My Dream Job

A reader wrote recently, "Something of interest: just came off a big construction job where the project manager, superintendent and all the assistants were women. Times, they are a changing."

I responded, "The times have changed. When I started working back in the late 1970's, women were rare in my profession. Fast-forward 35 years and today my boss is a woman and her boss is a woman and they both are OK about me working as a woman... if only my wife was as agreeable!!!"

Wouldn't it be nice if my bosses issued a new dress code?

In order to promote equality and fairness and maintain a professional image, the dress code will be the same for men and women, i.e., all employees must wear female attire.

I'd come home after work, break the news to my wife and be delighted to dress in office girl drag for the rest of my working days!

Which reminds me of a story I found on Fictionmania years ago that describes a similar scenario. Titled "A Welcome Transformation" and written by Wendy H, it is one of my favorites and I think you might enjoy it, too.


Smile Pretty When You Dress Pretty

Yesterday, Daily Makeover had "25 Ways to be More Photogenic." It is a worthwhile read for girls like us who never saw a camera we didn't like!


Jerry Van Dyke Fans

Femulate had over 8500 page views (hits) on Monday, which is almost twice the number of hits the blog usually gets. I guess there are a lot of Jerry Van Dyke fans out there!

Wearing Tory Burch.

Actor Amaury Nolasco's office femulation in television's Work It!

Husbands, Wives and Breasts

In this day and age, it seems absurd that husbands still want wives with big breasts, but they do.

With that in mind, my parents started me on a regimen of hormone supplements as I approached puberty. The purpose of the hormones was to help me achieve a state of pulchritude that would make me more attractive to the opposite sex and eventually snag me a husband.

When I began taking the supplements, I had big expectations. My budding breasts seemed to outgrow my training bra overnight and I was soon sporting a new A-cup bra. However, as all my friends moved up the bra cup alphabet, my breasts refused to grow any larger. I was stuck at an A-cup even after the doctor increased the dosage of my hormones.

As I neared my sweet sixteen birthday with nary a date in sight, Mom offered me breast implants as a birthday gift. But I was adamant that no surgeon was going to take a scalpel to my surgically virgin body, so I refused.

Although I lacked bountiful breasts, I had other attractive features including a pair of long shapely to-die-for legs. To show them off, I always wore the shortest skirts and highest heels. On a few occasions, I was sent home from school because my skirts were so short that they revealed other assets.

Nevertheless, I built my wardrobe around mini-skirts and mini-dresses hoping to attract someone who preferred well-turned ankles over well-rounded breasts.

After graduating from high school, I became a receptionist at a high-tech engineering firm where I attracted a design engineer who was an unabashed leg aficionado. We dated for six months, then she asked for my hand in marriage.

We just celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary and she still likes me to show off my legs. (She tells everyone, "He has the best legs in town.")

As her obedient and dutiful wife, I willingly comply and wear skirts or dresses and high heels throughout my day.

Wearing Chloe

Charles Demetri

Misfit

Alli Cummings was different than the others.

Other 12-year-olds were giddy about getting their first training bras, but not Alli, who was completely satisfied wearing a T-shirt.

Other pre-teens were experimenting with makeup and hairdos trying to look as pretty as possible, but not Alli, who had absolutely no interest in such feminine matters.

Instead of becoming a lady, Alli was becoming a misfit and Alli's parents were worried.

Alli's mom did not have time to deal with Alli. She worked all day and expected her better half to take care of any child-rearing issues.

One evening after dinner, Alli's mom demanded, "You have to do something about Alli!"

Alli's dad deferred, "Yes, dear. I know. I'll have a talk with Alli soon."

The next day, when Alli's dad heard Alli come home from school, he called out from the kitchen, "Alli, I want to speak with you."

"OK, Dad," Alli called back.

Alli shuffled to kitchen worried that something was wrong.

In the kitchen. Alli's dad was wearing his gauzy periwinkle apron and had his shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail so as not to get in the way as he prepared dinner. When he saw Alli, his face brightened and he broke out in a big smile. "Hello, Sweetie."

"Hi, Daddy."

Alli was relieved by the big smile; maybe Alli was not in trouble after all.

"Sit down. We need to talk."

Now Alli was not so sure about being in trouble or not, and sat down on a chair at the kitchen table.

