Tragedy strikes in Huckleberry Close, but don’t worry – my nails look perfect!Become a Patron!
The awful truth about the nefarious vegetable emerges.Become a Patron!
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Max shoved a carrot up Max’s exhaust pipe!
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 – a beautiful piece of taxidermy – the centrepiece of the Canada Day party I always throw on the Canada Day Weekend, 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 democracy, which we value enough to protect.
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 weekend, July 3rd, 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.
Have a wonderful Canada day weekend.
Well, I feel quite awkward about sending you this message. As you may know, Max – my neighbors son – has been job shadowing at my work for a little while. The advertising agency is very good for this, but what happened today was quite beyond my experience. I feel I have to share.
Max had his young friend Micheal drop by the office. Rather than hanging around like a great goon, while Max finished off what he was doing, Micheal worked on something on his computer in my office. As it turned out, Max was tied up and had to work a little longer than anticipated, so his friend sat at the table in my office working away at an assignment for college. He was doing some sort of graphics training.
I was wearing a very thin pale blue blouse, my navy blue bra visible through it. My skirt was also rather shorter than strictly necessary, though no one had ever complained. Either way, what transpired was probably predictable.
I remember clearly freshening up my eye makeup, and glancing in the mirror of the compact as I applied a little more golden glow, noticing the way Micheal was staring at my behind. The only word that comes to mind is ‘drooling.’ One does get used to this.
Throughout the afternoon, now and then I would look up from my work and several times I caught Michael looking at me in a way that can only be described as salacious and lustful. Now, Max has way too many hormones dancing around inside his pants, but manages to control himself, even if I do tease him from time to time. I enjoy giving him the wrong end of the stick now and then and metaphorically giving him a good poke with it. After all, we all love a good poke. However, his friend Michael seemed positively entranced by my figure and unable to take his eyes off me.
I could see his furtive glances were drinking in my shape each time he secretly glanced at me. I could see him getting increasingly uneasy, and shifting awkwardly in his seat. I shot him a smile, as I worked and he blushed. This was all rather cute, until he got up unsteadily and walked over to my desk.
“Fiona,” he said nervously. I could see he was terribly anxious.
“Micheal, darling, what can I do for you,” I said as gently as I could.
“I…I…” He couldn’t get the words out.
“It’s ok, Micheal. You can say anything you want to me.”
He leaned into me and with the greatest of efforts spoke slowly and said, “I want to use your mouth.”
I was more than a little taken aback. I have been approached in many situations, and actually enjoy be propositioned, but this seemed a little odd.
I collected my thoughts and then said, being careful not to offend, “Just hold that thought for a moment.”
I slowly got to my feet and walked quickly out of my office to the coffee room, where I found Max loitering.
“Max,” I said firmly. “Come here! Now!”
He looked at me quizzically and said “Yes?”
“Micheal,” I said slowly, “Is he… Urm… He seems a little,” I didn’t have the chance to finish my sentence.
“Oh, I know,” Max said. “He’s a little odd. Tightly wound. Especially his lisp, and everything. Takes a lot to understand him sometimes.”
“Yes.” I said. “Exactly,” and slowly walked back to my office. As though the fog was clearing, suddenly all became clear, and I realized he must have been asking for a mouse for his computer.
‘Yes,’ I thought. ‘That must be it.’ I knew he’d been working on some graphics and a good mouse would make that a lot easier.
I walked in with renewed certainty and a sense of clarification, a crisis easily averted. Sitting at the table, Michael still looked nervous and awkward. ‘Silly boy,’ I thought, giggling to myself.
“Don’t worry, Michael,” I said. “I’m sure I can help you with that,” and I gave him a smile.
He blushed, and stood up, closed the door of my office and then to my surprise excitedly said, “I altho want your puthy…”
Now, I must get on with this email because there’s so much mounting on my desk, and I am getting a little behind (…phrasing…).
I meant to chat with you as most of my members are in USA and Europe. As we move into the glories of summer a wonderful opportunity comes, as we can apply a little blush, and blame the sun should anyone notice. If you are going out and dressing in public already this may seem a little redundant, of course.
