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: https://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

 

Let’s try to be accepting of others.

Ali has been here in Canada for several years now, having arrived as a refugee along with his lovely family from Syria. As I have mentioned before he was a botany professor in Damascus University prior to the war there, and is now my gardener. His knowledge of fauna and flora really is most extensive.

Arriving from a country such as Syria one does have to check some of the experiences and baggage that we bring, at the door – as it were. Jeff, who looks after immigration at our local airport, says that most immigrants are all too ready to let go of the past and look forward to their new life in Canada. And many, like Ali, bring some wonderful talents to our communities, regardless of what they may have done in the past. Like many of us, Ali does not talk much about his former life. I imagine it could be quite dark but have had few glimpses of what it may have entailed. It’s really none of my business.

Jeff takes great pride in telling me that he checks the passports of all immigrants arriving at the airport (other than when he’s on his lunch break or picking up his kids from school). He says that Canada accepts the poor, the disadvantaged and the impotent. He then rather sheepishly adds that unfortunately, while the poor and disadvantaged regularly show up, unfortunately the impotent couldn’t come.

Ali’s language skills, however, appear to still require some polish. As I sat drinking my morning tea in my kitchen Ali joined me and flicked through the local paper that had just been delivered.  I had just finished my daily yoga workout and was still in my pink leggings and powder blue sports bra, that’s so good for working out.

He took his tea black and was quite absorbed in the paper.

“It says here,” he said at length, ”that the city is going to have a ‘pilot racoon cull’.”

“It’s about time,” I said, knowing how mischievous the racoon population of Huckleberry Close can be. “They’re too clever by half.”

Ali frowned as he read the article.

“It’s just that you wouldn’t think they could do that,” he replied.

“What do you mean?” I said sensing something amiss.

Sipping his tea Ali continued reading without looking up and turned the page.  “You’d think they’d fail the eye test.  I did.”

I sometimes wonder about Ali and his command of English. It is, however, better than my command of his obscure dialect of Arabic. I’d given up my attempts to learn his language after failing to master such a simple phrase as “Is it safe to drink the water in this hospital?”

We all of us have our own particular perspective that brings a bit of ourselves to all we observe. As a crossdressing non-binary person, when I see a Zebra I do not take offence at the black and white nature of the creature. Ali, on the other hand, sees a majestic beast of the African plains while Sebastian sees a walking barcode. He then goes on to pretend to scan it in much the same way as the checkout girl in the corner store, and adds, “At least it’s easy to keep track of them.”

We all of us have our divergent ways of looking at things and each is equally correct. As trans people I think we have to learn acceptance of others with views that don’t align with our own. They, like us, are travelling their own journey. As people who are often misunderstood, it is up to us to try to understand others – the good, the bad and the ugly – with kindness and without judgement.

But that is not the main reason I’ve written to you this morning.  I’ve been adding new content to some of my programs.  They are now even better value than ever. Be sure to join if you’ve not done so already. I always do my very best for my lovely members.

😊

Fiona



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

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.

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

Join me as a Good Gurl today.

A steady stream of water is falling between Ali’s legs.

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.

It’s the perfect time of year to get into Pink!



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,

🙂

Fiona

http://FionaDobson.com

This summer it’s all about pink!
It’s a season for your best color!
What could be a nicer color to celebrate summer. Check out this spectacular swing dress for just $31.99.You going to look delightful.
Check it out here – https://amzn.to/3iq4a2v
Fiona

Smart cars, and gardening.

First of all I’d like to say that I hope you are loving my programs. We have over 2500 gurls enjoying my helping hand… Wait, that sounds a little wrong. If you are not already in one of the programs you should sign up today.  Anyway, I thought I’d share what I’ve been getting up to this week.

With all this sunshine I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden and at the beach. I do love to sail, and Bernard’s boat is finally in shape. It’s so good to live in a city in which the outdoor lifestyle I love is so accessible.