Alli's dad wiped his hands with a towel, then walked over to the table with his high heels clicking loudly on the tile floor. As he sat, he smoothed the skirt of his housedress under him, then crossed his legs at the ankles.

"So, Alli, what are your future plans?"

"What do you mean, Daddy."

"Well, what do you want to be when you grow up? A man or a wo-man?"

Alli was upset by the question. No one wanted to be a man and Alli was surprised that his dad would suggest that Alli would choose such a lowly status in life.

"I want to be a wo-man, of course," Alli replied.

"I'm glad to hear that," Alli's dad responded, "But actions speak louder than words and your actions tell me that you want to be a man, not a wo-man."

"Why do you say that, Daddy?"

"All the boys your age are getting into girly things, but you are still acting like a boy. I was talking with Mrs. Reardon the other day and he was bragging to me about how your best friend Timmi was becoming such a young wo-man. His dad said that Timmi has been wearing a training bra and corset for months and wears skirts and dresses now. And he had his first appointment at the beauty salon just last week."

"I know," Alli replied, "Timmi is so girly now just like Ralphi and Franni."

"Don't you want to be girly, too?"

"I do, but I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"Ralphi said that when a girly boy turns 14, he has to have an operation and they cut off his privates."

"No, no. no. There is no operation. When you turn 14, you will go to the doctor and she shows you how to tuck your privates up between your legs. Then she will fit you with a femulator to keep your privates in place."

"But how will I pee if my privates are tucked up between my legs?"

"You'll have to sit on the toilet to pee and when you are done, you will have to wipe yourself dry with bathroom tissue.... just like a real woman. There's nothing to it!"

"So that's all... there's no operation?"

"No operation at all, Sweetie."

"That's great news, Daddy!"

"Any other questions, Alli? I have to get going and finish getting dinner ready before Mother comes home from work."

"Just one question, Daddy."

"What is it, Alli?"

"How soon can I start becoming a wo-man?"

Alli's dad was so happy to hear Alli's question that he wiped a tear from his eye as he answered, "We can start right after dinner. Mother bought you a training bra and a corset months ago in the hope that you were ready to go girly. I'll show you how to put on the bra and I will help you with your corset. Then I'll show you how to use makeup and if we have time, we can paint your nails and put your hair up in curlers. How does that sound?"

"I can't wait to go girly, Daddy."

"I can't wait for you to go girly, too, Alli."

Wearing Ann Taylor

Actors femulating in a 2014 Philadelphia stage production of As You Like It.

Like Father; Like Daughter

I am on vacation this week, so instead of new original content each day, I will post old original content, also known as "The Best of Femulate."

Call me "Jamie."

It is not my real name; it’s the name I go by when I dress up like a boy.

I dress like a boy because I am a crossdresser. I prefer male clothing to female clothing. In addition, I try to act like a boy. I want to be masculine, not feminine.

I want to be able to go out in society and pass as a male, but my female characteristics are difficult to disguise, so passing is a tough goal to achieve. I will keep on trying to improve my presentation because I know it can be done.

Many crossdressers have websites where they display photos of themselves crossdressed and many of the photos are very convincing. These females look just like boys, so I know passing is possible. I may not be able to fool all of the people all of the time, but it would be nice if I could fool some of the people some of the time.

Also, there are websites that provide information on how to pass as a male. They describe how to walk, talk, and act like a boy; how to style your hair to look like a boy; what undergarments to wear to achieve a male form; etc., etc. There are also online stores that cater to crossdressers where you can buy everything you need to "express your masculine side."

My crossdressing started around the age of puberty. I don't know where the idea came from; it just popped in my head while I was in the bathroom getting ready to take a shower and there was one of Dad's suits hanging on the shower curtain rod.

That pinstriped suit called my name and I could not resist trying it on. It fit me like a glove. I felt so masculine wearing it and I could not take my eyes off myself preening in the full-length mirror mounted on the bathroom door.

Suddenly, I felt very guilty and was worried that I might be caught, so I slipped out of the suit as quickly as possible, hung it back on its hangar, and took a cold shower.

Since then, I dress in my Dad's and brother's clothes whenever I am home alone.

I prefer my brother's clothes because he is only two years older than I, so he dresses like a boy my age dresses, whereas my Dad's clothes are more adult, i.e., clothing that an adult male wears.

But Dad's wardrobe includes items that my brother's wardrobe does not, so when I dress, I borrow items from both my Dad and my brother. For example, my brother has no suits, whereas Dad has six suits and I guess after that first crossdressing experience in the bathroom, I have a thing for suits.

