Tag: Sylvester

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We’re looking at Amanda’s crack!

I’m so sorry I’ve not been available much this week. I’ve just got back from a brief expedition with Bernard my photographer. He had me out in his boat this week. What a salty little sea dog he is, whipping out his equipment at the least expected moment. He likes to do a little wildlife photography on the water.

For those of you who read my messages regularly, you’ll know that my wife’s childhood friend Amanda, is something of an unfortunately regular visitor to my house in Huckleberry Close. My wife, who is regrettably travelling at present in Bulgaria, or Belgravia… or was it Bolivia, insists I treat Amanda with kindness.

“If you love me,” she said before leaving last time, “you’ll be nice to Amanda.”

I understand that doesn’t include pretending not to be home when Amanda visits, telling her the party is at an obscure address in Poughkeepsie, or creating fake profiles with her picture on Grinder. So, I have to watch my step. All that said, when I arrived home the other day only to put down my bags and hear a knocking on the door I was surprised to see a very upset Amanda on the doorstep, swathed in her usual tweed.

Seeing she was clearly upset I invited her in.

“What on earth is the matter, darling,” I asked as I poured her a large glass of wine, and an appletini for myself.

For those of you who wish to learn more about the various people in my life, just drill down using the hotlinks in these emails. I usually put a link to all the tags mentioning them early in the email, so it’s not hard to learn more about any given person. Amanda appears a great deal, as does Sylvester and Sebastian. You’ll find it’s quite a rich world of personalities and situations.

Amanda, as you possibly know, is the editor of Pig and Pig Farmer. This pillar of the journalistic establishment has been described as the fourteenth most influential publication in the sphere of Pig and Pork production monthly periodicals. As you can imagine, this makes Amanda quite an influential voice in the world of pork.

“It’s work,” she said. “I just feel so… so… so overlooked.”

“Why on earth is that,” I asked.

“It’s these bloody men! They’ve passed me over once more. I was hoping to be made group editor this year. I just feel I have so much more to offer,” she said between sobs. “And now they made Jed Richardson group editor and he’s barely been with the company three years.”

“Don’t worry,” I said trying to hug her and keep socially distanced. To do so I’d have to be an orangutan, I suppose, but I tried to show some human kindness. I know what you’re thinking. I give too much of myself to others – I know. Well, it’s just who I am, I suppose.

“I know it must seem terribly unfair,” I said. “These things happen. Don’t worry. Perhaps he’ll have an unfortunate accident, or something. You never know when fate is going to play a hand.”

“But it’s such an insult, being passed over again. It’s like I’ve hit a glass ceiling,” she said between sobs, pushing her face between my breasts.

I have to say the estrogen regime has done a great deal to help me comforting those that lean on me. You just can’t beat breasts!

“The workplace is a very unfair place,” I said to Amanda. “If it doesn’t feel right, you should just tell them where to shove their job.”

“In this economy?” she replied. And she did have a point.

“I remember all the trouble Sylvester had years ago when he was looking for a career in healthcare,” I said. “He got fired from that centre where they do the long term care for people with leprosy.”

“He worked in a leper colony?” said Amanda perking up a little.

“Well, they don’t call it that now,” I replied. “It’s some sort of long term care facility. Anyway, he started a poker school for some of the patients and ended up getting fired over it. Apparently someone threw their hand in, and lost their head. It was all very distasteful. Anyway, you know what a sweetheart he is. Employers are usually completely insensitive and out of touch. You just have to learn to take their money and keep on smiling.”

Amanda looked at me doubtfully.

“I suppose I do get some good perks,” she replied. “The bacon, and stuff. And I get to go to Porkers every year.”

“Porkers?” I said.

“It’s the Pig farming convention,” she explained. I should add that there is an irony here. Amanda is currently in a relationship with our next door neighbor, Marjory, who is quite a big noise on the competitive eating scene. https://majorleagueeating.com/ She is apparently accomplished in the sausage category, which seems unusual, with her being a lesbian and everything. Anyway, there’s Amanda growing the stuff, and Marjory wolfing it down. I can’t help thinking there’s a joke somewhere in there about Amanda firming it up and Marjory swallowing… well, you get the idea.

“Look,” I said comforting Amanda. “You have to remember, there’s a lot of people down at that paper who look at you with admiration. They’ve watched you from behind their desks as you’ve climbed higher and higher, and eventually burst through that glass ceiling, in a shower of glass and workplace discrimination. I mean, come on! You’re the first women to edit Pig and Pig Farmer in the history of pig journalism. And all those other people are left below in a pile of glass, looking up at… at… your crack. The crack you left in the ceiling.”

Amanda’s shoulder’s heaved and she sobbed again.

“Really, Amanda,” I said. “You know it’s no measure of who you are. We all admire your crack. The way you’ve opened things up.”

I had the distinct feeling I wasn’t helping. At that moment Marjorie’s F150 pulled up next door and I heard her boots on the gravel path. I let out a sigh of relief and Amanda pulled away and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I’d better go,” she said. “I don’t want Marjory to see me like this.”

So, this week as we move further into a difficult time in the workplace for many of us, I’d like to take the opportunity to remind all my lovely friends that you are not defined by your work. It’s good to remind ourselves from time to time that our work is only a small part of who we are. We work to support our life, we don’t live to support our work.

Many of my friends can’t work dressed as they wish, or even being the person they really are. When one is fortunate enough to live as one desires life gets a whole lot better, but many of us don’t have that opportunity. If you’d like to explore this idea further you may want to read this – https://fionadobson.com/can-i-be-femme-behind-closed-doors-but-masculine-in-public/

I should say, I’ve been very fortunate. Having worked in the press, I can honestly say I’ve been fired by some of the finest papers in the world. To be honest, when I was in the press world that was practically a recommendation, and no one was considered very serious if they hadn’t been fired from one or two papers. I’ve even been hired back by a few, too. I think things are a lot different today, though not particularly better. Times change. For those of us who are gender fluid, keeping things in perspective is important. Workplace discrimination is a pretty serious and massively prevalent issue. We have to learn to laugh, and have patience. Being trans sure teaches us that. But we’re still here. And we aren’t going anywhere.

