Use the comments section below to let me know!
Register: http://FionaDobson.com/register
Login: http://FionaDobson.com/login
Some interesting Christmas ideas.
I don’t know how I’m going to squeeze it all in! All the shopping, parties, family events, and looking after so many members! Well, perhaps I should take my own advice and lubricate things with a little help from Amazon.
Here’s a few great Christmas ideas. I must say my idea of a wonderful Christmas would be for Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, to emigrate to Molvania – though I doubt it’s likely to happen any time soon. And let’s face it, Pig And Pig Farmer would be unlikely to find another editor of her enormous caliber.
Enjoy my Christmas list and add some ideas of your own in the comments section. FD
| Who | What |
|---|---|
| Sylvester, My mechanic just loves messing around in his workshop. If it’s not covered in oil and slippery to the touch, it’s just not his thing! Here’s a few ideas. | |
| Sebastian. My personal trainer is a health nut. He’s all about vegetables, getting sweaty on the mat and working up a sweat. I hate to disappoint him. He’s going to love these yoga accessories. | |
| Ali. Ali is often a dirty boy in my garden. He’s a wonderful gardener, but being a Syrian refugee is still getting things together here. I’m always happy to lend a hand. | |
| Bernard. He’s a wonderful photographer and a great artist. He loves to travel with me on shoots and assignments for the advertising agency. Plenty of good ideas here. I had thought of giving him a carrot, in view of recent events but it seemed a little unkind. | |
| Julie: She’s hard at it with our Admirer members. Always very diligent and communicative, I thought a nice little piece of technology would help her out. | |
| Katia. Buying for Katia is easy. She love anything lacy and sexy – though leans toward leather and studded. | |
| Amanda: My wife’s appalling friend would do well to have a walking tour of Molvania. Taking in the oldest operating nuclear facility in eastern Europe, and meeting interesting people who have never visited a dentist sounds right up her street. | |
| Everyone else! I never like to be caught off guard and find I’ve forgotten about a friends gift. With this in mind I always have a few Amazon Gift Cards about the place. Being able to pull one out and hand it to a surprise guest leaves me looking particularly generous and them feeling totally embarrassed at forgetting to bring a gift! |
I’ve been having a little trouble with my colon!
I’ve been having some dreadful trouble with my colon lately. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but ever since Max changed some of the settings on my computer keyboard I just keep getting a problem with it! I think he reset the layout to the French keyboard!
In the cold wintery weather we’re having I’m going to remind all my girls the importance of moisturizing your skin. Using a nice aloe cream helps, and you can find them at any pharmacy or health food store. It keeps you looking fresh and really helps your skin. You can also find some here.
I am busily chatting with a few of the suppliers who sometimes give some great discounts to my members. It’s always nice to nail down an agreement with a company that provides great clothes and makeup for my members. Be sure to check out my shopping list here.
I can see Ali working on my bush, in the garden – he’s saying something about that not being the only thing that going to get nailed. Ali’s English is very selectively intermittent.
Now, if you’re not already a member I suggest you do join up soon, whether you choose to as a Good Gurl, for just $1 a month, or one of the more extensive programs.
Oh, I have to go now… I can see Auntie Kittie heading up the drive, I’d better hide the sherry!
Have a lovely week and be sure to let me know how you’re getting on.
Ciao.
Fiona
The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me…
Here are a few Christmas ideas.
The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me… from Fiona Dobson on Vimeo.
Let’s get this Christmas Season started.
It’s Christmas in Vancouver, and we’re enjoying some of the great local drag performers. These clips come from some of my members and friends who have been at The Junction ( http://www.junctionpub.com/ ) and The Fountainhead pub ( https://thefountainheadpub.com/ ), two of the top locations on Davie Street, Vancouver.
I do not know the names of all the performers, however if you are familiar with them, please mention them in the comments as they all do such amazing work and have been so creative as we’ve gone through the Covid pandemic.
I should also give a shout out to both Byron at The Junction and Astrid at The Fountainhead for their contribution. Vancouver wouldn’t be Vancouver without them.
If you’re visiting Vancouver, make a point of dropping into The Junction and Fountainhead Pub on Davie Street. You won’t regret it.
Fiona.
Brought to you by FionaDobson.com – It’s the crossdressing website you’ll love even if you’ve never tried on your sisters panties!
Restricted content
Hi there, you'll need to sign up as a Seahorse member to access this page, Don't worry, it's only $10 a month.
Already signed up? Be sure you're logged in. Do so here.
