Sunday, May 13, 2012

Happy Mother's Day!

Yeah - I'm well aware that none of my readers (well, damn few) are mothers.  But at the same time, I'm hoping that you who do - are giving your moms a lovely day.

Have a few things in mind for today.  The first is a question that Carrie - one of my very good friends - asked me some time back.  I was all poised to put it on my blog - and my own comment - but that was the week when Chrome went all stupid on me.  I think it is a damn good question, so her it is:

Something I have been meaning to ask you for some time – and maybe an   item for your blog. Do you think there are women who genuinely would like to   have men in female clothing( as distinct to women/wives who tolerate it or is   this just a major part of our fantasy. My opinion is that there are probably   some who would be curious but as a long term thing I doubt it. Our    real  fantasy I suppose  is the woman who forces, blackmails etc men   into female clothing, I seriously doubt there any, at least any genuine ones   who do it from their own desire/ sexual or otherwise. I have no doubt that   there are genuine dommes who like inflicting pain or humiliation on men   but  women who genuinely have a desire to practice forced feminisation on   males I doubt it. Was wondering if you have any views on the subject?   Rhetorical question I know but had to ask anyway

I did some thinking on this and my answer is a positive and definite "maybe".  Being deep in the closet when I practiced cross dressing on a regular basis, I had little contact with clubs or any such thing, so my experience is very limited.  BUT?  For a few years, I frequented Mrs.  Silk's Chat room.   Had a great time curtseying and kissing ass of dominant females.  At the same time, I was pretty damn sure that a lot of the dommes were actually men - but made it a point that I was never to be told.  And in reality, it was pretty pathetic I guess.  Simply SCADS of submissive males - and a bare handful of dominant 'females' (with a bloody big majority of them actually being males.)  I got fed up a few times, and went in as a domme myself.  To be honest?  I think I was well received - hell, think about it - I KNEW what was wanted.  But I did get a feeling - just once - that I was actually being dominated by a woman.  Could have been a wonderful actor - but that's just a feeling I got.

In another area?  I was a counselor for spouses of transvestites.  In those cases, it was women discovering that their husbands desired to dress and be treated as women - AFTER marriage. In a few cases, I don't think that the women actually 'hated' what they'd found out - it was mostly two things that raised their ire.  The first was that their boyfriends had kept this important thing a secret from them. The second?  If they accepted their husband in a feminine role?  The men then got greedier and greedier - wanting more and more.  I got the feeling that if the husbands had been a little slower in getting the relationship they wanted the women could get to like the idea. But I never really knew.  Still don't.  Anybody got any ideas?

I started with some short stories last week - other than serializing longer stories.  Didn't get one word that said it was a good or bad idea - but it really IS a lot easier for me - so I'll stay with the short ones until I find out differently.  There is also a point to be made for the short stories.  As most of you know, I'm now finding a distinct market for the sale of the stories that I gave away free for many years.  In collecting them for creation of books, I'm getting organized and finding stories that haven's seen the light of day since I first wrote them for "Bea's TV Channel" my first foray into the Internet back in the early 90's - so even some of my more regular readers may find things they haven't run into before.

Then - after the story?  A few of Rosie's 'bits'


Belle of the Ball

By Bea

I'd just had a shipment and couldn't wait for the weekend.  I called Sara, my Administrative assistant and told her I wasn't feeling well.  As she felt that she did most of the work anyway, she didn't seem too put out by my intended absence, just asked me innocently if I'd be at work the following day.  As I was pretty sure I would, I told her it was just a minor cold or something and that I was very sure I'd be in.  She thanked me, and as I knew I had the whole day now, I went back to bed for a while.

Leisurely I dozed, looking forward to my day.  Finally got up and made quite a production of cleaning myself off.  I don't shave much at all and probably didn't need to. But I thought that it might be a good idea, so did.  Cleaned my teeth and stuff.  Went and put my robe on and went out into the hallway where the Newsboy delivers the papers for the apartments.  Got mine and enjoyed a slow breakfast and a good read at the news.  I paid some bills – prolonging the feeling of excitement, and that took me to lunchtime.

I didn't want too much and, as I'd had a late breakfast, I got by with a small amount.  Then I ran a deep bubble bath.  Took some of my favorite stories in there and read them.  Had a terrible time keeping my hands to myself, but I certainly didn't want to waste myself – would spoil what I knew was coming.  The phone rang a few times, but I didn't answer it.  Was quite surprised when they didn't leave a message, but figured that with me not being in the apartment that long – and keeping it partially secret, I wasn't going to get too many callers.  Not especially from Kristy – my divorced wife – who still thought I could only afford that shitty-arsed condo.  But she had screwed me out of plenty in the divorce – time I got a little of my own back, I thought as I settled into my warm, lovely bath and closed my eyes, putting the magazine down.