My gardener, Ali Ibrahim, pulled into my drive way in his Smart Car this Tuesday. He’s been doing some topiary in my garden. With him was Sylvester, my mechanic. Now, Sylvester is a very large man and seeing him struggle out of Ali’s tiny car was rather like watching a man get out of an overcoat that is three sizes too small for him.

“I had no idea you knew Ali,” I said to Sylvester.

“I don’t. He gave me a ride from the highway. My truck broke down, again! Very kind of your friend Mr. Ibrahim to pick me up.”

The irony of this was not lost on me.

tumblr_o7psnopCet1uxh3kao1_500Sylvester was speaking very slowly, so Ali would understand him. So slowly, actually, that one might assume he thought Ali had some extreme form of learning disability. Sylvester was, of course, unaware that Ali had been a professor in a university in Damascus until fleeing the country and finding his way to Canada.

“He just pulled over and offered me a lift, and it turned out we were both coming to your place.”

“How fortuitous,” I said. Sylvester was looking a little dubiously at Ali, who in turn was smiling happily, as is his nature.

Sylvester took me aside and looking a little worried said “he keeps saying he can’t get his whores in his car.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s very small.”

“Car no good for hoes,” said Ali, catching my eye, and nodding and smiling happily.

“Yes, Ali. I’m sure,” I said smiling.

I turned to Sylvester and said, “Ali is struggling a little with his English, but I think he’s trying to tell you that he doesn’t like the smart car because he can’t put his rakes and hoes and spade in the back. He’s got his small tools for working in the garden, but his large tools get… stuck. But you’d know all about that.”

Sylvester sniggered and turned to Ali and said, “Hoes, eh? Well come by my shop in the morning, ok?”

Ali smiled his enormous smile and nodded enthusiastically.

When Ali showed up at my place the yesterday to continue his work on remodelling my bush he came with the most extraordinary collection of tools on the back of his Smart Car. Sylvester had given him a nice new gun rack, salvaged from a car that had been written off.

Ever the inventive soul, Ali had fitted it and now uses it to carry his hoes and rakes and larger tools. And we all like larger tools.

But that’s not the main reason I am writing. I am thrilled to say I have a few spaces available in our Whatsapp Group.  You can find all the details here, if you like chatting with other CDs.

Come on in and join the fun.

🙂

Fiona

It’s important to get one’s priorities right.

I had just disconnected from a Zoom meeting with a client who was looking at rebranding his chain of laundries when Ali, my Syrian gardener, arrived for his English lesson.  I have been concerned about his use of English and offered to help him as best I could. The Trimark Laundry Company would have to wait for their report about renaming their stores.

Have you read Julie’s story yet? The Sweet Stench Of Revenge.

As a busy advertising account executive I find I do have to prioritise my private life. If Mr. Skid of the Trimark Laundry Company expected to be prioritized over my own personal interests he was very much mistaken.

I spend a half hour each day helping Ali to advance his use of English.

“So you see, Ali,” I explained, “using capitalization properly can completely change the meaning of a sentence. For example, ‘I was helping my cousin Jack off his horse
”

At that very moment the door swung open and Bernard bustled into the kitchen.

“Goodness,” I said. “You gave me a start, Bernard. What on earth’s the matter?”

“I’ve got a leak,” he said hurriedly.

“Well, you know where the bathroom is,” I replied.

“No. It’s the boat.  I need to go and pump it out.  It seems to be taking on water.”

I should explain. Bernard keeps a small sloop in the mariner near Huckleberry Close.

“Well, can I help with anything? Biscuits perhaps?” I got up to put the kettle on.

“No. We have to get down there right away. I wondered if you and Ali could help out,” he said.

“Of course,” I replied reaching for my new London Look lipstick. I wouldn’t want to be caught out in a sinking boat without a nice shade, and went to find a nice pale pink sweater.

“It’s just that I need someone to help pump it out.”

I remembered the hours I’d spent onboard pumping my arm up and down seemingly for hours on a previous occasion. Anyone who’s been around boats will know this feeling. Up down, up down, and up down. And all to drain the scuppers.

