Thursday, September 20, 2012

Late Again.

I normally try to post every Sunday.  This week was an exception though.  Felt that I'd nothing to write about (For an opinionated SOB like myself, this is HIGHLY unusual) and just couldn't get off the stick.  Had a short story I thought you might like, but other than that?  Nothing.

But?  Now I'm here, loaded for bear.  Three things:  1) A comment on Belinda's new search for truth.  2) A long comment from Marie. 3) the story I just mentioned.

Was a little confused by the latest survey results.  (I DID participate - so was curious).  Belinda?  Again thanks - marvelous to see someone expend this amount of time and energy.  But, But, But?
There were four questions and you give numbers generated for the first three.  But then you simply say that about 60% of us would be girls if given the chance?  Seems to me (and I'll admit that my memory sucks) that an earlier survey showed the opposite?  Just curious.

Had to laugh at that comment where an order was placed for one of those wands.

For 2), I've copied an e-mail submitted to me by Marie.  Knowing the hellacious time I had working through an awful dislike of myself, it resonates with me a lot.  I'll not climb on my usual soapbox this time - but I have the feeling that what is said here is going to strike home to many of us. (I'm also going to have Marie accepted as a direct author to this blog from now on.  I think his/her opinions are highly valuable).  Here goes:

My (chosen) feminine name is Marie Sweet, I'm male, I've been fixated on cross dressing since being a toddler (I'm now 56), and I'm deeply ashamed of it. I greatly appreciate Bea's offer of publishing this and hope it helps me and others.

Both Bea and Carrie have been very supportive, advising that I need to "get over" my shame. I wish I could switch it off like a lamp. I suppose if that were possible I might just switch it On even more, and since neither is an option I suppose a more realistic course of action is to figure out a way to work out these feelings and move forward. I'd sure like to do that. I don't want to end up on my deathbed wishing that I'd wasted this life in turmoil that I put on myself. And no, I've not done anything so wrong, immoral, or distasteful in my life that I should be ashamed. I just am.

But I don't want to write about complaints and worries. I'd prefer to explore and learn from readers what they did or ideas for getting over the shame and dealing with it. Maybe in this forum we can all help each other a little bit.

I suspect we all know from whence these negative feelings might arise. From "living in a closet" and the risk of ridicule and rejection by both men and women, we hide ourselves. Maybe I need to simply don a dress and pumps. To hell with them! (Whoever "they" are.) But unlike a girl or woman in jeans I know that for me that I'd want to be seen like a woman, pretty and attractive. Although I've not really tried to I don't give that a high chance of success.

I'm happily married which is very lucky in itself. Some years back I confessed all this to her in the belief that my outpouring of honesty and feelings would be accepted. After all, how could she reject such openness and vulnerability? Well, she did reject it, pretty completely. I purged, promising to get over it and to move on. I really tried, too, but as we all know here, it didn't work. In hindsight I guess I don't blame her. In her world my proclivities would also reflect badly on her: instead of being married to a responsible, loving, and attractive (at least for her) man, she worried that I'm more of an embarrassment.

These days, though, I'm feeling a little better. Not where I'd like to be yet but making progress. In no particular order are some recent items:

1. Therapy
My wife recently suggested that I return to therapy as she could see I was/am depressed. I didn't want to, having off and on spending many hours and dollars over the last 30 years with a variety of them, and with little to show for it. However this time I have been completely baring my soul to him. Considering changing my sex (no), spending a weekend getting made-over (maybe), to openly talking about fantasies and desires. I'd never really done that before, hoping that the therapist would somehow know or draw out of me whatever it was I was hiding and perhaps, under coercion (which never came) I'd finally spill the beans.

Anyway, I think I'm beginning to understand that "confession is good for the soul", "the truth shall set you free." Not sure if it's enough but it's on the right track. He's very graciously allowed me to email him with my thoughts in between our meetings, as I find it easier to write. Also, giving me an hour and a half instead of the usual 50 minutes, which always runs short. Once I get to talking it's hard to stop.

2. Bea's TV Channel
I have very much appreciated everyone's writing here. I feel like I'm in a garden of kindred spirits and that helps. At the same time though I have to admit that I feel kind of weird, as if I'm the only one here who feels the way I do. Shit, so I've got this to be ashamed of too? Probably not.