My favorite suit is one Dad wears when he and Mom go out to a fancy restaurant or to a dinner party. I like it because it has a more youthful look than his other suits, which are more conservative, i.e., the kinds of suits you wear to the office or to church.

Dad claims that that suit is a "channel knock-off," whatever that means? The fabric of the suit is a rosy pink boucle with blue undertones. It has a cropped jacket with four buttons and four pockets and a pencil skirt that’s 20 inches long.

Dad also has a matching pair of pink pumps with a 4-inch stiletto heel; he looks so masculine in that outfit! And, wow, my Dad has great legs; he sure shows them off in that suit with its skirt about four inches above his knees, wearing off-white pantyhose perched on those 4-inch pumps.

Dad is a beautiful male. He is a platinum blonde and always looks great no matter what hairdo he wears. His makeup skills are excellent, too, with huge eyes and full pouty lips.

I try to emulate Dad when I crossdress. And sometimes when I do my makeup just so, I look a lot like him.

 

 

 

British television personality Louis Walsh femulates British television personality Cheryl Cole.

 

 

 

Wearing Cheryl Cole.

My Little Fashionista

My son Cameron found me in the kitchen washing the breakfast dishes and began complaining, "Daddy --- look how Mommy had me dress today!"

I looked up from the sink full of dishes to see how my husband had outfitted our son.

A short-sleeve floral print knit skater dress with elasticized waist adorned his body and white skimmers adorned his feet. White tights encased his legs and his short haircut was brushed forward to give him bangs that were held in place with a pair of white barrettes. A white purse, slung over his shoulder, completed the outfit.

His eyes were lightly made up --- just a touch of liner and mascara and a hint of eyeshadow. Pink lip gloss highlighted his lips and he might have had a light touch of blush, too, but I wasn't sure. Either way, his makeup, as well as his whole presentation was befitting a 12-year-old.

"What's the matter, Cammi? You look very pretty," I replied.

"Thank you, Daddy, but I can't go to school dressed like this," he whined.

"Why not?" I asked.

"The other boys will make fun of me," he replied.

"I don't understand why they would," was my perplexed retort.

"White --- after Labor Day!"  he exclaimed anxiously.

Father and son, circa 1930.

 

Wearing Jump.

Girls Will be Boys and Boys Will be Girls

By Michelle

When my son was 9-years-old, we borrowed a children’s book from the local library. It was one of a series of books written by an internationally known author of best selling children’s stories.

When I was a similar age, I remember avidly reading all the books in this series that I could. I was particularly interested in one of the main characters; here is what Wikipedia says about that character.

“George is an effeminate boy and insists that people call him Georgina. With his long hair and girl's clothes he is often mistaken for a girl, which pleases him enormously. Like his mother, Georgina has a mild temperament. He is gentle and obedient, but very loyal to those he loves. He is compliant to the needs of others and causes no trouble for his mother, nor for his cousins.”

This author has been criticized for being sexist and even using racist language (both of which I think are unfair as she was writing in a different age and therefore, for a different audience). However, as far as I am aware, the character of George was never the cause of similar controversy.

The author in question is Enid Blyton, who wrote many children’s book series after World War 2 and this character was a major one in The Famous Five series based on an idyllic lifestyle of four children (and their dog) in Southern England in the 1940s.

If you know these stories and I don’t know how popular they were in the USA, you will realize that I have not been entirely honest with you. In the above Wikipedia entry, I changed George/Georgina’s gender 180 degrees and rather than being an “effeminate boy,” she was a “tomboy.” The entry from Wikipedia as it originally appeared is below with the words I changed underlined.

“Georgina is a tomboy and insists that people call her George. With her short hair and boy's clothes she is often mistaken for a boy, which pleases her enormously. Like her father, George has a fiery temper. She is fierce and headstrong, but very loyal to those she loves. She is sometimes extremely stubborn and causes trouble for her mother as well as her cousins.”

Incidentally, I looked up the antonym of tomboy and suggestions included “girly boy” on one website site where “girly girl” was suggested as an alternative. This is not a phrase I have ever heard relating to boys, although I have for young girls.

“Nancy boy” was also a suggested opposite, which I’ve only heard used as a form of insult - much different than tomboy, which is more often than not used as a compliment, implying independence and strong mindedness.