Later, the water was getting too cool and I knew that my anticipation was becoming too much.  Breathing faster now, I got up and started to drain the bath.  Dried and powdered myself ant then proud of my self discipline I started to get dressed, taking my own sweet languorous time.

Glazed in the eyes with suppressed desire, I finally sat at the dressing table mirror. I guess I was drunk with something or other, because I most certainly heard the main front door unlock but was awfully slow in doing anything sensible.  I think I was telling myself that I was hearing things, when Kristy and Sara both stood in the doorway to my bedroom, looking at me.
"My!  My!" Kristy said.  "Would you just look at THAT?"
"Oh Yesss!"  Sara said. "My boss?  Said he had a cold.  Think that's a cure?"
"Is that what your nice lingerie is dear?  A cure for your cold?" Kristy cooed. "Must admit that it is VERY pretty! How come you never put on nice clothes like that when you were married to me?"

"What – WHAT are you two doing here?" I stammered, my attempt at an outraged roar rather pitiful as a man in dainty lingerie just has problem if he wants to look commanding.
"What?  Why we're just coming to visit. See how you're doing?" Kristy said.  "Imagine – you must have forgot that you owned this place when you listed the assets you had for the divorce."  Her voice lost the soft tone it had for a second as she added. "You crooked little pansy you!"
"Kristy dear?  You'll frighten the poor little thing – getting all mean like that."  Sara was talking mockingly as she came into the bedroom and dropped a bag on the floor.  She walked right up to me and gently felt the material of my slip.  "That's SO lovely! Expensive too, I'll bet!"  She turned to Kristy.  "And I'll bet he didn't declare all his pretty expensive clothes to the divorce judge either.  Said he was living at the poverty level!"  She patted my cheek.  "Matching bra and garter belt too!  My goodness!  Going out on the town were you?"  She pulled up the hem of my slip and I was powerless to stop her.
"Just as I thought!" she crowed. "Matching panties too! All lacy and lovely!"

Kristy was standing right in front of me as well now, smiling as she fingered the material of my lingerie.  Addressed Sara as she slowly felt the material.
"I must admit being surprised at YOU Sara!  So forgiving!  So nice! After all the mean things he said about you in your last few reviews – even when he KNEW you did most of his work!  Even let you do a lot of his own work – on his own personal computer at work!"  She patted my cheek as well. "Your lingerie DOES feel wonderful dear. Now I wonder why Sara and I brought anything at all!"
"I don't understand.  How did you find this place?  How did you get IN?  You brought something?" I was almost weeping with frustration.

She patted my cheek soothingly.  "You're so darling when you're puzzled!  Sara got into your computer system!  How do you think?  You keep ALL sorts of confidential stuff there!"  She wagged her fingers at me. "You should never have been so trusting! Your password was pretty easy to figure out!"
"You know?" I asked Sara.
She smiled. "Yes!  All sorts of things – including all your access to those femina web pages.  Pretending you were SUCH an obedient little girl!  Letting those mannish women boss you around!"  She spoke to Kristy.  "He'd blush so nicely when I'd find some reason I HAD to interrupt him!"  She looked at Kristy and smiled tenderly. "He'd blush so prettily! One time I checked the time and where he'd been. I think the little dear was being virtually spanked when I interrupted!"

"Looked as if he was enjoying it?" Kristy asked.
"Of COURSE!  All soft and dewy eyed! If I'd known at that minute?  I might have offered to spank him myself!"  Sara sighed theatrically. "But the little dear was too shy to tell me!"
"Look what you've just done!" Kristy laughed.  "He got all demure and lowered his eyes as you talked – just like that book said submissives do!  I think he was flirting a bit with you – maybe?  Isn't that what the book says he's doing?"
"That's so cute!" Sara laughed, putting a hand under my chin and lifting my eyes up to meet hers.  "Would you like that sweetie? Having nice old Sara putting you over her knees?  Acting as if she was mean?  Spanking you on your panties?"

"Enough! You'll get him all excited!"  Kristy laughed.  Then she spoke to me. "Once Sara got into your computer, finding this place wasn't too hard."  Then her voice got mock firm. "You really MUST get nicer with your cleaning lady Elena!  She doesn't like you for some reason.  Sara and me? We got friends with her really quick and she did some digging.  We all enjoyed it and laughed like hell when she found your stash of lady things!  She described them all in such loving detail!"

I felt myself sag. "She knows too?"
Kristy shrugged.  "Of course. She really doesn't care about you being a pansy – she's gay herself, but she let us copy the key.  Wasn't that nice of her?"
"Oh."  I said.
"But all this girlish gossiping? Why don't you get your pretty things off, huh?"

