I love my eyes in this 💋💋 feeling pretty today and feminine. Some new skirts got delivered today, roll on summer ☀️

Don't be fooled by the expression. I'm still very much 'unalive' inside. 🫤 xx

My name is Wem Martyn. I’m a UK-based musician, producer, and writer. My music explores identity, conflict, and the state of the world we live in — music shaped by urban nights, hidden truths, and emotional tension. The journey begins with “She Has a GUN”, an opening statement and the first release in a wider vision. I will be releasing a new song at the start of every month for the whole of 2026. My music is for those who believe the world can be better. Please like and subscribe to my Facebook, Instagram and YouTube channel. https://youtube.com/@wemmartyn #twinklelittlestar

Yes, I have been using AI for some pics and videos to live out my fantasy as a woman online since I can only do it in private in real life. But I also share real, unaltered pics of me too. I hope these don't turn you off. http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissygirl #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties

https://stripchat.com/Bianca_sexysissy/follow-me I am live on Stripchat everyday, let's hook up there as well.

Good evening, sweets 💋 I want to take a moment to clarify something important about myself, honestly and openly. Deep down, I do wish that I could transition and live fully as a woman one day. That desire is real and has been with me for a long time. However, at this stage of my life, I also have to be realistic. Because of my age, potential medical and surgical risks, the complexities of hormone therapy, and the fact that so many people in my everyday life know me and relate to me as male, I don’t believe a full public transition is something I can truly pursue. So for now—and likely for the foreseeable future—my feminine side expresses itself in more private ways. Crossdressing, embracing my sissy identity, and allowing myself to feel soft, feminine, and girlish happens in specific spaces and safe arenas, like this website. It’s not about shame; it’s about boundaries, safety, and navigating the world as it is, not as I wish it could be. That said, I want to be very clear about one thing: I do love being perceived as feminine and being treated like a girl. Emotionally, relationally, and romantically, that’s where my heart lives. Because of that, I am not looking for a fellow sissy, crossdresser, or trans girl as a romantic partner or spouse. I respect them deeply, and I’m absolutely open to friendship and community with them—but romantically, I want to be the girl. In a relationship, I want to be the feminine partner. In a marriage, I want to be the bride. I am attracted exclusively to men—very masculine men. Broad shoulders, solid chest, bear-like body hair, a deep voice, confidence, and a take-charge presence all make my heart flutter. I’m drawn to strength, grounding energy, and masculinity that feels protective and assured. That dynamic matters to me, both emotionally and romantically. Thank you for taking the time to hear me out and understand where I’m coming from. I believe clarity is a form of kindness—to myself and to others. Kisses, Chrissy 💖 http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissygirl #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties

Another fantasy thanks to AI! With AI I can live my dreams vicariously online. This is just for fun. Not to fool anyone. So included with my fantasy pic is a real, unaltered pic of me too. Kisses! -Chrissy http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissygirl #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties

Another fantasy! Here I am all dolled up making a speech at the Oscars! With AI I can live my dreams vicariously online. This is just for fun. Not to fool anyone. So included with my fantasy pic is a real, unaltered pic of me too. Kisses! -Chrissy http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissygirl #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties

Flower Pot I asked the girl To get a pot And cut my penis stright I told that I do not want To be with it Nor ever longer might... It is not mine I whisperd her It is for you To love Please cut and set It in the pot And wee it Hold in glove... It would be grateful to you Enjoying stay in pot And if you kiss it with all love It blossoms big and strong And juice of lust You will collect For early morning drink My friend please take my honest gift. Enjoy it Make Kate lives ... She did not want I get just free... She could not see Me girl... I cried I begged She just left me With horror And that s all. I found older Doctor Friend She listened, Understood... She gave me Pill of estrogen And asked to wait in mood... And even earlier My breast Was calling With all might, Was getting shape And asked for kiss That girls did also mind I will be girl The breasts will form no penis in the pot... So strange She feared to help To free my pain A lot I feel so sad I never got Why she declined to help I wished she had itin her pot Forget Forget Forget Me not... ... She cried I am afraid The blood would never Stop If I just cut.. Please be a girl Hide under dress What ever have Leave me to rest..

