It’s soon going to be Halloween, and Auntie Kittie is suggesting all her girls embrace their powers this year by dressing as Wonder Woman. You can find your costume right here: https://amzn.to/3elizio
If you love cheesy special effects and great outfits, check the clip below. It might inspire you to get ready for a wonderful Halloween. Now, who are you going to ask to do your makeup?
Just to make it interesting you can win a $100 membership to our Seahorse group for one year by sending your Halloween pics in to firstname.lastname@example.org – Auntie will make a pile of your emails and then pull one member off at random from that pile of emails (yes, she actually prints them!) to select a winner. Perhaps it’s just a selfie of you in costume, or maybe it’s a photo essay of your friends dressing you up and putting the right makeup on… send it in and we will post all we reasonably can!
Your pics will appear on the site, so be sure you’re ok with me using them. No, you don’t need to be a member already to enter this competition.
“So, wait a minute,” I said, scratching my head. “You want me to dress up as a sexy cowboy who is actually a woman impersonating a man?”
“Yes!” said Sylvester enthusiastically.
“Sylvester, you have met me, haven’t you? Do you know nothing of my journey?”
Like a typical man Sylvester then tried to claim that this was ok, because it’s all about inclusivity and a woman doing a man’s job. And how if I was a man I would know this. And then he went quiet and realised he was speaking aloud.
Sometimes there’s so much wrong with what comes out of the coarse oick’s mouths I just don’t know where to begin.
I looked at the advertisement again, and said, “You can really be quite coarse at times, Sylvester.”
And then quietly added, “I could just bite that ass though.”
You can buy the outfit the pervert had in mind here – https://amzn.to/3CtNh0S
I handed Sylvester a large bowl of Brazil nuts, and some pliers.
“Make yourself useful, won’t you?” I said. “I need you to shell these, with those big strong manly hands of yours.”
Sylvester sat at the kitchen table and started removing the shells of the beautiful nuts.
It was at that very moment that Auntie Kittie burst through the kitchen door, handkerchief in hands touching it to her eyes.
“What on earth’s the matter, dear,” I asked as I helped her to a chair. I expected it would be something to do with her naughty nephews and nieces, but decided I’d hear her out.
“It’s those beastly Russians, doing all this heavy shelling near Kiev. The children, Fiona. The children!”
“I know,” I said. “You just sit there next to Sylvester. He’s doing some heavy shelling of his own, as it happens.”
Auntie Kittie looked confused and sat beside Sylvester while I went to find her a glass of something to strengthen her resolve.
“What are we to do?” Sobbed Auntie. “I feel so helpless. Surely, Fiona, you must have some idea?”
“Of coarse, I have, Kittie. You don’t think we’d have this happen and not have something in mind. If you use THIS LINK you can make a donation to Unicef’s fund for the protection of the children of Ukraine.
With 5.5 million children at risk donating directly to this targeted fund is the most effective way to see your money makes a difference on the ground in Ukraine quickly. I can say this having worked for Unicef in one of their emergency operations for 2 years. They really do incredible work.
I believe there’s an empathetic side of us, in this particular corner of the world, that understands the terrible nature of suffering some people are exposed to, and through no fault of their own. And I believe we must all do what we can to help. You really can be a hero this Halloween.
If you’re able to help please do so. I will not be alone in thanking you for your kindness.
A story written by Fiona Dobson and read by Jules Sanderson.
Thanks to Deedee for being the first to respond with these lovely pics! Don’t forget to send in your photos to enter the Halloween competition.
Enjoy this story read by Jules Sanderson. The concluding part will be posted tomorrow, on Halloween. You can find more great stories at https://fionadobson.com/the-stories-2/
Enjoy this story read by Jules Sanderson. The concluding part will be posted tomorrow, on Halloween. You can find more great stories at https://fionadobson.com/the-stories-2/
Enjoy this story read by Jules Sanderson. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow with the final part posted on Halloween. You can find more great stories at https://fionadobson.com/the-stories-2/
“Push your bum back a bit,” said Sebastian, maneuvering behind me.
“Oh, Sebastian,” I said, perspiration dripping from my brow.
“That’s better,” he said pressing his hand into the small of my back.