Mistress Meg
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 10.
I felt the heat of the head of Dwayne’s dick pressing against the slippery wetness of my buttocks. Devina had covered me in so much lube, it would be impossible to squirm away. With her sitting on my neck, while I could have put up a fight, I found myself shocked into total submission.
“Wait,” I gasped, and once more I felt the stinging slap of Devina’s hard palm on my back. God she was strong!
For a moment I caught sight of myself reflected in the plate glass windows of my balcony. There I was, kneeling, Devina astride my shoulders, and Dwayne. My god, he was a big man.
I could see the black skirt hitched up, the nylons, and my pathetic body, knees wide apart, wiggling and trying to resist. Dwayne sniggered and I suddenly felt his strong hands on my hips.
RIP Michael Nesmith
I know I, and the many other daydream believers out there you brought so much joy to, will miss you. Let’s make a point today to remember those that leave this world a slightly better place for their presence.
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 9.
I could hear voices in my living room. There was a little light laughter and I could tell that Devina and her guest were making themselves comfortable.
I found myself flushed and felt my heart racing. I ran the tap and put my wrists under it, the cool water calming me. As I looked in the mirror I could barely recognise the face that looked back. Devina had done a masterful job on my makeup.
The suspender belt around my waist felt firm, the nylons wonderful and the material of the short skirt felt good against my legs. I wore some black panties, full, and enclosing my carefully hidden cock.
Again, the laughter, and then Devina calling, “Andrea, come along. Don’t be shy dear…”
I felt my heart pounding. The collar was tight on my neck, but I didn’t want to loosen it. In a strange way it felt reassuring.
Marjorie’s got old man’s beard in her bush!
When Ali, my gardener, came in to my kitchen and announced that my next door neighbour, Marjorie, had old man’s beard in her bush I was most concerned.
“But Ali, you realise Marjorie is in a relationship with Amanda, don’t you?”
“It’s the same every year,” he said in frustration. “She doesn’t take care of her bush at all. And with this rain… It’s so moist. If she’s not careful it will get into our garden.”
“Well now,” I said feeling a little awkward and not quite sure where to look. “How very disturbing,” I said.
It’s so very easy to have misunderstandings when your gardener has an understanding of English that’s less than perfect. In fact, this very morning after I had pulled on some stockings and a lovely little kilt, I found myself answering one of the many emails I get to clear up a rather disturbing misunderstanding. Having advised one of my members, Mildred from Colorado Springs, on some issues she was having with training her new puppy she reached out to me feeling most distressed.
As you probably know I am a font of assistance to my members. I had, as I remember, suggested that to help her acclimatize the puppy to it’s new surroundings she should take the animal into each of the rooms in it’s new home in turn, and then put it down on some old newspaper. Well, you’d think those instructions were impossible to misinterpret. Apparently I was mistaken.
I really do make every effort to help my lovely members. And of course, that unusual group, my Seahorses, enjoy the attention of Mistress Meg, who has been busy uploading some new content to the site. If you’re a Seahorse member you may already be enjoying the excitement of The Stories Your Mother Never Told You. When one of Mistress Meg’s clients asks her to look after a journal written years ago by his mother she agrees to do so, on condition she can read the content. As she learns of his mother’s lascivious behaviour what can she possibly do, but read the content to her client, while he is bound and made to listen.
These disturbing accounts are perfect for my delightful Seahorse members. You can learn about Valerie and her friends in this 1950’s story that draws back the curtain on a decade of naughtiness. If you’re not already a Seahorse member you might want to join this special group in the run up to Christmas.
If you’re looking for ideas for a treat why not check out my Shopping list. There’s always ideas for a few fun things to get yourself there. And don’t forget, if you’re not already in one of my programs they’re a wonderful way to enjoy yourself over the holiday season.
Have a great week.
Fiona.
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 8.
Faced with the threat of blackmail and exposure, reluctant crossdresser Andy is forced to confront his conflicting desires. On the one hand, playing along with Devina’s filthy plan would be dangerous and could make things worse, but on the other his curiosity and secret wish to take things further was growing with every passing moment.
“I suppose I could…” I found myself saying.
“Of course you can. Now, let’s get you ready, shall we?” said Devina.
I don’t know what came over me. I suddenly not only wanted to see what might happen, I actually found myself craving the thought of being there, for some random man. He would doubtless take me, probably violently and use me like some kind of, well, tramp. And the thought excited me.
I tried to stop myself, “Devina, how could you do such unspeakable things to me,” I stammered. “And now this?”
