Captions

No More Cheating

Naughty Boy

Milking

Very naughty femdom art:

Constant Pressure

Impressions and Influences

What made me what I am? Well, we discussed at first what made me a sissy. Or at least a crossdresser (I'm probably both.)

But what mad me a sissy? What made me want to submit? What made me dream of bondage? Of helpless heroines? Of being dressed up AND tied up?

As I told you earlier, I've been drawn to dressing as long as I can possibly remember. Well, one day, when I was perhaps 11 or 12, I found my father's stash of porn. He had some "normal" stuff such as Playboy. But he also had a stash of bondage magazines and books.

For a young child like, already drawn to dressing, finding that had a deep, deep impression. You see, the day I found the stash of bondage porn, I was wearing lingerie. My mother's lingerie.

And, I saw all these pictures of bound women, pictures and drawings much like those below, and thought, oh fuck, I WANTED TO BE THE WOMAN.

My friends seeing the pictures got all hot and bothered staring at the women, their young hormones raging, thinking forbidden thoughts of what they wanted to do to the women.

Me? I thought how much I wanted to be them. Beautiful lingerie. Bound. Helpless. Submitting. Serving a mistress...or even a master.

My friends wanted to be the man.

I wanted to be the woman.

Seeing the works of John Willie (AMAZING) all I could think about was submitting.

So, I began a journey of not only dressing up, but of tying up.

Lingerie and bondage.

Dressing and tying. Of dreaming and fantasizing about bondage.

Then...a few yeas later, I discovered female domination...but that's for another post.

A New Life

Maybe this is my wish

Forced Fem?

It was forced. Or at least, it was not what I thought I wanted. Boys do not wear lingerie. Boys do not wear dresses. Boys do not want to look like pretty girls.

Something gave me away. The something that let her know she was correct, as always. Something indicated that telling me to slip on a garter belt, stockings, a bra, and panties was EXACTLY what I wanted, no matter how much I protested.

That something, of course, was the tent in my panties. The straining. The lump. Small as I was, there was no masking the swelling of my penis.

I started out protesting. By the time she helped me fasten the bra around my thin chest, my protests had grown weaker. With every heart beat, more blood flowed to my panties. My cries grew softer and softer as I grew harder and harder.

She knew it. She saw it. She was pleased by it.

Run in at the mall

Sissy vs. Crossdresser

Is there a difference? I think so. I think one can be a sissy, a crossdresser, or both.

First, a crossdresser:



I see a crossdresser as the typical, male-bodied, male-identified, heterosexual male, that dresses as a woman. Usually totally, often conservatively, often to pass, often to fit in, often for reasons having nothing to do with a fetish. The crossdresser may be gender confused, but often is one or the other. Male, and fully male, female, and fully female.





But what about a sissy?

Sissies do not want to be women. They may dress as women, they may even pass, but it is more than just being a woman. A sissy may wear male clothing, but how many are wearing panties underneath? Half? Most? All? How many sissies start the day with a swollen organ thinking about the prettiest lingerie they are going to wear that day?

How many sissies dream not of the woman above, but the woman to the left? Prancing, dancing?

How many sissies are submissive? All of them!

They LOVE being a submissive little sissy, forced down on their knees to do nasty, naughty things.



Which are you? One or the other? Both?

I'm a sissy, through and through.