Had George been the character as described in the second paragraph of this article, I am convinced The Famous Five books would not have been the top sellers that they became. Indeed, I would guess that it would have been the subject of attempts to withdraw it from children’s literature circles.

The desire to become more feminine is always embarrassing (is emasculating an appropriate word here?), whilst wanting to indulge in more traditionally boys’ things (play sport, climb trees) is seen as a positive thing.

To include this character may be seen as a courageous move by Blyton, at a time when few women wore trousers and any man seen pushing a pram may well have been ridiculed. Despite these facts, and I know there have been books written for children on similar themes (e.g., UK author/comedian David Walliams’ The Boy in the Dress), I’m not sure in some areas we’ve come much further over 70 years since The Famous Five books were first published.

 

Actor Clay Wilcox femulating in the 1984 film The Philadelphia Experiment.

 

 

 

Wearing Premium Outlets.

It’s the law

“That’s the way it is and you will just have to get used to it,” she explained.

“But I prefer to wear girl’s clothes,” I pleaded.

“I know, sweetheart, but now it’s against the law for boys to dress like girls.”

“But I don’t know how to wear boy’s clothes,” I responded.

“Well, I’ll help you,” she said.

Most boys were already wearing boys’ clothes, but I was a stubborn little boy and would turn on the tears whenever she suggested I begin dressing like a boy. Until now, my tears had been successful, but they would not help me anymore because today the anti-female impersonation law went into effect, which ruled that boys had to dress like boys, not girls.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” she insisted.

Boys I knew who were already dressing like boys did get used to it after awhile, and many of them even liked it.

“Now take off your clothes and I will help you get dressed,” she said.

“And that's an order,” she added.

I quickly removed all my clothes and put them in a pile in the middle of the bedroom.

Next she handed me the first item of boy’s clothing to put on.

“Tell me if you need any help,” she proffered.

One-by-one, she handed me another item of boy’s clothing to put on and surprisingly, I needed very little help.

She insisted on showing me how to put on the pantyhose because, “You don’t want to run your very first pair.”

Other than that, I only asked for her assistance twice: to help me close the hooks on my bra and to zip up the back of my dress.

 

Contestants femulating in a recent Miss Relay for Life womanless beauty pageant.

 

Wearing Brahmin (purse).

Like Father; Like Daughter

Call me "Jamie."

That is not my real name; it’s the name I go by when I dress up like a boy.

I dress like a boy because I am a crossdresser. I prefer male clothing to female clothing. In addition to the wearing male clothing, I try to act like a boy, too. I want to be masculine, not feminine.

I want to be able to go out in society and pass as a male, but my female characteristics are difficult to disguise, so passing is a tough goal to achieve. However, I will keep on trying to improve my presentation because I know it can be done.

Lots of crossdressers have Internet websites where they display photos of themselves crossdressed and many of the photos are very convincing. These females look just like boys, so I know passing is possible. I may not be able to fool all of the people all of the time, but it would be nice if I could fool some of the people some of the time.

Also, there are websites that provide information on how to pass as a male. These websites describe how to walk, talk, and act like a boy; how to style your hair to look like a boy; what undergarments to wear to achieve a male form; etc., etc. There are also online stores that cater to crossdressers where you can buy everything you need to "express your masculine side."

My crossdressing started around the age of puberty. I don't know where the idea came from; it just popped in my head while I was in the bathroom getting ready to take a shower and there was one of Dad's suits hanging on the shower curtain rod. I don't know why it was there; I assume it had been washed and was hanging there to dry.

Whatever the reason that suit called my name and I could not resist trying it on. Dad’s suit fit me like a glove. I felt so masculine wearing it and I could not take my eyes off myself preening in the full-length mirror mounted on the bathroom door.

Suddenly, I felt very guilty and was worried that I might be caught, so I slipped out of the suit as quickly as possible, hung it back on its hangar, and proceeded to take a cold shower.

After that, I often dressed in my Dad's and brother's clothes whenever I was home alone.

I prefer my brother's clothes because he is only two years older than I, so he dresses like a boy my age dresses, whereas my Dad's clothes are more adult, i.e., clothing that an adult male wears.

But Dad's wardrobe includes items that my brother's wardrobe does not, so when I crossdress, I borrow items from both my Dad and my brother. For example, my brother has no suits, whereas Dad has six suits and I guess after that first crossdressing experience in the bathroom, I have a thing for suits.