3. New York Times article: "What's So Bad About a Boy Who Wants to Wear a Dress?"
Isn't it funny how serendipity works when we least expect it. Some weeks ago I found this article in NYT at the same time I have been wrestling with this issue of mine. I found it remarkable! Maybe you will too. I'd post it here somehow but I worry about how the copyright people would deal with it.

I think this article sums up my situation very well, although I certainly didn't tell anyone that I wanted to be Mrs. Peal, Bat Girl, That Girl, a mermaid, or a ballerina! Even then I was sure these desires are taboo.

4. "Daring Greatly" by Brene Brown.
I love her writing and she very recently published this book. I'm reading it now and I love it.

to be continued???

This is me again

As anyone who knows me is aware?  I dislike Pedophiles. I feel that I can honestly say that I have some understanding as to what drives them - but I feel that they actually DO harm people.  I'm so old now, that I've seriously thought of coming out many times. My major problem?  Kids.

I'm a nut on reading.  Have worked with elementary school kids now on that subject for about 17 years.   Have made friends with many teachers.  Maye those teachers would understand?  I don't know - but the thought that they might wonder about me?  Makes me shudder in fright.

This is probably why I don't advocate 'coming out'.  Too deep in the closet, to see the light of day?  Dunno.


Okay - here's that story I mentioned..  It's fairly old - but a wee bit different.  Hope that you like it.