I like as many as possible of my members to integrate a little of their femme self into every day. Using subtle amounts of make up does this wonderfully.
In summer most women actually use a little less make up, though using a bronzer is an exception. There’s no reason in the world why you shouldn’t do the same. Just as secretly wearing panties to work is liberating, using a little additional color on your cheeks has the same effect.
Now, as for Max, I can think of a good way to put some color in his cheeks. Where’s my office ruler?
The Gender Spectrum And Your Box.
At last, the weekend. It was very busy this week at the advertising agency, and Max, my next door neighbors 19 year old son, joined me to ‘job shadow’. He’s been following me around (no change there!) to see what I get up to and see if perhaps after he finishes college he should consider a career in the world of advertising.
Unfortunately, he chose to job shadow the week we are moving offices. All the same he made himself very useful, his muscly arms being put to good use helping pack up my office. I have some lovely plants in the office, and made sure they were all packed nicely in a big chest, so they would survive the move.
“Would you like me to drill your box?” Asked Max, as I was stretching over the desk, reaching to unplug a phone.
“I’m sorry?” I said, a little perplexed. Max has always had what might be described as a healthy curiosity about my body, but this seemed uncharacteristically forward.
“Drill your box? Holes,” he said.
I looked very puzzled at him.
“You know, so the plants get more air.”
I realised he was talking about the big box I was using to move the plants. Better air flow would indeed help them.
“Max, you are such a good boy. You go right ahead and drill what ever you need to,” I told him.
That, however is not the main reason I decided to send this message. I decided to send a quick note to tell you about a great BBC radio broadcast I think you may enjoy. It’s an investigation into the idea of gender. I think you may find it every bit as fascinating as I did. It touches on the idea of gender not only being more complex but actually completely fluid.
You can listen to it here: Do We Have Enough Genders? http://bbc.in/23v0LRz
Let me know what you think of it.
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What a wonderful day to remember our lovers and our past lovers. On a lovely day like this such thoughts are top of mind.
I have always taken a keen interest in medical and biological research. For example, when in 2010 UCLA researchers announced that they had proof that Neanderthals mated with homo sapiens it came as no surprise to me. But then it wouldn’t. As anyone who has met Sylvester, my mechanic, would realise, the evidence has always been there right before our eyes.
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing today. It’s Valentine’s Day, and the time we celebrate our relationships. Max, my neighbors son, attempted to deliver a Valentine card secretly, but was picked up on my security cameras. He has no idea I know it was from him. Poor boy is only a breath over twenty years old. I’ll probably have some fun with that.
Sadly my wife is travelling at present. However, although I may have to battle the sadness of solitude and isolation, I wouldn’t want my members to suffer. With this in mind you might be interested in checking out My Little Black Book. It’s a pretty cool system, in which you contact three people a day until you build up a network of crossdressing friends and admirers. Anyway, you can read all about it here. It’s one of the benefits in my Unicorn Tier on Patreon, though you can by it as a stand alone product for as little as $2.95 if you wish.
So, sign up for My Little Black Book today and you can be sure you’ll not die alone, as Sylvester put it. Quite a few members have formed long and meaningful relationships in My Little Black Book. If you’d like to connect with other crossdressers it’s a great way to do so.
Have a lovely Valentine’s Day.
FionaBecome a Patron!
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Now, I know what you’re thinking. It’s true though, eight inches is my torso measurement. You know, most of us are completely unaware of what our true measurements are. However, because I simply have to get a new corset I need to measure myself correctly.
You know, it can be wonderful fun to have a friend measure you. I always suggest having someone you enjoy being with come and help. With this in mind I called Sylvester to get him to come over to help me. Unfortunately he was busy. Honestly, he’s a slave to his business. He’s never happier than when he’s got his hands on someone’s exhaust pipe.
Sebastian is out climbing this weekend. He’s going up the Devil’s Danglers he tells me. They are a challenging climb, I understand, but it’s remarkable what Sebastian can get up when he puts his mind to it.
I would have asked Amanda or Marjory to help with the measurements, but this is Marjory’s busy season in the competitive eating circuit. She’s apparently excelling in the sausage category this year, which is surprisingly ironic considering the blossoming of her relationship with Amanda.
