Feminized by Mom and Her Friend

Getting caught in the panty drawer and feminized as punishment is a favorite fantasy for all crossdressers, transvestites and sissies. Getting caught and feminized by your Mother, and getting caught and feminized by your Mother’s friend are two very different things though.

These are actually two separate stories about the same boy. In the first one, Mom calls her friend to see if she can help. Her friend has a lot of experience with boys that dress like girls, and tries a crossdressing intervention to see if he is really the sissy he seems to be. She has limited success but he has a ball. What now?

Mom decides to take the matter into her own hands. She encourages her son to dress like a girl until the thrill is gone. But that doesn’t happen right away. It takes him a tremendous amount of practice and hundreds of pairs of panties to come to his own conclusion about the whole thing.

Both are audio stories as well as written stories, listen to the previews or read the whole thing. These two recordings and 14 others are free with a one time video signup, you’ll see the link. Enjoy!

Feminized by Mom’s Friend

Feminized by Mom

Feminized by Mom and Her Friend

Feminized by Mom and Her Friend

The Psychology of Crossdressing

Have you ever asked yourself why you like to dress up as a girl and prance around like Cinderella? Have you ever wished you could figure the whole thing out once and for all?

In this Podcast episode I explain the most widely accepted theory in the psychology of crossdressing. I just hope its not too complicated for you guys.

Listen to The Psychology of Crossdressing Here

The Psychology of Crossdressing

The Psychology of Crossdressing

Boys Or Girls?

As soon as I joined Pinterest and started following people, I noticed that a lot of guys pin pictures of women in boards labeled Crossdresser, Transvestite, and/or Transgender. I figured this was just part of their fantasy, but today I discovered someone that takes this kind of thing very seriously.

His mission statement: “Come on people, you really need to think about things before you post them, damn, I just came across a picture of Megan Fox labeled “a boy”. I’m not saying trans gender girls aren’t pretty, I think some of them are gorgeous, but we all know Miss Fox was born female. Let’s use a little discretion here people. OK?”

Well ok then. Check out this board for yourself and feel free to leave comments. You do have to log in but joining is free.

Boys Or Girls on Pinterest

Boys Or Girls on Pinterest

Boys Or Girls on Pinterest

Male CEO to get breast implants to test new bra

The male CEO of lingerie brand Kewi is to get breast implants to test his invention, and help reach his one million dollar crowdfunding target.

Kewi Bra inventor Muyiwa Olumide believes that he should live and breathe his own product and has announced that he “will not let genetics stand between further groundbreaking discoveries.”

“As they say, a true entrepreneur should be a proud user of their own product. I set out to create the most comfortable bra for women with larger cup sizes, and that means putting myself in their shoes (bra) to get to the root of the problems,” he said.

“I will document my experiences of getting breast implants as a man and film the process. I will detail all of my discoveries and how they impact the design.”

Olumide will undergo breast augmentation surgery next month in order to experience exactly what future Kewi Bra wearers go through.

There is also a new, revolutionary pair of panties in the works, but to test them out properly will require a more serious procedure. As they say, the first cut is the deepest.

Male CEO to get breast implants to test new bra

Male CEO to get breast implants to test new bra

Crossdressing Comics-Captain America

When Captain America throws his mighty shield, all those who choose to oppose his shield must yield!

If he’s led to a fight and a duel is due, then the red and the white and the blue will come through, when Captain America throws his mighty shield!

Note: this works very well at lingerie clearance sales.

Captain America by Margaret Harrison

Captain America by Margaret Harrison

Is Bugs Bunny A Sissy?

A 20 year study by the National Sissy Association has just been completed to determine if Bugs Bunny is actually a sissy.

Thousands of man hours, gallons of lube, and full sized custom bunny suits were used in this groundbreaking research project.

The results are inconclusive, but most of the researchers have added fur to their list of fetishes.

Silly Wabbit, panties are for girls!

Silly Wabbit, panties are for girls!


Most crossdressers I’ve met are very anxious people, and many have turned to alcohol and drugs to alleviate this. Now why would that be?

Could it be that for years and years you’ve have to hide your most intimate secret from the whole world?

Could it be all those times you dressed up when you were home alone, figuring out when no one was expected to come in and surprise you?

Making sure all the drapes were closed, the doors locked, and staying away from the windows? Then putting everything away either in your secret place or back in her drawer exactly the way it was?

And if that wasn’t enough to drive you crazy, you may have felt guilty and possibly ashamed of what you did, and that feeling stayed with you for the rest of the day, and started all over again the next time.

Well, that was then and this is now. You don’t have to feel bad about dressing up anymore. You’re not hurting anyone and this gives you a great deal of pleasure and relieves stress (if you can get over the stress it creates).

Life is way too short to spend being afraid and beating yourself up. Be whatever you want to be. Be who you really are!

Dedicated to my good friend Teena.



Reality Check-Crossdressing Woes

Lets face it, most of you aren’t going to get dressed up as a girl and go out this Halloween, or the next, or the one after that. Either you’re afraid,  terrified, or simply don’t want to take a chance.

I understand.

I know that being attracted to women’s clothes more than women can be very confusing.

I know that having fantasies about being emasculated, feminized, and humiliated can be very disturbing.

I know that having to hide such an important secret from the whole world can make you anxious, depressed, and desperate.