My favorite suit is one Dad wears when he and Mom go out to a fancy restaurant or to a dinner party. I like it because it has a more youthful look than his other suits, which are more conservative, i.e., the kinds of suits you wear to the office or to church.

Dad claims that that suit is a "shun nell knock-off," whatever that means? The fabric of the suit is a rosy pink boucle with blue undertones. It has a cropped jacket with four buttons and four pockets and a pencil skirt that’s 20 inches long.

Dad also has a matching pair of pink pumps with a 4-inch stiletto heel. Dad looks so masculine in that outfit! And, wow, my Dad has great legs; he sure shows them off in that suit with its skirt about four inches above his knees, wearing off-white pantyhose perched on those 4-inch pumps.

Dad is a beautiful male. He is a platinum blonde and always looks great no matter what hairdo he wears. His makeup skills are excellent, too, with huge eyes and full pouty lips.

I emulate Dad when I crossdress. Sometimes when I apply my makeup just so, I even look a little bit like him.

Suits Me Fine

Call me "Jamie." It is not my real name; it’s the name I go by when I dress up like a boy.

I dress like a boy because I am a crossdresser. I prefer male clothing to female clothing. In addition, I try to act like a boy. I want to be masculine, not feminine.

I want to be able to go out in society and pass as a male, but my female characteristics are difficult to disguise, so passing is a tough goal to achieve. I will keep on trying to improve my presentation because I know it can be done.

Many crossdressers have websites where they display photos of themselves crossdressed and many of the photos are very convincing. These females look just like boys, so I know passing is possible. I may not be able to fool all of the people all of the time, but it would be nice if I could fool some of the people some of the time.

Also, there are websites that provide information on how to pass as a male. They describe how to walk, talk, and act like a boy; how to style your hair to look like a boy; what undergarments to wear to achieve a male form; etc., etc. There are also online stores that cater to crossdressers where you can buy everything you need to "express your masculine side."

My crossdressing started around the age of puberty. I don't know where the idea came from; it just popped in my head while I was in the bathroom getting ready to take a shower and there was one of Dad's suits hanging on the shower curtain rod.

That pinstriped suit called my name and I could not resist trying it on. It fit me like a glove. I felt so masculine wearing it and I could not take my eyes off myself preening in the full-length mirror mounted on the bathroom door.

Suddenly, I felt very guilty and was worried that I might be caught, so I slipped out of the suit as quickly as possible, hung it back on its hangar, and took a cold shower.

Since then, I dress in my Dad's and brother's clothes whenever I am home alone.

I prefer my brother's clothes because he is only two years older than I, so he dresses like a boy my age dresses, whereas my Dad's clothes are more adult, i.e., clothing that an adult male wears.

But Dad's wardrobe includes items that my brother's wardrobe does not, so when I dress, I borrow items from both my Dad and my brother. For example, my brother has no suits, whereas Dad has six suits and I guess after that first crossdressing experience in the bathroom, I have a thing for suits.

My favorite suit is one Dad wears when he and Mom go out to a fancy restaurant or to a dinner party. I like it because it has a more youthful look than his other suits, which are more conservative, i.e., the kinds of suits you wear to the office or to church.

Dad claims that that suit is a "channel knock-off," whatever that means? The fabric of the suit is a rosy pink boucle with blue undertones. It has a cropped jacket with four buttons and four pockets and a pencil skirt that’s 20 inches long.

Dad also has a matching pair of pink pumps with a 4-inch stiletto heel; he looks so masculine in that outfit! And, wow, my Dad has great legs; he sure shows them off in that suit with its skirt about four inches above his knees, wearing off-white pantyhose perched on those 4-inch pumps.

Dad is a beautiful male. He is a platinum blonde and always looks great no matter what hairdo he wears. His makeup skills are excellent, too, with huge eyes and full pouty lips.

I try to emulate Dad when I crossdress. And sometimes when I do my makeup just so, I look a lot like him.

The Femulated: Harry LeSabre

In Kurt Vonnegut's 1973 novel, Breakfast of Champions, Harry LeSabre was a car salesman at a Midland City Pontiac dealership owned by Dwayne Hoover. Harry was a "transvestite," but only he and his wife knew about it.

For the dealership's Hawaiian Week car sale promotion, Dwayne suggested that Harry dress a little more flamboyantly or Dwayne would fire him. This caused Harry to wonder if Dwayne knew that Harry liked to wear women's clothes.