“Oh, I’m sure I can help with that.”

“Can I come too,” piped up Ali.

“Of course,” said Bernard. “The more the merrier!”

What a fun morning we had.  And all because Bernard’s worm gear clamp had not been properly adjusted. I admit this does sound rather more like something in Mistress Meg’s realm than mine. Which brings you to the main reason I’m writing today. I put out a lovely story for my all my members this week – The Long Game.  And true to form Mistress Meg has released one of her great self hypnosis files. You can find Mistress Meg’s Denial self hypnosis here.  You’ll need to be a Seahorse member to access it and if you’ve not already done so you can do so here.

Now, I have to go and massage my bicep. All that pumping is quite exhausting.  However, at least Bernard’s boat is all shipshape now.

Have a lovely week.

😊

Fiona

Bernard put his foot in it.

As you know, I am a very sensitive person.  I like to think others come to me because of my gentle nature and empathy. For this very reason I was very concerned about a conversation I recently had with Ali, my gardener and Bernard, my photographer. Things are a little quiet at the advertising agency at present, so Bernard has been out getting his boat ready for the season. He does so love his sailing.

Ali and I were enjoying a very nice German Riesling in the garden, talking about plans I have for the arboretum, or scrub land as Sylvester rather ignorantly refers to the more unkempt  section at the bottom of my garden.

“The Germans really are talented wine makers,” I said as I surveyed the wild flowers.

“Indeed,” said Ali, in his heavily accented Syrian English. “This is a very ‘HĂ€nde hoch’.”

“Ali, I don’t think you can say that. We’re all on the same side now! Is it racist? I don’t know. Besides,” I added, “you drive a smart car. Isn’t that made by Mercedes?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s my English, you know,” mumbled Ali. I am concerned about his language skills, but I some times suspect he may be trying to pull the wool over my eyes.

At that very moment Bernard appeared at my Garden gate looking most concerned. I invited him in and sat him at the garden table and asked what on earth could be the matter.

“Well,” he started, looking very downcast, “I think I may have upset someone down at the sailing club.”

“How on earth did you do that,” I asked, eager to help, as ever.

“I was trying to be helpful,” said Bernard.  “It was the Commodore.  He was moving his boat, and I offered to lend him a hand.”

“Bernard, that sounds very kind of you,” I observed.

“You obviously don’t remember I introduced you to Andrew a couple of years ago at the year end dinner. You remember, he was the guy with only one arm,” replied Bernard awkwardly.

“Only one arm,” I said slowly. “Ah, yes. I remember now. And you offered to lend him a hand?”

“Yes. It just, sort of, came out,” he continued. “And things got a little chilly after that.”

Just because numbers are improving, it’s not yet time to stop wearing a mask.

“Are you sure he took offence,” I asked. “It might be that you’re imagining this. He’s probably just fine.”

At this point Ali chimed in, “You offered to help the fellow. Where’s the ‘arm in that?”

I fixed Ali with a cold stare.

“Ali, that’s not funny,” I said.

You can see the sort of dreadful thing I have to put up with. However, on a brighter note, I am thrilled to say my Premium Program for women is going very nicely. If you know anyone that would benefit from this great program, be sure to suggest they visit my Patreon and look for the $5 a month Package, which is especially for them.

Auntie Kittie has a great new diary entry today, so if you’re a member be sure to check it out.

Have a lovely weekend, stay safe and get a vaccine!

Fiona

PS – Yes. Be sure to get a vaccine. I said that. And I had mine about 10 days ago. It’s about the most satisfying prick that’s been in me in a while!

Check out my programs here. I have something for everyone.

Amanda’s got her finger stuck in the pasta maker.

As the New Year kicks into gear I am pleased to see Ali getting to grips with my garden. As you know, Ali is my Syrian gardener, and a recent immigrant to Canada. He is a diligent worker and has thrown himself into the task of managing my garden.