Grateful to get out of my embarrassing clothes, I said.  "Okay.  I'll just go into the . ."
"No need for that darling!  Sara's getting your other clothes out of that bag."
I looked, but couldn't determine what the clothes were – but could see that they were not masculine at all.
"For me?" I wailed.  "Why get me to change?  I am in ladies clothes!"

"Well? It's like this. Sara and I felt that we'd never treated you properly!  That's why you didn't raise a fuss when I wanted a divorce!  That's why you never found Sara's performance good.  Same reason!  Now we know what you really want? We'll dress you up and dominate you.  You'll be so HAPPY!  You'll just love us!  And we know that you'll understand us SO much more if you wear what we tell you."
"But it was you that wanted to divorce me!" I cried.
"True!  But you had become pretty sad in bed – it was ME that had to do the work.  And then sometimes I smelled perfume on you!  What else was I to think, huh?  I thought you had another woman!  Silly me!  Now let's get your slip and bra off.  Quick now!"

Under her watchful eye, I pulled my slip off then blushing, took my bra and falsies off.  It was so humiliating sitting there in front of my ex-wife and secretary in nothing but panties, garter belt and stockings.  Kristy saw this and was nice enough to hand me my slip, which I draped over my groin – hoping that it hid the erection I had – although I wasn't very sure.

Then Sara was helping me into a different, jet black bra.  It seemed a lot cheaper to me, but I didn't want to say anything. It seemed the wrong size – much bigger.  Then smiling, Kristy made some marks – tiny ones- on my body and, next thing they want me to take the bra off again!  Naturally. I had no idea of what was wanted, but did as I was told.

Then, giggling and laughing they were brushing something that felt cold around my breasts.
"What are you doing?" I asked plaintively.
"Just HUSH!"  Kristy laughed. "WE know what you want!  Just wait!"  Then.  "Isn't he lovely and smooth?"  She added to Sara.
Then I saw the breasts they were going to stick onto me.  They didn't look very big at first, but as the used the marks they'd made for indexing, then sat back for a moment, I saw that my breasts were HUGE!"  Stuck out in front of me – like I don't know what.

"Don't you think that those are kinda big for my frame?" I asked the ladies nervously.
"Don't be silly!"  Sara answered.  "Just wait until all the other girls see them – they'll be wild with jealousy!"
"Silly thing!" Kristy admonished me. "You'll love big breasts!  After all, they're womanish – to say the least. Nobody'll ever take you for being a man with huge tits sticking out at them, will they?"

Then from the bag, it was a black corset.  Very firm as they wrapped it around my waist cooing and laughing as they did so.  I thought it was firm as they adjusted it – but then they started hauling on the laces at the back and I knew what firmness was.  Then it was me taking a breath, letting it all the way out – and them hauling some more.  I actually started to faint before they relented, stopped pulling it further, but tied me in at the back where it was.   Then the slip over my head. 

I was dazed and they allowed me to rest as they reached under my slip and exchanged the panties and garter belt for ones that matched what they had brought – then black mesh stockings as I looked on, gradually getting my wind back, but still felt breathless and woozy.  I would have complained about my lack of privacy as their hands exchanged the various garments but it dawned on me that there was no intimacy in what they were doing – it was almost as if I were a piece of meat.

It was a full length slip I suppose, but very short, well above my knees, with the straps from the garter belt dangling down below the hem.  The stockings had black laced tops going to just above my knee so that once attached to the garter belt straps there was a bit of bare flesh showing under the slip.
"Perfect!" Sara laughed.  "Very sexy indeed!"

Then they told me to take the stockings off again.  With some hope that they were now allowing me to disrobe, I did as I was told.  It was a false hope however.
"We just wanted to ensure a proper fit."  Kristy told me.  Then they applied a bright red, fast drying polish on my toe nails.
"I used to wonder about his need to have well tended toe nails.  Wasn't I stupid!" Kristy laughed.  "Looks lovely now!"
Then it was back on with the stockings again.

The women were in complete power now – and knew it.  They had thought they were in control when they had come in but their confidence had grown incrementally as my helplessness became ever more apparent in the face of their assurance. Now, they had the fondness that a child has for a favorite toy – in girl's a doll to prettify.  Now they were dressing me up, smiling at each other as they made me more and more feminine.  Shy and demure now, I simply stood as they stroked and caressed me and laughed at how pretty they were making me.

When Kristy produced the high heeled shoes I was to wear I almost fainted with a mixture of fear and wanting. They were SO much higher and more daring than anything I had ever thought of buying for myself.  Black and strappy, but the platform soles HAD to be at least one inch thick.  And the heels?  My God! Maybe five or six inches high!
"I CAN'T wear those!" I gasped.
"Of course you can!"  Sara assured me.  "Your toes will look lovely.  On top of that?  I want to punish you a little and I want you in really high heels so that I get the most out of it."  She had a sort of thin riding crop in her hands and started to swish it through the air.