It was raining in the way it can when it puts it mind to it in the West Scottish Highlands.  A real drenching downpour coming in from the Atlantic, cold and sleeting.  A half hour before it had been delightful and I had been in a half mind to go for my normal walk along the cliffs but my laptop weather program had shown it's worth and informed me of the awful weather that was coming in and I'd regretfully desisted.  God – it would be nice to get back to civilization again!  If it wasn't for the lure of easy money I'd never have been IN this place!
I looked out of the window as best I could and thanked he lord for the extra thick walls of the rented cottage and the fire in the grate that kept the temperature at a decent level.  Also was extremely thankful that my work in the area was almost done.  My false new passport was stashed away already, right beside my airline ticket from Prestwick airport to Dublin.  There was another prospect there and from what I could tell, she looked like a lovely Irish peach – just ripe and ready for plucking.  Fondly, I looked at the package of papers I'd just checked.  All drawn up and ready for Marian to sign.  A mere formality.
I went and considered opening a new bottle of the local single malt.  I really shouldn't consider opening it, but then I grinned.  What the hell – I'd intended taking it with me, but airline security had gotten terrible with liquids in cabin baggage and this storm was projected to last a few days – and I'd been so good for so long – Marian was so straight laced!  Still smiling I poured myself a generous portion then went to the tiny little fridge – one of the few amenities offered in the rental that worked and inveigled a few cubes of ice from it.  Cursed the bloody thing roundly.  Let's be honest.  I'd plied my trade often enough in North America to get used to a lot of ice in my drinks – and this meager production of ice made my teeth ache.  Typically British.
Anyway, my good humor returned as I took a generous slug from the glass.  My, that was nice.  I was restless.  The TV reception was awful and I didn't feel like doing anything on my PC.  Went and looked out of the window again in a vain attempt to see past the teeming rain.  Still awful.  Couldn't see six inches out and the only think I could hear was the sound of the rain and the wind howling in the chimney.  Sighed.
Then I jumped about six inches at the hammering on the door.  Who in the hell would come here at this time in the afternoon?  I put down the glass and cautiously went to the door.  Let's face it, I'm pretty damn small and not physical in the slightest – but I was pretty sure that my cottage certainly didn't advertise any riches for a criminal to assume that I had money.  On top of that, any criminals I'd ever met in my few times in jails were lazy bastards.  They'd have abhorred the very idea of going out on a day like today.  Had to be someone I knew.  I opened the door.
I was correct.  It was Marian's ditzy sister – Priscilla - one of those stupid deer stalker tweed hats on her head and a long matching coat, that I was sure belonged to Marian.  Priscilla not being noted for her common sense.  Nonetheless, I had to act my part.  Put a lot of concern into my voice.
"Goodness gracious Priscilla!  What brings you out today?  It's not fit for man nor beast!"
She looked a little strange.  Different in some way that I couldn't put my finger on. She spoke hurriedly. "Marian NEEDS you!  Can you come with me right away?"
"Whatever is the matter, dear child?" I asked carefully, my spirits dropping – Marian was SO ready for the coup de grace!  I didn't want any fuckups now!  No delays – PLEASE?
She shook her head impatiently.  "Just come – would you?  I'll leave explanations for her.  Can you come?"
I wanted to grit my teeth so badly – but managed not to show my impatience with this ditzy broad.  "I just got the papers I've been talking about over the Internet.  Should I bring them?" I asked hopefully.
She shook her head and shrugged. "Don't think so.  Just grab your coat and an umbrella – I parked the car at the bottom of the garden and we'll need protection from the rain."
"Didn't you bring one?" I asked mildly, wondering at the stupidity of this broad but getting my umbrella after I shrugged into my coat and putting on my rain hat.
"Didn't think I'd need it."  She answered, which didn't surprise me in the slightest.  I just grinned to myself thinking that she wouldn't surprise me by having one of her ridiculously feminine dresses on under her long coat.
"Don't suppose I need to lock up.  I hope there's nothing wrong with Marian?"  I said, looking around.
"Don't think that any crook would be out in weather like this," she said with a grin.
I was quite amazed –  what she said – and delivery - were almost sensible!  But I shook my head – had to be an accident.  Followed her out into the teeming downpour, holding the umbrella over our head with some difficulty, the wind making it difficult. I heard her with some difficulty, even though we were close together under the umbrella.  "I'm SO pleased you were at home and I didn't have to go along the cliffs looking for you!" she started then finished, once we were in the car and she was starting to drive.
"I don't think it really was a day for taking a walk."  I said.
She laughed. "With your reputation as an artist?  Walking is just the sort of crazy behavior that's expected of you."
As this reinforced the impression I'd been trying to create at my stay in the cottage I didn't want to argue, so shut up and stared at the rain bouncing off of the windshield.
Priscilla was a surprisingly good driver – I don't know what I was expecting, but in the half darkness caused by the weather and the driving rain – and the goat path that the local Scots euphemistically called a 'road'? I had to admit that she was probably doing better than I could.  But I finally sat back in my seat and wondered.  Marian was a bit loony – not as bad as Priscilla – but let's face it, if she was dealing with me, she had a hole in her head to begin with – but she wasn't as hysterical as her sister.  What on earth could be wrong?  Why was I needed?
