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This is a question Cross Dressing

The last time I wore a skirt was not as liberating or exciting as it could have been. I'd lost a drinking game and had been given the task of running from the bar, across the road and back again whilst wearing a friends clothes as a forfeit.

Easy, I thought. I hadn't reckoned on them getting every person in the pub to block my way back to the bar whilst I was outside. I had to FIGHT my way through. And I'm not much of a fighter.

Your own thoughts on cross dressing for fun, pleasure or profit are most welcome.

(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 15:05)
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This question is now closed.

The things kids say...
I was obliged to escort a young cousin about town one day. The little lad was from the countryside and had led a very sheltered life (his parents have no TV and make him practise the clarinet all day.) So - we were walking past a Catholic church and a priest emerged. Cue little cousin shouting: "Look, that man's wearing a dress!" I had to explain that it was not a dress and that the man was a priest.

Later, we came across a hippy guy selling incense sticks. He had a long pony-tail. Quick as a flash, little cousin says, "Look - that man has long hair like a woman!" I had to explain to him that some men choose to wear their hair long and that he should be tolerant.

The very next hour, we saw a group of emo boys loitering outside HMV. They had long asymmetrical haircuts, earrings, make-up and the typical attire of the emo kid. "Look!" shrieked little cousin, "A bunch of attention-seeking, cross-dressing tossers who need a good kicking!"

"Good boy!" I said. Let's go for an ice-cream."
(, Mon 19 Mar 2007, 9:38, Reply)
Women's problems
This is sort of related. When I was 14 I was stopped in Guildford High Street by one of those people with clipboards.
She asked me "from the below, please indicate your preferred brand of sanitary towel?"
We looked at each other blankly, before she realised with horror that I wasn't a girl. I still got a free sample though.
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 16:20, Reply)
More nuts than a King Size Marathon
Back in The Day, when I was a long-haired Heavy Metal Guitar Hero (as opposed to the fat slaphead I am now), and my life revolved around alcohol, I naturally used to hang around with a gang of likeminded wreck-heads.

So, one of these idiots, sorry, my friends, was seeing a model. A gen-u-ine model, a regular in The Sunday Sport (back in the days before it became a Daily) illustrating some story she just made up, and, well, not exactly a rocket scientist. A lovely gal though, very docile.

Now, on the night in question, 6 of us ended up after the pub had shut round at her flat. Having woken the entire building by rampaging round doing Celtic Frost death-grunts, she was desperate to quieten us down.
"Look boys, look at all my sexy clothes" she declared, throwing open the door to the biggest wardrobe I have ever seen. It may well have simply been one room, it was immense, and we all hushed, as one imagining her in some of the frilly and lacy delights that greeted us.

There was all manner of wierd and wonderful things in there, it was like Mr Benn's secret dream. Dresses, nighties, uniforms, wigs, thigh-high PVC boots, more shoes than Imelda Marcos (mostly ridiculously high and made of clear perspex), underwear a-go-go, you name it, it was in there.
Suddenly the spell was broken:
"Fookin ell, let's dress up!!" from one of my comrades as he dived in, followed by the rest.
And me, I'm ashamed to say.
We were like kiddies, but at least we weren't playing human pinball listening to Slayer in her living room, so she was happy.

Some time later we emerged, dressed like Danny La Rue's sickest fantasy. Even today, my brain keeps most of the details suppressed, but I can recall I had a baby-doll on, and a Madonna-style metal bra over the top. I was dressed conservatively compared to the others. There was nurse, a dominatrix, plus assorted cavemen in dresses.

Suddenly, some bright spark decided it would be a hoot if we traipsed up to the 24-hour garage "to scare the queers" who worked there, so off we set, teetering on badly fitting over-high heels. Who knows if we actually got to the garage, but I do know that at some point a car pulled up alongside and 2 girls leapt out and took photos, and I distinctly remember they knew our names. I have no clue who they were, and no-one has ever owned up. I just know that one day, when the keys to No 10 Downing St are within my grasp, they will re-surface, pics in hand.