"Punish me?  What for?"  I panted, my eyes fixed on her switch.
"Because you have been very mean to me at times."  She gave a short laugh.  "I mean, I look at you now in your ladies underwear and wonder at myself for never seeing what a little pantywaist you were – but I don't want you to think that I'm soft.  Get your shoes on girly.  If you don't hurry up . .  ?"  She left the rest of the threat unsaid.
"I won't think you're soft, Sara!  Promise!" I pleaded but hurrying up and putting the shoes on and fastening them.  I could tell right way that they fitted.

She brandished the crop at me. "On your feet dear!"
I got up tremulously.
"Sure you want to do this Sara?"  Kristy asked.
"Oh yes. I even brought a switch along for you – if you want to try it as well?" Sara asked her.
Kristy's eyes grew round and large.  "Me?  I couldn't!"
Sara shrugged.  "Up to you.  I intend to have a little fun."  She looked at me.  "Think you can squeal? If you can, I'll enjoy it – and won't hurt you so much?"  She started toward me.
"I don't know if I can."  I started to say, then tried to get away from her, but found out that I was tottering on my heels.  Found out that I could squeal delightfully as her first cut at me whipped across my buttocks.

"OOOOH!  Would you listen to him!"  Sara whooped with laughter.  "This is GREAT!"  Then she gave me another cut, and I squealed and pleaded again.
"Don't see why you should have all the fun!" Kristy said and joined Sara in gently whipping me around the room.  Both of them telling each other how much fun they are having.

In all honesty, the pain wasn't awful. It was a stinging pain when the crops landed, but the girls weren't out to really hurt me.  Humiliate and embarrass me – yes – and they did.  I mean, here I am in black lingerie, mewling and staggering, squealing and pleading as two attractive young women take turns at driving me around the room – the one not caning me, taking pictures.  Finally, eagerly, I accept their invitation to make me pretty – agreeing whole heartedly, that I'll love EVERY minute of what they do.

And I thanked them SO sincerely as they plucked my eyebrows and pierced my ears.  Could hardly contain my enjoyment as they glued heavy mink eyelashes over my own. Then they asked if I would like some tiny injections to plump up my lips – give me those luscious pouting lips that so many women just loved to have!  They were SO happy to take video camcorder shots of me kissing them and thanking them!

When I dressed by myself before, I was always conservative, but as I stepped into the black satin tight sheath skirt and the yellow satin blouse with long sleeves and large black buttons up the front – with the top one left undone to show portions of my 'breasts' and bra? I could see the floozy they were making me into. With horror I saw that the tops of my stockings were sometimes visible under my skirt.
"Please don't ladies? I'm dreadfully sorry.  I'll be much nicer in the future!" I said vainly trying to cover myself with my hands.

"Of COURSE you will!"  Kristy laughed, gently taking my hands away. "You're turning into SUCH an attractive little thing! Now let me turn this camcorder on again, so you can ask us properly to put all your lovely makeup on!"

I've seen that camcorder shot since.  Shy and demure, I look into the camera and explain how happy I am with what Sara and Kristy are doing to me – and the shots are taken along the way, as they gradually transform me into a 'lady of the evening'? Isn't that what they call whores – politely?  The long blonde, platinum, hair that they showed me, just clinched what I suspected.

I had seen them mark the inside of the wig with a little hi-liter before they tried it on me, then they took it off after adjusting it to their satisfaction – cooing at how lovely it was going to be.  My hair wasn't too long, but I couldn't understand why they seemed to be cutting off snippets of my hair – then they actually shaved these areas.  Tiny areas, but I wondered what was going on.
"Please ladies?  What are you doing?"  I asked plaintively.
"Making sure that your lovely wig stays on properly!"  Sara laughed putting dabs of cold feeling stuff on my scalp where they'd shaved.

Then the peroxide wig was placed on my head again.  This time they adjusted it quickly, then held it firmly in place for about a half minute.
"Ooooh! Isn't she just the cutest little sexpot?" Sara laughed. Then she pulled my hair a little!
"Ow!" I cried.  Then it dawned on me – there was no give whatsoever on my scalp.  The wig felt as if it were my very own hair!
The two women were totally satisfied now.  "Just your makeup now Tiffany!"  Sara laughed. "Let's get this show on the road.  I'm just dying to see the finished product!"
I didn't protest the name – it was what I'd used when I'd ventured into the female dominatrix web pages.

It didn't take long before my transition into a flashy whore was finished.  Long, black eyelashes – obviously fake with some metallic blue eye shadow.  Deep dark lips to match my finger and toe nails.  Red cheeks.  I shuddered but didn't complain when they applied LOTS of perfume around me.
"We know we shouldn't use real earrings yet – but we don't want to waste time!" Kristy said, fixing long dangling earrings into my lobes.  Just make sure to put alcohol onto them for the next day or so and they should be all right."