Now, as you know, my next door neighbors son Max has at times been a little jealous of Sebastian, my personal trainer, when he comes over and helps me with yoga. Max has been noticed spying on us from his upstairs window while I’m getting my downward dog on in the garden. Well, in the interests of humanity I felt I simply had to ask Max to come over and help me measure myself properly for a new corset. I felt this might help ease his tension a little.
I stood in the kitchen as Max placed the measuring tape first under my breasts, to get an accurate underbust measurement, and then standing behind me he wrapped the tape around at my waist. Now, this is very important. Getting these measurements is essential to get just the right fit in a corset. You may want to take notes.
“Max,” I said as his breath quickened. “I feel size is very important. Be sure to get it just right.”
Next he placed his strong young hands on my hips as I stretched, and measured very carefully. FInally he took my torso measurement. This is most important. This is from the underbust point to the hip crease of when you are sitting in Max’s lap. Poor boy was struggling quite hard at this point. I think all this measuring was wearing poor Max out. He seemed very red faced and was breathing heavily.
“And now the final part, Max,” I said. “We have to decide if my belly is ‘soft and squishy’ or ‘lean’. What do you think?”
I placed his hand on my belly.
“It’s sort of firm,” he said.
“Yes, and I expect you are too!”
And the final thing you need to have a note of when ordering a corset is your height. It’s most important to let your corsetier know. I had found a delightful denim corset from https://glamorouscorset.com/ which was perfect to wear either with a pair of nice jeans, or a nice skirt. It’s so good to find truly versatile clothes. You can see the one I chose here: https://glamorouscorset.com/product-category/material/denim/ I chose this one specifically because I knew I could rely on the product quality coming from Glamorouscorset.com and also the stylish look that I’d be able to make good use of year round.
These are important details, because a corset can do so much for your look. While there’s a range of price points with corset manufacturers, like most things, it’s wise not to go down market. A good corset can serve for years when well looked after and really grows to your needs. Don’t just go for the cheapest supplier you can find – look for quality and sound reputation. I knew I was on solid ground with glamorouscorset.com .
Sure enough a few days later I received a package from my friends there. The first thing I noticed was the beautiful presentation of the corset. It comes in a presentation bag that suggests this is a product of quality. My friends included a detailed handbook about care for the corset and how to season it. These things are very important as the investment in effort pays off as you continue to use their product. I was particularly impressed by the attention to detail that had been made. On inspection the corset was perfect. I’ve bought corsets before and I’ve had them hand made. This corset was without doubt one of the nicest and best fitting I’ve ever had. I look forward to years of service with it.
Now, Max is looking forward to years of service too, I think. I suppose I should ask him to help me put it on sometime. Teasing the puppies can be such fun!
If you’re interested in getting into a great corset I have a special surprise for you. If you use this code – FIONA15 – you will get a special discount from GlamorousCorset.com Be sure to have a good look around their website. It’s very comprehensive and you’ll quickly realise that your dealing with a company that is proud of doing the job right. Send them proper measurements as I’ve described above, and be sure to mention I sent you!
Have a wonderful week.
The sun is blazing down on my garden, and I can hear Ali moving about in the distance, his hand tools musically clinking as he cleans up the flower beds. He has recently declared a Jihad on the weeds in the north border.
As he arrived this afternoon in his Smartcar, equipped with the rifle rack that Sylvester gave him, re-purposed to carry his rakes and spades, I was dancing – in my kitchen to the sounds of my childhood –https://youtu.be/v16CwfkppeI – getting carried away in my own little world. I had put together a big pitcher of sangria, a nice zinfandel with pineapple chunks and oranges, for myself, Ali while he worked, Max who was climbing a tree and trying to get to my pussy (don’t ask), and Bernard who will be over later this afternoon with some proofs from our latest photoshoot.
My garden is one of my favorite places in the summer. It’s a hive of activity. I still don’t know exactly what Max is doing climbing that tree, though. Shirtless and tanned he is, well, an entertaining diversion. He’s trying so hard, but I don’t think he’s ever going to get my pussy. All the same it’s fun to watch.