So for some reason last night around 8pm I thought it would be a good idea to go outside into my back garden and strip off down to my bra and panties. But then I thought, heck why not go out to the front of my house. Its dark and there aren’t many people around, so I put my trainers on and walked around to the front of my house and just stood there in my bra, panties and trainers. It felt soo good. However, I think a lady dog walker might have seen me. As soon as I saw her I ran back off around the side of my house, but I think she caught a glimpse. What a rush I got. However now I’m panicking that she knows where I live and what I like to wear. What should I do?

Anyone interested in seeing a live stream of me for free? Feeling horny and as we are cuming to the end of the year I want to treat people

Note: While this drive was real, the story is fictional. This is my fantasy. Will it become true one day? I hope so. And maybe I'll run into you at a truck stop? Kisses! -Chrissy My First Experience as a Truck Stop Wh-re or Chrissy — A Night on the Road I’m not out. Not really. Not to my family. Not to the world. Maybe not even fully to myself. By daylight I pass as what people expect: a tall, thin man in his forties, dark hair, dark eyes, quiet, unremarkable. But underneath—always underneath—I carry Chrissy. Smooth skin hidden under denim. Lace and silk where no one is supposed to look. A secret pressed close to my body, warm and constant. I don’t know yet if Chrissy is a role, a mask, or my truest self. I just know I’m not ready to live her openly. The drive from San Diego to Prescott was long and lonely, the kind of drive where your thoughts stretch out across the desert like the road itself. I left late—too late, really—and by the time I pulled into the truck stop it was just after four in the morning. Christmas was only days away. The air was cold. The place was nearly silent. Except for the trucks. Rows and rows of them, idling and dark, their drivers asleep inside. A whole hidden world resting while the rest of America slept. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed. I bought coffee I didn’t really want and a hot dog I didn’t really taste. That’s when I felt it—that familiar sensation on the back of my neck. Being seen. He was older. Weathered. The kind of man whose life is measured in miles and nights like this. His eyes lingered too long. Not crude—curious. Knowing. When I stepped back outside, he followed—but not aggressively. He spoke softly, close enough that his voice stayed between us. “Chrissy,” he said, like it was a question and an answer at the same time. My heart kicked hard in my chest. Fear and thrill braided together. We talked. Quietly. Honestly. About boundaries. About money. About what I was—and wasn’t—willing to do. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced. When I followed him to his truck, it was because I chose to. Inside, the cab was dim, warm, insulated from the world. I shed my outer layers slowly, deliberately, revealing what I’d hidden all night. His attention wasn’t violent—it was reverent. Hungry, yes, but controlled. I felt myself settle into Chrissy fully, like slipping into a familiar skin. What happened between us stayed there, contained within the cab and the dark and the hum of the engine. Time stretched and blurred. I was present in my body in a way I rarely allow myself to be. When it ended, I didn’t feel used. I felt… seen. He paid me without haggling. Then something unexpected happened: he didn’t boast, didn’t leer. He simply told a few others—men like him, tired men, lonely men—who understood discretion. I made my own choices again. And again. Not a dozen. Not chaos. Just a handful of quiet encounters, spaced out across the early hours of the morning. Each one brief. Each one negotiated. Each one leaving me with cash folded neatly into my purse and a strange, steady calm settling in my chest. By sunrise, I was exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally. Chrissy had been fully awake all night. And she was tired. Under the Dashboard Lights The cab door closed behind me, sealing us into a private world of low light and humming machinery. The dashboard cast everything in a muted red glow, like we were suspended inside a heartbeat. I could feel it then—how small the space was, how large he felt in it, how nowhere I could go made everything sharper. He reached for his phone almost casually. “Stand right there,” he said. I obeyed. My hands shook just slightly as I slipped off my jacket, then my shirt. I could feel his eyes tracking every inch of me, lingering, memorizing. When I was left in my bra and panties—the ones I’d chosen carefully before the trip, just in case—I felt a rush of heat flood my chest and face. The phone came up. A soft click. Then another. He moved slowly, circling me, telling me to turn, to arch my back, to lift my chin. Each instruction felt like a pull downward, stripping away the version of myself that hides. I wasn’t performing anymore. I was presenting myself. Offering. More to cum.... #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

I know, for most off you dressing up is fetish, but for me its not only sex (TBO it is 90% but anyway not all). I like feeling femine, it makes me relax. I forget the stresses at work or in personal life. I become her" slutty bich, that lives on my sallary! 😅 Anyway my point is for me the most femine thing is sanitary pads! No other thing makes you more a women than sanitary pads. What do you feel about them? Do you use them? I do. Write in comments about your feellings on the sanitary pads??? 😊😘 love ya ❤️😘