Then a chunky fake coral black necklace and a matching bracelet on my wrist and slave bracelet on my ankle, and I was done.  Speechlessly, I was led to the full length mirror to see what they'd made of me.  Since childhood I have been entranced by clothes of the opposite sex – although I never wanted to be a woman.  I hid my desire to be dominated by anyone of the female sex by hiding this desire – too well, I thought grimly.  Now, my ex wife and current Administrative Assistant had dressed and made me appear like a female prostitute. 

I must admit that I was sexually thrilled by what they had done and at the same time humiliated to the extent that I hoped it was almost over.  Again, I was being stupidly optimistic.
"Walk across the room for us dear." Kristy asked me.  "Then come back.  Don't shamble.  Walk properly."
"It's very difficult Kristy dear?" I mumbled as I wobbled across the room and back. "I'm sorry, but those shoes make walking very difficult."
"Not very good!"  Sara said. "Do it again Tiffany."

When I got back, Kristy beckoned me to her.  "Lift your skirt, bare your panties and get over my knees."
"But I'm trying my best!  Please don't spank me. Please Kristy!" I cried.
"Would you just listen to this little sissy! I used to be married to him!  Good God!" Kristy said disgustedly.   "Just do as I tell you Tiffany - or I really WILL spank you!"

Blushing I worked my skirt and slip up and went to her. It was difficult because of the tight clothes, but I finally laid myself over her knees.
She didn't waste any time. Within seconds my panties had been pulled down and I gasped as seconds later something gooey was being worked into my anus.
"What . . Kristy .  what -  please Kristy – what . . ooooooh!" I yelped and then cried out as something hard and cold was pushed up my back passage.
She gave me a hard spank on my panties. "Wish you'd behave properly!" she said firmly as she worked my panties back up. "Now get up from my knees and fix your skirt."  Then she laughed. "You maybe don't LOOK like a lady – but at least you can try to act like one. Now, walk over to the other side of the room and back again."

I looked at her horrified. "I can't Kristy!  I need to go to the bathroom!"
"Don't be silly!  You have a butt plug up your ass.  Just feels that way.  Now go and do as I tell you – or I'll put you over my knees again – for a spanking this time!"

The girls laughed uproariously as I did as she told me.  Yes, I believed her in my brain – but my backside was convinced that I was going to shit in my panties.  To prevent this, I had to take the tiniest steps imaginable and, at the same time keep a semblance of balance by breaking my wrists and holding my hands out sideways – a most effeminate way of walking.
"I don't think he's going to run away!" Sara giggled.
Kristy couldn't answer her for laughing.  Then she sobered up. "Time to go?" She asked.

I almost wept in fright and shame as they gave me a feathered black jacket to wear over my blouse – elbow length sleeves and open at the front, tight across my huge bust.  A bright patent leather handbag that contained my drivers license, keys to my apartment, and makeup.  Keeping my eyes down on the ground, I minced along in front of them hugging my handbag and was shepherded into Kristy's car. HAD to keep my legs together to get in. Even then, could not avoid seeing my shameful display of thigh and gartered stocking tops as I got in.

I started to weep when I saw where they took me. It was after normal hours, but this was a bank that stayed open late. I know that I turned white under my makeup when I had to go to the teller and tell her I wanted to clean out my checking account to $100 0 then wanted to get into my security deposit box.

The teller started to ask me for identity and I gave her my license.  "I'm his wife." Kristy explained. "He's thinking of changing his sex and I want to control his money and assets before he does something stupid."  She showed her license to prove that she still carried my last name. That meant that she and I could get into the security deposit box area.

"Quite a nice little haul!" She commented as we left.  "I don't know what you think Tiffany – but I DO intend to give you some of this back over time.  But we have something to do first."
"Haven't you done enough?" I asked bitterly.  "That's about everything I have! I'm also wiped out emotionally, if that's anything to you!"
"Actually? I have done enough!" She laughed.  "What we are about to do now is Sara's idea."
"Huh?" I asked.
Sara smiled. "Just a thought for you dear.  I'll explain when we get there."

I don't want to go into details but the Mexican border isn't any major distance from where I live. Maybe an hours drive. I felt my eyes get big and round when we crossed over the border.  Let's face it – Mexico is NOT a haven for transvestites.  Can be quite nasty if you don't watch what you're doing. I was SO frightened, but the girls seemed to know where we were going. It wasn't too long before we drove up to what appeared to be a bar – maybe a small restaurant.
"Okay sweetie. Out you go!"  Sara said.

