work for a few days,” his dad said wistfully.

David knew his sister made an excuse every time their dad suggested he would visit her. It was a bloody nuisance really, as it meant her only brother couldn’t go over either. The idea of telling his dad that his daughter could make time to see his “sissy” son was too much for David to bear. And the idea of keeping it a secret from his father felt like a betrayal of his mother. She had loved her husband and her daughter and son. David never doubted that she would always love him, and Diana, no matter what.

While his dad prattled on about how great his son-in-law was, even though he’d only met him twice, including the wedding, David muttered a “yes” here and a “no” there while his mind drift back eleven years…

When the bedroom door creaked, David cringed, praying his dad wouldn’t hear from downstairs. The funeral director had come to discuss the arrangements for David’s mother’s cremation so his dad would be occupied for quite a while.

He waited a moment. There was silence as he crept into his parents’ bedroom and closed the door.

David’s hands stroked the silk and cotton of his mother’s clothes hanging in the wardrobe. He smoothed the sleeve belonging to a faux fur jacket over his cheek and breathed in her fragrance from her favourite scarf. He slid the scarf from its hanger and went to sit on his parents’ bed. Tears began to trickle like a prelude to a flood of sorrow as the loss of his mother cut deep inside him.

By eleven o’clock David was desperate to go up to his childhood bedroom. He had done his duty for tonight, sitting with a lonely man on Christmas Eve, and left his father watching the late night news.

Once alone, he pulled the tin out from the bottom of his wardrobe and took the tiny key from his wallet. At last, he could feast his eyes on the contents and relax. The silk scarf was neatly folded on top of a small bottle of perfume, a rolled-up pair of stockings and a string of pearls. He was tempted to spray the scent, but there was so little left. Instead, he opened his travel bag and withdrew his own bottle of his mother’s favourite fragrance—Mugler’s Angel. After fondling the star-shaped glass, he sprayed the perfume into the air and breathed in.

During the next few minutes, David fastened the pearls around his neck and sat beside his old single bed with just his memories of his mother. He strummed his hands and face with the cool silk of her favourite scarf, glad in the knowledge he had managed to hide these possessions before his father made the decision to let all his wife’s things go to a charity shop. David wasn’t exactly sure what his dad had kept, but he knew there was a pot in the kitchen which his dad never wanted anyone else to touch.

Eventually, David went down the hall to the bathroom before returning to get undressed. Then he brushed a pale rouge over his cheeks and coated his lashes with a luscious blackness. He smiled at the mirror on the chest of drawers. Taking his time to colour his lips in a shade of crimson, David remembered the first time he had seen red lips in his reflection…

He was in the kitchen with his mother, helping to bake a Victoria sponge cake. He told her she was a brilliant baker and she turned to kiss his cheek. At the exact same moment, he turned to look at her and her lips connected with his. They laughed. She said she was sorry. There was lipstick on his lips.

“You look pretty, David.”

“Ha, ha. I’ll go wipe it off.” David ran into the bathroom and gazed at the young man gazing back at him. He ran his tongue over and over his lips and stared at his reflection, his eyes fixed on the deep red colour. He didn’t want to wipe it off.

Back in the kitchen, his mother smiled when he told her he didn’t want to dirty the towel so he’d leave it on until bed later that evening.

His dad never smiled. “Get that damn stuff off.”

David wasn’t allowed to eat at the table until he had removed the lipstick. He managed to hold back his tears until he could shut the world out by locking the bathroom door.

Lying naked on his bed David was happy in the knowledge that his mother knew who and what her son was, and she loved all of him. David and Diana.

With the precious things safely back in the tin in his wardrobe, a serene calmness washed over him. His hands roamed over his chest, lingering at his nipples, imagining a fullness that could never be his. They trailed down to a firm abdomen and over slim hips. Images of feather boas and skimpy negligees excited him. Suddenly he remembered his gift from Angela. He grabbed the pashmina and cloaked himself in its violet softness. He pranced in front of the free-standing mirror and twirled theatrically, loving what he saw. His eyes fell to his penis, thick and hard with expectation. He wrapped his hand around it and began to thrust back and forth. The wrap fell to the floor before he reached behind with slick fingers ready to breach his body. Then he lay on the bed and wallowed in his masturbatory need.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered to himself, breathless as his spine tingled and erotic pleasure raced through him.