Some people come to terms with it and enjoy it and others, well, lets just say that others handle it badly.

All that being said, I have some advice that may help.


You hate that right? Well so did I when it was repeated to me over and over again in rehab a long time ago. Turns out that  some of the simplest advice is the best.

One more suggestion.


Now we can move on to the serious issues, like corsets.

Thats not a guy!

Some of you have commented that several of the pictures I post are not men dressed up but real women. I’ve thought long and hard about a response to this and here it is:


First of all, the pictures people have shared with me and ones I’ve taken of friends are private and will remain that way.

Second of all, to be honest not all guys look gorgeous in a dress and makeup. There-I said it. Often I’ll put up a picture that’s a representation of a particular fetish. I want to inspire you and make you feel good about your fantasy. If its to be taken to a beauty salon for a makeover, I may show a beautiful woman getting her hair done rather than a guy having his back hair shaved (Joy).

You want to see a very sexy boy all prettied up? This is my friend (hopefully) Plastic Martyr. He is a 20 year old male model living in Beverly Hills, California.

From his Model Mayhem page:  “I am male, but obviously do not look it. I am a rare breed to say the least, I believe that gender and fashion should have NO boundaries.”

And this is one of my favorite pictures. You can see more at: www.modelmayhem.com and www.plasticmartyr.com


Does this picture bring back any memories? Maybe you used to dress up in your Sisters or your Mothers clothes, and were filled with guilt about it, but just couldn’t stop. Maybe you couldn’t get the lingerie back in the drawer exactly where it was, and it drove you crazy with fear! Maybe you were petrified that a friend, neighbor, or family member would come home and catch you, but continued to dress up every day as you glanced out the windows like an escaped prisoner.

Its OK now. You aren’t that person anymore and things have changed. You have to realize that you’re not doing anything wrong, and if something as simple as dressing up gives you pleasure, then enjoy it.

Life is short-wear heels!



OK, so you’ve accepted your fetish and are having a ball. Just remember one thing: STYLE COUNTS!

Its all about style...

Its all about style…

Go Ask Teresa: Crossdressing advice, help and insight

I’ve decided to help you girls with any issues you might be having. Mental anguish, guilt, fetishes, shopping tips, whatever. Just ask!

Feel free to contact me here, and just like Jeopardy, it must be in the form of a question. NO real names will be used.


Go Ask Teresa: Crossdressing advice, help and insight

Go Ask Teresa: Crossdressing advice, help and insight

Penis Envy

My Penis by Karen Wheatley as told to John Hughes from the November 1978 issue of National Lampoon

My Penis by Karen Wheatley as told to John Hughes from the November 1978 issue of National Lampoon

My Penis by Karen Wheatley as told to John Hughes from the November 1978 issue of National Lampoon

One day last fall, I woke up with a…with this…with a…well, it was, it was all covered with hair and um, it was, oh, it was big and, ah, it was a…you know, it was a…what it was was a…it was like a, well…it was a penis. A real one. It scared me to death!

I had all the right kind of privates when I went to bed, I think, but when I got up I had a you-know-what and some other things from a boy’s “down there” and it was terrible. Can you imagine being a sixteen-year-old girl who is very popular and who who has a really neat life but suddenly grows a…penis? Oh, God! I thought it was the end of the world or something because I wanted to be a wife or a girl friend, at least, and a mother, and wives and mothers and even girl friends don’t have you-know-whats. And if I wasn’t a girl anymore, I would have to take boys’ gym and shop class and I would have to quit cheerleaders and the girls’ gymnastics team. I’d have to get all new clothes and bedroom furniture and I could never be pretty again. Plus I’m sure it would make my relatives upset.

I don’t know how this happened to me. It just did. But I think it had something to do with my hormones, because at my age hormones are really screwy and it doesn’t take too much to make them even more screwy. Just before this happened, I had a serious pimple attack, so my hormones must have been wrong already for that to happen. I was also drinking a lot of Cokes and eating a lot of French fries and I went through this period when I kind of craved Kit-Kat candy bars and I think that maybe all that stuff affected my hormones that were not too good in the first place. Also, about a week or so before I woke up with the…with that “thing” “down there,” I noticed my little thingie that’s in my “down there” and is hard to find because it’s so small and all wrapped up in stuff, I noticed that it was kind of sore. I thought it was just a virus or a “girl problem,” but then it got, like sort of, you know, it was like swollen? And then a couple of days later it looked a little bigger. And then, that morning…I mean, I don’t spend a lot of time staring down at my personal area, if you know what I mean, so I tend to miss things that go on “down there.” But I sure couldn’t miss this. It was as big as a carrot!

“It,” the “thing,” that is, the “thing” I woke with, was, to describe it, well, it was the stiff kind and as long as my hand and thicker than a bottle of Ban roll-on. It was the color of a Mexican person’s skin and it had a whole bunch of gross veins all over it. And the tip part there was like a knob with a hole in it which is for both kinds of stuff to go out of, you know. Then down below where the whatchamacallits and they were really ugly!

I was somewhat terrified by all of this and I really, really missed my girl privates and I wondered where they went and would they ever come back. I didn’t want to tell anybody because I didn’t want to end up in one of those newspapers at the grocery store that have weird people and stories in them. I felt like the “thing” belonged to somebody else and I just couldn’t get used to it poking out of my pajamas. Plus, I had to go to the bathroom super-bad and I had no idea at all of how to use one of those things. Also, how do you walk with one so that your family doesn’t know about it?