Have a lovely week, and don’t let Covid get you down. I must say, my good friend and Prime Minister of Canada, Justin was on the news today. Which reminds me, I think he’s still got my copy of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. He always leaves the pages of books I lend him with the corners turned down. I’ve given him no end of bookmarks, but what can you do!

😊

Fiona

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It’s mini-skirt time!

It’s almost June, and I made a foray into the office, something I rarely do these days. To be quite honest, and between you and I, I’ve avoided going into the office since Sylvester crashed the virtual office Christmas party, pulled the pockets out of his pants and did his impression of an elephant. One just never knows when a mark may have been overstepped.

To make things still more unpredictable, we have a new human resources director. Colin, the last HR director was rather eccentric. He had tattoos all over his body, including a Canadian flag over his heart and a map of Canada on his face. He may have been a little odd, but at least with Colin you always knew where you were.

I was intercepted by the new HR director, Debra, as I entered the deserted reception area. A large woman, she approached me and asked who I was, not having been introduced to me before.  She wore a ski jacket, which seemed a little odd in late May here in Vancouver. I also noticed she seemed to be well acquainted with my personnel file, which did not inspire confidence. Personally I prefer to keep a low profile when it comes to HR people.

I glanced around the reception area, noticing that the walls were adorned with new paintings.

“Geoff’s drawn up a corporate revitalization plan,” she said, referring to the CEO, while noticing I was looking around at the artwork on the office walls.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Oh, we’re going to be brightening up the office and moving toward a greener profile,” replied Debra.  “He says we have to pay more attention to our green footprint.”

I glanced at my shoes.  I decided that while in town I should stop by that Italian shoe shop.

I find it a good practice to bend over backewards to help clients at the agency.

“What does that really mean,” I asked.

“It means he’s turned off the heating,” came her reply. Well, at least that explained the ski jacket.  I immediately noticed that the office was a lot cooler than it used to be.

“I see,” I replied trying not to show my disappointment.

“And that we have this,” and at this moment she paused, “… this art on the walls.”

“Oh,” I said, “that’s what it is.”

She smirked at me. I felt a little more encouraged. Could Debra be an ally? She looked at a large piece positioned behind where our receptionist would generally sit.

“What does it say to you, Fiona?” she asked.

“It says to me that the artist has a pet cat with severe gastric distress,” I replied.

“Yes,” she agreed doubtfully. “You obviously have a keen eye. Actually, it says that Geoff’s daughter is out of rehab again and he’s bought a load of her art to put a few dollars in her pocket.”

“Our receptionist may need counselling if she’s exposed to these for too long,” I replied.

That however is not the main reason I’m writing to you today. As we get into summer it’s time to reach for that miniskirt and get into it.  If you don’t have one,  either finding one in a store, or even going to a good quality thrift store and hunting down a bargain is a great idea. If you’re on my Patreon why not post a pic in the community section. There’s a challenge for you Daphanie! Daphanie is one of my favorite members and very active on our Whatsapp Group. To help you along the way try this little self hypnosis file. It may encourage you.

😊

Fiona

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

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I’m helping a client with his meat and two veg.

It seems like I spend half my time on texts these days. And then Sylvester will send something stupid like the text he’s just sent me.

Really, I’m running between meetings, trying to keep my hair nice, checking out the new boy in the post room (yes, we still have one) and helping one of the senior partners arrange his meat and two veg. Oh, I should explain Bernard is doing a shoot for a client who has a string of restaurants, and we have to photograph some of the food for the advertisement. I can’t’ tell you much about it as it’s not yet been released, but jeez, you should see the size of the client’s sausage.

And then I get a string of texts from Sylvester.

  • Sylvester: …by the way Fiona, I want to tell you something.
  • Myself: ?
  • Sylvester: Did you hear about the explosion?
  • Myself: What?
  • Sylvester: Yes. I’ve been showered in letters.
  • Myself: What are you blabbering about?
  • Sylvester: Since the explosion at the Scrabble factory.
  • Myself: I suppose you think that’s funny.

Really, I have to put up with the most annoying things at times, and Sylvester is one of them. If he’s not moping around and looking doe eyed at Amanda, he’s out trying to teach Rainbow how to drive. He came in to the kitchen yesterday after taking her for a driving lesson. He was shaking so much I had to comment.

“Sylvester, if that’s not early onset Parkinson’s, I’d say you’re looking a little shaken up,” I said as I poured the tea.

He gave that thousand mile stare he sometimes has, and while clutching a traffic citation in his hand he said softly, “How can you break the speed limit doing a three point turn in a cul-de sac? How did she do that?”

“Goodness me,” I said, adjusting my tartan three quarter length skirt. “Just what is it you’re teaching her to do?”

“It’s for her driving test,” he replied sounding quite dazed. “’Nineth time lucky’ she said. Ninth time.”

“Oh yes,” I replied. “Ninth time is always a charm.”

But that’s not the main reason I am writing to you.

I thought I’d just remind you that this is Pride Month, and inspite of what a few Neanderthals would have you believe, in most of the civilized world Pride is being celebrated with joy.

If you’ve not done so already, take a moment to find an appropriate way to support Pride in your neighborhood.

Have a delightful weekend.

😊

Fiona

PS. If you’re on Mastodon, follow me here: https://mastodon.online/@FionaDobson

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Sylvester gets a poke from behind.

When Sylvester suggested I paint breasts on the back of my life jacket, thereby giving him something interesting to look at as he paddled in the double kayak, I refrained from the desire to beat him in the head with the paddle in my hands.  We’ve taken to getting out and about on beautiful English Bay.

We’ve been doing so many chores at home recently I think we deserve a bi of a break. Just yesterday afternoon we were cleaning up an old chest of draws that had been neglected. Some candles had burned down and damaged the surface. We’re taking the finish back to the wood. I’ve been stripping while Sylvester scrapes the varnish and wax off.