A university professor of botany in his home country, he has come to build a new life here in our country, along with his lovely wife and two delightful daughters. Here in Canada we welcome new friends from around the world, and embrace the chance to add to the deep culture of this diverse and remarkable country.

“We don’t have an equivalent of your ‘Santa Claus’,” he recently explained while we were working at preparing the greenhouse for this years plants. “Besides, anything flying over our airspace at low altitude stands a good chance of being shot down. And
 well, reindeer meat
 I think he’s well advised to respect the no-fly zone.”

“Be that as it may, Ali,” I said. “I’m most concerned about Amanda and Marjory. All through the Christmas season I barely saw them. I know it’s been harder this Christmas with the whole Covid thing, but you’d think she’d say hello over the garden fence.

“Fiona, they’ve been very busy. Amanda’s been there all week. And you know what they’re like,” replied Ali.

I don’t think Ali really approves of the nature of Amanda’s relationship with Marjory. Same sex partnerships are not exactly common place in Syria, on account of people not wanting to be stoned to death in the public square.

“All the noise and fuss they make,” said Ali. “It’s very disruptive.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, it must be nice to be in love.”

“They were making an Italian dish yesterday with the left over turkey,” he mused, while cleaning one of the planting beds in the greenhouse.

“That sounds lovely. One of the things I enjoy about Christmas is getting creative with all those meals using turkey in the days that follow. I had turkey curry yesterday, myself.”

“If I over heard it correctly, Amanda got her finger stuck in the pasta maker. It was quite disturbing,” said Ali.

“Oh,” I said surprised. “I thought Marjory made the pasta.”

“Yes,” replied Ali. “She does.”

But that’s not the main reason I am writing to you today, as we go into what I think we are all hoping is a more hopeful year than last. I understand many of us are finding it harder to dress during the lockdowns that we must inevitably endure. I also realise that this increases the stress for all of us, and I want to make a suggestion that I find has helped many of my members.

While it would be wonderful to be able to dress everyday, all day, many of my members are simply unable to do this. When it is impossible to dress, for whatever reason, there’s still the middle ground, of becoming more androgynous. This is a way to start shifting what you wear to something somewhat more feminine, though without being entirely crossdressed. If you get creative you’ll find ways to do this, and enjoy that middle ground in the gender spectrum.

It could be as simple as shifting the colors you wear. Pastel colors and moving away from hard contrast color patterns is somewhat more feminine and gentle. Equally, going for the lambswool sweater and softer fabrics is always more enjoyable.

For others it will be engaging a more feminine clothing style, without crossing the line. Nice jeans can bring out the shape of your legs, and if all you need to do is add heels to shift over the line, then you’re always just moments from being able to crossdress. Sometimes the only difference between dressing straight or crossdressed is the presence of eye makeup.

If you’d like some ideas about androgynous style, check out my Pinterest Page for more inspiration.

Let’s make 2021 a wonderful year. Don’t let Covid get you down.  This is where we learn patience – a good lesson for anyone who is trans.  If you’re struggling and haven’t done so already, remember my Whatsapp Group is a great way to connect with others and see yourself through this challenging time. Alternatively, remember there’s a host of entertaining stories right here. Be sure to enjoy the video below.

😊

Fiona

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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,

🙂

Fiona

As the counting continues Auntie Kittie urges calm.

What a very stressful few days it’s been. Just today I had one of the neighbourhood boys over while my delightful niece, Nancy and I arranged some flowers in my house. I do find it so relaxing to put out a few nice flower arrangements.

The children in Huckleberry Close seem to gravitate to my house, and the large garden I’m lucky enough to have. Fiona’s delightful gardener, Ali, has been helping me and cutting some beautiful blooms for me to arrange in the house. The unfortunate challenge of being so available to the neighbourhood children is that from time to time the rather revolting neighbour, Donald comes and plays in my garden. I try to be kind and even handed, but it’s really not always easy. I think all the children think of me as their personal Auntie.