I tried walking a couple of different ways. They all looked ridiculous. Finally I had to bend way over like my grandmother, who has curvature of the spine, and walk with my legs stiff. I looked out y door. There wasn’t anybody around so I went down the hall real quick and into the bathroom. I locked the door and pulled up my nightie, and then I saw myself in the mirror with my, up on the top with my—how do I say it?—with my chest with my bosoms on it and then down “below” with a “thing.” It looked pretty weird but, you know, sort of cool, but sort of scary but also not so bad, but actually, probably, gross.

And then I found out pretty fast that girl going-to-the-bathroom is a lot easier than boy going-to-the-bathroom. First of all, you know, the “thing” was going up and the toilet was down. So, if you think about it, the number one would go up and then come down, but how far up would it go and how hard and where would it come down? I’m no genius in math so I couldn’t exactly figure it out, but oh God! I had to go so bad! And I couldn’t do it like I usually did because that would mean it would go up and come down in my lap, which would not be too cool. So instead, I stood over the toilet like I was going to sit down only more like straddling it and I didn’t sit down either; I leaned way, way back and put my head against the wall (I’m on the girls gymnastics team), and I figured the number one would go up and come down in the toilet, but that’s not what happened at all. I relaxed my going-to-the-bathroom muscles (they are the same for boys and girls, for your information), and yucky number one blasted out of the “thing” and it went all over! It was out of control, spraying like crazy all over the towels and the toilet paper and the floor, and when I turned around to try and point it into the toilet (they don’t bend), it squirted all over the sink and the toothbrushes (yuk!) and my makeup (brand new!!) and the hair dryer. Boys and dads talk about how they have it made because they can go out in the woods. Well, they don’t have it made at all because it’s just a mess! Also, those things are practically impossible to, you know, to wipe. Because you wipe off the end and it still drips and drips. No matter how much you wipe it, it still leaks.

After going to the bathroom, the penis became an unstiff one. I was so relieved because I thought that it was going away, but a couple of minutes later, when I tried to put on my underpants, it went and got bigger again. What a pain! Plus, when it’s small it’s even uglier. It’s shrively and wrinkly and it looks like dried-up fruit.

Speaking of underpants, if all girls grew “things,” there sure would be a lot of girls’ underpants given to the Goodwill because “things” and whatchamacallits don’t fit into girls’ underpants at all. Even when it was small it wouldn’t fit into my underpants, not even my great big period panties, so I had to steal a pair of my brother’s underpants, and if you think it’s not sickening to wear somebody else’s boys’ underpants, you’re crazy! Also boys’ underpants are extremely ugly. They have this funny opening in the front and they’re white and made out of dumb material and they have real wide waistbands and they’re not pretty at all. Plus, the penis kept falling out of the opening, which I don’t know why is there if the penis falls out, do you? I had to put it back, but it got twisted around and bent under. And whenever I touched it to move it, it got bigger and that made it harder to move and so I had to touch it more and pretty soon it was all tangled up and it took about ten minutes to fix it and by then my mom was screaming for me to come down and eat breakfast.

It is so embarrassing to eat and talk to your mom and dad and brother with a “thing” in your pants. Plus, it was hard to walk when it was stiff. But it was okay because by the time I sat down, it was small, but then when it was small, it stuck to the skin on my leg and that felt just icky. The good thing about girls’ “privates” is that even if you get a “visitor” every month, the stuff stays the same size all the time and it doesn’t make it hard for you to walk. You know, lots of boys walk funny sometimes, and I’ll bet this is why.

Anyway, after breakfast I said good-bye to my parents, who were going to play tennis because it was Saturday, and I said good-bye to my brother, who was going camping with his friends, and when everybody was gone I went back upstairs and looked at myself some more.

This may sound really queer, and please understand that I don’t do this often and I never did it before, but I laid on my back naked (it sounds ishy but it wasn’t at the time, really), but I laid there and, um, I looked down, and sort of, sort of, well, I didn’t have my clothes on and I looked between my “busts,” I looked between them and down at the penis thing, and to see both of them at the same time was “interesting.”

I kind of experimented with it, like, I found out that by squeezing my rear end muscles I could make the “thing” jump, and then when I let go it dropped down, which was neat, sort of, and was something I could never do in a million years with girls’ parts. Like I said, it was real ugly, but after looking at it for a while, I sort of decided that it was a cool-ugly (the guy who sings for Queen is super-ugly but still cool).

The whatchamacallits, however, are just plain regular ugly. They are in this bag thing that is made of skin that is as gaggy as anything! Sometimes it was loose and felt sort of like a hairy glove, and then, like if a breeze blew in the window or I touched the mirror to it and the mirror was cold, it shrunk up and looked like the sides of an accordion.

Way, way back behind the whatchamacallits was the rear end, and I think it was the one I always had, except it had hair around it.

As I was “down there” I kind of wondered, and I don’t mean that I thought about this right away, it sort of just flashed in my mind and I’m not into this at all and I was not a big fan of this sort of stuff when I was completely girl and had all the girl stuff, but I wondered about what would happen if I did to it what sometimes happens with boys. Do you know what I mean? Let me start over. I should probably never, ever, ever tell anyone about this and I’m sure that right now my common sense is having a s— fit, but I’ve like, made love with my hand about ten times to my boyfriend Chuck (this is embarrassing), which is called a “hand job,” which, if you don’t know, is sex with your hands. And, to make a long story short, I wondered a little bit if I could do the same thing to myself that I did to Chuck.