I was SO scared that they were going to drop me off there, but could see that Kristy was readying to leave the car and that Sara had stopped the engine and was withdrawing the keys, so managed to stop from asking any questions and left the car. There was a neon sign, but other than that it was fairly dark, although the car park had a few cars in it. It was dark by that time.
"I need to go pee."  I admitted as we headed for the door.
"Never been here before."  Kristy admitted. "But I'll bet there's a ladies restroom you can use."
I wasn't crazy enough to argue. Knew that there was NO way that I had any intention of going into a men's room that night – not dressed the way I was.  Surprisingly, although I still had the butt plug and was mincing in a most ladylike manner, I was at least able to move at something close to a walking pace.  Slow, but getting there.

Then, we were inside. It was a typical bar – although, unlike California, smoking was permitted and there was a haze to the air. My two companions paused and I immediately sensed they were looking for somebody.  Being obvious gringos – we drew immediate attention from everybody.
"'Allo senoritas?  Want a drink? The bartender was a swarthy woman with a short blond haircut."
"Una momento?" Sara answered.  "Elena here?"

"SI!" A voice rang out, and Elena appeared from behind some big guys.  "Made it, huh?" She turned to me. "Tiffany? Nice chick now?"  Her accent was strong, but her English was excellent.
I found it hard to take my eyes from my cleaning lady – she was transformed. She was fairly young and had a nice figure I suppose – I'd never paid that much attention – but she was wearing a long peroxide wig – a yellow satin blouse – black satin skirt with large buttons – and seemed to have a proturbent breast line now.  She was my TWIN!
"Yeah Eena!  Isn't he pretty?  But the little darling needs to go to the ladies?" Sara laughed. "How's about I order drinks while you're gone?"

Elena smiled. "Come along then Tiffany!  You look so pretty!  Isn't it nice that we look so alike? It was me that picked your outfit.  Aren't we nice?" 
She was far more adept in her high heeled shoes than I was, but she smiled and put an arm on mine – and like two girls, we headed into the restroom.  Naturally, I headed for a stall and sat down to pee. Breathed a gigantic sigh of relief.

When I exited into the main bathroom, Elena was freshening her lipstick.  She smiled into the mirror, waved her lipstick. "We have exactly the same.  Isn't that nice?  But yours needs fixing.  Come here!"
Somehow I didn't want to argue with her, so stood placidly as she touched up my lips.
"I think you want to powder your nose?" She said next, pulling a compact from her purse and I pulled my own compact.

And that was how my wife Kristy found me when she came in seconds later – standing and powdering my nose beside a girl.
"Got the keys from Tiffany yet?" She asked Elena.
"I was going to get them later,"  Elena said.  "But it doesn't matter." Then she turned to me. "Can I have your house keys please? I gave mine to your wife and Sara."
"But I'll need . ." I started.
"Tiffany!"  Kristy said, so I went into my purse and gave Elena my keys quickly.

In an effort to hide my cowardice I went back to powdering my nose.  Thought I might stir up a little animosity between the women. "But Kristy and Sara said you were gay?"  I asked Elena conversationally.
She and Kristy exchanged puzzled glances, before she answered.  "But I am?  So what?"
"Well, that looks like a mixed gender crowd out at the bar." I said.
The women laughed.  "You're about the closest thing there is to a real man in the building."  Kristy laughed.  "Think these were guys that were eying you up and whistling at you when you came to the Lady's room?"
"Yes!  I've got Ernesto and Pedro for us when we go back.  Aren't we lucky?" Elena smiled.  "Pedro really fancies you!  She may act real tough – but she's a doll!"

I gulped and tried to put a straight face on it.  "Lovely.  But I don't think that Sara and Kristy want to spend too much time here – and I'll probably leave with them."

Kristy shook her head. "Tiffany dear?  You really pissed Sara off during a review some while back.  Said she wasn't adaptable?  She's now seeing how adaptable YOU are.  You see – I've got just about all your savings.  You probably won't be at work for a while – and they are already making noises about Sara taking over your job.  Elena will be sharing your apartment when you get back . ."
"Can we go back tonight Elena?  I'm scared of this place."  I said.

Kristy shook her head. "You don't understand dear.  Sara and I are just about to leave.  Elena will be leaving soon with HER girlfriend.  You've got Pedro.  From what Elena tells me – Pedro's English is pretty bad – but I'm sure you can convince her to take you back to the States – maybe in a day or two?"
"A DAY or two?" I mewled. "But I have no money – and how will I get through Border Control looking like a woman – while all I have is my license?"

She shrugged. "I think that's where Sara sees your adaptability coming in!  I'm POSITIVE you'll be knocking at Elena's door pretty soon!  Goodnight Tiffany!  Have a nice time!"

The end

And now for Rosie!