The summer here in Vancouver is in full swing, and I am thrilled to say that we’re welcoming new members to my Premium Program all the time. I have been thrilled to see so many new members recently, it quite takes my breath away. I’ve also been getting a lot of mail – my inbox has been quite literally pounded with interesting mail. I do enjoy a good pounding!
So, I thought I’d include a couple of things in today’s message. One is something I am constantly asked about. Breasts. Yes, always something we like to give our attention. But, if you don’t want to go on a hormone therapy treatment, what can you do to stimulate a little breast growth? I am so glad you asked!
There’s a few soy drinks out there, including ‘So Good’, that are quite rich in phytoestrogens that mimic the female hormone estrogen. If you drink a moderate amount daily you will experience a small increase in breast size. Women have known of this trick for years, and can lift their breast size by one or two cup sizes quite easily. So can you. If you’re not in North America (and I have members from all over the globe now) then finding another milk like soy drink will likely have the same effect.
Gosh, you learn some useful things from me! You can also use one of my breast enlargement self-hypnosis files here: https://youtu.be/15v1usMJAXg Self hypnosis for breast enlargement has been around since the sixties, and is well documented to be successful. I have many gurls who have experienced great results with this.
Have fun, and enjoy your weekend.
So many of my members go through their lives suppressing this part of themselves. And yet in many ways it’s the most creative part of them.
Is it any wonder that they are frustrated and tired. So, to brighten your day, I have put together the Fiona Dobson playlist. Young Max helped me, fine young man, leaning over me from behind as worked on my laptop. We selected some songs, and I think he found some of them quite moving.
Breathlessly he said, “these are some great hits, we should get them out and give them an airing.”
“Music really is the best way to lift someone’s mood,” I said enjoying the selection.
“Oh yes,” he replied. “This will get them swinging.”
Young Max is such a puppy. Of course, he doesn’t remember when it was all vinyl. You might find this hard to believe, but I’ve had my hands on a huge number of 7 inchers over the years!
Enjoy the playlist below whenever you need to lift your mood. I add to it regularly.
FionaJoin as a Good Gurl today!
I have been treating myself to a few enjoyable gifts to myself lately. Victoria’s Secret, and one or two other places have been benefiting from my self indulgence.
On Wednesday, this week I asked Max, my neighbours twenty-year old son, to come with me to a lingerie store. This was admittedly partly to tease him, and partly to teach him a little lesson. He’s been hanging around a lot lately, and seems to spend way too much time at my place. When I am doing yoga he seems to get extremely agitated. When I am working up a sweat he seems unable to stop watching at me.
“Max,” I said to him, “sometimes I don’t know what’s got into you. You spend so much time over here! You might as well help me with some shopping.”
I drove down to the lingerie store with him, and explained, “Things have been so hard lately,” as I smoothed down the skirt I was wearing.
“Don’t you ever feel like,” I searched for words, “…splashing out on some new underwear?”
Max seemed quite overcome by the thought. He carried my bags back to my car once I had bought some new items of hosiery.
Once at home, I took out several boxes of my underwear and asked him to help me sort them into colors and fold them nicely. He seemed very happily engaged in this task when there came a knock on the door downstairs. I asked him to go down and see who it could be.
Max took himself off and some minutes later, when he didn’t return I glanced out of the window to see him clutching at his stomach and heaving into a flowerbed in my garden. This wasn’t going to help the petunias. After all his efforts to keep them looking full and flowery, Ali, my gardener was not going to like that at all.
I opened the window of my bedroom and called down, “Max, are you all right?”
In reply he pointed toward the kitchen and called back “Amanda,” And then staggered off toward the gate to his parent’s house.
I groaned inwardly. Amanda, my wife’s obnoxious friend, had obviously slipped through the perimeter defences. I decided to go downstairs and see what the unbearable woman wanted. I slipped into pair of gender neutral yoga pants and descended the stairs.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy,” Amanda blurted out as I entered the kitchen. Apparently she had got away from work editing Pig and Pig Farmer Weekly a little early today.
“What did you do to the poor lamb, Amanda?”