It’s hardly surprising really. They love to come over and are sure to sample my pie, or anything else I put out on the kitchen table. I like to provide a nice spread. Some of the young boys just can’t get enough of it. I should be flattered I suppose, that they have such hearty appetites.

“Auntie,” said young Donald this very afternoon. “What’s an erection?”

“Donald, that’s a very unusual question. Now, let me see. Your mother should really talk to you about this, but when a man and a woman
 No, when two people
 No, when a small group of people of undetermined genders or something between genders
”

“Auntie,” said little Nancy jumping in and coming to my rescue between placing holly sprigs in vases I’d put out on the table. “I think Donald means, ’What’s an election?’”

“Oh, I see,” I said with relief. “Really? You don’t know what that is? Ok, let’s see. How can I explain? It’s something we do now and then to get rid of people who aren’t running the country the way we like it. For example, by locking up all the little children. Or making promises they don’t keep, or are generally doing things that are douchy and not representative of our values.”

“What are values, Auntie Kittie?” asked Donald.

“Don’t worry, Donald,” I replied. “I’ll let you know if you ever get any. We usually elect people based on policies, Donald. So, for example in Canada we believe in religious freedoms, freedom of thought and belief, and freedom of expression. You believe in freedom of speech, don’t you, Donald?”

“Well, I guess,” agreed Donald reluctantly.

“Well shut up then,” I said firmly.

“Tell him about the polls, Auntie,” piped up Nancy, always keen to be of help.

“I don’t trust the Poles,” said Young Donald.

“Don’t be so racist,” I said and cuffed him around the ear, before sending him off to the bathroom. “Be a sensible boy and be sure to wash your little hands after.”

Donald has a lot to learn in the hygiene department.

Nancy turned to me and said, “I’m not sure Donald quite understands about democracy.”

“Oh,” I said gently. “I’m sure he’ll learn. And then probably be thrown in a cell where he belongs, before dying alone in disgrace. Under the circumstances I think that’s not a bad outcome.”

“What do you mean, Auntie?” asked Nancy.

“Well, five hundred years ago we would have stoned him to death, in the time honored fashion. Under the circumstances, if I were Donald I would consider myself lucky.”

Don’t worry, it’ll soon be over. Let’s just stay calm, and choose an extra special pair of panties with which to celebrate as the tide of change flushes out the U-bend of the last four years.

Your favorite auntie,

Auntie Kittie.

Get more Auntie Kittie HERE.

Did they leave a number?

Well, what can I say. It’s not been an easy week. As many of us go into an election week, I know all of us are going to be feeling a certain degree of stress. Be assured I am here for you.

I always find it helpful to listen to the Fiona Dobson playlist on Youtube to dispel stress. It really does help put a smile on my face, even when I do read about something mind bogglingly moronic that the buffoon in the White House is up to. I believe it was Mayo Angelou, that great philosopher that said, “Mask up, asshole.” That, however, is not the main reason I’m writing to you.

Several of my members have written to me this week concerned about my good friend Rainbow, the yoga teacher, who has recently found herself out of work due to the problems we face associated with Covid. I selected one email at random, from Mildred, of Colorado Springs, that I felt I might share with you. Mildred suggested that perhaps Rainbow could make use of her talents as a vegetarian, helping others improve their diet. How very thoughtful, Mildred. I will pass the suggestion on to Rainbow. Vegetarian meals can indeed be an exquisite blend of flavors and are sure to excite the taste buds and satisfy the appetite, unless you’ve ever actually tasted meat.

Fortunately SebastianSylvesterAli and the rest of the crew are all managing ok. Amanda, my wife’s good friend, has moved in with my next door neighbor Marjory, with whom she is conducting a sordid lesbian relationship. She is working from home there, and I mentioned to Sylvester (who has designs on Amanda for some inexplicable reason), that I often saw her in the conservatory beavering away. He replied “Amanda is indeed elbow deep in,” and at this point he paused meaningfully, “
work.”