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 7.
I stood staring at the computer screen. I felt my heart pounding and I was short of breath. How could it be?
How had Devina got me dressed – so passable – and photographed me blowing a guy? Why was it I had no memory of it, and most of all, why did I look like I was enjoying it so thoroughly?
The ‘how’ of the situation was perplexing, but other questions flooded my mind. What else had I done? Why did I have no memory of the events?
I took my mind back to that thoroughly perplexing trip to San Francisco. When I thought about the way my body had ached as I flew home, things started to add up. My jaw, almost as though it had been forced open. My legs, not to mention the whole shaving thing.
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 6.
The next couple of weeks past without incident. I will admit that when I did have a quiet jerk, I found myself slipping into panties and enjoying the sensation. Really, what harm could there be in such a discrete and private game.
I also found myself from time to time gazing longingly at a woman on the bus, or in the queue at the store and thinking, ‘I could wear that differently… Why doesn’t she…” But each time I would catch myself and I’d pull myself back to the here and now.
Chastity time.
Just the other day I mislaid my keys, which is very unlike me. Sylvester happened to be round at my place, and as I explained, it was a great inconvenience.
He whipped out his tool, and before I knew it was grunting and gasping as he worked away, pumping to and fro as he hacksawed off the lock on my bicycle.
There are a great many members of my blog who love a chastity lifestyle. Imposing this is hard work of course, and yet Katia and Mistress Meg put themselves to this task with great skill. If this is something you’d like to explore you should certainly join my Patreon as a Seahorse. You can learn more about this very special area HERE.
Which brings me to this afternoon’s offering from my shopping list. Below is a delightful device, for those so inclined. Don’t loose your key!
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 5.
My decision to go out and buy some panties was the result of wanting to experiment, nothing more. I’d found myself in what can best be described as a compromising position recently, when through a series of unfortunate events I had been photographed wearing some panties mistakenly put out by my sister. It’s kind of a long story, so to best understand it you should probably go here: https://fionadobson.com/clothes-maketh-the-man-part-1/
In the spirit of experimentation, I decided that I would try the experience voluntarily, and see if the process still came wrapped in feelings of embarrassment and shame. As I wandered into a large clothing store, I wondered, perhaps this process would purge me of the strange feelings I’d recently been experiencing.
I found the women’s underwear section quickly, looked along racks and rails of panties and quickly scanned the colors and sizes. I decided to keep it simple. Black. Size, I took a wild guess and thought XL. I quickly found a pair, little bit of lace trim, and picked them out to take to the checkout.
As I turned to walk towards the checkout I stopped. A little voice was telling me, wait! This isn’t the way to do it. This is how men buy clothes, slow down.
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 4.
When I finally woke up I was in bed. At the time I had no memory of how I got there, but for the episode of being given some clothes in the living room and being overwhelmed with fatigue. Some men’s clothes, bought by Devina. Things came to me later, but we’ll get to that in time.
I remember thinking I’d had a drink and then got very tired. Maybe I’d just dozed off. It had been an exhausting few days. As I shifted beneath the sheets, though, I felt very strange.
I must say, I noticed that my legs were actually week. It was as though I had run a marathon. I could not imagine why, my final memory being sliding into a doze in the living room. I guessed Jenn had dragged me up the stairs and between the two of them they’d managed to manhandle me into the bed. It was most unusual. I put it down to the tiredness and the journey and the stress of the interview.
Then I remembered the business of the picture which Devina had posted. On the other hand, she had bought me some clothes, hadn’t she? My mind was very foggy. And my mouth tasted very strange.
My dog, Hannibal, has been interred!
Well, I thought what Sylvester was saying was that Hannibal, my dachshund had been interred. Wondering if this were some punishment for running wildly about the park, I assumed he meant he’d been taken by the bylaw officer. This is what you get for letting your friend walk your dog.
I’d have walked Hannibal myself, were it not for the fact that I need my legs waxed. Rainbow has been kind enough to come over to help, and after we’ve finished we’ll be enjoying an eggplant yoghurt facial she has concocted. As you can imagine I am using the term ‘enjoying’ advisedly. I’m sure you understand there’s a certain amount of scheduled maintenance has to happen to keep up appearances, as a crossdressing account executive at the advertising agency. Much as one would care for a beautiful object, or as Bernard, my photographer, put it rather unkindly a large public building.