I didn’t know if it was different when you do it to a boy than when you do it to yourself because I never had a “thing” before and so how could I know? So I decided, and this may sound real sick, but it’s what happened and I guess it was kind of gross, but it wasn’t, if you knew what I felt like then. I guess you had to be there. But anyhow, I did it like I did it to Chuck, that was, I put my fingers around it and counted one-two-three like I always do but this time I counted out loud (I don’t count out loud with Chuck). I counted one-two-three and then I started going up and down like I was shaking up a can of whipped cream, and boy did it ever hurt! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! I pulled off some skin. Poor Chuck!

I sure had a lot to learn but it was fun, sort of, learning. I should probably tell you that when a girl gets touched in a “certain way” in a “certain place,” if you get what I’m saying, it sort of tickles, then it feels good, then it tickles again, then it feels good again, then it tickles again, and so on until you have to go home or you get scared. But with a boy’s “thing,” it feels better and better until bang!! You shoot sperms all over yourself. That part feels great! You don’t even care if you got sperms in your face and your hair and on the curtains that your mom just made for you.

Let me be the first to say that sperm is the absolute grossest! Even when it’s your own. Uck! It smells like Comet cleanser and it looks like runny nose. Plus, it is sticky gooey and it splatters out of the…penis in warm, gucky glumps and glops and it keeps coming out even after you get dressed. After you finish, you don’t remember how cool it felt, you just feel stupid and guilty and sick with yourself for doing it and getting sperms all over everything, and sperms are living, you know–they’re like bugs, and they get all over. On top of that, the penis gets small and ugly. The only thing that is better about boy “sex” with yourself that girl “sex” with yourself is that with boy “sex,” you know when it’s over.

That afternoon I had gymnastics practice. I rode my ten speed over to the school and, let me tell you, all that riding with a “thing” and the other stuff is a lot different. Mainly because the “stuff” squishes around and you probably know that when that “stuff” squishes around, the “thing” gets stiff, which it did, and when it’s stiff you can’t pedal, believe me.

One more thing about a penis. It doesn’t look very good in a leotard. Because it shows and it’s no secret that you have a penis when you wear one, so I had to bring a pair of culottes and blouse that matches to practice. I’d rather have everybody think I’m retarded than to have them know that I had a penis, because with that I couldn’t be in a girl’s gymnastics meet, could I? I will say, though, that wearing culottes and a blouse in gymnastics is about as queer a thing as you can do in high school.

I was fifth up on the balance beam, which is my specialty. I was second runner-up at the All-State Girls’ Invitational Round Robin Suburban Central Division Finalist Prep Meet and I’ve practiced a lot since then. My main stunt on the beam was a handstand and then a swing down into a straddle position.

Everything was going just perfect and I felt like I was in the Olympics until I went down into the straddle position and landed on everything “down there”….and it felt like somebody shot a bullet up my rump and clashed cymbals on my head. Then I rolled off the beam and onto the floor and laid there all curled up and screaming.

Naturally, anytime a girl falls down in gym, everybody thinks she’s broken her female organs and will never be able to have babies. But I just said I was okay and that some wind got knocked out of me and if it was okay, I’d just go home. My best friend, Roberta, helped me into the locker room. So far, this penis was a real stupid thing.

Roberta has always been my best friend since about three years ago and I like her a lot, but I didn’t want her to see “it” because if I didn’t like “it” too much and if she was grossed out by “it,” I’d feel worse than I already felt. But Roberta sticks like Super-Glue and I knew she wouldn’t leave, and besides, deep down inside, way, way down in the most secret caves of my personal self, was a little voice that said, “Show her,” because secretly I wanted to show someone but then again I didn’t.

I said, “Roberta, are you my best friend?” And she said, “For sure!” And I said, “Can I trust you completely?” And she said, “For sure!” And so I said, “Even if it was sort of gross?” And she said, “What?” And I pulled down my culottes and she said, “Yeast?” And I said, “No! Look!” And she saw the underpants and she gasped and she said, “Boys’ underpants!” I said, “Worse,” and I pulled down the underpants (girls pull down their underpants a lot when other girls are around and it doesn’t bother them). Roberta bent over just a little bit to get a better look and she was watching really intense and then all of a sudden the penis flipped out and Roberta’s mouth dropped open and her retainer fell out on the floor, I swear to God! Then she screamed, “A thing! A thing! You have a thing!” She was shrieking. “Oh my God! God! God! A thing! A thing!”

I yanked up the underpants as fast as I could and I shouted, “You jerk!” in my most mad voice. But she just kept shrieking, “A thing! You have a thing!” She’s really immature sometimes.

Obviously she had never seen a penis before. She probably never even saw her dad’s and she doesn’t have any brothers and she’s not very popular with boys because she’s fat and not altogether beautiful and so I guess I can’t blame her for being as shocked as she was. It was just kind of depressing to have someone act like you’re a freak because you have something that you never asked for and have to have anyway.