What times these are. Nonetheless, I felt I would write and tell you of a rather unusual incident that took place the other night. As you may be aware Canada is large. In fact it’s huge. Earlier this week I was driving across one of our seemingly endless prairies, late at night when I saw mysterious lights in the sky, approaching at high speed. At first I thought it might be our Prime Minister, my good friend Justin Trudeau in his private plane. He has the disturbing habit of flying very low over the prairies, smiling and waving at us as he goes by. You may have heard of him, he’s the head of state in the North America that can read.

However, it was not he. I should have remembered he’s usually tucked up in bed by 9 pm with a cup of hot milk. No, this was altogether too fast to be something of this world. 

Now, I think I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, not again!” Yes, that’s right, you’ll remember I had an encounter with alien life forms a little over two years ago. And indeed once again this vessel drew level with my speeding Buick, and I felt the sensation of being lifted off the ground, as if by a giant alien hand.

Faster than you can say ‘anal probe’ I found myself in the hold of the enormous vessel. Two alien figures dressed in a silver grey fabric, some type of satin I imagine, walked out of what seemed to be a wall of light toward my car. I was a little disconcerted, as you might imagine. After all it’s not everyday that you are accosted by higher life forms. One of them tapped on the window, and as I looked at them I realised these were the very same two aliens I had met once before.

I put my mask on, and then lowered the window.

The closer of the two aliens leaned toward me and then said, “Excuse me madam, are you the owner of this vehicle?”

“You know I am. Remember, we’ve met before.”

“Just my little joke,” he said with a smile. His sense of humor had not improved in the two years since last we met.

The closer of the two aliens turned to the other and said, “I told you, we’ve seen this one before.”

They seemed to pause for a moment, consulted what looked like an Ipad, and then one shook his head in disappointment, before saying, “Well, let’s get on with it, otherwise we’ll never make the quota.”

Ever helpful I said, “Are you running out of people?”

The nearest alien nodded, and said. “It’s this Covid business. No one’s going out much these days.”

“Well, it’s not like you ask permission,” I said.

“No, but when we pick up someone off Davie Street in Vancouver, and they’ve had six pints of Alexander Keiths everyone just thinks they had a good night at The Junction. No one believes they’ve really been abducted. You know, plausible deniability and all that. But these days,” he shook his bald head, “not so many people are going out for the night. That’s why we have to hang out in the middle of nowhere.” At this point he turned to his friend and said, “I’m not even sure where we are!”

I sighed and said, “Covid.”

In agreement he nodded and sighed, “Covid.”

The senior alien, clearly impatient, then chimed in, “would you mind getting out of the car please?”

I stepped out of the car, and the two of them led me into a small examination room. Instead of the surgical table and lights that one expects in these circumstances, I was placed in a reclining chair and the first alien asked if I would be kind enough to read the letters on a lightbox directly in front of me.

“A, F, G, H,” I said and then asked, “is this it? I mean, you’re giving me an eye exam?”

“Please just read the letters,” said the one that appeared to be in charge.

“M, S, X, no, really is this it?”

The second alien cut in at this point and said, “They don’t let us use the probe any more. They said it’s not politically correct. Something about it not being ‘woke’, whatever that is.”

“Well,” I replied, “it’s not like you ask for consent, is it?”

“We didn’t get many complaints in this sector. At least not on Davie Street.”

“No,” I said. “You wouldn’t. You might get a few people disappointed that you didn’t at least leave your number after you’d finished.”

At this point the first alien smiled at me and said confidentially, “who said he didn’t,” and then winked.

Anyway, I felt I should share these events with you. Now, if you’re in the US be sure to get out and vote as soon as you can. If you don’t live in the US, let’s wish our friends’ the best for their election.

😊

Fiona

Rainbow’s sitting on my right hand at the kitchen table.

I’m so pleased to be able to write to you, in these troubled times it’s so good to be able talk to others just like myself. Perhaps you too get frustrated by the pace of modern life coming face to face the slowed down life we now lead due to Covid. Well, don’t worry, I’m here to help.

