Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

Look at Me

I'm just so-/Look at me/I'm just so groovy!

Yes, it's like the Pet Shop Boys. Quelle surprise methinks.
The Pet Shop Boys have released a new album and I forgot that I'd pre-ordered it ages ago when it was first announced until I happened to notice the launch on Twitter - because my beer blog is on Twitter now. Actually, I'm reasonably proud of that account - it's known well enough by people that know me but I have successfully kept it gender neutral. Which is how I like it. I've started adopting Mx as a title in places where I'm able to write one myself. I like it. Anyway, yes, within a day of the launch the CD was in my grubby mitts and I think I rather like it. My favourite track on it has to be The Dictator Decides because it seems to carry on the story begun in Building A Wall and Integral reaching a bittersweet conclusion. And I rather like me some bittersweet conclusions.

It's this book. I ordered it on a whim and
because the style is close to the sort of
stuff I wish I could write.

Only about things and times and places that
don't actually exist because research is hard
and I am a lazy lazy bastard.
I also started reading a book. I know, pretty big stuff for me these days! It's A Time-Traveller's Guide to Medieval England which is pretty engrossing. Annoying because of generalisations, strangely moralising tone of the writer and the random examples (some of which I know better examples for, and that's saying something because I know feck all about this period) but good for all the stuff I don't know. It's a bit like Horrible Histories - so I'll stomach it and take it as what it is. Diverting and interesting but no more. Maybe I learn some new stuff and maybe I don't. Whatever, it does stop me sitting uncomfortably and looking at a computer screen (I say, sitting uncomfortably and looking at a computer screen to type about reading a book to stop the neck-ache).

Interestingly, I tried to discuss the third child with Tilly and was rebuffed with the line "I'm more worried about your mental health" - which is at once nice and a tad sinister. Mind you, I suppose that my revelations on here about my internal critic and the taunting of traffic probably have something to do with that concern. Not enough to change anything, she's rarely not working these days or, alternatively, we're taking a child each. The joy of the holidays, I guess. I dressed on Friday of last week though when I should have been working at work but I didn't and instead I came home and dressed. I wore my blue skirt (it's called a broomstick skirt, apparently, and that explains why I found it so hard to find images way back in 2013) and my red top and tights (because it was bloody cold) and my boots. I even found a poncho that Tilly was going to throw out and wore that to keep my arms warm. It felt lovely, I felt very much at home and at peace. For a couple of hours. I got no work done because, as I have already said elsewhere in this very post, I am a lazy lazy bastard.

This is close enough to the article.

I'm not a fan of rings and jewellery - which is odd given how
easily I embrace most of the trappings of adornment such as
flowers - but this was never about me or what I thought.

And that's just fine.
Right now Tilly is out with her narcissistic writing buddy in our town discussing the plot of the joint novel they have going on. Tilly has almost outgrown the need for the relationship but I find it interesting that she maintains it, with far more inconvenience than she would tolerate from me, with such ardour and passion as she does. Don't get me wrong, she is wearing her wedding and engagement rings again today for the first time since 2008 and a new ring she bought herself from our local witchy shop because she wanted a ring. This was the first I'd heard of it, and it was bought in a trip with the Girlie whilst I was out with the Boy apparently on a whim. Buying nesting tables for the best part of half a grand too on the proceeds of her writing work. I guess it is her money and so she should get to spend it as she likes. I wish I could do the same with my marking money rather than using it to plug the gaps left by my income and the mortgage and the car and the food budget each month. But, then, that's the role I have chosen for myself and my desire to see her able to use what she earns for herself rather than the children does rather preclude me from demanding some contributions. That's been the case since she moved in back in 2007 when I asked that first she pay off her debts with her income rather than put towards the mortgage or the weekly food budget.

And that's where I leave this update, I guess.

Except that it isn't. The break is there to limit exposure to TMI that some people may wish not to know where I over-share about all the wrong things in all the wrong ways because I am that way inclined and a total bitch when I get going.

