"I had bought my husband's first lingerie after deliberate planning," Nora says, "It took a lot of convincing before he first put it on. But after he wore the teddies, there was no going back. Today, he is my feminized lover, and my mother's maid!"
A place to collect the thoughts and experiences of heterosexual male cross dressers and transvestites. I try not to be judgemental - hell I was forty-something before I liked myself. I WILL plug the page where I have books to sell - but there are 'freebies' there as well so money isn't a big deal. I'm ancient - so have many years behind me. With any luck I've learned some sense about myself and the subject of transvestism. Have no problem in learning more. Want to, as a matter of fact.
Showing posts with label Apron Strings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Apron Strings. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Another Apron Strings ripoff
Jessica was sitting in the garden, anxious to see her
son for the first time since he had eloped. She saw Mike before he could see
her. Obscured by the garden wall, she could only see him from the chest up. There
was something odd about the way he moved, though she couldn’t quite put her
finger on it. And his looks seemed different, as well. From afar, she first
noticed that his jet black had grown all the way down to his shoulders. Then,
she saw that her son was wearing expertly applied makeup and a pale pink cotton
blouse, with a high, frilled collar and short, elasticized sleeves that
accentuated his pale, girlishly thin arms. As he stepped away from the wall,
she could see that his blouse was tucked into the high waistband of a black
knee length pencil skirt, and that he was wearing smoky-hued nylons and a pair
of four-inch heeled court shoes. No wonder he’s mincing like that, she muttered
to herself.
“Hello, mummy,” Mike weakly said as he put the tea
tray down on the garden table.
Jessica kissed him and hugged him.
“Why are you dressed like that?” she said.
“I let him wear my clothes around the house,” his wife
Sandra replied, “He says he feels more comfortable in them.”
Jessica couldn’t help but to notice how similar Mike
looked to his wife. Sandra’s blouse was draped and made of dark purple satin,
but her skirt, apart from being gray, was just like the one her son was
wearing. But the most striking resemblance was in their almost identical
hairstyles.
“You don’t have to hide the truth from me,” Jessica
said dryly, “I know Mike wears skirts to avoid getting a trashing.”
She saw Mike blush furiously as he poured tea.
“There’s a little more to it that just that,” Sandra
said, lifting her cup to her lips.
“I’m sure there is,” Jessica replied calmly, “But I
think I got the gist of it.”
A moment of silence passed, disturbed only by discrete
tinkling of china.
“I hope you’re not here to…” Sandra warily began.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to meddle in your life and
marriage,” Jessica said.
“Though I did have a good mind to pull you over my
knees for running away like that,” she turned to her son, “But I see that
you’ve been punished enough.”
Sandra snickered.
“Actually, I think you should spank him,” she said to
Jessica, “It would be good to formalize our new relationship.”
Jessica stared at her daughter-in-law, then at her
feminized son. She saw him twitch with a deathly fright when his wife shot him
a glance, then beckoned to the house.
“Put on your special punishment outfit,” she told him
and he scurried away in utter silence.
Jessica took a moment to compose herself.
“I’m here because I’ve been contacted by his
employer,” she said to Sandra, “Before he ran off with you, Mike used to work
for a friend of mine, Martha Taylor. To say the least, she was a little put out
when he just stopped showing up at work, without any notice. But she is willing
to take him back, provided he returns to work immediately.”
“Mike has a lot of work at home, already,” Sandra
said.
“That’s hardly a full time job,” Jessica replied, “I
think he’ll still manage find time for his household chores.”
Sandra thought for a minute.
“I have,” she paused again, then continued cautiously,
“I have invested a lot of effort into bringing Mike to discipline. I think it’s
easy to see I’m worried that a change in arrangement will undo a lot of my
efforts.”
“Mike has always been a handful,” Jessica replied,
“But I don’t think going back to work will make him less obedient.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure he remains obedient, don’t worry
about that,” Sandra said, “The only question is how I will achieve that. You
see, if we break the current, …, arrangement, I might have to resort to, …,
previous methods.”
“Don’t mince words,” Jessica replied, “Just say you’ll
start beating him again if he stops wearing your clothes.”
“Well, you see my conundrum,” Sandra said.
“That’s hardly a conundrum,” Jessica said
dismissively, “You’re not the only one who will profit from Mike’s new found
obedience. And I think that Mrs. Taylor will agree that corporal punishment
should be avoided, if possible.”
Sandra stared at her mother-in-law. Making her husband
wear her clothes about the house was one thing, but to make him wear them to
work was something she didn’t even dare dream about. Her breasts were now
heaving with excited breathing.
Just then, Mike reappeared. Jessica couldn’t help but
laugh in surprise as she saw him. He was wearing a ridiculously frilly, empire
waist dress, make of layers and layers of pink chiffon, shiny
pink nylon stockings and a pair of patent pink sandals with an even higher
heel. His makeup was now heavier – his eyes had a strong, smoky shadow, his cheeks
glowing with rouge and his lips were almost dripping with crimson lipstick.
Wordlessly, he placed himself across his mother’s
knees.
“You know, I feel guilty about stealing your son away
like that,” Sandra said.
“You had your reasons, I suppose,” Jessica said,
slowly lifting layer after layer of her son’s dress.
“Still,” Sandra said, “I’d like to make it up to you.
We’re going to have a second wedding ceremony.”
Having finally exposed her son’s frilly panties,
Jessica stopped. She drew a long, excited breath.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sandra blurted
out.
“Yes,” Jessica said, “I’ve kept my old gown. You can
wear it for the ceremony.”
She saw the puzzlement in Sandra’s eyes.
“Tomorrow, I’m taking my son shopping for his brand
new bridal gown,” she announced in a throaty voice, as she pulled down Mike’s
panties.
He squealed as she, for the first time in what would
be a long series, brought her hand down in a resonating slap.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Apron Strings
Remember Halcyon Publications?
That was an UK magazine in the nineteen-nineties, with
two daughter publications, Apron Strings and Pinafore Pages. They both catered
to that narrow segment of the public which is interested in the feminization of
men. Each magazine was supposedly aimed at a particular sub-segment, but in the
end, they were very much alike one another. Mostly, they published stories and
erotic illustrations. Judging from the website, they were published as actual
physical magazines at first, but later on it looked like they had switched to
online only issues. Each monthly issue focused on a certain theme, with several
feature stories (such as case histories of husbands who enter the Empowerment
Academy, where they are transformed to simpering shemales) and some other, miscellaneous
stories. The content was pay-per-view, however it was relatively easy to get
around the protection – something that the owners realized but failed to do
anything against. Anyhow, they stopped updating the magazines around 2007 and
after that, the domain names have been snatched up by others.
The stories, sometimes published as true confessions,
other times as fantasies, were, in the end, remarkably similar – at times
identical passages can be found in two stories (often one of them marketed as a
true confession), with only the names changed. In some stories there is some “very
rational” pretext for the feminization, in others the woman makes it clear from
the beginning she wants her man in skirts. As far as the feminization alone is
concerned, every story pushes the right buttons for me, though it is obvious
that whoever wrote them had a thing for older women so, unless the hero has an
older wife to begin with, always ends up in bed with the mother in law.
If reading Bea’s stories is like eating a wonderfully
structured cake, layered with layers of gentle, moist sponge, refreshingly
crunchy fruit and rich, rich cream, reading these stories is like eating sugar
by the spoonful. They don’t mess around. There are no surprises, once you’ve
read more than two, but they always work.
Lately, I’ve attempted to re-create the spirit, and
the literary style of these fine publications. Here’s my first attempt.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)