Roberta acted hysterical for a little while longer and then she sort of calmed down (I think she got tired) and then we sat and stared at each other and I told her how I woke up with “it” and everything like that and she said she was really shocked at first but now it didn’t seem so bad. Then she asked if she could look at it again.

Roberta really studied it close and made a lot of remarks about it and asked a whole bunch of questions about stuff that I didn’t know about, so I just told her that it was a real, actual man’s penis and that was all I knew. And then she asked if she could touch it.

I didn’t know about that. She was a girl and I was a girl. But I wasn’t a girl “down there” because girls don’t have “those.” So I guessed that it couldn’t be queer because it’s only queer when girls’ parts and girls’ parts touch. So I said, “Go ahead and touch it because it’s not queer to touch it.” And she picked it up like it was a little white mouse in biology lab or something and then she looked under it and pulled it and squeezed it.

Can you guess what happened when she did all that? Right! And it got stiff all of a sudden in one big spurt and it flew out of Roberta’s hand. It slapped her chin and scared the life out of her and she screamed and jumped and put her hands up to her mouth like in the movies. I started to laugh, it was just so funny, and Roberta started to laugh, too, and we got real hysterical!

But it wasn’t too safe to be out in the locker room with a “thing,” so we went into the towel room and locked the door so I could show Roberta how cool it looked to have a “thing” plus boobies. You’d probably do the same if you were in my situation, she was my friend and all. Then Roberta got real excited and she was laughing and she grabbed it and I got that weird feeling in my butt and my hips started moving all my themselves and I crouched down and closed my eyes an then, you know, well, it just, it…I squirted sperms all over Roberta’s sleeve.

It completely grossed Roberta out to have sperms on her sleeve. She grabbed a towel and started rubbing like crazy and I thought she was going to throw up, but then she asked me if that was a “hand job” she’d just done and I said I guessed so and then she seemed to look sort of happy all of a sudden, and she said, “I did a hand job? That was a hand job?” and she forgot all about the sperms that were swimming on her blouse because she was relieved to find out that “hand jobs” don’t hurt or make you bleed and you don’t have to put anything gross in your mouth. But I was still really surprised when she said, “Let’s go over to your parents’ house and have ‘sex relations’ with it.” Which was what she said next.

You see, although Roberta and I are virgins, I am less of a virgin than she is, and anyway, we both know that a man puts his…you know, there’s a woman’s too and together they put this, um, oh, let’s see, they he, she, he puts the…penis in her, you know what it is, it’s a vagina and he puts “it” in there. In other words, he sticks his in hers.

So, the first thing to do at my house was to get naked, which we did, and although I’ve seen Roberta naked about a million times (we have gym together), I thought it was kind of gross, but now it didn’t look too bad. She bent over to take off her underpants and I sneaked a look up at her bottom. Now that sounds very sick, but at the same time it was okay.

Then we had to decide which way to do “it,” so I just said for Roberta to bend over and we could do “it” like “that” and she said no because then she couldn’t see. It was her idea for us to lay on top of each other, but I said that our boobies would be touching and, if that happened, it would definitely be “lezzie” plus how could she see that way and she said she could point toward the mirror, but that was ishy. We tried sitting in a chair, but Roberta was too fat and the “thing” bent and it hurt.

We thought about it for a while and then finally we cleared all the junk off the top of my desk and Roberta climbed up on it and laid down (this gets a little weird and embarrassing) and her legs hung over the edge so that I could stand and point “it” at “hers.” The part that was the worst was opening up her legs because when I did, I saw all of the most private, private parts on the inside and that should be a complete secret from everybody and I felt kind of sick and didn’t want to do it but I thought that I’d better in case this “thing” went away tomorrow. Anyway, I pointed “it” at her “place” and it looked pretty big and her…vagina looked pretty small. Roberta said, “It won’t fit. It’ll hurt.”

I personally didn’t think it would fit either, but I didn’t tell Roberta because, well…actually, I really wanted to do this now. I mean, I don’t know why, I just did. (Are you sick yet?) And so I put “it” on her skin and stuff and pushed. Roberta said, “Owww! Let’s not do this, okay?”

I pushed harder and harder and harder. Roberta gritted her teeth and moaned and then all of a sudden, whoooooosh! It slid in all the way and bumped into something and squirted sperms inside of Roberta just about under her belly button. Roberta grunted really loud, like a pig, and her hips started going back and forth so fast that I could hardly see them, they were all blurry. It was disgusting to see, but the “thing” felt the best. “Intercourse,” for all the bad things you hear about it, was pretty cool.

Roberta stopped moving and grunting a couple of seconds later and she laid there and then she started to cry. I pulled out the “thing” and it was coated with gunk from Roberta and some sperms were still coming out of it and that was the grossest part, so far, of all, about having a “thing.”

Incidentally, when you have “sex” girl-style you feel all warm and cuddly and you want to hug and kiss and get married and have a house and children, but with boy “sex” you just want to get up and go outside and never think about girls again. So I didn’t want to hang around and listen to Roberta cry. She was moaning and saying that her vagina hurt and that it was probably all stretched out and wrecked and she was a virgin and she was only fifteen and all that stuff, and I didn’t want to hear it. Then she was putting on her bra and I was putting on my blouse and we both stopped and looked at each other and said, “The sperms!” There were sperms inside Roberta and we had forgotten all about what they can do to girls our age.