It was only about a ten minute drive between our houses and there wasn't any person or live thing to be seen.  It still wasn't a day fit for man nor beast and nobody was insane enough to be out in it – not that we saw many people on that stretch anyway.  Finally we arrived at the cottage where Marian stayed and Priscilla was being put up.  It was a lot more modern than my college.  I smiled to myself.  Maybe Marian might have to put it up for sale once I'd finished raiding their bank accounts. Sniffed to myself.  She was big, healthy woman!  Not too old? Working for a living might be good for her.  I almost sniggered – but didn't, even though the vision of her working as a cart horse brought some cheer to my mind..
If anything, the rain was heavier than it had been at my place and I thought that my umbrella might get turned outside in by the wind – but we finally got inside.
I don't know what I'd been expecting, but the calm Marian who met us was not it.  She smiled at me with her large, white, teeth.  "So glad you could manage to come dear!  Like a drink?"
I SO wanted to tell her to piss off – getting me dragged out on such a day with no urgency involved that I could see.  Naturally, as she was the source for a lot of money coming my way, I stayed calm. "A Scotch – a bloody BIG one?  Would work wonders!" I said with what passed as an attempt at a smile.
"Never could get over my own taste for gin," she laughed.  "But I have your favorite single malt whisky here for you.  Allow me!"
I heard the clink of ice into a glass and she handed it to me.  "You going out again Priss?" She asked her sister.
"Yes.  But I won't be too long – an hour or two at most.  You can make me a big drink when I get back."  Priscilla laughed.
"Strange?" I thought. "She almost sounds like a human being."  Then I shrugged to myself.  "Only a NUT would go back out there again." I thought.   So I didn't ask what the hell she was going out for again, just waved her a cheery goodbye as I took my drink from Marian.  Then sat down on a big old fashioned rocking chair.
"Cheers!"  She said and took a drink.
"Cheers!  First I've had all day!"  I replied.  Then remembering that this was not exactly true I reinforced this by looking at the clock.  It was four-thirty.  "Well at least in the last hour or so."  I laughed and took a healthy slug of my drink.  Then I blinked.
"How had Priscilla done that?" I wondered.  She'd left the cottage by a door and now, less than a few seconds later she had come back.  Not only had she done that, she was sitting on a light chair just in front of me!  Not only that?  She had got rid of the big coat she had been wearing – and looked reasonable!  Almost like a human being instead of the ditzy broad I was accustomed to.  A gray suit skirt and white blouse.
"How did you DO that?"  I asked, amazed, growing conscious as I spoke of two other very strange things.  One was a funny taste in my mouth – tongue.  A sort of waxy, perfumed taste.  Not only that?  Without me noticing a thing?  Marian had moved towards me.  Was now looking at me with an amused grin and seemed to be concentrating on my right hand – which she held in hers!
"Magic!"  Priscilla said in a voice that seemed to match her new personality.  "And if you think I'm magic?  What do you think of this?" She was holding an oval mirror up to my face.  I went to take it – but couldn't move.  Stupidly, I looked at my arms first – they were nude and tied to the chair arms with brightly colored silk scarves.  The fingernails on my left hand were oval and had a bright red polished look to them. My right was in Marian's hand – and she was working on my pinky – the last finger that wasn't feminine and red!
Then I couldn't avoid the mirror – and there was a reflection.  Just one thing – it wasn't ME!  Though it seemed to have some sort of resemblance.  But the lipstick, blush, mascara, and eye shadow confused me for a second.  Then I managed to look through the pretty reflected girl looking back at me.  Felt my eyes widen in shock.
"What have you DONE Marian?" I asked, stunned and unable to move my look away from the girl looking back at me.
"I was so SURE that he'd like it!"  Priscilla laughed.  Then she leaned in close to me. "Don't you at least like the earrings?  Marian and I spent a LONG time on them!  But maybe you want bigger ones?  Prettier ones?  But just hold on for a day or so – then Marian has ALL sorts of pretty ones for you!"
I looked at the smiling women. Felt weak and powerless. "I don't understand ladies?  What are you doing?"
Marian finished with my right hand.  Untied the scarf holding me to the chair at that arm.  "Lovely! Nothing better than a sissy with pretty nails!  Be careful for a second darling. I might get put off if your nails weren’t just right."
"Marian?  Stop telling the poor thing bullshit!  You'll take a sissy any way you can get one!" Priscilla laughed.  "And?  It looks to me like you got one!"
"I'm sorry." Marian said directly to me with a wry grimace.  "I guess that she’s just being pragmatic again.  But let’s face it, huh?  You were trying to con me – my darling -  while Priscilla was conning you."
"Priscilla?  That . ." I couldn’t hide the scorn in my voice.
"Don't be naughty darling!"  Marian chided me gently.  "Priscilla is a highly respected member of Interpol.  A very respected policewoman if you must know.  Constantly looking for Internet con men – just like you.  She was just on the point of running you in for your last caper – when she got an idea that you might be the type of person that I wanted."
I shook my head.  "That you wanted?"
I'll swear that she blushed and looked down at the floor.  "I'm sorta – well . . don't know how to describe this?  Bossy?"
Priscilla laughed out loud. "Bossy my ASS!  She's a full scale female dominant!  Loves little sissy boys.  Swears blind that she trains then to just LOVE her huge dildo!  Just can't get any to stay with her in this neck of the woods.  She absolutely LOVES it here, but can't get anyone to agree with her."
I blinked and went back to an area that puzzled me. "What on earth are you talking about?  Interpol?"
Priscilla shrugged.  "Yes.  Marian’s right I’m afraid.  I specialize in personal fraud and I've been on your case for a while.  Was just about to pull you in on that Canadian woman you messed up – when I saw 'something'?"  She actually blushed.  “Quite illegal of course, but I started going through your stuff in your apartment one time.”
"Priss is VERY bright!" Marian smiled.  "Clever one in the family!"
"Something?" I asked Priscilla, suddenly frightened. “In my apartment?”