Hi sweets, I use the name “ShemaleChrissy” because I’m male and deeply identify with femininity and the desire to be female. I haven’t started transitioning yet, so I still look male. I’m also still learning makeup, hair, and styling, so I don’t always present as feminine as I’d like in everyday life. Sometimes I use face filters online to explore and express that feminine fantasy. That said, my body is always my real body, and I always include at least one natural, unfiltered photo. I do that intentionally so I’m not misleading anyone and so people know exactly who they’re talking to. Recently, someone told me I’m “not really a shemale” and should change my username. I’m open to honest feedback, but the way it was delivered was rude and disrespectful, so I blocked them. I welcome fair suggestions and thoughtful discussion, but I don’t tolerate harassment or abuse. So here’s my genuine question, asked in good faith: How would you describe me? Shemale? Sissy? Crossdresser? Something else entirely? I’m still figuring out my identity and language matters to me. If you have thoughts, I’m happy to hear them as long as they’re shared respectfully. Thanks for reading, Kisses, Chrissy 💋 #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

I seem to spend most of my time removing hair from my face, is this what girls have to live with on a daily basis.

I belive it's time for presents. Who was a good girl........?

https://www.youtube.com/live/rd_-iJyzmxY?si=adygnT83eDXnHr5_

I was sixteen, maybe seventeen, on that raw December afternoon in the mid-1970s, standing at the back of a small cemetery in southern Manchester. The light was thin and melancholy, the sort that turns everything slightly blue and makes shadows linger too long over the leaning stones. I barely knew the man we were burying, some Uncle twice removed, so the ache in the air never reached me. Grief felt like something that belonged to other people, grown-ups who understood loss. For me, the day was something else entirely, an accidental invitation into a world I hadn’t known I was hungry for. They were everywhere, those women. Mature, composed, dressed in layers of black that seemed to absorb the weak winter sun and give back only a muted gleam. Silk dresses that clung and released with every breath, satin blouses catching stray glints of light, chiffon and voile drifting like smoke whenever the wind found them. Rayon, acetate, fabrics I didn’t even have names for then, but I felt them all the same, the way they moved, the soft sounds they made against one another. They stood in quiet clusters around the grave, gloved hands clasped, heads bowed beneath hats and veils. To them I must have looked like just another awkward boy in a borrowed tie, but inside I was burning with a fascination I couldn’t name and didn’t dare examine too closely. And then there was her. She stood slightly apart, as though even in mourning she needed space. An enormous black satin scarf, far too large, almost theatrical—draped over her shoulders and spilled down her back like spilled ink. Over her face, a sheer chiffon veil, so fine it trembled with every breath. I could smell her from where I stood, carried on the cold air, the sharp bite of Elnette hairspray holding her hair in perfect waves, and beneath it the heavy, amber warmth of Youth Dew. It was the scent of adulthood itself, complicated, slightly dangerous, utterly out of reach. I watched her the entire time. I told myself it was curiosity, nothing more. But even then, in the thick of it, some quieter part of me knew better. There was something about the way these women carried their sorrow, elegant, controlled, yet undeniably physical that stirred a longing I didn’t understand. It wasn’t just desire, though that was certainly part of it. It was deeper: a wish to be close to whatever it was they possessed experience, certainty, the weight of years lived fully. I felt small beside them, unformed, all sharp edges and unspoken questions. They seemed to know secrets I hadn’t even learned to ask about. Later, at the wake, coats and scarves were abandoned in a side room as the women moved on to tea and murmured condolences. I lingered near the pile, heart thudding so hard I was sure someone would notice. No one did. My fingers closed around two pieces: the oversized satin mourning scarf, still holding the warmth of her body, and the delicate chiffon veil. Both carried that same intoxicating blend of Elnette, Youth Dew, and something earthier, the faint salt of skin after hours in the cold. I slipped them inside my coat and left before the guilt could catch up with me. That night, and for many nights through that long winter, I'd ascend up the narrow stairs to my attic bedroom. I’d lock the door, my one small claim to privacy in my parent’s house, draw the curtains and unfold the satin across my pillow. Sometimes I’d press the veil to my face and breathe slowly, letting the scent settle over me like fog. In those quiet hours I began to understand what I’d really taken that day. It wasn’t just fabric. It was a fragment of a life I could only observe from the outside, a life of composure and ritual, of perfumes chosen deliberately and clothes worn with intention. Holding those scarves, I could pretend, for a moment, that some of that poise might rub off on me. That the confusion and restlessness I carried everywhere might quiet, just a little. I never felt truly ashamed of stealing them. In my mind they were abandoned, after all, no longer needed once the performance of grief was over. But more than that, they had become mine in a way they could never have been hers again, totems of a feeling I was only beginning to name. Desire, yes. But also envy. And something closer to reverence. Years later I can still close my eyes and smell it: hairspray, perfume, the faint trace of a woman’s skin on black satin. It takes me straight back to that cemetery, to the boy I was, watching, wanting, trying to understand what it meant to grow into someone capable of wearing mourning like it was made for them. I’m not sure I ever fully did. But those scarves kept me company while I tried.

