Forced Feminization: A Writer's Explanation!

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Dear Readers,

As a writer of fictional feminization stories, I thought it would be helpful to provide my readers with a brief explanation for my motives in writing. As a boy, I was never forced into dresses but my mother did indeed wish that I had been a girl. I did wear dresses at times and the experiences were pleasant ones for me. However, I do not advocate forced feminization of a child in real life.

You will note that my stories at Fictionmania and my very first story, "I Made my Son a Girl," are G-rated stories free from sex, abuse, cruelty, and questionable language. They are written for the enjoyment of individuals who would have loved being prettily dressed by their mothers or other female relatives, but who never had the chance. It is my purpose to provide them with the opportunity to vicariously experience the life of a girlishly-dressed child whose mother adores him, even though she might be a tad zealous in wanting him to be a girl. It is all fantasy, and designed as escape reading, not as an instructional manual to coerce boys into becoming someone they do not choose to be.

I am reminded that Robert Frost's, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" has been analyzed and interpreted in a hundred different ways. Perhaps,all writers, great ones like Frost and novices like me, must face the reality that they can and will be misinterpreted, but I want my readers to know that I do not wish to convey in any manner, any dark, harsh, or mean-spirited messages in my stories, just the joy of skipping around in dainty little dresses as little girls and girlish boys are inclined to do. Thank you for reading my explanation. Since I spoke of Robert Frost, here is his poem. I hope that you enjoy it.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

-- Robert Frost

Cordially,
Judi

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