She gave me an evil smile.  "Yes darling.  I had this hunch that there was another side to you.  Don't know how to explain it – but I got this feeling that there was something about you that my sister would like – and?  Quite truthfully?  Since she's moved up here to this godforsaken hole?  I never, ever, thought she'd find!"
"She's SO clever!"  Marian said proudly, untying my other hand.  "I have this LOVELY black velvet skirt for you to try on!"
I was free to move my hands around now, but I had this strange listlessness about me. "I can't do that!" I said to her. Then, as if I were waking up and getting some mobility from my new freedom, I suddenly became conscious of the fact that I had no pants on!  That fairly large, feminine breasts jutted out from my chest and – as far as I could tell – were ensconced in a lacy bra – which nestled under a matching slip!
"Why am I dressed like this?"  I managed with a little personality coming back into my voice.  "I'm a GUY for Christ's sake!"
"But that's NOT what you indicate on your web page?" Priscilla laughed.  "Or am I making a mistake when I traced you into those chat rooms – where you are SUCH a sweet little submissive maid?  Curtsey all those big dommes?  What's your name again?  Tiffany?"
I blinked.  "You're making a mistake.  Must be!  Let me get my PC – and you'll see!  I never did anything like that!"  Then I blinked again as if a thought had just struck me. "Ha Ha!  I see it all now!  I bought that PC used – from a guy in Canada!  That's what it must have been.  You've been looking at old stuff that belonged to a previous user!"
Priscilla looked at me admiringly then spoke to Marian. "You know?  For a guy who just got knocked out by that drug?  He thinks pretty fast.  It's all bullshit of course!"  She grinned and patted my cheek softly.  "You're pretty good, I have to admit – but don't try and pull any shit on Marian.  She does have a temper – and you're kind of small – so I'd watch it if I were you!"
"I know it sounds corny!"  I persisted, my eyes wide open and honesty just oozing out of them.  "Just get me out of those clothes and take me back to the cottage – I'll prove it!"
"Hate to tell you dear."  Priscilla said.  "But once I left here? I went back to your cottage and tidied up a bit.  Deleted a bunch of stuff from your PC. "  She looked at me pityingly. "Your passwords WERE very archaic dear! I knew most of them already but figured out the others with no problem."
I felt myself go pale and she smiled.  "Don't worry dear.  I cleared away everything that indicated you were a crook – though the cops will have enough to look into – your false passports – your airline ticket to Dublin."
"But why should they be looking there?" I asked.
"Because of your untimely death while out walking on the cliffs during a violent storm!"
I was shaken.  "My death?"
She shrugged.  "Well – disappearance is probably the better word – but I jammed your umbrella in a very nasty spot – just the place where a crazy artist might be wandering about.  The local police here aren't THAT bright – but once they find evidence that something isn't all that right with you – and that you might have been killed by accident?  They might not look awfully hard.  Know what I mean?  Naturally, I've put your wallet – and everything in it – money as well – where there’s a good chance that it’ll be found, wedged between two rocks.   Not a sure thing that it’ll be found but a good indication that you’re dead don’t you think?”  She smiled. 
"But I must have an identity – and I'll need money – surely?"
Marian broke in.  "Didn't I tell you that she was smart?  She told me before you woke up that she'd traced all of your Swiss Bank Accounts and traded the money over to my own accounts."
"Is that what you are – thieves?" I asked indignantly, seeing another avenue of escape disappearing.
"Not quite darling!" Marian said acidly. "And if you ever talk to me that way again in the future?  I shall spank the hell out of you!"
"Don't say I didn't warn you!"  Priscilla laughed.  "You didn't let her finish.  You used to be quite rich you know – but your accounts are now controlled by Marian here.  She figures that you'll need dresses or stuff that are outside the kind of wages she'll pay you for whatever . ."
"Pays me?" I asked, surprised.
"Of course! I'm not a monster!"  Marian snapped.  "Priscilla has convinced me that you will like being my little . ."  She smirked.  "Companion?  Though it may take you a while – so I figure that you'll feel a little better if I pay you some money for your . .your . .?" She paused, searching for a word.
"Services?"  Priscilla laughed.
"Exactly!" Marian laughed in turn.  Then she turned to me.  "But to answer your question of identity?"
"Like I said?  Priscilla is very bright.  A young woman committed suicide in her district recently. Poor thing had not a single relative and was SO lonely.  On a hunch Priscilla 'borrowed' her driver license and references to her name – so that she seemed to be nameless.  Then she sent away for copies of the Birth Certificate –so?"  She came to a halt triumphantly, then added. "You are now this girl here!"  With that she showed me a drivers license of a rather pretty woman.  "Even LOOKS a bit like you!" she added.
I swallowed.  "Melissa Chambers?" I asked.
"That's the problem dear."  Priscilla said.  "I think that Marian here is far too soft hearted, but she sees that you prefer the name Tiffany – and may want to keep it that way.  It's not impossible for us to request a name change for you – but I feel that it's just another bureaucratic step that might help trace you.  Frankly I think that the name Melissa is a lovely feminine name.  One that you'll grow into.  What do you think?"
"This is really absurd!" I tried to work some indignation into my voice, but my hands were already caressing – though lightly – the feel of my nylons under my slip and I noticed that my voice was dry.
"Of COURSE it is!"  Priscilla laughed.  "But haven't you dreamed about something like this for years?  Wearing pretty clothes.  Curtseying sweetly?  A big, dominant, woman boss?”
I looked at  her and could feel a helpless lassitude creep over me.  To make matters worse I could tell by the knowing way she was smiling at me that she was perfectly knowledgeable of my growing inability to fight.
“There, there Melissa!!”  She said consolingly – fooling nobody with the insincerity of her words.  “Starting to see how nice all of this will be for you?”