 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX#36

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over the weekend?” I asked my son, “You said Sandra was away until Sunday evening, and I don’t like the idea of you being all alone in that big house of hers.”
“I’ll be fine, mom,” he replied, “And beside, I don’t have any of my clothes here anymore.”
“You can always borrow your brother’s, you know that,” I said.
“I’m not sure Will likes me borrowing his stuff,” he said, “If I could find anything that fit me, that is.”
“Your being silly,” I said, “On both counts. You two are practically of the same stature, and of course Will doesn’t mind you borrowing his clothes. Anyway, he won’t be back until next week, so if you’re worried about that, we just don’t need to tell him. He won’t notice.”
I challenged my son with my stare. A few moments later, he gave up.
“Okay,” he said, adverting his eyes.
“Splendid,” I said, “Why don’t you get changed right away?”
“Whatever for?” He moaned.
“There’s a film playing at the theater that I’d very much like to see, and it would be nice if you kept me company,” I explained, “Of course you possibly can’t go like that.”
I pointed to his old t-shirt.
“It’s bad enough you visit your mother dressed like that,” I added.
“Do I have to?” he asked, but he was already getting off his seat.
I didn’t need to reply.

Ten minutes later I knocked on my younger son’s bedroom door.
“Come in,” Bert replied.
Wearing one of his younger brother’s floral dresses, he was sitting behind the vanity table, painting black liner on his eyes.
“Let me help you with that,” I said.
“It’s not really necessary,” he replied, but handed me the black pencil anyway.
Truly, he didn’t need my help – he has done a more than adequate job of applying makeup himself, though as his mother, I couldn’t help but add a finishing touch. Nor did he seem to mind it.
“Really, Beatrice,” I said, “Why can’t you be like your brother? Why do you need to be so stubborn about it? It’s not just yourself you’re fooling, you’re fooling Samantha as well.”
“I know,” he said softly – surprising me, as I expected him to launch into another ‘don’t tell me how to live my life’ lectures as he usually did, “But it’s hard.”
I hugged him and held him close for a long time.
“Don’t worry,” I hushed in his ear, worrying that he might start crying. Of course I encouraged a good, thorough cry, but I didn’t want him leaking mascara all over my blouse!
“Think how nice it would be,” I said, “You’ll have your own proper clothes again, no need to borrow from your brother.”
“About that,” he said as we broke our embrace, “This dress was the only sensible thing I could find in Will’s closet, and even it is kinda young.”
“All the more reason to get your own wardrobe,” I said softly.
“Until then, could I borrow your clothes instead?”

We had just cleared away the table from our Sunday lunch. Bert, Beatrice as I called him, was wearing my knee length white A line skirt along with his pink angora twin set. The day before I had taken him shopping, to a restaurant to dine then to a bar where we even danced for a bit. No one had taken him for anything else than a girl.
“Well, guess I’ll go change,” he said, looking at his watch, “Samantha will be home any time now.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, “You can keep my skirt if you like.”
“No, I mean, change back to my male clothes,” he said.
Now, I decided, was a time for a good cry.
Quickly, before he had a chance to react, I pulled him over to me, then over my knees. Raised his skirt and slip, then proceeded to spank him on his pantied ass until my hand hurt.
“Won’t you ever stop your foolishness?” I said after I had finished.
“But mom,” he cried, “You don’t know what Samantha will do if she sees me like that.”
“Neither do you,” I hissed, “So there’s only one way to find out.”

My son opened the door for me. Samantha had invited me to spend the weekend at their house. As Will, or Veronica, was at home, I thought it would be good for both of us if I left him home alone for a while, he was of that age, after all.
“Beatrice,” I cooed, hugging him. In his pink maid’s uniform, he looked adorable.
“Hello, Dora,” Samantha said, “Glad to see you recognize your son.”
“Oh, Sam, don’t be silly,” I said, “Though if you don’t mind me asking – why the uniform?”
“It seemed only natural,” she replied, “After I had him quit his job and stay home, he seemed so lost, so without a direction. As if he needed a job to define himself. So I got him a new job, and a uniform for it.”
I handed Beatrice my coat and purse, walked inside.
“Whatever made you two keep this from me all that time?” Samantha asked.


