I'm a happy crossdresser, but I'm still confused. Maybe it's just me, but why are so many of my sisters so dissatisfied with their life, and that of their sisters? Lately it seems that all I see are articles about how we must fight for our rights, demand that our wives, children pets and the general public accept us uncritically, and grant us our every wish.

I'm confused, so this will be a very confused column. It's sort of like one of those dreams where several seemingly unrelated threads of thought combine in really odd ways and you wake up thinking "I'm not sure I want to know anyone who could dream up something like that!"

This story is getting out of hand. I'm searching for an ending and if it hasn't arrived after chapter 3, I'll just have to kill it.

A Matter of Fact: Chapter 3 (part 7 and Epilogue)

By Camospam

July 10, 2007. Ottawa

 Cameron was dragged out of bed … in a rather abrupt and forceful manner, Ken pulled the mattress off the bed frame, dumping the sleeping boy onto the floor, then his RCMP guard kneeled down beside him drawing his pistol and aiming at the door.

“What!!! it’s like - two in the morning?” moaned the groggy youth

“We’re under attack” supplied Ken, motioning the boy to lower his voice

“Not another drill!” whispered Cameron

When 13 year old twins Tyler and Jillian can't get along, their Mom decides to take drastic measures and make them see things from each others shoes by making them literally switch places, forcing Jillian to be the brother and Tyler to be the sister. After Jillian realizes she's more of a boy than she imagined, Tyler deals with the fall out of his admission to his friend Scott, and comes to terms with his own femininity.

Something funny happened the first time my family spent a week at the now infamous home of Jim Bakker, Heritage Village USA. Since I am not a Christian and had to work anyway, I spent the week as a bachelor. Well, not exactly a bachelor, more a bachelorette. I hate that word, it is as awkward as some of the supposed "sexual-bias-free" creations that grace the media these days, and I have a whole new understanding of those libbers who object to those sexist terms.

The path to haven is paved with thorns and shrimps, while the path to hell is paved with delightful temptations (words from a wise man).

There's something wrong here. It says on my resume, of which I have mailed out approximately 6.37 billion in the last year of semi-employment, that I am a highly skilled electromechanical technician. It says a lot of other glowing things, but in essence it means I can go into a factory somewhere and quickly understand and repair several millions of dollars worth of complex machinery that is doing something the normal maintenance staff cannot fix. At the risk of hubris I'm good at it too. So why is it that the common household sewing machine strains my abilities to the breaking point and beyond.

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“You go up, I just need to fetch something.”

Dot made an idle comment while chatting tonight, and this silly little bit of verse was the result.

"SPLAT!" goes the body clock.
It's time to roll and rock.
I'd rather stay in bed
And calm my aching head
But life won't let me go,
Such misery I know!

Welcome, my sisters, into the world of the New Age. Listen to the formless music in the background. Hear the muted chanting of a choir of True Believers. Abandon your previous self to the teachings of Mother Earth. Feel the innate power of the mysterious Female Life Force flow into your sadly male body. Read the articles in crossdressing magazines filled with terms like "oneness", "karma", "pansexuality" and even "reincarnation." Recently I even learned that women have superior hearing to enable them to be better mothers.

So the next morning...

Oh wait you want to hear about the night before?

Fine....

since my last post I have been wearing a night gown every night. Thanks to my wife she doesn't seem to have a problem with it.

How ironic! While looking for something in my files the other day I found I have been writing about crossdressing more than ten years now. The problem is, I now realize I am completely unqualified to be a crossdresser, let alone a writer on the subject. Think about it - just what are the qualifications for a crossdresser? Surely you've read a multitude of "true life stories" in the crossdressing magazines. Perhaps if we were to distill all these stories we can come up with a set of qualifications for a true crossdresser.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007 - Late Afternoon
The Quad, Whateley Academy

"Watch it!" Dump Truck exclaimed, having come around the corner of Schuster Hall and running directly into Danny. "You should watch where you're going!"

"You ran into me!" Danny protested, already thinking of how to escape the bully.

“Why did you have to die?”

“Why couldn’t you live long enough for you to see me?”

“Why couldn’t god give you a longer lifespan to see me as I am now.”

“Your daughter.”

“The daughter you never had. The daughter you dreamed of.”

“When I talk to daddy, he always tells me that you would love me for who I am.”

“I don’t know if it’s true. I mean, I’ll never truly know.”

“I just know I wish you stayed alive long enough to see me.”

“Not the little boy who you used to see running around the house. Playing with his toys.”

This is an old posting which has been re-formated and further edited: Chapter 1 encompasses Parts 1 thru 3.

The story takes place in the Whateley Universe, with thanks to its creators.

A dance, a meal, and a kiss

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Might as well get this new year kicked off right: Dawn

SUNDAY, May 29, 2016

Happy New Year

Sanreal’s gaze swept over me from head to toes, then back up again.

I chose to keep my focus on his face, though with Mirai’s preternaturally wide field-of-vision I could see all of him in great clarity

For a long, long while we both stared at each other, until Sanreal finally grew visibly perplexed.

With his brow furrowed and eyes crinkled, he made a handful of attempts to break his silence before eventually finding his voice.