“My name’s not Melissa!”  I wailed.  “I’m a  . .”  But even as I spoke I could feel and taste the waxiness of the lipstick on my lips, the heaviness of my eyelashes with the unaccustomed mascara on them.  I paused and then felt the strength of Marian’s arms as she embraced me from behind.
“Oh Priscilla!  How could you!  You’ve made the poor little dear CRY!”  Then she had no problem whatsoever in turning me around and kissing me firmly on the lips.
“Aaah!” She said satisfied after she lifted her lips from mine.  “He’s a lovely kisser Priscilla.  Just like a girl. Soft and pliant.  Very giving!  I think he’s getting me all excited!”
“Please don’t?”  I sighed.
Marian smiled fondly at me. “You are a sweet little precious – aren’t you?   Letting your lips say all of those lies while your body gives you away.  Now why don’t you give your Marian a nice big kiss – huh?  Show her that she’s no right to think you don’t enjoy this?” She looked at me provocatively
“It’s awfully difficult Marian!” I wailed.  “I’m not really that way!”
“Maybe not darling.  But I’m sure it’ll grow on you.  Now you don’t want Marian to think that you’ll not even give it a chance ?  Say that you can’t without even trying?”
“Marian’s right, you know!”  Priscilla reproved me. “Here she is, thinking you’re a sissy.  Have all your makeup on like a good little girl?  Have pretty clothes on so that you feel all nice.  Even starting to answer to the name Melissa.  Think you can blame her?  I don’t want to worry you dear, but I know my own sister and I think it would be in your best interests if you at least tried to give her a proper, girlish, kiss.  Huh?  A little try, huh?  She can get awfully mean when she doesn’t get her way!”
I looked at Marian ad there definitely was a glint of temper in her eyes.  I thought it best to make an attempt at doing as she wanted.  So I went to her and twined my arms softly around her neck and kissed up towards her own lips, making my own all soft and pliant.  We kissed for quite a long time and though I initiated the kiss it wasn’t long before I found myself in her arms and being kissed.
“Well?  I don’t know how much of a sissy you ARE!” She laughed.  “But I think I’ll go and get myself ready.  It’s been too damn long I think.  Time for Marian to get some relief.”  She smiled at me.  “Priscilla will help.  I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”  With that, she disengaged herself from me and left the room.
“What’s THAT all about?” I asked Priscilla nervously.
“You mean to say that you really don’t know?” She asked indulgently as she searched around.  Finally, she found what she was looking for and handed me a tube, smaller than a toothpaste tube.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“To lubricate yourself with – you silly thing!”  She laughed.  “I think you kissed like a much better sissy than you make out. She’s gone for her dildo.  Gonna make you into her proper girl.  I wouldn’t waste too much time if I were you.  She has an awful tendency to rape little sissies if they’re not ready for her.”
“Rape?”  I gulped.  “Surely not?”
“Lubricated darling.  That’s what I mean when I talk about you getting ready for her.  If you’re all soft and lubed up and act properly?  I’m positive she’ll try not to hurt you too much.”
I gave up all pretences of dignity.  “Priscilla?  Please help me get out of this.  I’ll admit that I’ve had fantasies of being dominated all of my life – but that’s all they ever were – fantasies.  I KNOW that your sister is bigger and stronger than me and will probably hurt me –but this is NOT what I want, believe me.  Help me?”
Priscilla looked at me.  “You’ve ruined quite a lot of women with your con games dear.  Now?  You’re about to get hurt. I’m not really a feminist, but I think it’s about high time that a woman paid you back.” She looked at her watch. “You don’t have very long to take the gel in that tube and work it – a LOT of it up your back passage.  Then do what Marian asks you to do. You’re about to prove that old Chinese proverb – Be careful of what you dream for.  Your dreams may come true.”
I hoped that she’d turn her eyes away and give me some modesty, but she didn’t.  Watched me with amused eyes as I fumbled with the unfamiliar layers of petticoats then squeezed gel onto my finger as I held the layer of silk garments out from me and carefully lubricated my anus under my lacy panties.  I thought I was finished, but then decided it was safer to use more – bringing a grin from Priscilla who had got to her feet and was walking to the door.  “Looks like you were sensible Melissa.  Have a nice time.”
With that, she left the room, Just as Marian entered.
To my surprise, she was wearing a skirt.  It was quite full and for a split second, I thought she had been fooling me all along, but then she gave me a tender smile and pulled the skirt tighter about her and I saw the bulge at the front.
“Made yourself nice for Marian?” She cooed at me.
“I hope so.”  I said hopelessly.
“Don’t worry darling.  Just do as Marian suggests!  You might even LIKE the first time.”  With that, she sat down on a high backed, wooden, chair.  She then pulled her skirt back to reveal a huge false phallus sticking out and forward.
“See how nice Marian is to her little sissies?” She giggled. “Now, if you’ll just come and straddle me?  Face to face?  Then you can fit yourself on me.  Just take your time to become my sweet girl.  Isn’t that nice of me?  Lift your petticoats and take off your panties if you want.  Come along now!”
I lifted my petticoats and slid my panties down and off. With a sigh that was near tears, I straddled her, then fitted my anus onto the tip of her dildo.
“There now – my precious darling!  Sit on me.  Just a little bit.”  She was laughing now and showing her teeth as she enjoyed her power over me.
An inch went inside me slowly, and she sighed in delight. Then she let out an ‘oooh’ of happiness as I lifted myself, but then her hands rested on my shoulders and I let out a dainty squeal as she forced me back down onto her. Then we went through the same exercise again and again, with me sinking lower and lower each time, squealing daintily as she let out satisfied grunts.
It wasn’t really long, before I sat on her – completely impaled.  Then, she kissed me and called for Priscilla.  I heard the door open behind me.
“What’s your name darling?  Why don’t you tell auntie Priscilla?” Marian asked.
“Melissa!”  I admitted – then wiggled.
The end


