My step sister would intentionally pose provocatively, knowing I was watching.
I was twelve years old when my step sister caught me. I was in her room, returning her panties. She was older than me, a beautiful 19 and fully a woman. I stood in her room, guiltily holding her red silky panties.
Inside I could feel the tears welling up. I was confused, and had been taking her panties now and then, unsure why, but enjoying pulling them on and posing in front of the big mirror in my mother’s room, when the house was empty.
“I should tell your mommy, you know. It would break her heart, of course,” she said condescendingly. “You wouldn’t care about that though. Why would you care for other people’s feelings, if you think it’s ok to creep around taking their clothes.”
I would like to say it was a morning like any other. I would like to say I didn’t receive a string of texts from friends and family asking if what they were reading on line were true. I would like to say I wasn’t being outed by my stalker.
But we don’t always get what we want, do we?
Instead that morning, as I drove to work I made an awkward phone call to my son and asked, “So what are you seeing online?”
“Some weird guy says you’re a crossdresser. He say’s a load of stuff.”
I avoided sliding the car into the oncoming traffic and said, my voice a little strained, “And what did you say back?”
There are stories which we choose not to share, for one reason or another. Perhaps it is related to shame or embarrassment. Or maybe we just hold them so dear, that in sharing them they would become devalued.
One of my visitors recently brought a rather unusual collection of note books with him when he came into my studio. He was an elderly man. I will not give many details as I do not wish to identify him in any way.
Wrapped in brown paper of the sort people used for parcels many years ago, these note books were dusty handwritten relics. I can well imagine them being tossed out with the trash when someone moved house, or recycled along with old copies of magazines when clearing out a loft or basement.
My visitor explained that they were among his mother’s personal papers in her house which he had inherited years earlier. For the purposes of this document we will name her ‘Valerie’. The papers had never really been sorted through as there was nothing of much importance there. Valerie had been well organised and secured all the financial documents with the family lawyer.
You will understand then that the contents of these papers were at first a mystery, then quite surprising — and ultimately quite shocking. The following is an edited version, mostly to protect the innocent, or not so innocent, and partly to keep the identity of my visitor confidential.
I would estimate the contents to have been written variously between about 1955 and 1973. I can only assume Valerie’s notebooks were written for her own satisfaction, or perhaps to one day share with someone completely unconnected with the events portrayed.
All that said, as you will doubtless see, the contents help explain her son’s unusual tastes in his personal entertainment. I should say that once he discerned the nature of the content he immediately stopped reading, having barely read the first few pages. At first he was unsure what to do with the material, even thinking of burning the precious documents. He said they made him profoundly uncomfortable.
My own interest was not so easily deflected. After studying the notebooks I decided on a rather different course. His particular interest was to be dressed and made to perform a number of humiliating tasks. Dressed as a young girl and forced to perform the duties (and personal services) suited to a young girl, he found a secret pleasure that surmounted anything else he had ever experienced. My assistant Stacy and I were always pleased to see him.
Over the coming weeks I would often have him perform certain tasks, culminating with him being made to stand in the corner, on pain of a firmly applied spanking, and then listen to stories read variously by myself or Stacy. The stories of course, were the contents of his mother’s note books.
Valerie had such a lovely expressive style. Really, it was a delight to read to my visitor. Watching him squirm, unable to ‘unhear’ his mothers lascivious words was a delightful form of mental torture, of the kind I find simply delightful.
So, having witnessed the profound affect these writings had on my visitor, I am now pleased to be able to share them with you. I should warn you this writing are what today we would describe as Not Safe For Work.
I hope you will forgive some of the editing. It’s been done to protect others, and wherever possible I’ve maintained the spirit of this extraordinary lady’s words.
Yes, I know. It seems incredible. However, it is true. The iconic serial about poor Andy, a man who stumbles from disaster to crossdressing disaster, all the time under the tender gaze of Davina, is now available free.
I was just getting ready to go out this afternoon, when a very distraught Max came and pleaded with me. I had my favorite heels on, and Hannibal was staring at me looking forward to his walk.
“You can’t make it all free,” protested Max, who has been handling our site rebuild.
“But my members love Andrea, and Davina,” I said. “We can’t just take it offline.”
“I don’t think I can separate it out,” he said pouring over some code. “At least not in a way that’s going to be easy to work with.”
“Then we’ll give it to our members free,” I said, and applied a little more lipstick. I have a spectacular crimson shade on today.
Enjoy the very best in crossdressing stories. There’s a new episode of Clothes Maketh The Man out later this week. Maybe Andrea is going to get a lucky break. Or not. Be sure to enjoy it when I post it later this week, free.
The other morning I walked into my kitchen and immediately knew something was wrong. I should explain that my morning yoga is a sacred time for me, and I let nothing interrupt it. I’m only ready to start the day once I feel grounded and settled.
I usually follow my morning yoga with some tea, and a piece of toast, so I was surprised to find a deputation of some of my team waiting for me as I entered the kitchen.
“An odd choice of last words, Max,” said Mistress Meg.
Max, Katia and Mistress Meg fell silent as I entered. I glanced at them, and walked over to the kettle and put it on. To say the atmosphere was tense was an understatement.
“Well,” I said. “What are you all looking so worried about? Has someone died?”
Max, who was backed up against the wall looking a little scared, was the first to speak.
“Meg wants to hang me up by my…” he faltered.
Then Mistress Meg cut in, “I want to hang him by his wrists and have Stacy give him a damned good strapping.”
