You can't blame us

" We didn't know who we were til we got here. We thought we were something else"

Robert Stone in Dog Soldiers

As a heterosexual man with a bit of a fetish for girls stuff, when I go to bed at night and remove my clothes including my girl stuff, and find myself hugging my diminutive but nonetheless very real breasts, and missing my latest bed companion who in the last couple of years has always revealed a little something extra underneath when she takes down her panties. I gotta say to Mr Stone... Wow... too true!

He was talking about Vietnam and unpleasant revelations of self. Me .. well.. I am not so horrified by what I have become so much as .... chagrined. I mean Whats up with that? It's one thing to always be the last to know, when we are talking about where the party is. But to be so ... shall we say mis-informed about one's true self... well that can be a little chagrin-ing.

I recently was delighted to see that Bea, the Raymond Chandler of feminization fantasies has begun a blog, and re-established a central place for her stories.

I am of the age and type where stories.. vividly rendered sexual fantasies, were important in satisfying the needs that remained unfulfilled when i pursued my normal boy loves girl dating life. Miss Bea didn't write those stories like Miss High Heels! but later when I came upon her wonderful stories I found myself returning to them again and again... A vivid fantasy reveals something of who we are I suppose, and so those stories of males..slowly but inevitably feminized by wonderful dominant Women were mirrors to reveal to me a hungry boy with aching loins looking at a dim refliection of what? Or perhaps I am just going on as I will.

For sissy boys like me, those stories were hot hot hot.

But don't take my word for it. If your taste runs to forced fem, well put on a clean pair of panties and maybe a pad dear.

http://magselectronics.com/

Try Maid Machiavelli. Imagine if you were David! Would his delicious fate be your own?

Or are you something else?

Desolation Angels

Does anyone remember that fine book? Kerouac believed in automatic writing. Unfiltered and unedited communication of the unconscious. This is sort of like that. And like an author penning the most intimate thoughts, who knows if anyone will ever read them.
At any rate, how can you wake up in the morning so evolved. I mean completely meditating, empty mind, in your girls body, and feeling everything the kiss breathing out just a few fingers past the intersection of the brows, you know that place, and your nipples sometimes tingle and sometimes there is a feeling as prana ascends up through your vagina... That is re-imagining yourself, and i even not this morning but not too long ago imagined that i had a penis and i could feel it sticking up and out so boyish.. over the rainbow.
and then in an afternoon and getting ready for a party and painting your toenails pumpkin color and playing with your hair and the party is just the most in the life people, the sissy maid competition and it is such fun, only you aren't competing and you wonder why and you don't know if it is fear or maybe you just really aren't maid that way, except so many nights eyes closed imagining a always the Aunties, and strict Ladies, and the boy under discipline and the maid dress... put it on now! nara paracini!
Too old too timid or too sensible. who knows. I just hope the party is fun. After all my first sissy boy-girlfriend will be there.