But by dinner time I was real comfortable with the penis. I wasn’t upset about Roberta anymore because she called and said that the sperms came out in her underpants on her way home and just as a precaution she jumped up and down 100 times and put two Midols in her vagina. And also I didn’t really care all that much at the time because I figured that would be her problem and, besides, who would make two girls get married?

I noticed one thing and that was that I felt like I was stronger. A lot stronger. For example, I did twenty push-ups (boy push-ups, not on-my-knees kind) and I chinned myself ten times and before I couldn’t even do one. That was neat. I guess it went with the penis.

I had a date with Chuck that night and he came over sort of early and had to stay downstairs and talk to my parents while I got ready, which took me a long time because for some reason or other, it was real boring to do my hair, which I usually like to do, and I also hated putting on my makeup and I had to do it over about five times. But finally I got ready and I put on jeans and a long sweater and when I walked downstairs, I put my hand in front of my lump.

Chuck took me to a party and it was strange because I knew he was going to take me to a party and try to get me drunk or stoned, which is what he did, and I knew he was going to drive out to the pumping station and park, which is what he also did, and I knew he was going to do all this because that was what I wanted to do, too. Which was really strange.

Anyway, I let Chuck rub all over my boobies. I usually don’t let him do that right away and I still don’t, because I think a girl shouldn’t make herself available to that sort of stuff just like it was there for the taking without any meaningful relationships or anything, but that night it was okay, I guess. (But I don’t do it anymore.) But, anyway, it felt super and it made my “thing” get stiff.

He took my blouse off, which I hardly ever let happen because it’s kind of embarrassing to be almost naked in a car, but it felt great when he rubbed on my bare boobies. By this time, my “thing” was huge! It was twisted and bent under and I had to move my legs and shake my hips to get it into a more comfortable position. Chuck was having the same problem. When we got our penises fixed, he put his mouth to my boobie and his tongue licked on it. Next he took my hand and put it on his “thing” outside his pants and he said in a real panting voice, “Take it out.” So I pulled down his zipper and his “thing” flopped out. Meanwhile he pulled my zipper down and my “thing” flopped out. We were kissing at the time and Chuck’s tongue was feeling my teeth and suddenly it stopped feeling and just stayed still. He went up and down on my “thing” with his fingers and then he broke away from the kiss and looked down. I think he thought he was holding his own “thing,” but what he saw were two “things.” My big one and his sort of smaller one.

I said to him, “I grew a thing!” Chuck let go of it like it was a dead rat and it looked at his hand and I thought he was going to cry, and he wiped it on the seat and started breathing fast and making choking sounds. He was so emotional about it that I got kind of worried.

I don’t think Chuck felt too good and he looked real white and he started to shout, “What’s going on? What is this? Is it a joke? Are you a guy? What is this?” And I said, “It’s okay, Chuck. It’s still me.”

Then he got really mad and screamed, “I touched a prick, I touched a cock, a pecker, a cock, a prick. I touched a priiiiiiick!” He was berserk!

He grabbed me and shook me and said, “Who are you? What are you?” Which I thought was a little over-dramatic. He was ten thousand times worse than Roberta, and boys were supposed to be more insensitive than girls. I couldn’t stand all his shouting anymore, so I had no choice. I punched him in the face.

Then I explained to him that it was okay. I said, “I’m me and there’s nothing wrong except that I have a ‘thing.’ You have a ‘thing’ and I never acted like this when I touched yours.” And he got all emotional again and said, “Don’t you understand? This is gay! This is fag stuff. You can’t be a guy and touch another person’s cock!” And I had to explain to him that a gay is a guy who loves guys and I’m not a guy so how could I be gay? That didn’t seem to make much difference, so I leaned over and grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a big kiss and he struggled like mad, but I kept kissing until he gave in and enjoyed it and we kissed and kissed.

I asked him if it was okay if I, you know, if I held onto him “down there” and he said, “I don’t know.” But I did anyway and he didn’t seem to mind. I used all the stuff I learned that morning and I must have learned pretty good because Chuck was breathing real hard. Then in the middle of a great big kiss, I moved his hand down to my “thing” and I was expecting him to get angry but instead he just grabbed it and started going real fast up and down and he did it very well, which means he probably practices at home a lot. I started going faster on him and Chuck was in a sort of frenzy and he was making funny noises in the back of his throat and I’m pretty sure he was crying.

Then he started to lick my boobies again and it was then that I whispered something in his ear that he whispers in my ear a lot. I whispered, “Use your mouth.”

He got very mad and sat up and let go of my “thing” and said, “This is sick, I’m not going to do it anymore!” He tried to pull away from me but I grabbed his shirt and held him. He said, “You’re disgusting. We’re going home!”

I took my hand and grabbed Chuck by the hair on the back of his head. I pulled it just enough so that it hurt and Chuck was really scared because at that point I think I was stronger than he was and he couldn’t move. “No,” he said, “don’t.” I slowly forced his face down onto my lap. Then I used my thumb and fingers to squeeze just below Chuck’s cheeks and force his jaws open. I pushed his open mouth down over my you-know-what.

It was over in about three minutes and it was super! Chuck almost choked and he almost barfed and all the way home he spit out the window and gagged. But all in all, he did a real good job.

