I’ve popped over to Fiona’s place to give her my diary entry. As luck would have it she’s having a little soiree and the liquor cabinet is unusually accessible. I’ve just dropped in to give Fiona this message.
So, as you may have guessed I am back from visiting St. Bernedette’s School For Gurls. You know, I do love to travel to South Africa, and life in the Natal foothills is really quite lovely. It’s a little like going back in time.
The post is still delivered by the nice young postman, and I often ride into the nearby town of Jabulani on horseback, along with Jack the handyman at the school. Jabulani is about five miles from the school, and a lovely ride in the Natal morning sunshine. The school has a small stable of a dozen horses. Every morning Jack and I would get some exercise taking one or two of the gurls and riding to town to bring back the fresh milk.
Those sultry mornings, with a little mist in the distance, climbing on the back of a well trained pony, and setting out across the veldt, it was quite beautiful. The gurls laughing and chasing along with me, Little Michaela, her ginger hair flowing behind her as we fly across the ground in the morning sun. Quite serene. And Jack the handyman trying to keep pace. He’s a little older, of course and we have to wait for him from time to time.
Once in the nearby village we’d put a few cartons of milk in our packs from the store, and then race back to the school stables. And of course finally we’d help Jack off his horse.
It all seems a million miles away from the cooler weather I have come back to. And Canada is really much more modern and genteel. Things in South Africa seem so much more, I suppose the word is ‘primal’. Everything is more literal and immediate. So, when one of the maids came to me and said they didn’t know what to do about the schools pet dog, ‘Cesar’ chasing after the postman every morning I pointed out that the best way to deal with that would obviously be to neuter him.
Well, as I explained to the poor man later, I had been referring to the dog when I said, ‘neuter him’. These things happen though. Best to move forward and not get bogged down in the details, though I do have some sympathy for the poor fellow.
How lovely it is to be back, though. My nieces and nephews have offered to help me get my Christmas tree up, and I’m looking forward to standing on a chair as my nephew Gerald looks up at me as I place a fairy on the top of the Christmas tree. How well dressed this tree really is. I suppose I should now turn my attentions to young Gerald.
How very kind he is to help me get it up. I’m sure, given the opportunity, you’d do the same.
But now I have to give this account to Max, who is going to post it online for me. He’s so much better at technology than I am. I shall go and sit on his knee and simper, it usually works with him, the little puppy! I’ll just stop off and refill my coffee cup with Bailey’s.
What excitements this morning! I had a call from Sylvester, my mechanic, asking if he could possibly borrow Ali to help him.
“What on earth for?” I asked.
“I need some help fixing the church’s bus and all my staff are off this weekend. You know that young pastor who’s organising the charity picnic this year? He’s the one Mistress Meg knows . Well, the bus has broken down and he needs it quickly so he can take the guests later today out to where they have the event. He really shouldn’t be driving that thing,” said Sylvester.
“Goodness,” I said. “I’m sure Ali would be happy to help. I’ll ask him to get down to your workshop as quick as his slipper-clad feet can carry him. Are there many people going to this picnic?”
“The pastor has invited the sick, the needy and the impotent,” said Sylvester.
“Well, that’s quite a lot of people,” I replied.
“I understand the sick and the needy will be there, but the impotent couldn’t come.”
“What a shame,” I said.
And so by late morning I was walking down to Sylvester’s workshop laden with some lunch for the boys. I’d made a nice pie and some sandwiches. As I entered the workshop I could see Sylvester half lost beneath the bonnet, but no sign of Ali. The bus was jacked up with one wheel off and part of the exhaust system on the work bench.
“Hello… I’ve brought you lunch. Is Ali about,” I asked.
“He’s under the back of the bus working on the suspension,” replied Sylvester. “He’s in the wheel well.”
“Isn’t that a bit dangerous,” I said feeling quite concerned.
“Oh no, he’s fine. The bus is jacked up properly,” insisted Sylvester.
“Goodness me, you wouldn’t want him to hurt himself. He might fall out?” I continued.
At that very moment Auntie Kittie arrived at the workshop, brandishing a bottle of wine.
“Too soon?” She asked holding out the wine bottle.
“It’s never too soon to open the wine,” I replied.
As you can imagine, once the bus was nicely fixed we all enjoyed a glass of wine and the offerings I’d brought. Needless to say the pastor got his bus and all went well.