Sylvester thinks Hannibal, who is extremely sweet particularly when he snarls at Amanda, is a chick magnet. Whenever he walks Hannibal young women who ought to know better come up to Sylvester and start fawning over him. I mean, Hannibal, not Sylvester. Fawning over Sylvester would be like fawning over a Caterpillar Tractor. As a result Sylvester enjoys walking Hannibal some days, usually after the local yummy mummies have dropped there screaming charges off at the Huckleberry Montessori Daycare Centre For Spoiled Brats.
He wanders around the park looking sombre and brooding like a poet or a man recently widowed who needs the loving embrace of a dissatisfied young mother. Preferably blonde, a former gymnast, and quite possibly with poor English skills.
“What do you mean, Sylvester,’ I said into the phone. “They can’t inter my dog!’
“No, he’s been ‘interred’. It’s a fancy way of saying he’s got very dirty.”
I paused. I think Sylvester has been spending too much time with Ali, my Syrian gardener.
“I don’t think that’s what that means,” I said. “If you mean he’s dirty I suggest you bring him back here and give him a good wash. And I don’t mean like last time.”
I could tell Sylvester was about to protest and quickly added, “Sylvester, throwing Hannibal’s ball through Mr. Singh’s car wash does not count as cleaning my dog. I’m still getting abusive phone calls from him from the last time.”
I hung up the phone and returned to the business at hand, Katia having recently arrived and was presently sitting with Rainbow and myself contemplating the yoghurt facial.
“Do you plan to eat it or fix the grouting with it?” she asked.
As you likely know, Katia Thornwood is what I can best be described as a disciplinarian, working with some of my Seahorse members. These are those special members who require that extra little helping hand in their dressing. Katia and Mistress Meg look after them and can be found on my Patreon. However, Katia was visiting my house to discuss some minor business matters and was looking forward to seeing Sylvester.
“He’s a very useful sort of chump,” observed Katia. “He leant me some of that very fine oil for a pair of nipple clamps I use on my visitors. I’ve been using them a while now, and I hardly hear a squeak out of them.”
“The clamps or the visitors,” I asked.
“Both,” she replied. “I have these rather frightening surgical shears I’d like him to oil. They’re most intimidating. They look perfect for castration.”
I winced a little and then said, “Well you can be sure your clients would speak highly of you after that.”
Katia sniggered and replied that they’re really just for show and insisted it’s good to maintain her tools.
Fiona
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 3.
As the taxi took me back to my sister Jenn’s house I occupied myself by thinking of ways I might extract suitable punishment from the degenerate and dangerous Devina. Not only had she seen me in panties, the result of a perfectly innocent situation, but she had photographed me and posted the picture on social media, which a prospective employer had then viewed.
This was beyond awful. This was catastrophic. Anyone might see such a picture, and copy it. It was likely beyond my control, even if the blasted women did take it down.
I remembered Steve’s message about needing me to help him run an account. After a quick call back it transpired he did indeed want me to set up an agency with him, that we’d be equal partners and why not make a go of it? I told him I liked the sound of the idea, but wanted to sleep on it.
It seemed a fairly good plan under the circumstances. I was, after all, in the rather unfortunate position of having absolutely nothing to loose, except for a reputation of moderate success – although if word of my (accidental) cross dressing got out, that too might evaporate swiftly.
‘Dammit,’ I thought. ‘I’m being outed and I wasn’t even ‘in’.’
Ken is a bad, bad boy!
Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 2.
I woke up the next morning in a state of mild panic, having slept right through my alarm. I was due for the interview at 11 am, and it was already 9.45. As I pulled on the beige pants I had borrowed from my sisters husband I couldn’t help thinking I was not dressing to character.
Beige socks, beige pants, and a plain white shirt. Maybe the staff at the advertising company I was going to would think I was such a power dresser that I’d chosen to play it down. I was clutching at straws, and I knew it.
As I grabbed my jacket I rushed down the stairs. My sister Jenn, and Devina were at the kitchen table eating toast chattering and laughing. They fell silent as I entered. I wanted to tell Devina that it was a mean trick she’d pulled last night taking a picture of me in those panties, but this was not the moment. I was more concerned about getting to the interview.
I looked outside to see if the taxi I had called had arrived. The street was empty, all the morning commuters having left this quiet suburban cul de sac.
“Dress for success,” said Devina. I noticed Jenn smirk. “Always a good strategy,” she said.
Jenn chimed in, “You’ll do fine! Don’t worry about it. You know you ‘re good at interviews.”
“I just don’t feel myself in these clothes!”
“I should hope you are not ‘feeling yourself’!” quipped Devina.