What follows is the fantasy that has greeted me as I wake each morning for the past three or four days and it is no surprise that it features Toby in the role of... whatever the name for that role is. I think I've said before that when it comes to sexual fantasies Tilly is not really available to play any roles - it's not infidelity, at least, I don't think so - she's just not inclined to be a part of anything that my mind comes up with. If it isn't traditional missionary position sex then there's little point imagining her anywhere near it because it's never going to happen. I learned that lesson a long time ago and so I steer clear of including her in any fantasies that I have. I gave up sharing any of them with her back when I sent her my sexual preferences map thing and we discussed it as briefly as anything could be discussed. My fantasies, even the basics and the areas, made her very uncomfortable, and even the bits we agreed we could try back in March last year, being dressing up, are highly unlikely to ever materialise - and this is the vanilla wearing of costumes that would not look out of place at a wedding, not the sort of dirty use of latex and such (you understand, I hope, that I'm not agreeing with the moniker 'dirty' but we all know what I mean when I use such a phrase).

And so there's the fact that my fantasies tend to include Toby as the other person in them as she was about mad enough to take part in them. Well, actually, I don't know that but she was much more likely to tolerate my dressing, for example, than, well, anyone else.

Anyway, that'e enough pre-amble, the fantasy.

It's a normal enough fantasy for me in that I am dressing and then heading out to the goth club that Toby and I went to a few times. In this one she has found a dress that is long enough for me to wear heels and has made my face up with mascara and black lipstick contrasted with white foundation, well, pale at any rate. I have a black up-do wig with stray bits falling about my face and that's about it. Oh, and I'm wearing glasses, of course, her glasses like the time I wore them at the club and found that, after a few hours, I kinda needed them to see properly. Anyway, in this fantasy she locks a corset on me. See, after we broke up I went with some friends to a house party where they were preparing for a night out as princesses and pirates. In the course of a conversation I was offered a corset and I turned it down and eventually left and walked home rather than joining everyone. I was a lonely idiot basically. Anyway, yes, there's a corset locked on over the dress and a collar that is also locked on. When at the club I get taken to one side by someone who locks on a leash to the collar and then I bring Toby, who always wanted to be a kitty slave to a gay man, to join in. Of course the bloke finds this amusing and gets Toby to play Domme to me whilst being his slave, of course. It all gets a bit fluid from there and specific in ways that make little to no sense and would take too long to describe here because they keep changing. Then it ends as these things always do, with me abandoned in a strange place dressed and with only a bag (small one) tied to my wrist containing essentials but no money and no phone. Of course one of the specifics is being plugged with red food colouring infused liquid of some kind up there so I have to use tampons. Whatever is up there is on time release so that's a full day and the lack of ability to poop (tampons) would lead to stomach cramps eventually. You get the idea.

And that's it. I'm such a bad writer that this fantasy probably failed to seem that it was one even. Reading that back fails to arouse me and it's my bloody fantasy. This is why I gave up writing and why every little flicker of 'try it again' needs to be strangled at birth. When you're that shit you do the world a favour by not sharing your thoughts. As TimH put it : everyone has a voice but then you realise that maybe not everyone should.

And so that is the end now.


  1. Your fantasy is no less weird than many of my own. I've been working, against my better judgement, on extreme wealth inequality recently (curse you, positive feedback on Flickr!), and there's the spreadsheets where I programmatically twiddle with genetic mutations to get a rough idea of how many generations it would take before genetic mutations would render men useless to our new futanari overlords. And that's before we get to images of sofas and bedroom furniture...

    For the record, I think Tilly is being selfish. Also, dick-move with the third child rebuff.


    1. I can relate very much. My own creativity is... lacking, so there's less image manipulation or captioneering (as you can plainly see) still less pootling on spreadsheets. Though, incidentally, what's your rough guesstimation?

      Not sure Tilly is being selfish as indulgent of herself, she's a mother, she has to have some indulgence I suppose. I want to agree with your latter point - which is probably a good sign that I'm channeling anger, it may or may not be warranted. I tend to assume it isn't.


  2. My rough guesstimation depends on a variety of twiddlable factors, such as chance of mutation (probably caused by radiation, so it starts in the 50s and Japan gets a bonus, because Japan) and what genitals carrier females have. I never really settled on how it actually worked, just twiddled, really. It might sound like a strange thing to say, but I'd like my futanari overlord fantasy to be realistic.

    1. Not strange at all, it sounds pretty normal to me, inasmuch as anything can be. ;)


All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!