I don’t see Chuck anymore because he’s not around. After that night, he got kind of strange and he beat up a lot of people including his aunt and he’s at military school now. As for my “thing,” it got smaller the next day and then smaller the next day and so on until about a week later it was all gone and I got all of my girl stuff back and I’m happy about it. Roberta never got pregnant from me but she likes “intercourse” quite a bit and she ended up getting pregnant from some Italian guy who works for her Dad and she’s a lot different now. I never told anybody about the…penis, and I don’t think anybody found out. I hardly ever think of it anymore, but I am very careful about what I eat and I never, ever squeeze pimples on my face.

The Unexamined Life

There has been a lot of talk about therapy lately for everything from losing weight, establishing better relationships, to gender identity and sexual confusion. Maybe because I majored in psychology I feel that its overrated. The reasons why we do certain things and behave in certain ways does not always help us change. Nobody really wants to change unless they have to, (in my opinion) and they don’t always have to. Look at the alcoholic or addict to realize just how true this is.

As for figuring out why we have a preference or fetish it seems to be a long shot at best. For example, the young man with a desire to wear frilly lingerie while being spanked by a chef. Is this because of a long standing, unresolved conflict? Is it because as a child he was taken shopping with his mother, who would give him a cookie when he pointed out a tasteful outfit and spanked when he put panties on his head in the lingerie department? Or is it that his favorite chef is a gorgeous babe with a great pair of tits and he just likes to be spanked? And more important-does it matter?

I have found that the most intelligent, creative people are usually the most neurotic. And they know exactly why they do things and do them anyway, while the average Mr. and Mrs. normal are often oblivious to reality and happier because of it. I think that it is vital to know and more important to love and accept yourself and any effort towards that goal is commendable. But as for finding reasons for everything and looking for an answer that will save us I would recommend that you simply do whatever it is your most afraid of and get on with it.

Yes, many people have had real traumas that have made their lives hell and I would never dissuade them from seeking help. But for the average masochist, panty fiend, or toe sucker I say pay off the shrink and buy yourself a nice dinner.

Letters To The Editor

I have been getting so much feedback from my website and blog that I thought I would post a few, with their permission of course.

These three people have varying degrees of difficulty with their fantasies and maybe I can help them to understand and accept them if possible, that’s why I started this in the first place.

Mike writes:
I’ve always wanted to be dominated by a group of girls. In high school I used to fantasize about them dragging me into the girls locker room at the end of the day and and making me strip. Then they would dress me up as a girl, from lacy white panties and bra to a blouse, skirt and heels. And teasing me all along the way I would have to walk and talk like a girl until they were satisfied, then they would do my makeup and nails.  I had many variations on this theme, sometimes being dressed as a cheerleader and going out with them in their car and being dropped off somewhere. The strange part was that I was on the football team and had a girlfriend, although she wasn’t a cheerleader. I still think about this today, many years later.

John writes:
My fantasy is exactly like the one on your website, caught in panties! I used to have this gorgeous neighbor, she was a teacher, and I always imagined her teaching me a lesson. I would be caught going through her underwear, maybe trying some on and she would catch me red handed. She used to let me watch her house and the dogs so I had the keys. She would threaten to tell all my friends and the neighbors about it and I needed to be taught a lesson. The lesson was to become a girl from head to toe, I even used to imagine her taking me to the beauty parlor to get my hair and makeup done! Your audio was so close I couldn’t believe it, I never thought anyone would have the same fantasy.

Ron writes:
This is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about this. My fantasy involves being embarrassed and humiliated until it becomes so intense I become overwhelmed and have an orgasm. I am being told what to to by a woman I know who makes me dress up as a girl. Usually in a store or in front of people. The more degrading and embarrassing the more excited I get. I have no choice but to do this and everyone knows it. The climax is when I’m taken to a beauty salon to be transformed and feminized completely. The strangest part of this for me is that there’s really nothing sexual about it. No one is naked, it doesn’t matter that much what the salesgirls and the others look like, and no one even touches me. Its a complete mindfuck and its caused me incredible confusion and distress over the years. It has affected every aspect of my life and I even had a loaded gun to my head at one time.
Thank you for listening.

Ron mentions that this has caused him problems in all areas of his life which include relationships, love, and sex. To me his fetish is really not that unusual and more or less harmless, but to him its a very serious problem and has even led to a suicide attempt.

What comes to mind is the one bit of psychology I’ve found to be realistic and true, although far from easy : “For the only therapy is life. The patient must learn to live, to live with his split, his conflict, his ambivalence, which no therapy can take away, for if it could, it would take away with it the actual spring of life.”  Otto Rank

Christmas At The Salon

Back in October I introduced my friend Susan to boys that wanted to be girls for her beauty school. They would come in for help with their hair and makeup and her students could practice on them. Everyone had a ball and it worked out very well.  Soon the girls realized that this was a dream come true for the boys and became more demanding of them. Keeping the place clean was just one of their many new tasks. They had to speak in a feminine voice when they were there and address each girl as Miss. They were also given magazines to study and were only allowed to talk about girl stuff such as boys and fashion.

On of the boys, now known as Cindy, was very feminine right from the beginning. She has smooth clear skin and long shaved legs. Cindy soon became the girls favorite and they helped her pick out new outfits, sometimes taking her shopping on weekends. When Susan told me that she needed someone to help out full time I talked her into asking Cindy. I knew she wasn’t working and would jump at the chance. When Susan finally asked her that Friday Cindy broke into tears and happily accepted. She would come in each day singing softly, proudly showing off her new clothes. She looked really good too with her long blond hair and her perfectly made up face. The people that occasionally came in for a discount haircut or manicure never knew that Cindy was a guy. They would never guess that under her skirt was enough to make any man jealous.