Katia just looked angry.
“What on earth’s going on,” I asked. “Max, tell me what’s the matter.”
Now, perhaps you remember that Max is my neighbour’s twenty year old son, and looks after much of the technology side of the work I do. There’s a surprising amount of work running the blog. He also manages my Patreon and a few other things, including entering Auntie Kittie’s content. He’s our tame techie.
“It’s Patreon,” he said and everyone fell silent.
“Oh yes. They recently named me as one of their top adult writing creators, didn’t they?”
“Yes, they’ve done very well from your Patrons. You’d think they…”
“Tell her what they’ve done, Max. Stop blabbering,” said Meg.
Max, who by now was close to tears, turned to Mistress Meg and said, “You’re not the boss of me! I’m just doing my best. You can’t tell me what to do!”
Mistress Meg picked up a breadknife, rubbed her thumb against the blade and then said menacingly, “Odd choice of last words, Max.”
“I think perhaps we should all calm down,” I said gently. “Now, Max let’s sit in my study and see what’s the matter.”
I took Max through to my study, usually my sanctuary away from others, and sat him down on the couch. His eyes were brimming over, and a tear ran down his cheek.
“It’s ok, Max. Just tell me what the trouble is.”
“We’ve been kicked off Patreon. They say our content is too adult.”
“What? Make up tips and hypnosis?” I said looking a little shocked. “Or was it that joke you said I should take out?”
“You mean the one about stuttering?”
“Yes, where I said that jokes about speech impediments were a big big ‘no no’?”
“No,” he replied. “I pulled that out before we posted that piece. It’s more Mistress Meg and Katia’s content. They say it’s too adult and they don’t want it on their servers. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“Really? What else is there?”
“We have hundreds of members there. And they’re not going to be happy. And Mistress Meg and Katia depend on the revenue from there,” he said clearly upset. “I’ve let them down. And I think Mistress Meg might want to do something horrible to me.”
“Mistress Meg does horrible tings to people all the time. It’s sort of her thing,” I said softly. “I won’t let her do anything to you, don’t you worry. She just want’s to look after the Seahorses.”
“I didn’t mean to get us kicked. Really. I thought we were ok, but they’ve just clamped down.”
“Don’t worry, Max,” I said soothingly. “We’ll take care of Patreon. If we have to be off it then I’m sure our members will understand. We got along just fine without Patreon before, remember? We’ll just have to accommodate the members on the website.”
I thought about it for a moment and then said to Max, “Mistress Meg is just concerned because her writing is more edgy. She probably thinks it really her fault. None of this is anyone’s fault. Patreon are just trying to be careful.”
Max looked a little awkward for a moment and then added, “Well, there’s more to it than that. I was thinking of saying we should get off it anyway. Some people feel it’s a bit of a scam. You should see the review of it.”
“Well, if that’s the case then we should get off it anyway. They’ve done us a favor. I want the best for my members,” I said.
Max stared into he distance and then said, “I can build a membership system on the site. We can ask Patrons to switch over. That way you can chat to them when they visit the site, using that chat window you use some evenings.”
“I love chatting with them,” I said. “Now, I’d better go and calm down Meg and Katia. Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s not your fault.”
And with that I left and went out to the kitchen. It didn’t take long to calm down Meg and Katia.
“We’re just going to build a membership system on the blog instead,” I told them. “Besides that way we can service them much better. Patreon has never been that great. I know people can’t find half the content you write, because their navigation is so outdated.”
Katia cut in, “You’re right. Someone wrote to me the other day saying they couldn’t navigate properly in their app. Half the time it doesn’t work properly.”
“Now, let’s not be unkind to Max. He’s going to have our website updated in a few days with a bunch more content for our members and we’ll let everyone know exactly how to switch over to our website,” I said. “Besides, it gives us an opportunity to do more on the website itself, rather than someone else’s platform. We can do even more cool things for our members.”
And that’s why I’m writing to you today. This has given us the great opportunity to improve the way we serve up content. It’s also a heads up that Clothes Maketh The Man is soon going to be served entirely free. You probably know that the first 24 episodes are currently free, but that subsequent episodes have only been available on Patreon. Well, I’ll be making them freely available on FionaDobson.com in the next couple of days.
Now, if you’re a Patron you’ll need to subscribe to one of the services here to continue your membership – and I want you to know how very much I appreciate each of you that does so. And if you’d just like to support the work my little team and I do then you can simply join for $1 a month in my Good Gurls membership here. You know how very much I appreciate each and every one of my members, and over the years we’ve overcome hurdles like this plenty of times.
If you’d like to tell Patreon what you think of their decision to throw us off their platform, don’t let me stop you. You can email them here: platform-support+id1217903@patreon.zendesk.com – It won’t change their decision but it might remind them that they’re a bunch of homophobic self righteous dicks.
Don’t worry. This isn’t going to stop us delivering the very best crossdressing content, just as I always have. Now, I have to hide the cooking sherry. I can see Auntie Kittie coming up the drive, and if I don’t she’ll be here all night.
Auntie always wants her sissies to look their best. This week she’s suggesting a great new pair of panties for her Good Gurls.
When Auntie is not working diligently in her role as the Governor of a busy boarding school she is always happy to take care of her nieces and nephews. If you’re not already following her be sure to check out her page.
Many of us look to the medical profession for guidance. Sometimes we should think twice about that. Our own communities are stronger and more educated than theirs. Until they get their heads around non-binary gender issues we should tread with caution.