belinda said...

Dear Bea. You were not mistaken. In the previous survey where I asked if you would change into a girl if it could be accomplished by a magic wand, only 40% responded yes. The majority opted to get a hot dress and stay as they were. I really have no explanation for the difference. Perhaps the offered alternative of a hot dress convinced a large group of people who might consider changing gender to not do so? Only a joke, but sometimes the structure of questions can affect the answers.

Just to make a further comment on Marie Sweet's remarks. Having been there myself, I trully sympathize with the feelings of shame. I purged a lot of nice clothes when I was younger. My only comment would be that this shame is a response to an expectation of awful consequences or at least deep embarrassment if one's secret desires were uncovered. But there are large groups of people, with numbers increasing every day, that do not regard transvestism to be any indication of a moral flaw. I refer to groups of t-girls, D/S groups, gay people, and increasingly large groups of young people. Not to mention a lot of people who don't fit into these categories but who are untroubled by men wearing skirts. I was at a Hair Salon on saturday enfemme, and the many women there, chatted with me, chatted around me, or simply ignored me. I received no shame inducing looks or comments. So my two cents is get an outfit, go to a safe place. ( I don't know where you live, but I know plenty in the northeast US) and experience acceptance first hand, there is not better cure for shame. This is not urging anyone to come out. As far as that goes I am not "out" except to the people I have chosen to be out to.

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