But that isn’t the main reason I’m writing to you. I thought I’d just remind you that if you haven’t already joined my Good Gurls, just $1 a month gives you some wonderful offerings from Auntie Kittie, and myself. Be sure to sign up if you’ve not done so already.
It’s up to us to live to a higher standard than others.
With Sebastian strutting around in his cycling shorts, and Auntie Kittie coming over to offer me some of her specially imported organic coconut sunblock, anyone would think that going outside in this glorious weather is some sort of sin. However, it is important to look after ourselves in this extraordinary heat.
It is more important than ever to moisturize – personally I like a nice aloe based moisturizer – and also to drink plenty of water. Adding to this a good quality sunblock is a wonderful idea. I have started working early in the day and having a break by the time the day is hot, then going back to my endless labours in the early evening when the day is cooler. It’s a slightly different regime, but one I learned while living in the hottest parts of Africa. There is no point getting over heated and having headaches and the misery of sunstroke.
This stunning weather does give us the opportunity to wear some suitable clothes that are perfect for the twenty-first century crossdresser. Swimshorts, a tee shirt and a pair of sandals. Add lipstick and a little eye makeup and you’re there. You may not quite be Daisy Duke, but that is all a bit 1970’s anyway. I’m not sure Daisy would quite work today, sliding across the bonnet of an electric vehicle and roaring off down a country road listening to Taylor Swift. Nor can I see Sheriff Roscoe taking gender sensitivity training and a course in critical race theory.
I was discussing this with Sylvester this very morning. I explained how today we are all more ‘woke’.
“It’s all those energy drinks,” he replied.
“What?” I answered feeling like one of us was losing their grip.
“The caffeine.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “We’re more ‘woke’, not more ‘awake’. Besides I don’t even touch those things. They’re bad for you.”
“I don’t get all this ‘woke’ stuff,” grumbled Sylvester.
“As far as I can make out, it means we’re more aware of racial issues. And gender ones. And age ones. And some other things.”
“You mean we’re more considerate?”
“I guess,” I replied.
“That reminds me, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” went on Sylvester.
“Go ahead,” I replied, ever my helpful self.
“Have you ever been hit on by someone in authority? I mean, I know you’re…”
“Yes,” I replied expectantly.
“You’re not like some other people,” said Sylvester awkwardly.
“You mean I have tits, wear lipstick and have a dick? Yes. I am slightly different, but that’s no one’s business but my own,” I replied enjoying Sylvester’s discomfort.
“Well, I know this is a difficult subject, but…” continued Sylvester squirming.
“Sylvester, this is me. You can talk to me about anything.”
“I wondered if you’d ever been hit on by anyone who was your boss, or something like that.”
I must admit I was intrigued by Sylvester’s line of questioning.
“Well, there’s been one or two incidents. I’m pretty abrasive with people that I get a confrontational vibe from, though.”
“It’s just my brothers teenage daughter got hit on by her boss at the store she works at,” I wondered what you thought about it.
I was a little surprised, mostly that any employer could be so stupid.
“It’s a horrible fact, and one that many men don’t understand, but as I understand it many women do get unwanted attention at work. We sort of assume it doesn’t happen, but it does. Actually, it happens all the time. Now, having said that, most young women do learn to deal with it. I know it’s wrong that it would be that way, but many women just deal with it. However, my best advice is to get her a good lawyer, and then have her choose a nice Caribbean island to go and visit with the settlement that is likely to follow.”
“I was shocked,” said Sylvester. “It was all so ‘low level’.”
“What do you mean,” I asked.
“Well, he just approached her and asked if she’d go for a drink,” said Sylvester.
“Unfortunately that’s often the way these things do look. Somewhat harmless and low key. But then, when it’s time for her review she’ll find that the colleague that went out for that drink does a little better than she did. It’s horrible, and it’s insidious,” I said and paused. “It’s a weird thing. It’s easy to see abuse when it’s obvious. When it’s subtle it’s more difficult. And you know what? As a person who has lived much of their life ‘in trousers’ it has never happened to me, at least not as a teenager. So I can never say I’ve lived through that kind of subtle abuse.”
“But that’s good, isn’t it?” countered Sylvester.