After discussing his suspicions with his wife, he concluded that Harry did not know, and he showed up for work on Monday wearing a green leotard, straw sandals, grass skirt, wreath of flowers and a pink T-shirt inscribed "Make Love Not War."

And so it goes.

(Yesterday’s  The Femulated: image --- repeated here --- was my attempt to celebrate my favorite author's only transgender character.)

First Holy Communion

Molly and Desmond were elated that they were able to pull it off.

Their son Clarissa was about to make his first holy communion, but he could not wear a dress to the ceremonies. The archdiocese insisted that boys had to wear blue suits (jackets and trousers) despite the fact that in this day and age, most parents raised their sons as sissies.

Molly and Desmond pleaded Clarissa's case to their parish's pastor, Father Maxine, and to the parish nun who organized the first holy communion, Sister Bernard. There they found sympathy, but not much hope for their cause.

Then there was a miracle!

The archbishop of the diocese retired and Pope Raylene II appointed a woman, Archbishop Rhonda, as the new archbishop.

With this turn of events, Father Maxine and Sister Bernard contacted the archbishop about the dress requirements and in response, she decreed that both boys and girls could wear dresses to their first holy communion ceremonies.

So it came to pass that on the Sunday of Clarissa's first holy communion, Clarissa shed tears of joy when he paraded down the church aisle with the other sissies wearing adorable first holy communion dresses, while Molly and Desmond proudly looked on wearing his and her skirt suits, (Molly's in baby blue and Desmond's in dusty pink); a complete feminine family just as Goddess intended.

wives with big breasts

In this day and age, it seems absurd that husbands still want wives with big breasts, but they do.

With that in mind, my parents started me on a regimen of hormone supplements as I approached puberty. The purpose of the hormones was to help me achieve a state of pulchritude that would make me more attractive to the opposite sex and eventually snag me a husband.

When I began taking the supplements, I had big expectations. My budding breasts seemed to outgrow my training bra overnight and I was soon sporting a new A-cup bra.

While all my friends were moving up the bra cup alphabet, my breasts suddenly refused to grow any larger. I was stuck at an A-cup even after the doctor increased the dosage of my hormone supplements.

As I neared my sweet sixteen birthday with nary a date in sight, Mom offered me breast implants as a birthday gift. But I was adamant that no surgeon was going to take a scalpel to my surgically virgin body, so I refused.

Although I lacked bountiful breasts, I had other assets: a pair of long shapely to-die-for legs. To show off those assets, I always wore the shortest skirts and highest heels. On a few occasions, I was sent home from school because my skirts were so short that they revealed other assets, too.

Nevertheless, I built my wardrobe around mini-skirts hoping to attract someone who preferred well-turned ankles over well-rounded breasts.

After graduating from high school, I was a receptionist at a high-tech engineering firm where I attracted a design engineer who was an unabashed leg afficionado. We dated for six months, then she asked for my hand in marriage.

We just celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary and she still likes me to show off my legs. As her obedient and dutiful wife, I willingly comply and wear skirts or dresses and high heels throughout my day as a homemaker.

boys' clothes

“That’s the way it is and you will just have to get used to it,” she explained.

“But, I prefer to wear girl’s clothes,” I insisted.

“I know, sweetheart, but now it’s against the law for boys to dress like girls.”

“But, I don’t know how to wear boy’s clothes,” I responded.

“Well, I’ll help you,” she said.

Most boys were already wearing boys’ clothes, but I was a stubborn little boy and would turn on the tears whenever she suggested I begin dressing like a boy. Until now, my tears had been successful, but they would not help me anymore because today the anti-female impersonation law went into effect, which ruled that boys had to dress like boys, not girls.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” she insisted.

Boys I knew who were already dressing like boys did get used to it after awhile, and many of them even liked it.

“Now, take off your clothes and I will help you get dressed,” she said.

“And that's an order,” she added.

I quickly removed all my clothes and put them in a pile in the middle of the bedroom.

Next, she handed me the first item of boy’s clothing to put on.

“Tell me if you need any help,” she proffered.

One-by-one, she handed me another item of boy’s clothing to put on and surprisingly, I needed very little help.

She insisted on showing me how to put on the pantyhose because, “You don’t want to run your very first pair.”