I enjoy doing outdoor activities to keep my body in shape. One activity I’ve found that works very well is sea kayaking. There are a couple of things worthy of pointing out about this activity. First of all, you can crossdress, wear a wig and anything else you want, once you’re out on the water no one is going to be able to either do or say anything about it. Another great advantage to be gained from this activity is the wonderful grounded feeling one has when surrounded with this much nature.

Continue reading “Sylvester gets a poke from behind.”
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My knob is terribly stiff!

“This knob is very stiff,” I said to Sylvester, as I relaxed in the seat.

Oh, I should explain, he’s been installing a new sound system in my car.

“I can loosen it a little,” said Sylvester, “but you don’t want it so loose that someone ends up jerking it off. You wouldn’t want that.”

“Speak for yourself,” I replied.

However, that’s not the reason I’m writing to you. Mildred, from Colorado Springs writes:

“Fiona, I’d like to be reminded of you every morning when I have my first cup of coffee of the day. And I’d also like to discretely show my support for trans people and those of us that are of a gender non-conforming bent. What can you do to help?

Love from Mildred, Colorado Springs.

PS. Why do I get so much mail that starts out “Dear Sir or Madam’? Is there something I should know?”

OK. One thing at a time.

Yes, of course I have something to help you first thing in the morning. And a discrete way to show your support to all our members and friends. I was in a conversation with Sebastian about this just yesterday. I can see him in my minds eye right now, sitting on my right hand after we’d finished yoga, while I enjoyed a soothing cup of Earl Grey Tea.

“Those nice boys and girls at Patreon can help you. They can make a cup and give it to any member who joins as a Unicorn and stays on for three months,” he told me while pulling his yoga pants back on.

“That’s a curiously random piece of information to have,” I replied.

It’s true, though. If you join my Patreon as a Unicorn after three months you will receive this lovely mug, complete with the image here. This will be recognizable to anyone interested in gender issues, though won’t really mean much to anyone else. I’m told it’s really a good idea. It is also a great conversation starter.

Keep in in this is my first venture into the world of ‘Merch’. It all sounds so very sordid. Anyway, Max will oversee the tech side of it. He’s recovered from the last flogging he had. I think that was for something to do with us being kicked off Tumblr. Again! Either way I will see it’s done well.

So, pound my button as hard as you can and sign up as a Unicorn Member and in three months you’ll get a cool cup to help you enjoy me every morning. Wait. That’s not what I meant.

🙂

Fiona.

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‘My boyfriend is a vet, but he’s recently started neglecting my pussy and using different pronouns!’

Sylvester was in my garden this morning enjoying a glass of my freshly made lemonade, hand squeezed and made from a recipe I enjoy.

“I do hope you’re like this, Sylvester, I juiced my lemons this morning especially for you,” I said.

Sylvester stared at my chest and then took another sip. You know he really can be quite coarse.

I do find fresh lemonade is a great way to refresh myself on these warm west coast days. Here’s a useful recipe if you have yet to make lemonade yourself. Now, I’m not saying Auntie Kittie has a problem with alcohol, but the moment I added a little gin to the mix her head appeared over the back gate to my garden and she gave a dainty wave.

“Is any body home,” she called out staring at the gin bottle.

And then she was in. Really, what can I do!

Not to be derailed from the job at hand, I sat the two of them down and told them of something that’s been on my mind of late. I am often asked by members and their wives, ‘does crossdressing mean I’m going to be a worse husband?’  I had one such discussion this morning with a member whose husband was, ironically, a veterinarian.

Auntie Kittie topped up her lemonade with a healthy belt of gin and turned to me and said, “Of course it doesn’t.”

Sylvester glanced at Auntie Kittie and thankfully kept quiet. She is an expert on marriage having had two husbands. Widowed twice by the age of sixty is by some measures, quite an achievement.

“My poor Willard used to love to wear a nice frock from time to time,” she went on. “Of course, he was a slave to his prostate…”

She left that one hanging in the air. I wasn’t quite sure how to go on from there.

Surprisingly, Sylvester chimed in, “didn’t I see some statistics recently saying that people who are in the non-binary category are 23% more likely than the other adults to own a dog or cat?”

“Yes, ” I said. “Max pulled up those stats the other day.”

“Well, that suggests they’d be more likely to be sympathetic. You know, having a slightly more gentle nature,” mused Sylvester.

I stared at him, and said, “Well, done Sylvester. I think you just made your first emotionally intelligent observation. I do believe you’re becoming more sensitive. There’s hope for you and all other Neanderthal men out there. Next you’ll stop trying to light your farts at the church picnic.”

Sylvester looked a little morose at this and muttered something about that only happening on the one occasion.

Have a lovely weekend.

🙂

Fiona

.

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The Trouble With Threesomes.

You know how it is.  You all get ready, make sure you’re prepared. Everyone takes the proper precautions – you know what I’m saying.

And then it always goes like this.  One person just always, always finishes too soon. They’re way out there on their own having so much fun and then they’re done. Yes, it’s the same every time.


That’s why I never like playing threesomes at my local golf course. Sylvester and I are out there trying to find our balls, and Sebastian, my personal trainer, has already finished and is left polishing the shaft of his 9 iron. As you can doubtless tell, Sylvester, Sebastian and I are out having a round of golf now that spring s here.

tumblr_o633arjprr1uxh3kao1_500Bernard is recovering from his heart transplant at home in his bed, though I have noticed since he got the heart of a middle aged African American woman he has started behaving very strangely. He’s made an appointment to meet Amanda, the queen of tweed, and show her his ‘Mamma’s recipe for apple pie,’ and he’s joined the local Baptist church choir. They were very confused when he said he wanted to sing in the soprano section.

I’ve always found teeing off in a group of four very much more satisfying. I also like to get off first, so I can feel them all coming up behind me. I’m sure you know what I mean.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you tonight. It’s just to tell you I’ve recently added a new feature to my Premium Program. I’ve always had a great collection of tasks and hypnosis files for my CD friends and members. Now I have added some great new material to the Premium Program for those crossdressers who have a partner who you’d like to bring into your CD activities.