The worst thing, the thing that is seared into my memory, is Tommy, wearing a WPC tunic, hat, and erm, lingerie:
"Hey, hey, look at this.........Evening all!!"...... bending his knees in the time-honoured Rozzer fashion. It was the sight of his nuts hanging out of his split-crotch panties as he did it that haunts me.........
(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 13:24, Reply)
For a while I went out with a gorgeous bird called Natalie - jet black hair, green eyes, fit as fuck.
I'd got the hint that she was into transvestism (is that a real word?) as a result of a couple of fancy dress parties I went to with her. One of which turned out not to be a fancy dress party but instead a perfectly normal school disco type night where I was the only bloke dressed as a schoolgirl.

Anyway...

I've always had a bit of a thing for those sexy satin chemise style nighties. (This sort of thing)

One Valentine's day I had bought Natalie a really nice scarlet ankle length one. I was REALLY looking forward to seeing her in it. She had known what I was buying her and had actually gone out and bought me exactly the same thing (and was apparently very much looking forward to seeing me in it too)!

Obviously she talked me into wearing it for her and I have to say that snogging a sexy bird while you're both wearing lipstick is an interesting feeling but it's amazing when you're both wearing matching satin nighties!

I can't believe I just admitted that. This QOTW has certainly brought back some rather interesting memories from that relationship!
(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 20:33, Reply)
Tranny Man, the greatest poofter of them all!
When I was younger, I dressed my little brother's Action Man in Barbie clothes.

My brother went mental, but I didn't hear Action Man complaining.
(, Sun 18 Mar 2007, 21:04, Reply)
Err..
Not really on topic but I found it funny.

Years back I used to work with a psycho in a computer shop. Said psycho knew nothing about computers but was ace at stock control and finance but he should be really kept away from people.

One day this geek came into the shop and said to psycho:

"Excuse me mate - do you sell gender-benders-"

"Are you asking for kick in the bollocks?" growled psycho just before I jumped in and saved the confused geek and took him over to the rack with male-to-female serial converters.

Cheers
(, Sat 17 Mar 2007, 14:38, Reply)
Cross Dressing is dangerous.
One time I was in a bad mood after an argument, and pulled my jeans on too quickly. Zip... ARGH! The moral of the story is: don't cross dress; take a deep breath, sit down and count to ten, before putting any clothes on.
(, Sun 18 Mar 2007, 3:44, Reply)
I don't tell that many people that I am actually a transvestite
Although most of my mates know now.

But if I get a legitimate excuse, try stopping me. Went to a fancy dress dressed as Agent Scully, and got amazingly drunk. On the way back to pick up some stuff from my car before jumping in a taxi, two guys were walking towards me. One of them wolf-whistled. I think they're taking the piss, and say "thanks guys" in my normal blokish voice, to which he replies, shocked "is that a bloke?!" I laughed and laughed.

And to Fothermocker and any other doubters, I've been told by many many people (of both sexes) that I look great. The only reason I don't do it more often is that I'm scared of being killed with sticks.
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 17:29, Reply)
Girl for day (come on - it was inevitable)
A few years ago, I was in the improbable position of actually being a girl for one day. What could I do with this unique opportunity? Attempt to fully understand the female psyche? Make men understand both sides? Stay in bed and play with my tits all day? No - I decided to go out, get trashed and be a slut.

I should add that I really was girl, with all the biological parts. And what wonderful parts they were, too. Large, firm breasts that stood alone and required no bra; a pert arse that swelled provocatively and just cried out for doggy, and - I admit it - a good, tight snatch that could have peeled a banana if I'd wanted it to.

What to wear, what to wear? I tried to think what men like, and decided not to be subtle. So - miniskirt, self-supporting black stockings, a miniscule g-string and a skintight top that barely held my tits in. I got my sister to make me up, a bit heavy on the eyes and something semi-slutty for my lips. I should point out that as part of this highly unlikey transformation, I had actually developed a yearning for cock. Not just a yearning - more of a consuming desire.