On the site there’s a host of content to help you get through the day, as well as some great hypnosis files that will help relax you. Just explore and you’ll find a ton of it.

Before I go on I should answer a query that’s come in from one of my members, Mildred from Colorado Springs.  In reply to her I have to point out that Minsk is a coastal city in northern Russia and not how a Russian drag queen walks down the street. I’m glad to have cleared that confusion up.

I also want to remind all my Patreon Members that you get a great part of the Patreon site that few people are really aware of.  There’s a community aspect here where you can post pics and even connect with other members. When you’re a member just go here – https://www.patreon.com/fionadobson/community  to participate.  It’s a lot of fun.

Life in Huckleberry Close is a little muted these days, as people reduce the number of people they’re seeing – reducing their ‘bubble’. Well, as inconvenient as it may be, I think we all understand that this is necessary. Personally I am using this time to get a little fishing in – socially distanced of course. I’m also enjoying reading a few more books than usual. It’s a chance to do some of the things I don’t usually get time to do.  For the moment I just don’t really feel comfortable with the idea of going out to restaurants, or getting on a plane.

Sadly Rainbow, who teaches at a local yoga studio, has been laid off, like so many others in that type of work. She’s asked me to help her with her resume and to help her apply for a few jobs. I asked her what qualifications she had, and if she’d graduated.

“Of course,” she replied while sipping her home made kombucha in my kitchen with Ali, my gardener, and I. “I have an advanced degree in Enlightenment with a minor in Colonic Irrigation from the Healing Light Yoga And Ayevedic Academy. I’m really not used to being unemployed.  It’s almost as if my spiritual GPS is not functioning.”

“Well, I’ll try to help, darling,” I told Rainbow, feeling a little doubtful that those were skills that are in particular demand at present. “Perhaps Sylvester knows someone. He’s quite well connected in Little Italy.”

“Oh yes, I know. That’s the area around Patel’s Pizzeria, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said helpfully. “He’s quite big in the business community there.”

Now, you’re probably wondering why that part of town is called Little Italy. You wouldn’t be the first to think it was because of the profusion of immigrants from years back. It’s got more to do with the fact that it changed sides three times during the second world war, though. A very confused part of town, you’ll agree.

Ali listened sympathetically to Rainbow describing her difficulties finding work.

“I sometimes feel like the goddess Kali has cursed me,” said Rainbow.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Ali sagely. “I mean, it’s not as if she’s going to chase you down the high street beating you with her many arms and laying about you with that nose, trunk, thing of hers. It’s not like she caught you drinking Coca-cola instead of your usual distilled water, after all.”

“I don’t think the goddess Kali would curse Rainbow for that,” I said to Ali, unsure if he was teasing her. I am most concerned that his English lessons sometimes miss the mark a little.

“You’re right Fiona,” agreed Ali. “Perhaps Sylvester has something for Rainbow in his workshop. After all he runs a very tight shipwreck.”

I look skeptically at Ali. It’s taken him time to settle into the ways of Canada which are a little different to those of his native Syria.

In these difficult times we are all making adjustments.

Now, I want to tell you all about some spectacular Mary Janes I have recently tried from Glamour Boutique, my favorite online store. First of all, the quality of these shoes is faultless. They fit my size 10 male, size twelve female, feet perfectly.  When I recently stopped by The Junction in Vancouver’s Davie Street, the boys were all very complementary, with comments ranging from how elegant they looked, to how good they’d look beside my favorite server’s bed.

These are a patent leather shoe, with a four inch heel – I can best describe it as being a heel size that say’s you’re somewhat innocent, and yet at the same time accessible and possibly a filthy little crotch ferret, much like myself. The dainty strap is equally at home being undone hurriedly after a night out, or being released by a lover’s teeth in a frenzied moment of passion.