Yes, I’ve put together a special short empowerment course to help your wife or partner (of any gender) take a more dominant role. This fun series of self hypnosis recordings stimulates a more dominant aspect of the subject to emerge. Over the course of several nights they listen to hypnotic instructions that are sure to engage their more dominant self. This, coupled with a powerful set of ‘subservience’ instructions for you – and it’s a powerful tool for anyone wanting to engage their partner in some of their crossdressing.

I know you’ll love it. It’s yet another great reason to upgrade to Premium Program if you haven’t already.

🙂

Fiona.


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Wake up and smell the dry rot!

Hi,

I’ve been travelling a great deal lately, which is quite ironic as my wife has arrived home in Vancouver for a few days. I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself. Sylvester and I spent a few days in England recently and visited a delightful theme park called ‘Salisbury’. So cute. We also went into something called “Stonehenge”. It’s a conceptual art installation in a field. Very modern!

Naturally I was interested in the local fashions and styles, and I have a suspicion some of the locals around Stonehenge were definitely crossdressing on the quiet. The whole druid thing, with the robes and the paint, seems pretty femme to me. And of course, throughout the countryside there’s that delightful aroma of history and dry rot, and confused looking locals wearing 1950’s clothes. It’s all very lovely.

I have to say that this part of England is the most delightful place. It’s almost as though the modern era has passed it by, particularly in the fields of architecture and dentistry. So it was that Sylvester and I strolled along through the countryside in the footsteps of our neolithic ancestors. That’s no mean feat, by the way, when you’re wearing four inch heels.

We stayed at a delightful pub in Salisbury, called The Red Lion. It was built in 1220, which is substantially before North America was invented! I would thoroughly recommend the menu, and the rather cute little dark eyed waiter. It’s fair to say that the food was wonderful, and the waiter was no slouch either.

Later that day I noticed Sylvester eyeing my pork pies as we rode in the taxi up to Stonehenge. He’s quite enamored with the place. The landscape is so delightful here, and hardly any people. For a small island with 70 million people in it, I am left thinking they must have a mine somewhere in the north where they shove the other 60 million. It’s probably near Northallerton…

While on the road I’ve been managing to keep up with the flood of email. I received a heartfelt message from a member this morning and felt I should share it.  Linda is a sweetheart and lives in Australia.

My member said:

”Hi Fiona,

Well here I go once again. I tried to stop CD’ing and, well, that didn’t last long! l finally received a pair of black satin lace panties through the mail and I tried them on and they feel amazing. That’s what sent me right back to CD’ing lm sure you have been told this by many others.   This has been on-going for me as long as I can remember!

Linda

I responded with a reply below:

Hi Linda,

I know it can feel as though this is something to which you are a slave. That’s not really true though.  It’s a part of who you are, just as your eye colour or your sense of humor is just a component of who you are.

For many crossdressers there really is a cycle that repeats and revolves throughout there adult life. If you are a crossdresser, you’ve likely been at this place before. You probably question, ‘why does this happen to me?’ This is one of the most difficult parts of dealing with this phenomenon.

As these cycles play through there’s a sense of desperation and likely shame, none of which feels very good. However, my take is rather different. I believe that rather than fighting something that is not going to just go away, I suggest you embrace it and manage it. It’s a deeply engrained part of who you are and you can never really ‘master’ it. Instead I encourage you to face it, move with it, and own it.

Instead of fighting the urge to dress, now and then go with it. My program teaches you to dress when you wish, to sometimes dress in a manner that’s more androgynous, and to accept who you are. I always counsel my members to do this in an appropriate way, and not to jeopardize their friendships and partnerships.

Sometimes dressing can be as simple as putting a little eye makeup on. Other times it might mean putting on a dress and heels, and occasionally it might simply mean wearing a pair of discrete panties beneath one’s work-wear. It may even play out as something that’s barely feminine at all, and yet satisfies your own desire to feel just a little more gently intentioned.

As you work with it, instead of fighting it, your crossdressing becomes a source of joy, not shame. Likely no one will notice much difference in you. And over time you start to shift a little. And then a little more. That part of you so long suppressed begins to become simply part of who you are – as it should.

So, don’t worry. Naturally I’d suggest you join my Premium Program, but you can also manage it yourself with care and discretion. You see, there’s a reason that thousands of people have joined my program over the years. Crossdressing can become a celebration of your own creativity.

I sincerely hope this helps.

🙂

Fiona

It’s quite normal for us to experience cycles with crossdressing, leading to a binge/purge experience with buying clothes. My Premium Program helps get rid of this destructive behaviour. Are you ready? If you’re not already in it, perhaps today is a good day to join.

😊

Fiona
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In England they speak English quite well, for foreigners. This is an interesting training video and will help many fellow travelers get by.
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Let me grab a towel.

Here I am getting this post ready for you in the hotel, on a hot evening here in Chicago. I hardly know where to start, so much has been going on. I suppose I should start by telling you all about Sylvester and the other night.

I wiped my chin and said to Sylvester, “Oh, my goodness!”

It took me a moment to catch my breath. “It wasn’t as salty as I expected. I can hardly believe the quantity!”

“My tool is almost worn out!” Said Sylvester. He held the pliers, and dabbed his face with the napkin. Eating east coast lobster at a fish restaurant in Chicago is a great pleasure, but a very messy one. What did you think we were doing?

Sylvester was wrestling the last bit of lobster meat from within the claw. What a character he his. Always with a tool in his hand! As I am sure you know, he’s my mechanic and friend. We flew down together to visit Bernard in the hospital who was recovering in hospital..

I should explain. If you followed last weeks email you’ll know that Bernard managed to get himself Tazered in the arrivals lounge of O’Hare airport. That is far from where the drama ended.

He was rushed through to the hospital, and there – to my horror – they found that Bernard, who had become so excited by certain aspects of my physique, was in the middle of a heart attack. I had thought he looked rather like a freshly landed trout as he convulsed following his Tazering, but not being familiar with how one generally responds to a Tazer, I thought this quite normal.

Fiona’s Crossdressing Blog

Even the police officer who gave Bernard the jolt looked quite concerned. He even showed up in the hospital as Sylvester and I were visiting. Bernard was still unconscious, and here we were three days later.