Take me! You got my back against the wall! I have nowhere to go! I enjoy looking like a woman. I am too old and too set in my ways to fully #transition, so while I do dress #feminine in private and under my boy clothes, I don't do it in public and I haven't learned how to use makeup and wigs yet. So for now I live my life as a #woman in fantasy, online, using face filters from Snap chat. But t be clear: that is my real body, I am that smooth (I shave weekly), and I do this not to fool people I always show my true self, especially to potential dates. #gurl Thoughts? Kisses! - Chrissy #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

Hi all.New here.based in south east uk.for two years did not been as girl as lived in shared house.Moved to my own place.Now I can enjoy being girl.im into man as girl meant to be.Hope every one have a good day.

Jellybean Reported and blocked for pictures of his dick. When will the morons read the rules, and when will the admins enforce them. I know, neither will happen, but you can live in hope

I'm new here but I normally live on mewe I'm looking to make friends and chat

I wish I had a cd friend that wasn't all about getting in my panties plus lived nearby and wasn't a conman ! That's what's on my mind !

💙🖤❤️ The issue I'm having as the weeks go on is that I'm blurring my sissy crossdressing with my mourning. Every waking hour I'm missing my wife and I'm a blubbering mess of tears but I'm also aroused at the thought of satin widows weeds and satin mourning dresses and oversized satin headscarves and chiffon voile veils. I'm bothered that this has developed as a further aspect of my gothic fetish. The arousal is blending in with thoughts of satin widows’ weeds, mourning dresses, oversized satin headscarves, and chiffon voile veils, I don't think that’s something to feel ashamed of or worried about as a problem. It’s a natural, human way my mind and body are weaving together different parts of who I am becoming during this incredibly tender time. Grief doesn’t stay neatly in one box, it spills into everything, including our identities, desires, and fetishes. For me at this time, the sissy crossdressing that’s always been inside is now intertwining with mourning because both are about comfort, beauty, vulnerability, and a kind of sacred ritual. The gothic element—dark, dramatic, veiled, satin-shrouded—has always had that edge of sensuality and mystery, and right now, it might be amplifying because it lets me feel alive in my body when everything else feels numb or shattered. Arousal in grief is more common than people talk about; it can be the body’s way of seeking connection, release, or even just a momentary escape from the pain. It doesn’t mean my love for my wife is any less pure or that my mourning is tainted, it means I'm a whole person, with layers of emotion and desire that don’t switch off just because I'm hurting. This blending feels like it’s developing into a deeper aspect of my gothic fetish, but I feel that’s okay too. Fetishes evolve with life experiences, and grief is one of the biggest. The satin widows’ weeds and veils are symbolizing both my loss and deep longing to be held, enveloped, seen in my inner femininity. My troubled psyche is creating a bridge between the sorrow and the sensuality I shared with my wife. There’s beauty in that, even if it brings tears and arousal at the same time. I'm navigating this with grace, even when it hurts.💙🖤❤️