Other than that, I only asked for her assistance twice: to help me close the hooks on my bra and to button up the back of my dress.

fading fiction sites redux

Three weeks ago, I wondered about the disappearing transgender fiction Web sites fictionmania and Crystal's Story Site.

A couple of days later, Stacy Jacobson e-mailed me about what she had learned about the disappearance. Immediately thereafter, her e-mail was lost in the clutter known as "The Femulate Archives" and I just found it today.

I apologize to Stacy for the delay in posting her reply. The pertinent parts follow:

I found the note below on the Big Closet:

Fictionmania has been offline for a long time now and it looks like it will remain that way for sometime [sic].

Crystal is working hard on rebuilding her site and will not update until she is done. Last update was 10/14/2008. She has a ton of stories backed up in her queue and I mean a ton!

She'll have her work cut out trying to get them posted, but she'll do it eventually.

short takes

male model alert!

Yesterday's Femulate This: model (right) earned my first Male Model Alert! In the future, I will issue such alerts whenever I suspect that the Femulate This: model is a male modeling as a female.

The fashion industry is employing more and more males to model as females and their images are beginning to show up in the places I explore for my Femulate This: models. In fact, I just turned up another suspect last night and I am sure I will find more in the future.

(I know my findings are purely subjective on my part and you should take them with a grain of salt.)

fading fiction sites

I noticed that two of my favorite trans fiction sites are in limbo. fictiomania is no where to be found and Crystal's Story Site has not been updated in awhile.

Anyone have a clue as to what is up with these Web sites?

a rose by any other name

Call me Staci Lana.

It's official; I've changed my name from Staci Hunter to Staci Lana.

It's a femulator's prerogative to change her name and there you have it.

11 stories about crossdressing

I found these 11 short stories about crossdressing awhile ago.

I read them, enjoyed them, and forgot about them until I found them again.

I read them again, enjoyed them again, and instead of forgetting about them again, I am passing them along to you to read and enjoy.

So, enjoy!

random thoughts on Tuesday

The top five phrases that cause search engines to send searchers to this blog are femulate, fictionmania, kate salehurst, katesalehurst, and dresses for men.

• femulate is self-explanatory


• fictionmania is a web site mentioned here a few times. It is an online repository for crossdressing fiction.


• kate salehurst, katesalehurst is a beautiful trans-woman, who I mentioned here once or twice


• dresses for men is intriguing. Is it an indication that non-trans-people are looking for dresses for men? Are non-trans-males adding dresses to their wardrobe? Are women searching for dresses for their men?

***

I am going out en femme Wednesday evening, primarily to attend my support group's final meeting before the group’s two-month summer hiatus. Before the meeting, I also plan to go shopping. There is a DSW Shoe Warehouse that I must check out and Dress Barn is across the street!

writing trans-fiction

I write for a living. All of it is non-fiction, eight hours a day, five days a week.

When I was a young girly-boy, I wrote a lot of fiction. My favorite topic was nuclear war apocalypses. My grammar school teachers must have worried about me!

As I progressed through grammar school, high school, college, and beyond, I abandoned fiction for non-fiction because that was what my studies required.

The last piece of fiction I completed was a short story about a young couple and their experiences attending the original Woodstock rock festival. It was based on my experience attending that festival and my story won first prize in a writing competition at my college.

Out of school, my first real job was writing about radio technology. You can't get much more technical than that. I made a name for myself in that field and became a big frog in a small pond. To sustain myself, I just kept on writing non-fiction.

Since I was immersed in technology on a daily basis, I joined the online world early on dialing up bulletin boards, CompuServe, and later, the Internet.

The online world gave me an education about the transgendered world. Going in, I knew I was not the only girly-boy in the world, but I had no idea that I had so many sisters. One thing led to another and by means of the online world, I found a local support group, which nudged me out of my closet and out into the real world en femme.

Exploring the online transgendered world, I also discovered transgendered fiction. Over the years, I have read a lot of it and I still frequent Storysite and Fictionmania.

Some transgendered fiction is good and there are some real gems out there, too, but a lot of it is junk... poorly written, poorly structured, unrealistic, etc. I thought to myself that I could do better than that. And I've tried.

Over the years, I have started a truckload of stories, but have never finished one! (I almost completed one, but I lost it in the great hard disk crash of '29.)

Anyway, my goal is to finish one this month and post for your reading pleasure on National Crossdresser's Day.

Wish me luck.