The police officer walked into the private room I arranged for Bernard, and held out his hand. “Officer Speltman,” he said. “You can call me Sparky.”

“Sparky,” said Sylvester. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah… They gave me that nickname at the academy. It kinda stuck…”

“Well, Sparky,” I said, “I’m Bernard’s friend. I’m sure he would be grateful you came and visited. If he were, you  know… conscious.”

“I’m sorry he got the jolt.  I didn’t really have a choice in the circumstances.”

I took the business card Officer Speltman offered and said I would call him when we had further news. Then Sylvester and I went and found a hotel, and a fish restaurant at which to have some dinner.

“I still don’t quite understand why Bernard didn’t get up when the cop told him to,” said Sylvester.

“I think he was concerned about his clothing being… disarranged. He was in a state of some excitement.” I felt awkward telling Sylvester that Bernard had a prominent erection and was concerned about embarrassing himself when he stood up. “Let’s just say he was hard at work, when it happened.”

The following morning I had a call from the hospital with the worrying news that Bernard was extremely ill and that the hospital was doing it’s best to locate a heart for a transplant. I am, of course, quite shocked – as I am sure you are. I will keep you informed. (See what happened next by going here: https://fionadobson.com/bernard/zipper-job/)

In the meantime, I have a very special self hypnosis file for you tonight.

This file is all about identity, so join me in a lovely relaxing self hypnosis exercise and have a listen. And of course, I will be sure to let you know about developments with Bernard.

🙂

Fiona

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A little something to help you through the daily grind.

“You know,” I said to Sylvester as he got ready with some lube, “I feel I need to give my gurls a little bit of a hand from time to time.”

Sylvester looked up at me, applying the shiny liquid to his shaft.

“You’re so thoughtful, Fiona.”

You will remember that Sylvester is a mechanic. He’s restoring an old engine at present. He knows the value of making sure all the parts are well lubricated.

“Are you sure it’s going to fit,” I asked as he slid the shaft into a tight fitting sleeve.

“You’d be amazed what a good amount of lubrication can do,” he said concentrating on the job in hand.

The shaft slid home with a satisfying metallic sigh.

“Goodness,” I said with a slight gasp. “You’re really very good at this.”

“Yes,” he said with a look of studied concentration. “Lubrication is the key to so many things.”

“You know you’re right!” I replied. “I just feel I want to help my members feel a sense of satisfaction. So many of them put up with so much.”

It was as I thought about this that I decided to post a few pictures that might elevate your mood. You know, if you’re on this site then I am like a sister to you. And any good sister would be prepared to bend over backwards to help you feel good about yourself.

Do you think I should bend over backwards for you? Well, register and see what I have as you slip inside the website. You know the deeper and deeper you go into it the more satisfying it can be. Come on. Register here, and go really deep. Just the way I like it.

🙂

Fiona

PS – be sure to sign up for one of my programs to experience the deep satisfaction we both crave.

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Poor Rainbow! I can’t think what got into her last night.

Rainbow sat clutching her gentle brow at my kitchen table, pale and effete as ever. That girl could well be a vampire.

“No, Rainbow. I don’t think anyone rufied your kombucha,” I said.  “I think you drank half a bottle of gin on your own. And that’s what it does.”

“But, my head,” she moaned.

Sylvester shifted awkwardly. Like most men, the delivery of unearned sympathy is something he struggles with. Instead he sensibly kept his mouth shut.

“You need a nice cleanse,” I said as I fried an egg in a heavy iron frying pan. “A sauna, perhaps and then a seaweed wrap.”

“Sushi?” she said, turning a little green.

“No, a seaweed wrap, where they wrap your body into the healing energy of seaweed. It’s lovely. I had one with Sebastian last week at the spa.”

“You realise I am basically an unemployed student?” retorted Rainbow.

“Well, I’m just saying, with all that yoga and healthy living…” I adopted my most forgiving manner.

“Are you saying I can’t go out and drink till I can’t feel my face from time to time?” she replied.

Rainbow seemed to be a little tense, as well as being in the midst of a severe hangover.

“Where on earth were you?” asked Sylvester.

“Some of the girls from the yoga studio and I went out to celebrate at Trannie Annies,” replied Rainbow.

“They don’t let me in that place anymore,” grumbled Sylvester.

“Shut up, Sylvester,” I said. “May I ask what you were celebrating last night, Rainbow. And, I mean, darling… was it really worth it?” I asked in an attempt to mollify her.

There was a long sigh, and then as I handed a high electrolyte orange drink to Rainbow she shared her latest news.

“and then … Yadayadayada, so now I realise I’m poly,” she concluded.

I stared at her.

I pride myself in being a crossdresser of taste and style, even if I do hang around with coarse oafs like Sylvester from time to time, but this was shocking news to me.

“Really,” I said stifling my bewildered emotions. “You’re into polyester?”

I couldn’t sanction such perversion.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Sylvester. “It means she’s got a thing for parrots.”

“You two are the limit,” said the poor suffering girl as I placed a perfectly fried egg on wholegrain toast before her.

“Really, Rainbow, darling, I can prepare a nice cleanse for you. An elixir of dandelion root, sage, kayle and Labrador tea leaves. I think of it as a very healthy cleanse.”

Sylvester piped up, “Sort of an ‘ethnic cleanse’. You’ll feel like an entirely new person. I always say “When you feel like the bottoms fallen out of your world, Fiona can make a cleanse that will make the world fall out of…”

“Sylvester, belt up!” I interjected.

Sylvester really can be quite coarse you know. I sometimes wonder why I let him in. Still he does like to come and join me for breakfast after driving the Zamboni to prepare the ice for our hockey players for their early morning practice.

Now, I’m sure you know this, but if you want to drill down and learn more about some of my people you’ll see that the first mention of them is generally highlighted and a hot link. Through the wonders of technology, if you click on that you’ll get a list of all the stories in which they feature. So you can drill down on any of the people and get more of their story. After 7 years of writing you’ll find the well is indeed quite deep. It can keep you uselessly employed for hours!