The first pub we hit, I felt what it's like to be devoured by men's eyes the way I had always looked at women. I could virtually feel them undressing me. My nipples perked up (which caused more attention) and I fel my newly-acquired clitoris flaring up in those see-through pants. And I realised I didn't have to do a thing. Just stand there and look pretty and wait. No need to play cool or coy - I'd be a man again the next day.

A guy walks up to me. He's handsome, but a total tosser and obviously a hit with a certain kind of girl. Never mind. "Let's forget the chat-up," I said to him. "Shall we just fuck?"

His was was a mask of amazement, but I took him by the hand and led him to the ladies, where I dragged him into a cubicle and levered his cock out of his jeans. It swelled in my hands and I helped it along by swallowing it. The sense of power over the guy was phenomenal. He should have been on HIS knees. In fact ... "On your knees!" I instructed, I sat on the toilet and he ripped my panties clean off before applying an electric tongue to my drenched hole. I can tell you, the sensation was something special and put me in the mood for a vigorous shafting.

So I stood up, turned around and bared my delectable arse at him. He soon got the message. The feeling as he pushed his considerable tool into my sweet, tight snatch was unbelievable. Each thrust was a shudder of ecstasy up my spine and I reached down to grab his balls as he pumped me relentlessly. Just as sounded like he was going to come, I slipped off his cock and took the glistening rod deep in my throat to feel the hot jizz gushing down in salty spurts.

But I hadn't yet come. "Have you got any mates? Go and get them!" I demanded, looking at my watch. In no time I had a mouthful of cock and another in my ass. I came like a hurricane and left the club with jizz in my hair and my 'reputation' ruined. Time well spent, in retrospect.
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 17:19, Reply)
Camping around
On a camping trip a few years back my girlfriend and I set up the tent then went for a walk. Unfortunately I slipped on some cow shit and fell into a ditch with about 2foot of sloppy, smelly muddy water. Heading back to the camp site I went for a shower and asked my girlfriend to bring me some clean clothes, towel etc so that I didn't make the tent mucky. Luckily, as it was late october there was nobody else (apart from the wardens etc) about so she could come into the male shower block without worry. After handing me a towel she then handed me a bag with some of her clothes in. I'd only forgotten to put my bag in the car before driving the 250 miles so had none of my own clothes. As you may imagine I got some strange looks the next day (we arrived on a sunday and in them days shops weren't open on a sunday) going around York wearing a flowery skirt and purple blouse.

Although it did give us some ideas to spice up our love life.
(, Wed 21 Mar 2007, 10:21, Reply)
army boys
does anyone here know why army boys enjoy cross dressing so much?

my ex oswald, despite being skinny and hairless of body and having a nose with its own postcode and generally looking more like a starving baby bird than an officer and a gentleman, had a commission to join the army after university. he wasn't actually that army-ish, but my god some of his mates were truly awful.

two occasions stand out. the first a truly shit party at a shit house down in battersea. the "boys" were in fancy dress, and as we arrived they were ignoring the sad droopy breasted stripper who was gyrating to herself in the lounge, and instead having a competition to see who could stuff the most brown m & ms up their arses. i must point out that my ex was doing neither on this occasion. do you really think i'd ever have slept with him again if he had!?

anyway. in an effort to mingalise and not to look too snotty, my flatmate said jokingly to the hairiest burliest bloke in a pink woollen mini-dress that i hope i ever see:

"i hope you're wearing underwear!"

to which loz, for this was the name of the beast, casually lifted his skirt and flopped his tiny semi-erect self into his hand.

"nope," he said proudly, as if showing us a fucking rock hard 8", "that's my cock." then ran off to grab a fistful of m & ms with which to distend his swollen hairy brown eye even further. eeeeeow.

the second occasion was at our uni bar, and all the army boys were in fancy dress "just because". my ex was wearing a skin tight black and white minidress and boots, and more eyeliner than a goth chick, and i have never seen a guy get so much attention from the ladies. again, anyone know why this is??

so he was flirting with this girl and then drunkenly said something about having bigger tits than she did. the next minute her enormous boyfriend loomed into sight, and brandished a huge meaty fist at the cowering ropey tranny in front of him. and what did oswald say?