XXXXXXXXXXXX#37

I let myself in my son’s house, or should I say my daughter-in-law’s house, as it was hers really. My son was vacuuming the living room. The sun was in my eyes but I could make out the dress-like silhouette of the frilly, full apron he was wearing. Well, the apron Andrea, his wife, made him wear.
I won’t say I enjoyed seeing my son forced into, well, let’s face it, women’s work, much less into wearing feminine aprons, but as he proved unable to get or hold a job, it was only fair that he did his share of work. If Andrea provided all the income, he should help her out with the housework. I didn’t always agree with Andrea’s rather authoritative methods of keeping him in line, but then again, Jeremy has always needed a strong hand over him.
Beside having him do the women’s work, Andrea seemed to regard him less of a man than he was, or so it seemed to me. He kept buying him the frilliest of aprons for his housework, even started calling him ‘Jane’. In my view, that was unnecessary but then again, it was their marriage so I stayed out of it. However, that didn’t prepare me for the shock that was to come.
I knocked on the open door to get my son’s attention. As soon as he heard me, he twitched, turned off the vacuum cleaner, but remained behind the couch.
“Hi, mom,” he said nervously.
“Hello, Jeremy,” I said, “Ready to go?”
“About that,” he said, “Look, is it possible…”
“Is what possible?” I asked, rather strictly and walked into the room. As if he were afraid of me, he backed away, though kept facing me. The first thing I noticed when I turned from the sun was that he didn’t seem to be wearing any pants under his apron.
“Look, mom, it’s not my fault?” he said nervously.
“What’s not your fault?” I asked, then I noticed he was wearing women’s shoes, with a two inch heel.
“Take your apron off,” I said dryly.
Obediently, he untied the sashes at his back and pulled it over his head. He stood before me, wearing a full, knee length floral skirt and a white silk short sleeved blouse.
“Alright, what is the meaning of this?” I asked.
“Andrea made me wear that,” he almost cried.
“Whatever for?”
“I was… I mean, she thought I was being rude to her mother,” he said, “But I wasn’t!”
”I’ll bet,” I said, “And I suppose this has nothing to do with the fact that we were supposed to go shopping for my gown for the wedding.”
My daughter was about to get married and Jeremy promised he’d go look for my dress for me.
“Please, mom,” he said, “I can’t go like this.”
“Then change,” I said.
“Andrea won’t let me,” he replied sheepishly, “I’m supposed to keep these on until she gets home.”
“I have a good mind to call Andrea up right now,” I said, “Because if this turns out to be a trick of yours to weasel out of your promise, so help me…”
“It isn’t!” he cried, afraid I’d really call his wife.
“I’m not going to call her,” I said, “Because I don’t want to waste her time. If she really had you put on a skirt, then that’s that. Then again, if that’s your own idea, she probably doesn’t want to be bothered with news of your foolishness until she gets home.”
“It really isn’t my idea, mom,” he said, calmer again.
“Be it as it is,” I said, “You’ve promised you’d go shopping with me today, and that’s a promise you’re not going to break.”
“But mom,” he whined, “You can’t possibly expect me to go out like this.”
“You’re right,” I said, “Not exactly like this. First of all, take off these clothes.”
“I told you, I can’t,” he said.
“I wasn’t finished!” I snapped, “And don’t worry, you’ll put them right back on. But, as I said, take them off, go to the bathroom, take Andrea’s depilatory and get the hair off your legs, chest, armpits, anything below the neck, actually. Then you can put the clothes back on.”

“Take off your blouse,” I said when he finally reappeared. I wasn’t the least surprised to find he was wearing a bra underneath it, beside the full length slip.
I stuffed the cups of his bra with some tissues, then applied makeup to his face.
“Pay attention to what I’m doing here,” I said, “I won’t be around to do your makeup every time.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked weakly.
“The wedding,” I replied matter-of-factly, “Surely you don’t think I won’t have anything better to do than fix the bridesmaid’s makeup.”

That's it sissies - see you next week!  Remember!  Be good to your mummies!





6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hello Bea (and all),

First, many thanks for your wonderful writing, both fictional and not. I enjoy your sincerity!

Regarding the question about whether or not there are women out there who might enjoy their men cross-dressing or would even find them enjoyable as part of their own fantasies: I agree with you, a definite maybe.

I"ve been married twice. I broke the news (of my enjoying occasional cross-dressing) to my present wife (of >15 years) while we were engaged. She was devastated and insisted I stop all of this activity immediately. I did, we married, and have been very happy with each other. But about 7-8 years ago I found I needed to bring it up again. I did, laid it all out with new confidence that my openness would dissuade her fears, and with hope that she would understand.

She was again quite upset, went to a therapist (as did I). For her I learned that besides the fact that my desires in no way coincided with hers, she was very afraid of how her girlfriends would react if they found out. I learned something that I hadn't really thought about before: women (like men) are in their own competitive world. And having a man who wants to dress like a woman threatens her in such ways that terrify her.

Sure, not all women are like this and I think that younger women are perhaps much more free thinking these days. But there's my story and I hope it adds to the discourse.

Best,

Marie

belinda said...

Hi Bea

To remove comments. There is a pull down menu right to the left of the button that says view blog. One of the items is comments. When you choose it all the comments will be listed with heck boxes. Select the spam and then mark it as such. It will no longer appear and Google may be able to block future posts from the same sender.

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