As you probably know, Sebastian is my personal trainer. We often do yoga sessions together. Some of these yoga positions are really quite challenging. As we move into the cooler weather I do find I like to lift up the intensity of my exercise regime. And Sebastian is a treasure, I really do enjoy getting it up with him. My yoga is very important to me.
I also find that with the cooler weather I like to dress in suitably warmer clothes, and the opportunity to explore new styles is a source of great joy. I enjoy wearing a kilt, and know there are many other members, some who cannot overtly dress in femme clothing but can wear a kilt from time to time. A kilt is a very good way to gradually introduce more androgynous clothing into your repertoire.
This week, as an exercise perhaps you can check out a few ideas for kilts online – here’s a start.
I also loved the tights below. They have a nice tartan imprint. I do have some distant Scottish heritage and used to spend every Christmas on the Isle Of Skye. I even got lost in Dunvegan Castle once as a child. But one thing I do enjoy is watching the Highland Games events. I have always thought Bernard would be rather good at tossing the caber. I understand he comes from Essex, in England, which some of my English friends have told me is full of tossers.
Bernard tells me that it sometimes gets so cold in the north of Canada that there’s so many icicles hanging from his sporran that you’d think he brought along his own wind chimes. What a sight that must be.
Here in Canada we believe in an inclusive approach to life. This is exemplified by my good friend Justin, who – when he’s not busy running the country – is very happy to swing by and take a walk on the beach nearby. And I have to say, he doesn’t have bad legs. He’s asked me once or twice if I can spare Sebastian for a yoga class, but so far we’ve been a bit too busy and our schedules haven’t been quite aligned. Perhaps he’ll join us for a class here in Huckleberry Close as things slow down around Christmas. At least, he promised he would. We’ll see.
As we approach Halloween I have a ghostly story coming out late this month which I think you might enjoy. You may want to keep an eye open for The Living Doll on http://FionaDobson.com . There’s also The Foreshore Light and The Apartment, for those of you who like the ghostly theme of Halloween, both of which are already available. If you’d like to hear Jules Sanderson reading The Foreshore Light you can do so here. Be sure to check them out when you have a moment. I think I’ve given you enough there to keep you up at night. It’s not often that you find ghostly stories suitable for crossdressers, but I do try to present a broad cross section of content for my lovely members. As ever, Clothes Maketh The Man, now with episode 50 out, is doing wonderfully. I do hope you’re enjoying it.
If you’re not already a member be sure to check out the membership options here – http://FionaDobson.com/my-programs
Have a lovely week,
I hope you are going to have a wonderful Halloween night. Jules has provided a delightful reading of The Apartment for us. If you’ve no other plans perhaps settling down with a glass of wine just before midnight and enjoying this story would be the perfect way to end the night. You can see the video here.
As I am sure you are aware the start of November marks the end of the competitive eating season. Marjorie, my neighbour has excelled this year, surpassing her best in the highly coveted sausage eating division, a fact made even more surprising because she is in a lesbian relationship with my wife’s appalling friend Amanda.
Marjorie is often billed as ‘The Silo’ in these events. I am told this is an affectionate nickname.
In celebration of her successes Marjorie and Amanda decided to take Sebastian, Sylvester and I to dinner. After some discussion it was decided that we’d go to a very exclusive newly opened sushi restaurant. To mark the occasion I am thrilled to say I found a lovely new skirt from my good friends at The Drag Queen Closet.
As you’ll notice this skirt has a stylish ruching effect. Like all the Drag Queen Closet products this one has a high quality fabric which beautifully expresses the depth of the claret color I had selected. Fabric is very important. Many of us just look at the cut of the skirt, but to carry the color with depth a good quality fabric is required. The sheer nature of lanon is perfect for this.
What I most love about this skirt is it actually helps my deportment. I always wear a bit of a heel, which gives me the posture I am looking for, but the slight tapering inward of this skirt just reminds me to keep my knees together in a ladylike manner. This is a serious business for one who has a propensity to slut out at the slightest opportunity.
Sebastian has commented that I should probably be buried in a Y-shaped coffin, finding that final resting place in that most familiar of postures. He really can be most coarse.