"wait there. i'm just going to get my big mates to deal with you."

and this guy is now a major or something in the army. jesus christ. that is all.

apologies for length, as oswald sure as hell never made any.
(, Sun 18 Mar 2007, 9:57, Reply)
Stealing Strippers Stuff
About 3 years ago my friend Chris and I went out one Sunday to a really seedy strip pub. We got bladdered and whilst watching the ladies take their clothes off we hatched a daring scheme, we decided to steal their clothes. This being a really seedy cheap and nasty pub there was no doorman so the next time two girls came out and did their thing when they started walking round with their collection pot we grabbed their stuff and legged it. Unfortunately for me it doesn't end there as we thought for a laugh we'd wear them down our local that night, we got there and went into the bogs and I put the dress over my boxers and came out to wait for Chris. Chris emerged looking stunning in a blue sparkly dress but then suddenly grimaced and hoiked his dress up where I was treated to a sight of pure evil. He'd got her thong on as well and I could see his balls hanging either side seperated by a large string of nylon like two huge bells. Aaaaargh the memories hurt me
(, Sat 17 Mar 2007, 9:53, Reply)
Back in the day...
When I was at school, we had the annual 'House Music' competition - it was an absolutely fantastic night, with hours of singing, dancing, and general hilarity. One thing which was very frequently occurring however, was cross dressing. This was generally confined to the sixth formers (of which I was one at the time) - it was rare to get through a the night without someone prancing about in a rather nice man-thong whilst wearing a pair of comedy breasts.

In my last year, we pushed it further, splitting our 70ish strong choir into two halves - boys and girls. Not that impressive, till you mention it was an all boys school. Cue 35 boys & men dressed as women, and 35 boys & men dressed as... Well, men prancing about on stage - impressive but not massively embarrassing. Unfortunately that part of the story is related only to me.

I was wearing a rather nice (and very short) skirt, which, in the absence of a proper skirt, as just a 30cm bit of material pinned round my waist. Underneath, I was wearing baggy boxers. This would not have been problematic normally, but I was also playing the drums (with great style, it must be said). We all file into the hall, and I sit down behind the drum set. *Riiiip*. Oh shit. My skirt is now open. Glance down. And oh, look at that. My left testicle is hanging off the edge of the chair I'm sat on, swinging gently. And hairily.

So there you have it - due to an unfortunate cross dressing incident, I exposed my left testicle to the whole of my school and their parents. "Oh cock" seemed an oddly appropriate comment after the moment...
(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 23:56, Reply)
I'll wear yours if you wear mine
Many moons ago I was away in Newcastle with work. My 2 colleages and I, lovely ladies the three of us, went out heavily drinking and partying on the thursday night, the last night of our week away.

Not being local, we didn't know where to drink or club, so started off in a random bar and asked around about where was good/cheap. It turned out that there was a massive student pub crawl on that night, with all the local unis taking part. They had paid for the privilege, and were all wearing special t-shirts. They got a free drink in every pub on the list, free entry to a club at the end, and a free bar when they reached the club.

Well, we decided we'd join in. One problem - we didn't have the t-shirts. We made it our mission to get a t-shirt if it was the last thing we did.

Well, after tracking round a few pubs, we caught up with the crawl. Blagged our way into the club for free (getting the goodie bag too) and continued on our quest.

The married member of our team was reluctant at first, but soon got into the swing of things, playing tonsil tennis with a poor wee student and trying to rip the shirt off his back without him noticing. Nearly worked, she had both arms out of the holes, just couldn't unlock the lips long enough to get it over his head.