Pretty soon Cindy was answering the phones, managing the books, and even designing a website for the school. The girls were very happy with their new friend and helped her out in any way that they could. Soon the question came up as to whether she was going to go on to become a real woman. And if they could fix her up with their friends. Cindy got very embarrassed and ran into the bathroom crying. Susan waited for her and told her she was there for her when and if she wanted to talk about it. She asked her if she would like to get away for a few hours and take a ride to meet her  decorator who had  some questions about her new extension. Cindy timidly said yes and they left.

They had to wait for the strange little man to come over and talk about wallpaper and paint colors so Susan made coffee and didn’t ask any questions as much as she wanted to. Cindy was getting herself together and when Susan did her impression of the decorator right down to his walk and accent they both started laughing hysterically. I can only imagine Susan with her perfect body and large, firm breasts, trying to act like a man. Even a flamboyantly gay one! Soon Cindy volunteered to explain why she was so upset. She was completely confused about sex and was also a virgin. She has always wanted to be a girl and also fantasized about having sex with girls. Susan thought is was best to let her figure things out slowly and  told her about her fantasies with women and how she was also confused growing up. She assured Cindy that it would all make sense in time,and to do what made her happy.

The girls at school didn’t bring it up anymore and things went back to normal. Cindy was back to her old self and they were getting ready for the holidays. Someone brought in a catalog of costumes including a Santa suit and they decided to have a sit on Santa’s lap week. Now since the girls were busy working on getting their license guess who was going to be Santa? The new Girl! Just by coincidence I own a very sexy Santa outfit and I offered it to Cindy as my Christmas present. They put up a poster in the window offering pictures with Santa for anyone who wanted them. Everyone was very excited about it and promised to have their boyfriends come in and sit on Santa’s lap.

No one mentioned that the sexy Santa in the bright red outfit with white stockings, garter belt, and red high heels was a guy. They would tell their boyfriend later after they flirted with and kissed this very hot girl! Santa week came and Cindy looked gorgeous. Her hair was long and straight and she really looked hot in her outfit.  I made sure that I was the first to sit with Santa and get some pictures. Cindy was as happy as I’d ever seen her and I kissed her goodbye and left. The guys started coming in and with their girls permission to flirt they really got into it. Pictures were taken and saved for later teasing. Cindy was becoming more and more aroused and by the third day she was having trouble keeping herself in her tiny white panties! After posing with a particularly cute guy that walked in she found herself kissing him much longer than Santa should and he left her his phone number.

That night they got together and Cindy had her first taste of a man. She came in even earlier than usual and couldn’t wait to tell Susan and the girls all about it. She had told Todd during dinner that she was a boy and if he wanted to leave she would understand. Todd said that he knew and remembered Cindy from high school and had been attracted to her even then. The girls told her that she was actually glowing and Cindy smiled and laughed. Everyone was thrilled for her and Santa’s job was done. Bonnie,Susan’s partner filled in as Santa for a few hours each day the rest of the week.

Cindy is still working at the school and her and Todd are like something out of a hallmark card. He picks her up every night and they walk out holding hands and smile!

A Model Student

I met my new neighbors over a few glasses of wine the other night and we really hit it off. They are a lesbian couple in their mid twenties. Bonnie and Susan(not their real names) are both tall, blue eyed blonde’s and they look like they should be models. I’m very attracted to them both and am going to see how close we become over time. Bonnie is an art teacher at a community college and Susan runs a beauty school, so we already have a lot in common.

By my fourth glass of wine I was feeling very comfortable with them and showed them my website. While Bonnie was telling me about graphics and how she could help me learn Photoshop, Susan was more excited about the cross dressers and the beauty salon stories. She had trouble believing that a guy would really want to be feminized and humiliated like that. I assured her that thousands of guys are into that and showed her two places that advertise online doing professional transformations. One is not far from where we live.

Susan was very excited about this and asked me if I thought there was a market for another one. I told her I didn’t think she was quite ready for that but I have a friend who would give anything to be made over by her and her students at her school if she wanted to see how she liked it. I showed her pictures of my friend Michael who I had helped turn into Michelle so many times before. Maybe she was a little drunk but she said she thought it was a great idea and was going to talk to her next class about it. I didn’t really believe her but said that I could call call my friend anytime she was ready, and we soon said goodnight.

Susan came over the next night with two friends and they wanted to know more about my friend Michael. I was really amazed that they was so excited about doing this and I encouraged them with other pictures and stories of my experiences with feminization. They said they were ready for Michael any night he was available so I called him.

When I told him about the offer to use him as a model for a class at Susan’s school he got so excited he had to put down the phone and use his inhaler. About all he could say was When! I let him introduce himself to the girls and they set a date for next Monday. He agreed to let them do his hair, nails,and makeup, as well as dress him in outfits they would choose for him.The only other thing he had to agree on was to let them take some glamor shots of him after they were finished to be blown up into posters for the School Gallery. He said yes without much thought and said he had to get off the phone. I told him how lucky he was and he agreed and I could swear I heard him trying to muffle a moan of pleasure.

To be continued…