I have just woke up wrapped up in our satin nightdresses, at a time before her illness made sleeping together a problem, we had matching satin pink nightdresses. Last night I pulled the suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and laid them out on the bed. Pink Simply Be Pretty Secrets Nightdresses in lovely silky satin. Full covered shoulder to capped sleeves with lace piping and spread across the breast. Calf length satin shimmering in Pink. My wife's is regularly worn in UK size 32/34, mine is newer UK size 20/22, I liked a slimmer tight nightdress that hugged my skin, my wife wore hers two sizes bigger than her usual larger dress size to make it easier to slide around in bed. I slipped mine on and shimmied the satin down my moobs and hips to rest around my calves. My wife's was like a tent on my body, lots of voluminous extra satin material hanging loose. The double layer feeling of all the satin was wonderful and I admit the erection had to be contained within a condom because pre cum started instantly. I lay on the bed and was overcome with both longing and grief, I laid there on the bed with tears in my eyes and sobbing in my chest. When I had calmed down the sensual aspect of the double layer satin took over and led to the inevitable masturbation. Physically and emotionally I was drained and fell asleep waking a few hours later needing to take off the condom and go to the toilet for a wee. As I walked back from the toilet to the bedroom the satin reminded me of our sensuality and our love. Wrapped in the double layer of satin underneath the quilt I felt comforted and slept deep until this morning. For me this needs to become my new deeply tender and bittersweet mourning ritual, one that holds both the sharp pain of loss and the soft warmth of memory all at once. Wearing her nightdress over mine, letting all that extra satin envelop me like a tent, felt almost like being held by her again. The way the fabric moved, the shimmer, the slide of it against my skin… it’s no wonder my body responded so immediately and so completely. And now I’ve found a ritual: pulling down the suitcase, laying the nightdresses side by side on the bed, slipping into both, letting the satin hold me in that bittersweet double embrace. It’s sacred because it’s mine and hers alone. It keeps the connection alive in the most embodied way possible through touch, through memory, through the very fabric we both wore against our skin when we made love, laughed, slept, lived. Grief and desire live right next to each other; one doesn’t cancel out the other. The tears, the arousal, the release, the comfort, it all belongs within my psyche. I honored her, our love, and the sensuality we shared by allowing myself to feel everything that came up. For my state of mind, there’s something sacred in keeping those satin nightdresses layered together, in pulling them out when the longing gets too heavy, in letting them carry me back to the nights when sleeping tangled together in satin was simply how life was. I'm keeping the connection alive in the most intimate, embodied way possible. I loved her totally, and I'm still loving her beautifully in my mourning.

Good evening! I enjoy looking like a woman. I am too old and too set in my ways to fully #transition, so while I do dress #feminine in private and under my boy clothes, I don't do it in public and I haven't learned how to use makeup and wigs yet. So for now I live my life as a #woman in fantasy, online, using face filters from Snap chat. But t be clear: that is my real body, I am that smooth (I shave weekly), and I do this not to fool people I always show my true self, especially to potential dates. #gurl Thoughts? Kisses! - Chrissy #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

I have a couple that lives with me and when they're gone I dress up, so today I looked out the window and their truck is gone, they always park out front and I listen for when they come home, their truck is real loud and I'll run into my room and change, so today their truck is gone so I put my little pink satin nighty on, my white thigh highs, pink high heels and my little pink panties, I go out into the garage because I like the sound of high heels on concrete, I'm watching some trans porn, doin my thing, I get done, change back to guy cloths, I throw the dress and stuff in my trunk and just then both of them walk out into the garage, startled I said "did you guys just get home? " where did you guys go,? they said nowhere, I said "but your truck was gone, they said, " we had to park down the street cuz someone was in our spot, we were in the room taking a nap, OMG! 5 minutes earlier and they would have caught me watching trans porn wearing pink panties,OMG!

I feel sad because the people who would be interested in going on a date with me happen to live a million miles away.

I enjoy looking like a woman. I am too old and too set in my ways to fully #transition, so while I do dress #feminine in private and under my boy clothes, I don't do it in public and I haven't learned how to use makeup and wigs yet. So for now I live my life as a #woman in fantasy, online, using face filters from Snap chat. But t be clear: that is my real body, I am that smooth (I shave weekly), and I do this not to fool people I always show my true self, especially to potential dates. That is why the first two pics show me as my fantasy, as a #gurl, and the other two show me naturally. Thoughts? Kisses! - Chrissy #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