My tactic was more direct. I was wearing a little red top which clearly had no bra underneath (being fairly perky I didn't need one). I was chatting up one guy trying to get his t-shirt, which unsurprisingly he was loath to part with (it's his ticket to a free bar, remember). I ended up offering to swap tops with him. Yes, in the middle of the club I would take off my top and give it to him if he gave me his first.

He fell for it, and whipped off the sought-after t, passing it to me in the hope of seeing some bouncy breasts [1]

I put on his t-shirt, did the wriggle we girls can do, took the top off under the t-shirt and gave it to him.

He was less than amused.

Even less amused when I grabbed my top back (from River island, I wasn't letting him keep it!) and ran off to the ladies still wearing his free bar ticket.

I got changed again, and in my soft-heartedness gave him back his t. I even gave him a flash of the breasts he'd been ogling. So he bought me free drinks all night.

Happy ending all round :o)

F x

[1] sorry, this almost turned into a Frankspencer-esque tale :)

PS: the third member of our saucy trio? We lost her towards the end, she turned up for work the next day looking shattered, claiming she'd won because she'd slept in one of the t-shirts. Fair play to her :o)
(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 12:23, Reply)
Going for a thong
I once tried my girlfriends thong on, the back bit shot right up my arse, my bollocks were bulging out the sides and Mr Winki was poking out the top.

I remember thinking, "Well, this isn't very liberating".
(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 9:46, Reply)
*shrug*
A female friend once accounced "You aint lived till you've been out on the lash in a leather mini skirt wi' nowt underneath"....

Ladies, Gents, Fellow B3tans.... following one of my locals accouncing a 'ladies night' involving cheap beer, I can tell you, I've lived!

(am a 6' 14stone bloke for those who managed to avoid the possibly horrific imagery)

Other BDU-flavour examples of my total lack of shame include:

Attending a gay club with some of my 'that way' mates in same leather mini skirt (which yes, i bought especially) and dubbing myself "Mr Money Shot" for the night.

Trying on a leapord print Thong in Tesco and chasing Mrs BDU round the clothing section in it.

and...

Deciding I would pad a bra for the night and wear it in an effort to get served quicker (worked a treat).

I have no shame.
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 15:55, Reply)
pants
I once tossed into a handful of my sister's pants. She was livid when she woke up.
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 15:38, Reply)
Self loathing
I'm a pretty liberal girlie, with the open sunny natured sexuality of someone who is attracted as easily to women as men, and probably anything in between - Eddie Izzard in a skirt? Yes please... That man makes me realise why high heels have been deemed sexy for so long.

What I'm really not attracted to is someone who is uncomfortable with their own kinks. So it was no trouble when a ex told me he got off on wearing stockings and suspenders. In fact, it could have been quite fun... Except he had some bizarre self loathing about it, a sort of internalised kink-phobia. I'm not talking your usual sexual self doubt, but a huge dose of fire and brimstone, soul sappingly powerful. His difficulty in enjoying what he so clearly, well, enjoyed, was too much for me, so I ended it. It was a real shame. Regardless of gender, am I alone in being almost completely powerless in the presence of a nylon clad leg*?

*preferably accompanied by another one, and the rest of the body. Not just a leg. That would be WIERD.
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 15:34, Reply)
Devils In Skirts
.
Being from Northumberland I attend weddings wearing a kilt. And yes, I do wear the kilt the way it's meant to be worn, tackle-out.

It's a strangely liberating experience. Surrounded by hundreds of people when I'm wearing a skirt. But the best thing is, if anyone gives you any hassle then you whip out your sgian dubh and start picking your teeth with it. They soon go away...

Cheers

It's a fucking knife that you keep in your sock you filthy-minded bastards
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 15:24, Reply)
Hello, my name's EricPhillips and I'm a cross-dresser
Contrary to what my username might suggest, I'm actually a girl. However, I am a 6'1" girl with an interest in amateur dramatics. Now in our area, amdram seems to be about as popular with men as ballet is with builders, so I have oft played men. Most recently I've been a male convict, a neurotic Irish hangman and a policeman.