Have a wonderful day.

🙂

Fiona

PS. I recently rebuilt my Patreon presence. They’d kicked me off before but have let me back now on the condition that I keep my panties pulled up. If you’re enjoying these messages be sure to join me at any level on Patreon to build up my presence there. I include some fun content there. I am always grateful to my members. xxx

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The magnificence of dreams.

I stepped out of the warm stream of the shower knowing Sebastian and Sylvester were downstairs waiting for me in the breakfast room. After pulling on some panties, a robe and my pink fluffy slippers I hurried down the stairs.

Sebastian and Sylvester were at the table. I’d completed a particularly rigorous dawn yoga session with Sebastian. If my hips were any more open you could have driven a train up there. As luck would have it Sylvester had offered to make us breakfast. While usually a coarse oaf, Sylvester has the capacity to be quite sweet at times.

As I glided into the kitchen Sylvester was serving up a delightful grilled breakfast, the sausages sizzling fresh off the skillet. A good start to the day is a lot easier with a breakfast like this. And breakfast is really the most important meal of the day. The bacon was glistening with flavor and the tomatoes came from Ali’s own garden. Quite lovely.

“It’s the damndest thing,” I said staring at the plate.

Sylvester looked at my plate and said “what’s wrong with it?”

“No, not the food. It’s just I had the weirdest dream last night.”

Sebastian asked, “What did you dream?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember how it all went.

“There were a few of us downtown. And there was this guy who had died.”

“Who was he?” asked Sylvester.

“I don’t know. It’s not important. Just some stiff,” I replied.

“Anyway they wouldn’t let him in the graveyard because the church said they didn’t have room. But everyone knew it was because he was queer. So, there was this drag queen. She was lovely. Let’s call her ‘Carlotta’.., and I. And we stole the body and buried her up in the church yard anyway.”

“You know they don’t let you do that,” said Sylvester.

“It was a dream,” I protested. “And we went up there and buried this guy. And then we did other stuff. Loads of stuff… And I had this lovely long velvet riding dress,  like in that English serial.  And Carlotta had these sequins on her pants and a gold cowboy hat and these huge guns with pearl inlays and a smoked blue gunmetal finish. A pair of 44s. Matching nails. Did I say we were on horses?”

“I know all about Carlotta’s 44s. How many of you were there,” asked Sylvester, a canny look in his eye.

“I believe it was seven. Seven trannies and drag queens. And one was bald. I’m not quite sure what her deal was. Yes, that sounds about right. You have no idea how much glitter that is.” I replied.

“Yes, you just dreamed The Magnificent Seven. That’s one of the best movies ever made,” said Sylvester.

“I thought it was a fantasy about masculinity and white privilege wrapped up in a self righteous superior message, all avoiding the whole gun thing, and how it’s a penis substitute and actually they’d all rather be playing with their wieners. Except Yul Brynner. No, If he was coming after me with that huge weapon of his. Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be running away all that fast.” I replied. “Can you imagine,” I said my thoughts drifting off. “…falling, and Yul leaning over you and reaching down and pulling you to your feet, and grabbing a great handful of ass and ripping….” My voice tailed off.  Sometimes I do forget not to speak my thoughts.

I continued, “But, yes, still one of the best movies ever made.”

Bringing a note of levity to the conversation Sebastian chimed in, “They’re all gone now…”

And what a time it would be to have a magnificent seven. With trans rights, and democracy itself on the ropes, we see so many hard won advances in decline. Things will turn around again soon. And in the meantime I think we have to support our trans sisters, regardless of what stage they are at, wherever we find them. Remember, you’re not alone. There are many of us here.

Enjoy the video clip below.

😊

Fiona

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I’m getting off.

I had just got off the phone with Sylvester. I called him because, being a quarter Italian, I thought he’d be able to tell me which was better, the Heinz ravioli or the Chef Boyardee one.

Really, it’s so easy to yank some people’s chain. Don’t worry, I only do it because I love him!

It’s all that, “Mamma used to make pasta by hand,” and “It’s not real cheese if it’s not from Italy.”

Honestly, they think they are the only people who know anything about culinary expertise. Why, I was making a lemming meringue pie just this week, but it fell of the table. Make of that what you will.

All that said I can’t deny that the Italians really do know how to seduce you through your mouth. The sensuality of linguine and the rugged honesty of meat balls, I mean really. What kind of pervert do you have to be not to love that?

All of which has nothing to do with the real reason I’m writing to you.  Part 61 of Clothes Maketh The Man is out. So many people have been waiting with baited breath to see what disaster is about to befall poor Andy next. All I can tell you is, ‘you really wouldn’t want to be Andy!’.

Have a lovely week.

🙂

Fiona.

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You are my Valentine.

What a wonderful day to remember our lovers and our past lovers. On a lovely day like this such thoughts are top of mind.

I have always taken a keen interest in medical and biological research. For example, when in 2010 UCLA researchers announced that they had proof that Neanderthals mated with homo sapiens it came as no surprise to me. But then it wouldn’t. As anyone who has met Sylvester, my mechanic, would realise, the evidence has always been there right before our eyes. 

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing today. It’s Valentine’s Day, and the time we celebrate our relationships. Max, my neighbors son, attempted to deliver a Valentine card secretly, but was picked up on my security cameras. He has no idea I know it was from him. Poor boy is only a breath over twenty years old. I’ll probably have some fun with that.

Sadly my wife is travelling at present. However, although I may have to battle the sadness of solitude and isolation, I wouldn’t want my members to suffer. With this in mind you might be interested in checking out My Little Black Book. It’s a pretty cool system, in which you contact three people a day until you build up a network of crossdressing friends and admirers. Anyway, you can read all about it here. It’s one of the benefits in my Unicorn Tier on Patreon, though you can by it as a stand alone product for as little as $2.95 if you wish.

So, sign up for My Little Black Book today and you can be sure you’ll not die alone, as Sylvester put it. Quite a few members have formed long and meaningful relationships in My Little Black Book. If you’d like to connect with other crossdressers it’s a great way to do so.