Find more of Mollie Blake’s great writing HERE.

Transgender and Gay

There’s a lot of letters in LGBTQAI+. But people waren’t limited to just one. In this episode, Kath and Faith discuss Faith’s own history growing up not only transgender but also gay.

Be sure to check out Matt Baume’s YouTube channel for a lot of great videos about the history of LGBTQ representation in popular media, especially classic American sitcoms. Here’s his video Ellen [DeGeneres] Gives America a Crash Course in Coming Out.

Support us on Patreon to help us keep making great content, and to get some cool rewards—like drinks with us at Stonewall Inn!

Check out our website for our latest episodes!  And watch the brand new Gender Rebels TV Youtube Channel!

Like us on  FaceBook so we can haunt your feed.

Faith’s book, American Transgirl, available now!

Music by one of our favorite bands, the super cool, all-female punk band Jasper the Colossal. Download their new album “Take Your Time” and all their tracks on iTunes.

What you wear, what you do and who you are.


When I think how often I entertain guests at my house, I am quite surprised. It seems hardly a week goes by without some sort of event or dinner here in Huckleberry Close.

Just the other day I had Ashley Baron in the hot tub. Calm down, Amber. Anyway, I’ve long felt Sylvester could help by building me an extension to my dining table, and finally he has. Now it’s so long I can get 12 people around it. One can end up losing control of the condiments and vegetables though.

“Are the carrots up your end?” I asked Bernard. I’ve had to ask Bernard, who often sits at the far end of the table if he can pass the carrots back my way on more than one occasion. Strange how those words stay in one’s head. But that’s not the main reason for this post. 

Continue reading “What you wear, what you do and who you are.”

Beautiful Ashley Baron

I do so love swimsuits that have that lovely high waistband. As I looked at mine hanging from the back of a chair in my garden, snow drifting down I slipped into the hot tub.  A light steam seemed to rise into he chill night air, as I sat in the warm water watching the snowflakes and sipping a negroni.

I was fortunate this week to enjoying interviewing Ashley Baron, a familiar face on Tumblr and more recently Twitter. As we sat in the freezing night air, surrounded by hot water and the beautifully manicured bushes Ali, my gardener, has been so busy with, we chatted about her journey and what crossdressing has meant to her.

Ashley started dressing following a breakup with a girlfriend. She’d left some of her things, and one night curiosity overcame Ashley, and suddenly there ‘she’ was. Whilst always a little curious about reaching for a pair of panties, and exploring the idea of gender fluidity, this was her first real foray into crossdressing. At the age of 23 she discovered a world which would be a natural fit.

“I was surprised how natural it was for me,” she tells me. “I think the most unusual thing for me when I started crossdressing was realizing just how feminine I actually looked in those clothes. It really kinda shocked me, and just made me want to see how far I could push it.”

Asley’s weapon means business.

Ashley has always admired strong female characters. For her these were the role model that would steer her values and her life. A principled and genuinely authentic person, Ashley found great joy in cosplay – and emulating the characters that inspired her. Unafraid to take on a challenge she dresses provocatively and challenges herself. The character of Babydoll in Sucker Punch is one of her favorite costumes and one she pulls off with consummate skill.

When there’s a light breeze in the Quebec night, the clouds skid across the sky, and the stars break through from time to time. It’s quite lovely.

Ashley carried on, “At this point I crossdress about 90% of the time in my life, and thankfully, I’ve always had a family who supports me. It’s the same with my job. I bartend at the same place I was bartending as when I didn’t wear a bra to work!”

Ashley laughs as she adds, “My bosses are awesome. I suppose the only thing that has changed is that I make better tips in a push up bra than I ever did as a ‘normal’ bartender.”

I asked her about the way she’s become quite an online personality. She’s so cute when she blushes. Perhaps one of the most endearing aspects of Ashley is her genuine modesty.