“Well, I’m glad I’ve not been bullied like that, however subtle it may have been. But to be honest, I can’t say I’ve lived the ‘female life’ in that sense. I think this is a difficult area for many people who identify as female. The fact is I’ve been fortunate enough to have many advantages of being male. Having said that, it didn’t feel that way when I got a beating or two for being too girly for some people. My journey has different struggles. But I sympathise and I see how unfair it is on young women.”
“And this happens a lot?”
“It happens all the time, which is why we have to be so supportive of young women who are taken advantage of. I’m fortunate enough to work at an agency where even a hint of such behaviour would have the senior person fired and escorted out of the building before their feet touched the ground. People who act like that are a liability to the company, as well as being bullies.”
“Well, it doesn’t happen in my business,” said Sylvester a little defensively.
“I should hope not,” I replied. It’s worth noting that Sylvester runs a workshop servicing vehicles and has a fairly mixed group of employees.
“And it never happened to you?” he continued.
“Oh gosh, no,” I sighed. “I thought it might when I was at summer camp once, but the camp counsellor found out I was trans and then wasn’t interested.”
“Huh,” said Sylvester with a puzzled look on his face. “I’m not quite sure what to make of that.”
“Yes,” I replied. “That’s what he said.”
Stay hydrated and enjoy the sun, and remember, it’s not just the climate that’s changing.
The other morning I walked into my kitchen and immediately knew something was wrong. I should explain that my morning yoga is a sacred time for me, and I let nothing interrupt it. I’m only ready to start the day once I feel grounded and settled.
I usually follow my morning yoga with some tea, and a piece of toast, so I was surprised to find a deputation of some of my team waiting for me as I entered the kitchen.
“An odd choice of last words, Max,” said Mistress Meg.
Max, Katia and Mistress Meg fell silent as I entered. I glanced at them, and walked over to the kettle and put it on. To say the atmosphere was tense was an understatement.
“Well,” I said. “What are you all looking so worried about? Has someone died?”
Max, who was backed up against the wall looking a little scared, was the first to speak.
“Meg wants to hang me up by my…” he faltered.
Then Mistress Meg cut in, “I want to hang him by his wrists and have Stacy give him a damned good strapping.”
Katia just looked angry.
“What on earth’s going on,” I asked. “Max, tell me what’s the matter.”
Now, perhaps you remember that Max is my neighbour’s twenty year old son, and looks after much of the technology side of the work I do. There’s a surprising amount of work running the blog. He also manages my Patreon and a few other things, including entering Auntie Kittie’s content. He’s our tame techie.
“It’s Patreon,” he said and everyone fell silent.
“Oh yes. They recently named me as one of their top adult writing creators, didn’t they?”
“Yes, they’ve done very well from your Patrons. You’d think they…”
“Tell her what they’ve done, Max. Stop blabbering,” said Meg.
Max, who by now was close to tears, turned to Mistress Meg and said, “You’re not the boss of me! I’m just doing my best. You can’t tell me what to do!”
Mistress Meg picked up a breadknife, rubbed her thumb against the blade and then said menacingly, “Odd choice of last words, Max.”
“I think perhaps we should all calm down,” I said gently. “Now, Max let’s sit in my study and see what’s the matter.”
I took Max through to my study, usually my sanctuary away from others, and sat him down on the couch. His eyes were brimming over, and a tear ran down his cheek.
“It’s ok, Max. Just tell me what the trouble is.”
“We’ve been kicked off Patreon. They say our content is too adult.”
“What? Make up tips and hypnosis?” I said looking a little shocked. “Or was it that joke you said I should take out?”
“You mean the one about stuttering?”
“Yes, where I said that jokes about speech impediments were a big big ‘no no’?”
“No,” he replied. “I pulled that out before we posted that piece. It’s more Mistress Meg and Katia’s content. They say it’s too adult and they don’t want it on their servers. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“Really? What else is there?”
“We have hundreds of members there. And they’re not going to be happy. And Mistress Meg and Katia depend on the revenue from there,” he said clearly upset. “I’ve let them down. And I think Mistress Meg might want to do something horrible to me.”
“Mistress Meg does horrible tings to people all the time. It’s sort of her thing,” I said softly. “I won’t let her do anything to you, don’t you worry. She just want’s to look after the Seahorses.”