However, my first experience of crossdressing was for a club night at The Hippo Club in Cardiff (god rest it's techno soul) where they had tranvestite DJs and anyone cross-dressing got in free. A workmate of mine and I went as a couple - he in a pretty lacy cardigan, curly auburn wig and tiny miniskirt with Cat boots and I in one of my dad's suits with a drag-king moustache. Whilst we both got in free, he had a better night than me as after about an hour I lost him only to later find him exchanging oral fluids with some woman in the corner.

It was only later that he told me that the woman in question was a) e'd off her face, b) a lesbian and c)so shocked when she reached under his skirt and found his cock that she nearly knocked him out.

In the copping off stakes, I don't know if that counts as a good result or not?
(, Mon 19 Mar 2007, 20:13, Reply)
Funnily enough...
I'm sure I'm not the only person on here who actually *is* a crossdresser/tranny/whatever the hell you'd like to call people with certain...hobbies.

And in response to both Big-girls-blouse and Fothermucker (for opposite reasoning) have this.
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 22:28, Reply)
Cross Dressing = Poverty
Working for British Gas is very boring
Bubbly People (aka 'ADD') have low boredom threshholds
Thus: www.vacant-cs.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/1142295716.JPG
I got sacked
It made me poor and hungry :( with the silver lining that the extreme hunger meant i could fit into smaller and sexier skirts :D

huzaah! /semi-pea
(, Thu 15 Mar 2007, 15:31, Reply)
It's a bit off subject, but cross dressing got me introuble =(
... well firstly a bit of background:

The missus (I use the term loosly as we're not actually married) is Canadian, whereas i am a Brit, i live in blighty she lives across the pond. I got to visit her once every month for about a week (oh how i love being a sysadmin).

I am a very forgetful person, every time i visit i ALWAYS forget something, which she finds and keeps in her bedroom (she lives with her parents, she is 16 afterall... hey c'mon im only 17)...

Unfortuantly yesterday, i was sitting reading b3ta in Canada, and her mother walked up to me with a rather, shall we say 'disgruntled' expression on her face. "Uh oh" says i, knowing that this could mean only one thing: she wasn't happy about something, and her being FRENCH canadian means that she has the temper of a raging rhinoceros.

I'm usally pretty adept at getting myself out of sticky situations and talking myself out of things, but what happened next was a case of "Oops". She pulled out some black underwear and put it infront of me. "I found these in my daughters bed"... uhm... what to say? Being the genius that i am, thought i'd get myself in a little bit more shit that i was already in.

"Oh, i wondered where i'd left them!"

Not happy... she was really not happy and stormed off. Should i of kept quiet? I had to stick my fist in my mouth to stop myself laughing out loud!

Oh right, the QOTW... the reason the offending items were found in her bed was becuase she likes to wear my boxers in bed, of course i already knew this but that'd just spoil the fun telling the MIL.

Click i like this if you think it was an intelligent descision ;)

Length, girth? Well just look at the size of my undies
(, Tue 20 Mar 2007, 11:08, Reply)
a uni story.... (/unlurk)
aren't they all?

way back in my second year of uni, the friday night union party ran themes, and one week the theme was cross dressing. given that i'd done every theme that term, i wasnt about to shirk now, depsite being a chunky, hairy sort who should never been seen in a skirt.

i'll set the picture... the world's shortest white rar-ra skirt, and a top several sizes too small. unshaved legs, and topped off with trainers, in a look lily allen has since stolen. one wig and a bit of lippy later, i was a confirmed "15 pinter" according to all my mates.

ok, so blokes didnt go for me, but girls sure as hell did... all night i couldn't keep random ladies hands off me, much to the disdain of the then-girlfriend, and much to my own surprise (female attention not being something i'm known for).

one girl was particularly attentive, not that i minded, she was very cute.. however she went too far and started trying to unzip my skirt while i was queueing for the bar, and in a moment of sudden clarity that i'm incredibly proud of given a) my drunken state and b) the quality of the line, i turned to her and said

"i'm sorry, i'm just not that kind of girl"

her disappointment was palpable.
(, Tue 20 Mar 2007, 10:52, Reply)
Post rocky...
Went to the last night sow of Rocky Horror a few years back and was generally dolled up (red corset, stockings and suspenders, pearls, lots of makeup, big black boots and long trenchcoat).