“I have never really considered myself an online personality,” she confessed. “But i’m slowly starting to realize I might be and I seem to actually have a fan base and people who love me, and that is the most amazing feeling ever. I love that people are inspired by me! That’s such a cool aspect of what I do, that I can bring joy to other people’s lives. And as far as Tumblr goes I’m sad to see it change. Tumblr was a platform that let me express myself, and now that is being taken from me and others, and that’s disappointing to say the least.”

Now, I have to say that I was a little surprised when I noticed my neighbor Marjory and her girlfriend Amanda (my wife’s appalling friend) next door peering over the fence. Amanda, as you know, is one of the only women I know who wears tweed underwear. I believe it’s specially designed by Carhartt for her. Marjory has recently returned from a competition on the busy competitive eating circuit. Ironically she appears to be leading in the sausage division, which is beyond ironic considering she is a committed lesbian. I hurried the interview along as I knew Marjory and Amanda would be invading the hot tub shortly.

I had thought Ali had discouraged Amanda from infiltrating the garden, but he felt it was unfair to shoot her with the paintball gun so often, so I have tried to adopt a more humanitarian approach, at least over the Christmas period. It’s a little like the Christmas Truce of 1914.

I asked Ashley if she had any suggestions or advice for other crossdressers. Her reply illustrates Ashley’s very generous nature and I am quoting her verbatim.

She said, “I never want to influence too heavily people who have to make their own decisions on these things, however, I will say this: Never feel embarrassed or nervous or ashamed about who you are. We are finally (almost nearly finally) pulling away from a society that has been telling people forever that even considering crossdressing, or transitioning, or even questioning your own sexuality is a “bad/wrong/evil” thing… it’s not. It’s not a bad thing to discover who you are and ask yourself who you want to be. Never be ashamed of trying to find out who you are.”

I could not help but feel that so accurately mirrors the mantra of what we do here, in our tag line – “Accept yourself as you are, create yourself as you desire.”

If you would like tosupport Ashley’s journey she has a Patreon account which you can use to send a little appreciation here:

This is a season to be generous, and I’d strongly suggest reaching out to her showing your support.

Finally, as Marjory and Amanda squeezed through the fence defences and came into the garden with their towels, Ashley added “There is nothing sexier than someone who is confident in themselves.”

I glanced at Amanda, wondering if there is such a thing as too much confidence. As editor of Pig and Pig Farmer I suppose it is important to have an opinion about everything, and she certain has that.

Ashley has a healthy diet avoiding fast foods, and focusing on vegetable and chicken. It’s a far cry from Marjory’s red meat based diet. As we relaxed the night become still more beautiful, and I was left thinking how Ashley really is the perfect guest. Be sure to show your appreciation HERE.

Sylvester has an enormous package.

First of all, in response to the many emails that have flooded in response to last weeks multiple choice competition. The correct answer was, of course, B – ‘He didn’t use enough lubrication.’ Congratulations to Mildred of Colorado Springs for getting the right answer before anyone else on that one.

It’s been an exciting week, not least because Sylvester burst into my kitchen this morning, a giant package in his hand.

“Goodness,” I gasped. “Sylvester, what an enormous package you have!”

“It’s just arrived from Amazon,” he declared proudly. “It’s your Christmas present.”

I hardly knew where to put myself. Instead of opening it, I decided to place it beneath the Christmas tree in my living room along with several others for my friends, as we’ll all be gathering on Christmas morning to open gifts together. I do so love this time of year.

It’s a special time as we celebrate two things. The first is, of course, a season of good will to all. And the second is The Fiona Dobson Crossdressing Man Of The Year. Last year, you may remember Sarah Huckabee Sanders won, baffling medical science. So, if you have any suggestions please email them in, and the most popular ones will be put on the website for members to vote on.

If you’re enjoying the website and emails be sure to register, or commit to The Premium Program. Your $35 subscription not only gets you the great Premium Program, but also helps support our members who are unable to join the Premium Program, by allowing me to offer our free program at no cost. It feels good to support our community.

Till next time,



Don’t forget – you can always find The Fiona Dobson Playlist HERE. Put it on and enjoy a fun day!