We ended up at the sushi restaurant at about 7.30, enjoyed a lovely Japanese beer, and then settled down for a mixed platter of sushi. This particular restaurant had rather nice arrangement of private cubicles behind those lovely Japanese paper screens which afforded a level of discrete privacy. We sat at a low table and the food was served on the low table before us. All of this was most elegant and sophisticated.
I enjoy salmon particularly, though all the different sushi dishes were excellent. However, part way through the meal something did happen that left a rather strange mark on the evening.
I was sitting, my legs delicately folded beneath me looking quite lovely in the skirt and a plain black silk blouse, and stockings. Sebastian sat opposite, glancing from time to time at a screen which silently played the football game highlights. Sebastian is such a sports nut I really do find it irritating at times, but with my back to the screen I was able to ignore the screen easily.
Then, surprisingly at one point Sebastian murmured, “He really should go deep. One good pass and he’d be away.”
I understand this is a football comment. Having grown up in South Africa, where Rugby is a religion, this is all beyond me. However, from time to time Sebastian would look at Sylvester and say something like, “He should go deep, for heaven’s sake. Did you see that? I mean, really! Did you see that?”
I was enjoying the sushi and Amanda and Marjorie were enjoying each other, as far as I could see. There was a certain amount of touching going on beneath the table, I think. The privacy of these Japanese table arrangements is very discrete.
What happened next happened very swiftly. Sebastian had been putting away the Sake at a pretty good rate, as had Sylvester. I chose to stick to a very light lager while the boys and the two girls raced to the bottle of the nearest barrel. I was really enjoying myself when Sebastian became fixated on the screen and started saying quite loudly, “Go deeper!”
Suddenly an impressive young man was running with the ball and setting up a long pass and hurled the projectile down the pitch. Sebastian was suddenly on his feet shouting, “Deeper! Deeper!”
At that very moment Sylvester started coughing wildly and a moment later his face went from it’s usuall ruddy red to a horrible shade of blue. It quite clashed with my skirt. In a heartbeat Amanda was on her massive feet, stepped behind Sylvester and said, “Don’t worry! I’m a trained professional.”
As Sylvester turned from blue to blue grey, Amanda started jerking Sylveter’s chest in a bear hug and I realised she was doing the heimlich maneuver. A moment later Sylvester coughed and a radish flew from his mouth across the tiny cubicle.
The manager, roused by the cries of “Deeper! Deeper!” came hurrying into the cubicle in time to see Sylvester go sprawling across the delicate low table, and the Sushi plater, only to be pinned under Amanda’s not inconsiderable weight.
“You are animals,” he cried in heavily accented English.
At that very moment Marjorie gave a loud belch, and grinned sheepishly. It’s apparently a common affliction of competitive eaters.
Moments later we were ejected from this exclusive establishment, to my disappointment. However, I suppose all things considered I should not be surprised. One way or another I’ve been thrown out of some of the nicest establishments in the country. Why should this evening have been any different.
If you’d like to buy a lovely skirt like the one I wore that night you can do so here: https://thedragqueencloset.com/products/skirt-miss-secretary-3-colors I know you won’t be disappointed. Be sure to let the girls at The Drag Queen Closet know that Fiona sent you.
When Jeff returns to his old apartment he gets more than he bargains for. Enjoy this Halloween ghost story.
Be sure to comment if you feel like it.
Hobbs Island Hotel
By Fiona Dobson
When Elizabeth died my world stopped revolving and it seemed my life ground to a halt. It was an unexpected death, as so many illnesses are, but mercifully swift.
Merciful, that is, for her. It left me with an empty life before me. How many years? I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter.
So it was months later that I found myself waiting on lonely shore, in a gusty wind looking out at the bleak expanse of water, with Hobbs Island several miles distant, feeling desolate. But that was how each day felt at the time. Completely empty. It had been just six months, and my world had gone from full, exciting and fulfilled, to something as forbidding as that shoreline itself.
I should explain. I’d arrived a few days early for the workshop I was scheduled to give, with the intent to use the time to write. I had a piece to complete about the psychology of addiction, and it had been my intention to use those few days to complete the article in the quiet of the retreat. I suppose I should have checked with the organisers more carefully. I’d just assumed the hotel would be open, even though it was out of season.