Have a good look through Glamour Boutique’s site and be sure to mention my name when you order them. They’re a great company, reliable and always on point with quality merchandise. You need never feel awkward contacting them, and discretion is their watchword.

Now, I must get back to work. Sebastian, my personal trainer, is coming to give me a workout soon. He tells me he’s got an exciting new exercise regime he wants me to get into. Or vice versa. Something like that.

😊

Have a wonderful weekend.

Fiona.

Let’s shove it up a Proud Boy today.

My gardener, Ali is a Syrian refugee. He’s a lovely man, and he and his family are making a go of things in Canada, and doing exceptionally well. His girls are doing so well at school. When I recently asked him what he thought of ‘Proud Boys’ he said that while his home country was not very tolerant of their lifestyle, he personally felt that people’s lifestyle choices are their own affair.

Ali’s English is sometimes not quite what it might be. He’s been here a few years now, but he still sometimes struggles a little. He has become firm friends with Sylvester, my mechanic and confidante, and I commented on it recently saying how pleased I was that they get along so well.

He replied, “Ah, yes. Sylvester. He’s a very good person. We get along like a horse on fire.”

Which reminds me, I must chat with his English teacher. I believe Mistress Meg is acquainted with him – Professor Longstaff. If you follow my Patreon as a Seahorse you’ll have read about him.

“But Ali,” I said. “Surely you don’t agree with Mr. Trump, embracing the Proud Boys.”

He looked at me with some doubt in his careworn face.

“As I said, Mr. Trumps lifestyle choice is his own affair,” he replied. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

I sometimes struggle to understand if Ali is teasing me.

“But what about all this “Stand back and stand by” business?” I said pressing on in what I was beginning to feel was a pointless exercise.

“’Stand back and stand by’? I thought they said ‘stand back and bend over’!” said Ali.

I gave up and left him to continue raking up the fallen leaves. Don’t you just love the fall? You can find some fun fall clothing ideas on my Pinterest HERE.

Don’t forget to sign up for my Patreon and help me keep shoving it up the Proud Boys
 I think you know what I mean.

😊

Fiona

PS. Don’t forget the Fiona Dobson Playlist.  It’s sure to uplift and help you through the day. Enjoy it here.

Max’s Premature Ejaculation.

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.

Continue reading “Max’s Premature Ejaculation.”

It’s a very special day.

What a beautiful spring morning here in Huckleberry Close.  It’s a very special day for me, though you likely don’t realise it. Three years ago today I started writing the story ‘Clothes Maketh The Man’, which led to the development of my program and this extraordinary journey.

In that time, as close as Max and I can calculate, something like 85,000 people have enjoyed the story. I find this on the one hand encouraging, and on the other a little disturbing!

In celebration I think Sylvester and Ali have something planned. They keep making spurious excuses to drop by mid morning. Sylvester tells me he wants to ‘check my fluids’, which I think has something to do with the car. Ali is insistent that he was to drop of a couple of hoes. At least that’s what I think he said. He has been wanting new gardening equipment.

Anyway, it’s also International Women’s Day, and in honor of that I am including a video one of my dearest members suggested. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it!

Have a lovely day,

Fiona.

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What have they ever done for us?

What have they ever done for us?

Good morning and welcome to a wonderful election day in the US. If you’re getting ready to vote, slip into some heels, do your makeup and get out there with plenty of time to make a difference.

Just this very morning I was walking in my garden with Sebastian, my personal trainer, and Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend. She’s heading over the border to the US this afternoon to vote, of course, like all good people should. However, as we were walking Amanda got a call from my wife, who as you may know is currently travelling.

Sebastian and I could not help but overhear Amanda’s comments, and politely listened in to the one sided conversation. Now the important details I will skip over, except to say that I was wearing one of my lovely pleated maxi skirts that I find so very comfortable and a pair of suede boots. However, returning to Amanda, who it should be noted edits Pig and Pig Farmer, the first publication in the US to endorse Mr. Trump in the last elections.

Continue reading “What have they ever done for us?”