“I didn’t mean to get us kicked. Really. I thought we were ok, but they’ve just clamped down.”
“Don’t worry, Max,” I said soothingly. “We’ll take care of Patreon. If we have to be off it then I’m sure our members will understand. We got along just fine without Patreon before, remember? We’ll just have to accommodate the members on the website.”
I thought about it for a moment and then said to Max, “Mistress Meg is just concerned because her writing is more edgy. She probably thinks it really her fault. None of this is anyone’s fault. Patreon are just trying to be careful.”
Max looked a little awkward for a moment and then added, “Well, there’s more to it than that. I was thinking of saying we should get off it anyway. Some people feel it’s a bit of a scam. You should see the review of it.”
“Well, if that’s the case then we should get off it anyway. They’ve done us a favor. I want the best for my members,” I said.
Max stared into he distance and then said, “I can build a membership system on the site. We can ask Patrons to switch over. That way you can chat to them when they visit the site, using that chat window you use some evenings.”
“I love chatting with them,” I said. “Now, I’d better go and calm down Meg and Katia. Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s not your fault.”
And with that I left and went out to the kitchen. It didn’t take long to calm down Meg and Katia.
“We’re just going to build a membership system on the blog instead,” I told them. “Besides that way we can service them much better. Patreon has never been that great. I know people can’t find half the content you write, because their navigation is so outdated.”
Katia cut in, “You’re right. Someone wrote to me the other day saying they couldn’t navigate properly in their app. Half the time it doesn’t work properly.”
“Now, let’s not be unkind to Max. He’s going to have our website updated in a few days with a bunch more content for our members and we’ll let everyone know exactly how to switch over to our website,” I said. “Besides, it gives us an opportunity to do more on the website itself, rather than someone else’s platform. We can do even more cool things for our members.”
And that’s why I’m writing to you today. This has given us the great opportunity to improve the way we serve up content. It’s also a heads up that Clothes Maketh The Man is soon going to be served entirely free. You probably know that the first 24 episodes are currently free, but that subsequent episodes have only been available on Patreon. Well, I’ll be making them freely available on FionaDobson.com in the next couple of days.
Now, if you’re a Patron you’ll need to subscribe to one of the services here to continue your membership – and I want you to know how very much I appreciate each of you that does so. And if you’d just like to support the work my little team and I do then you can simply join for $1 a month in my Good Gurls membership here. You know how very much I appreciate each and every one of my members, and over the years we’ve overcome hurdles like this plenty of times.
If you’d like to tell Patreon what you think of their decision to throw us off their platform, don’t let me stop you. You can email them here: platform-support+id1217903@patreon.zendesk.com – It won’t change their decision but it might remind them that they’re a bunch of homophobic self righteous dicks.
Don’t worry. This isn’t going to stop us delivering the very best crossdressing content, just as I always have. Now, I have to hide the cooking sherry. I can see Auntie Kittie coming up the drive, and if I don’t she’ll be here all night.
Auntie always wants her sissies to look their best. This week she’s suggesting a great new pair of panties for her Good Gurls.
When Auntie is not working diligently in her role as the Governor of a busy boarding school she is always happy to take care of her nieces and nephews. If you’re not already following her be sure to check out her page.
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.
I have always felt that the more time my nephews spend dressed in
lovely girls clothes the more they behave in a polite, soft and gentle
manner. Isn’t that a nice thing to know?
Of course it is.
Well, recently one of my nephews has had a visitor, young Donald,
a really quite vulgar boy. He seems to
think it ok to push others around and one of my nieces recently came to see me
about him. Annette told me he had been peeking in her bedroom when she was changing,
which I found a most distasteful thing to do.
He’s also been picking on some of the other children
in the neighbourhood.He also refuses to wear a mask, which I find extremely
disrespectful. I am sure you’d agree, this is really not the way a young boy
should behave.
“If he’s unwilling to behave like a nice boy,” I said to Annette, “then
we can’t treat him like a nice boy.”
I thought about the situation for a moment or two, while offering Annette a small serving of frozen yoghurt.
It is a point of some irritation to me that Auntie Kittie, who does write the most extraordinary diary entries (as my Patreon members will know), struggles with technology. Living only a few houses away in Huckleberry Close, she is wrestling with the idea of social distancing.