After walking from the railway station to the quay, I made the call to my contact only to learn that the hotel on Hobbs Island would be closed. As it happened, the owner had been contacted and gave me permission to stay, even though I’d have to fend for myself in the empty old building.
After school I walked home, at first with my friend Tom Silver and his little sister, Jennifer. I left them at their house on the outskirts of the village and then continued on toward the light alone. This was quite usual.
I remember Mrs. Worsely seeing me coming up from the gate and hurrying up to meet me. I knew something was wrong immediately.
One rainy afternoon in spring I was walking home from school and something rather unusual happened. It wouldn’t be something that would stick in my mind, but for the fact that it was so out of place. In the rainy light, which flattened everything and was like a great grey curtain pulled across my view, I trudged my way up the muddy path.
My father had spent the morning mending the gate and replacing the rotten timber with some new beams. It swung closed behind me as I made my way up the road. The thin rain seemed to run down my neck and infiltrate my collar. East coast rain gets everywhere.
I can tell this story now, after all these years. Most of the family are long dead, and I’ve never been blessed with children of my own. What little family I have that are still alive are long estranged from me. The events I am going to relate took place sixty years ago, so I know you’ll appreciate that I am not breaking any confidences. However, to a young twelve year old the episode remains one I have struggled with for decades, but perhaps I am getting ahead of myself.
As Halloween approaches and the souls of the dead prepare to walk the earth, any number of my friends are preparing to dress up and wander the streets in the dark. Actually, now that I think about it, most weekends many of my friends spend their evenings doing precisely that regardless of the time of year.
I was conferring with Sylvester in my kitchen, examining a few articles of lingerie, trying to decide what best to wear for my Halloween night party. I finally decided on fishnet, stiletto heels and a bodice, with a steampunk look. Perfect.
I asked Sylvester what he planned to come as.
“I think Donald Trump, if I can find the right costume.”
“At this late stage, I’m not sure you’re going to be able to find a giant dick costume!” I said sympathetically.
At that very moment Amanda, my wife’s unbearable friend, arrived at the door and knocked so hard I felt sure the roof would cave in. She has all the grace and delicacy of a garbage truck.
She barrelled in, coughing and spluttering like a diesel engine that hadn’t been run in a while. Amanda then went on to tell us of the latest disaster to befall her. Amanda was coming by, fresh from her gynecologist. Now, if there was ever a job that requires a strong stomach, being Amanda’s gyny would be the top of that list. Apparently Amanda was in the midst of an exam, had a coughing fit and one way or another the poor man was taken off to hospital with a broken wrist!
I will spare you the details, but it was all rather distasteful. Then, just to make matters worse, Sylvester let slip that he was coming to my party, which so far we’d successfully kept secret from Amanda. She then promptly invited herself to the event!
Reluctantly I asked what she would be coming as.
“Well,” she said, expansively. “I think I’ll come as that CNN broadcaster that looks like me.”
Sylvester and I looked at one another, puzzled. I was thinking, maybe Lou Dobbs, but he’s with Fox now. Maybe Wolf Blitzer?
“You know,” she persisted. “The blonde. Megan whats-her-name…”
“Megan Kelly?” I asked.
“That’s her,” said Amanda.
“Oh,” I said. “The likeness is uncanny.” Megan Kelly looks about as much like Amanda as a carrot resembles plague.
“Well,” I said. “If you stand next to Sylvester as Donald Trump, all you need do to look like Megan Kelly is wear any form of period costume.”
But, that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. I recently had a delightful email from Brandi, in Yakima, WA in which she enclosed a great face pic which she had touched up using an app called YouCam Makeup- Makeover Studio. I’m sure we all appreciate a good touch up, don’t we? So this week I am offering a free membership of my Little Black Book to the best retouched Halloween pic which uses YouCam or another similar makeup type filter. Keep in mind that any pics you send in may end up on the website – so don’t be surprised if I place them there!
Have a wonderful Halloween, and at this time of year – when so many of us are having so much fun – spare a thought for Amanda’s gynecologist!