Firstly, went to the loo just as the show finished. Picture the scene, row of urinals, 7 blokes all dolled up to the nines and one guy at the end who looked like he had just come from work.

In the hush, all of a sudden...

"who's the weirdo in the suit?", piped up one of the guys, causing all of us to crease up.

I had a few women saying hello in a "nice to see you again" kinda way (I thought maybe they were some of the girls from work...) only for my wife to point out that "I don't think you know them, they probably want a shag as they've been eyeing you up all night...."

Next it's off to the club next door. I'm chatted up 4 times before I get to the Bar and the wife ends up dancing with a group of Lesbians (all in rocky gear) who keep asking her out in all seriousness...

Stick on a dress and go to a pub=guarenteed pull (and not just by the law..:) ). Oh why didn't I realise this in my youth? :)
(, Sun 18 Mar 2007, 21:03, Reply)
It was just the other week...
Just last week, I was in my bedroom, parading around in high-heels, stockings, suspenders, thong and a lacy bra.

I turned round and was shocked, to see my 12-year old son looking at me from the bedroom door.

Then I remembered: I'm his mother!

With apologies to apeloverage.
(, Sat 17 Mar 2007, 20:20, Reply)
Sexy nun fun
I went a bit over board cross dressing.
I dressed up as a sexy nun, however this included fishnets, thong, an awesome make up job and a wig.

We went to the bars got pissed, then later stumbled in to a random poorly lit club. I managed to pull a bird, however when she was kissing me she pulled the wig off accidently. She slapped me, her mates slapped me, the bouncers then hauled me out and "slapped" me. I later found out that I had pulled a dyke in a gay club! Damn you cross dressing antics!!!
(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 18:16, Reply)
I'm totally flabbergasted
by the guy telling the girl that he's into tranny porn.

Fine, you're into ladies and ladyboys. But basically, you're telling a woman "you know what'd make you really cool - if you had a huge cock and balls."

Even I know that that's unlikely to make the ladies feel special.
(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 17:28, Reply)
This QOTW Reminds Me Of...
.
This:
www.b3ta.com/questions/heckles/post52321/

A drag queen (6'2" plus high heels) was running a trivia night at the local pub (long story...). Gets heckled by a drunken backpacker on the way back from the bar with some really imaginative line such as "you faggot". S/he puts him right in his place with:

"I am more of a woman than you'll ever get, and more of a man than you'll ever be!".


Not my story so don't click "I like" but worth a retelling methinks.

Cheers
(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 16:04, Reply)
equal rights for the boys in tights
I love transvestites.

when i was 16 i was moved from my abismal foster carers into my own bedsit in a block of flats specifically made for vunerable people.
(security on the door, help when you needed it etc..)

well, it just so happened that the majority of tennents were transvestites. I lived next door to a 'hooker looking' one called Fiona. (red high heels, red lipstick, short mini skirt etc..)

and actually... they were really nice! I locked myself out of my flat once and being a scared 16 yr old girl, they all rallied around and helped me get back in my bedsit!

thus the start of my love for transvestites.

I did a design course at college, and one of the projects, you got to pick any subject you wanted.

I decided to design posters for a 'transvestite nightclub' and took pictures of my male class mates in drag...

I think they thought it was more fun dressing up than I did photographing them! (all men secretly want to look like woman if only for an hour).

below is one of the photos i took of my mates, and one of the posters i designed (including my own 'storm' logo design)

by the way, some poster header ideas are as follows:

1) equal rights for the boys in tights
2) god save the 'queen'
there was many more, but you get the jist.

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(, Fri 16 Mar 2007, 14:10, Reply)

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