Have a lovely Valentine’s Day.

😊

Fiona 

– http://FionaDobson.com

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The Grin And Bare It Nudist Colony.

I was relaxing in my garden this afternoon when I got a distraught call from Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, asking to come round immediately. Of course, I said yes, always supportive of my friends. Besides, Sylvester had just left, having got my asphalt. He’s doing some work resurfacing the driveway.

“You’d better drop by, now I’ve got my asphalt,” I said down the phone.

Rainbow has just got back from a few days at what she calls a ‘retreat’. She does this once in a while, escaping to the Grin And Bare It Nudist Colony on a nearby island, in the southern Gulf Islands in British Columbia. It’s a rather strange sort of escape, involving naturists engaged in yoga and improv comedy. I suspect there’s a certain number of them that also become engaged in open sea swimming in an attempt to escape, or at least they would be if I found myself confined on an island in such circumstances.

One of the regulars at this particular location is a man who has turned to unusual street performance for his living.  Rainbow, who sometimes teaches yoga on the island, has been encouraging this gentleman, assuring him that street performance could be a great way to gain a small income for the rest of his life.

Continue reading “The Grin And Bare It Nudist Colony.”
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Let’s help Sylvester get it up.

As you likely know, I am a very busy gurl.  I like to involve myself in so many activities and hobbies, from pitching a tent to kite flying – I do love to get it up in a high wind – to support all my athletic friends, of course.

Recently my friend Sylvester was bemoaning the fact I am so busy.

“I have so much on,” I said. “So many appointments.”

“But surely you could drop them, just for me.” That’s not the first time I’ve heard that line spill from his lips, I assure you.

Sylvester is being a little insistent as he wants me to be one of his supporters in the up coming local Highland Games and Scottish Festival. I am unsure if you’ve heard of this, but I will explain it to you. A number of events such as the Caber Toss and Hammer Throw are offered and competitors test their skills. Sylvester has done quite well over the years.

He’s been asking me to come down and help polish his caber up for practice a number of times recently. As I work away at the great shaft, polishing for all I am worth I often find myself humming the little song of the highlands my grandmother used to sing.

“Come where the hands are clapping
Come where the toes are tapping
Come where the jocks are strapping
Down in the glen.

Land of inclement weather
Land of the prickly heather
So keep your knees together
Scotland the brave!”

Well, I thought, if I’m going to support Sylvester in his highland fling I have to find something suitable to wear.  My first thought was a kilt, but as every gurl knows, you just can’t show up in something that everyone else is wearing. That’s when I turned to my friends at The Drag Queen Closet. I have to tell you about them, because they are so good at what they do. Firstly, their clothes are properly sized. I know that when I order the XL size it will fit me like a glove – and I don’t mean a floppy old gardening glove. I mean a sheer perfect latex sleeve that fits perfectly. Second I know it will be delivered discretely and swiftly. And finally, it will be a good quality Item I can be proud to be seen in.

Find it HERE.

Naturally they had exactly what I was looking for. So much more fun than a simple kilt, a little steampunky and at the same time elegant. The quality of this type of garment is far greater than you generally expect of CD clothes. I know it will last and I can feel good about wearing this lovely design. When it arrived a few days ago I was thrilled and I have struggled not to wear it every time I go out, because it’s meant to be a surprise for Sylvester when he’s at the competition. After all I want him to do his very best tossing his caber and get a high score.  Being there to be supportive and get it up – among the leaders – will mean the world to him.

You should seriously think about using The Drag Queen Closet for your supplies, and sooner or later you’ll be getting it up too!

Have a wonderful week,

Fiona

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Bounce your way to freedom.

I walked into Sylvester’s slightly messy workshop along with Ali, who had given me a ride down to the auto repair shop in his Smart Car. I must say it’s a tight squeeze, even though we’re neither of us very large.

I wore a light cotton summer dress and some deck shoes. I offset the look with a necklace of white oversized beads and a matching bangle.

You probably know that Sylvester is something of an inventor. He’s always got one new thing on the go or another. That morning I glanced around at the busy workspace at shafts of metal, Sylvester feverishly fitting sleeves and flanges together, and what looked surprisingly like a disassembled pogo stick on the workbench.

“Dare I ask,” I said.

“It’s a device that will revolutionize the life of anyone needing a prosthetic leg,” replied Sylvester without looking up from what he was doing. “It combines the length of stride of a tall man, with the spring action of a pogo stick. It will make speed walking easier,” he paused and then added uncertainly, “and more exciting.”

“Are you quite sure this is a good idea?” I asked looking at the dubious collection of parts.

Ali looked about the place and then said, “I think I know this thing. It’s a monobouncyunipod.”

Sylvester looked up at him in surprise and said, “I had no idea you were versed in the ways of advanced neo-prosthetic engineering.” He seemed to suddenly have a new respect for Ali, my Syrian gardener.

“What,” said Ali, a little affronted. “You think we didn’t have pogo sticks in Syria before the war? We had many things. We had wonderful things,” he continued, his eyes glazing over as he looked into the distance. 

Ali continued, “My next door neighbour, Sara, had one. Bounced around on it all day.” He smiled to himself and then continued, “Her sister hurt herself and had to have part of her nose stitched back on.”

“Well, I don’t think you can call it a ‘Monobouncyunipod’. It doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue. No one will buy it,” I said.

Sylvester looked up from the workbench.

“No, you’re right,” he replied thoughtfully. “I shall call it ‘The Unitard’!”

“Oh, yes,” I said a little sardonically. “I can see it now. ‘Bounce your way to one-legged freedom with The Unitard!’. What could possibly go wrong?”

And that brings me to this weeks exciting suggestions to help you crossdressing.  The Unitard is a vastly under rated piece of clothing. And yet, for a crossdresser it’s surprisingly adaptable.

Ideally you want something that covers the arms and legs, so any unshaved areas become a non-issue. Additionally it should be easy to wear, wash and combine with other clothes. Score, score and score.

A nice unitard, combined with a plain wrap around skirt is simple and striking. Whether you just want to lounge about or be more active, check out the unitards on my Pinterest and think about dialling them into your crossdressing wardrobe.