“But what is it, Fiona,” she said down the phone this
morning. “Why don’t I come over and you can explain it to me? I keep hearing
about it on the wireless.”
Yes, that’s actually what she said, ‘the wireless’. I told
her not to worry, but to listen to her gramophone rather than the news.
That really does sort of miss the point. I have to say that
for each person failing to do use social distancing we can expect this to last
just a little longer. So, there is a bit of an incentive to get it right. Also,
if you have an elderly parent, and you want there to be a respirator for them
should they get this thing, well, there’s your incentive right there. It works
and reduces the loading on the healthcare system.
Auntie Kittie is a conundrum. While baffled by even the technology to operate a doorbell, she is the only person in my regular circle who understands how to use a Norwegian wine bottle opener I have. It’s an electric device, ergonomically designed and as far as I can make out, entirely unusable. You could die of thirst in a desert with this thing it’s so complicated, and yet she figured it out and had a bottle opened and poured before I’d finished explaining to her that no one knew how to use it.
Auntie Kittie has only recently acquired a cell phone.
For those of you who regularly do follow the events here in
Huckleberry Close, you might already have guessed that Sylvester actually does
have a hazmat suit. I sent him over earlier to get Auntie Kitties phone and
bring it back here so Max could install Whatsapp on it. That didn’t go so well.
I had no idea a phone this old could even connect to a wireless network.
Frankly I should be grateful it didn’t have a wire and a rotary dial.
Eventually Max called her and asked if she had a tablet, to
which she replied she would look in the medicine cabinet and I think the phone
got cut off after that.
Some of my neighbours are looking concerned seeing Sylvester
walking up and down Huckleberry close in a hazmat suit. I think I’d better put
the kettle on and make tea. It’s going to be a trying day.
Now, I’m not going to give you medical advice or any more COVID19 news. There’s other sources for that. I would recommend middle of the road reporting such as Apnews.com, BBC , Axios and CBC . These are actual news sites and not entertainment sites. If you believe anything you see on Fox News you pretty well deserve everything you get, I’m sorry to say. That might be a case of Darwinian evolution in practice. All I can say is, don’t be a covidiot.
What I can suggest is that you occupy your time with Clothes Maketh The Man, or if you want something interactive our Whatsapp Group is having a wonderful time. This week we’ve have Toenail Tuesday lined up for our members of Whatsapp tomorrow. There’s always discussions about music, and cooking, whether or not Skye from Paw Patrol is hotter than Dr. Smith (in the new Lost In Space) and of course no end of crossdressing chat. You are never going to be bored if you join us on Whatsapp. It’s different every day.
I am often online at present on the website, and in the Whatsapp Group so feel free to stop by and say hi.
Auntie Kitties approved clothes for her naughty nephews.
So many times I am asked, “can I just wear pink underpants, Auntie?”
I have to explain that when my nephews have been very naughty they have to wear suitable underwear to show their suitable remorse. Just pretending to wear some unisex panties simply won’t do, as I’m sure you’ll understand. With this in mind I have put together a selection of suitable products below that you can choose to wear if you are in training with me.
Now, I know how much my little boys and girls love to wear the clothes I tell them to. So, if you feel so inclined just get the underwear and post a nice post on the Community section of my Patreon to show how very much you are devoted to your favorite Auntie.
Remember, if you’re not already signed up for my Patreon, you should do so today. It’s just $4.99 a month and you’re going to be helping me reach my goal of 100 members. You want to help me don’t you?
You know how comfortable these panties are? In fact, you probably should have been wearing them all your adult life, shouldn’t you? Of course you should. As one of my naughty nephews, I expect you to wear them daily.
Think of the thrill you’ll give anyone noticing how lovely these panties are. You know you’re a walking advertisement for me, don’t you? If someone stops and asks you why you’re wearing these, you’ll just have to tell them Auntie Kittie said so.
Sometimes a little shapewear helps giving you a little feminine curve. Think how nice you’ll look for Auntie if you start wearing these. And remember, you need to get to the rec centre or swimming pool and change in a public area at least once during the week whilst wearing your special panties,
For some of my naughtiest nephews simply wearing underwear is not enough of a demonstration of subservience. Those of you already wearing panties everyday need to try on something a little difference. This lovely collar is a great example of something that both shows your devotion and demonstrates your complete release of masculinity.