“I just asked him to help me with something. You see, I’m taking some pain medication for my back. Anyway I’m supposed to,” and at this point she lowered her voice, “use these.” She pulled a package from her sac like handbag.
“And what are these,” I asked not wishing to get too close.
“Suppositories,” she relied, and my stomach turned over.
“And you wanted Max to help you with them?”
“Yes, of course,” she replied in a matter of fact voice. “They’re supposed to bring my temperature down. It’s a side effect of the medication, you see.”
“You don’t think that’s a little odd?” I said, my mind reeling as I stared at the pack on my kitchen counter.
“Is that even a thing?” I made a note to Google suppositories and temperature.
“You don’t understand,” she stammered as though suddenly realising she’d made a horrendous mistake.
“Amanda, I really don’t think you can ask young Max to…”
“It’s the packaging. I can’t get it out of the blister pack,” she protested.
“There are some things, Amanda, you just can’t ask people to do!”
“I can’t open the packaging, it’s my fingers. Not with my arthritis!” she protested.
“All the same,” I said doubtfully. “I think you may have scarred Max permanently. He looks pretty traumatised.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she gasped. “You don’t think he thought I wanted him to…” Amanda looked horrified.
“Yes, I do, Amanda. I think you may have left a very damaging and lasting impression on his fragile young mind.”
However, all this is not the main reason I am writing to you this evening. We’ve got some great new content on the website here: http://FionaDobson.com and I’d love to see your comments and questions about it. Go right ahead and make comments on the site, and I’m thrilled to answer them.
Have a great week and remember not to let your temperature get too high.
There was a steady stream of water falling between Ali, my Syrian gardener’s legs.
“Ali,” I said. “Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?”
“Ah, madam. I’m watching Max’s premature ejaculation. He did it for his mother…”
I paused. I’ve learned that’s a good idea with Ali. I’m never quite sure if he’s serious, or just confused.
“His water hose… He’s got it hooked up to Google – that online house thing. It waters the flowers. Well, drowns them actually. It’s coming on prematurely and the water pressure’s too high.”
“I see,” I said. I decided I had better talk to that English teacher of his.
“I prefer to use a more natural method such as this watering can, madam,” he said as he continued to water the flowers.
It’s been a strange week. Sylvester had a couple of his Navy friends staying. Billy Bates, a Quartermaster on a missile cruiser, and his friend Simon Steyns. Simon was recently demoted back to Ordinary Seaman following a nasty shoreside incident involving another member of the crew and a very worried looking hamster.
To round everything off Amanda brought her sister over and her revolting daughter. Chelsea, Amanda’s elder sister doesn’t approve of Amanda’s relationship with Marjory. She say’s it’s against God. I have to say I told her that Amanda is against God. I mean really! What immortal hand or eye would frame that fearful symmetry… urgh.
Chelsea Chizit and her daughter Emma are cut from the same cloth. They’re the sort of uncultured slobs that know the price of everything and the value of nothing.
And to top it off Max is besotted with Emma. To be fair, she is not entirely unpleasant to look at as she glides around the garden half naked in the sunshine, like some sort of fae. Yet Max just stares slack jawed and drools. It’s most disturbing. He wanders around moony eyed murmuring “Emma Chizit… Emma Chizzit.”
“Ali,” I said as firmly as I could, “Do you happen to know if Amanda is next door visiting Marjory?”
“Oh yes,” he said. Not much gets passed Ali. He knows the comings and goings of most of Huckleberry Close. “She wrist deep in …”
“Ali!” I said firmly.
“… in tomatoes. They’re canning the tomatoes she grew in her greenhouse. Making sauce…”
As everyone starts to get back to something approaching normal I am delighted to say I am enjoying occasional days like this where friends visit and life seems almost as it did before this infernal pandemic.
I am pleased to say I am double vaccinated, as are most of my friends. I hope you are to, and I’d encourage you to get it done as soon as possible, for your own good and the good of all those around you.
I hope you’ve been enjoying The Dating Game by Mollie Blake. It’s been featured this last few weeks on the website, Remember there always new content on the site, and I do get on now and then to chat with my members on the web chat functionality. If I happen to be on when you are there, be sure to say hello.
Have a lovely week,
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.
“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.