I am traveling a lot at the moment, so expect to see me popping up at unusual hours on the site.

I am working on some special content on my Patreon at present. There’s a level there called ‘Behind The Scenes With Fiona‘. This is a personal set of posts that reflect some of the unusual things I deal with on a day to day basis. It will be of interest to others who are also in a gender fluid place and dealing with the day to day challenges of life. Be sure to join my Patreon to enjoy some special exclusive content.  It will start appearing toward the end of this week. I’d also love to see you join my Patreon as I am trying to build my numbers up there.

Have a wonderful week,

😊

Fiona

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Do you ever feel like playing with yourself?

Hi,

Of all the busy bees in my life these days chief among them is my good friend and mechanic, Sylvester. I came into the living room just yesterday to find him on the floor with Sebastian, my personal trainer, saying “Colonel Mustard, in the library with a ten-inch dildo.”

“I beg your pardon,” I said a little shocked.

“Oh hello,” said Sylvester. “We’re playing Adult Clue (or Cludo if you are from The United Kingdom). It’s something I’ve adapted from the board game.”

Sylvester can be quite a disturbing individual, and he really can be quite coarse at times.

“Well,” I said, trying to be encouraging although I felt a little awkward, “I’m glad to see you’re not letting your God given talents go to waste, Sylvester.”

After a moment’s thought I added, “Perhaps you could think up some way to murder a new character – you could call her, oh, I don’t know… ‘Amanda’. Death by impaling, in the neighbors house, by the crossdresser.”

For those of you who don’t know, Amanda is my wife’s childhood friend, who has started a relationship with my next door neighbour, Marjory. This is a source of some annoyance, particularly as my wife is travelling at present.

I should tell you I enjoy competitive games enormously. I also play some role playing games. So many times I feel like I’m getting ahead and suddenly someone’s coming up behind me and a breathless struggle ensues. It’s all very exciting. Perhaps you know the feeling. Sometimes I get so excited, I just don’t know what comes over me! I guess it’s the cut and thrust – mostly the thrust – of putting oneself up against a fellow player.

I should also say that this week one of my friends who is a regular player got on a plane to work in New York for a couple of weeks, leaving me with no alternative but to play with myself.

That, however, is not the main reason I’m writing to you. I thought I’d write and tell you about the delightful Mollie Blake. She’s a talented writer who has recently had a piece featured on my website, and we’re expecting to see some interesting new episodes from soon. If you’ve not already read “The Dating Game“, this weekend is a great time to do so. 

I should also draw special attention to Katia Thornwood’s writing, which is mostly in my Seahorse level which has been growing into a favorite among my members. Slipping into bed, and putting Katia on to read as you fall asleep is one sure way to end the night on a high note.  Katia’s style is quite unique, and if you enjoy her rather strange view of the world.

For the many members who are asking about the Clothes Maketh The Man chapter list it can be found HERE. Well, you can see that the office here has been pretty busy bringing you the best of all things to do with Crossdressing. Have a wonderful week.

😊

Fiona

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Back to the rain.

I am back from Mexico. If you want more details, I have three words for you; ‘Behind The Scenes’. Yes, you can learn the details if you’re a member of my ‘Behind the Scenes’ tier on Patreon.

So, with my freshly tanned shoulders wrapped up and standing beneath an umbrella held by Sylvester in one of his ham sized paws, you find me standing beside something that’s appeared in my back garden.

“But what is it,” I said to Ali, my gardener.

“Your Christmas present, and it’s beautiful,” he replied. “It’s a sundial. My people have been using sundials to tell the time for 3000 years.”

“Your people?” I said.

“Gardeners?” asked Sylvester, looking confused.

“Those of us who come from the middle east,” replied Ali. “Persians, Syrians. Us lot.”

I sometimes feel that Ali’s skills are wasted. He used to be a botany professor at Damascus University. And now he tends my garden. He seems happy though. Talking to Sylvester is a little like petting a monkey, for Ali.

“Thank you, Ali,” I said. “That’s a very kind thought.”

I looked skyward and I could see Ali was reading my mind.  I’ve just got back from a land of apparently endless sunshine, but the sky over Vancouver between the months of October to April resembles nothing so much as being inside Tupperware.

“I don’t think I’m getting rid of the kitchen clock, at least not before spring,” I said. “But it is beautiful. You’re very kind.”

“Three thousand years, you’ve been using these?” said Sylvester.

“We should probably ask Amanda how it works,” I said. “She probably remembers the product launch party.”

At this Sylvester gave me a sour look.

Ali looked at the cloud covered sky and then examined the numbers around it’s base, and then said “I think it was 2.30, in September…”

I’m sure that when the sun comes out it will be a lovely centre piece to the East garden. Ali is so thoughtful. And I’m not one to look a gift camel in the mouth.

🙂

Fiona

We now offer remote counseling and hypnotherapy for people struggling with gender issues. Learn more HERE.

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I woke up today to a terrific banging.

I awoke this morning to a terrific banging. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t like that at all.


I pulled on a lovely apricot silk gown, and fluffy slippers, and hurried down to the front door, where I was confronted by Sylvester and Sebastian chatting away, framed by snow in the doorway.

“I had a huge curry, last night,” said Sylvester, “and I woke up to find we’d had a terrific dump!”

“Good morning, Sylvester,” I said as the two of them stood on my snowy doorstep. “I assume you’re talking about this heavy snowfall.”

“It’s about 9 inches and I couldn’t get up the drive at all.”

“Can we use your rear entrance, Fiona?” said Sebastian.  If I had a nickel for everytime…

“Why don’t you boys slip around the back of the house. Ali’s very kindly cleared the lane. You should be able to park there without difficulty,” I said.

And with that the two boys disappeared and left me to put on the hot chocolate, and warm some croissants. My friends are joining me for breakfast today as we’re working on some new ideas for the premium program. If you’re a member of this wonderful program you’ll know how much fun we have with it. If you’re not, then think about jumping in!

Have a lovely day.

🙂

Fiona

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