I enjoy looking like a woman. I am too old and too set in my ways to fully #transition, so while I do dress #feminine in private and under my boy clothes, I don't do it in public and I haven't learned how to use makeup and wigs yet. So for now I live my life as a #woman in fantasy, online, using face filters from Snap chat. But t be clear: that is my real body, I am that smooth (I shave weekly), and I do this not to fool people I always show my true self, especially to potential dates. That is why the first two pics show me as my fantasy, as a #gurl, and the other two show me naturally. Thoughts? Kisses! - Chrissy #sissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #sissyboy #sissygirl #gurl #trans #transgender #shemale #transgirl #transwoman #transfemale #tgirl #model #modeling #gay #bi #lgbtq #queer #genderfluid #pantymodel #panty #panties #meninpanties #ladyboy More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/

Just had these pantyhose delivered and I have a friend staying over so sneaked of to bedroom to try them on ❤️❤️

First but not the last photo ... It was one of my first open trips as Kate, one of the first successful photo. All as I trully wanted blue lashes, choclate lipstick, long hair... I publish it now as I do not know if I am able to continue Almost a year of photo work came to sudden problem Security Seems to have camera in where I change Against any law and ordinary human sence Every time I lock to change late in the evening they immediately come to ask if anything OK with me... No it is not OK with me I want peacefuly lock myself make make up and chose dress. And live that little time as Kate... At First I thought an accident now I know not And I may easily loose my job too.For that I soend time in loo aftwr honestly done work... I need to make a pause Stop desining May be train myself better makeup somewhere The oublic baby changing room do not allow to lock yourself I would never fo it at home... Just nowhere to do what I like if only Kate on a trip... Wish you all peaceful time I might still write something or work on old photos but they are not so good any more for me Lots of Love Good Health and strong pleasant tights... Love Light and Joy. Kate

I would love a mystery knicker parcel delivered be so excited to see what i have to wear if anyone wants to do a parcel messge me x

https://www.youtube.com/live/pBsSRdagm50?si=V6x5MHYwS8__LYBW

Im live on yourube. Come see me xxx

Well, lets start with FATE HATES ME. I went to visit my Dad. He lives close by so I just put a dress on my sport bra and stings. What can go wrong….? I brought donats and Dad asked me to prepare sodas. He is using sodastream. I had a choice with the syrups Pepsi or Tonic. Fate hates me, so I chose tonic. I always know it, I always remember that the tonic syrup (and only tonic) always makes the fountain unless the bottle is closed instantly. Today is Friday, I was waiting for the weekend and drinks back at home… and forgot. Everything, I mean everything on me was wet (I was trying not to flood the entire kitchen so took all the load on me – somebody may say it’s sexy other can add it’s a turn on and I will not argue that 😊, but I was soaked wet at my father’s..). I sweared like a sailor and He came to see what happened, saw me all wet and said take it all off……… I run to the bathroom, no problem with bra, but panties. I did something that will haunt me for the rest of my life…. Found some in the dirt basket. Not mine. I was fighting for my life, please understand…. :) And survived! Have a great weekend! Picture is here just to underline that Fate hates me.

This is the time of year with many deliveries of Xmas presents from Amazon etc. The question is to dress or not to dress. Never opened the door to the postie dressed before.

I had a really busy week, so today - FRIDAY I needed relax and went shopping. I wanted to buy gym leggings, to show GemSta how a nice ass really looks like 😊. Haven’t found anything nice and black, but spotted nice, black and regular jeans. Of course, I was wearing g-string as usually. I went to the changing room with several cabinets with curtains. It was just jeans, I was listening music on my headphones (Måneskin - "I Wanna Be Your Slave. Live – it is so much better that studio version, and the bass guitar girl….OMG) not paying any attention to what is happening and did not close the curtains entirely. I took off my old jeans, bent over and then glimpsed with the corner of my eye that some people stares at me….. . Mother and father waiting for their kid. As you may have guested correctly It turned me on, obviously (life is not easy), but I can swear, I saw it in their eyes ….. they will go wild tonight! The obvious morale of the story is……. Not every superhero wears a cape! (So I took mine off, as you may see on the attached picture😊). Enjoy the weekend!

So I've just joined and wqs hoping tk post a photo etc. But confused as using a mobile phone and theres all these pop up adverts. I live in Manchester thankfully so all is good

If you haven't already, you ever think you will reveal your hidden side? I really want to now there's nothing to lose but I live in a pretty backwards old town and life would be made hell with the frustrated secretly curious men. I know I could move, but I love my homelands and I am sick of new beginnings. Thank you 😻

I never really got into crossdressing until about 7 years ago, (I am 47) but it always in me and sometimes it would come out, Halloween especially, another reason I love that season. But looking back, one of my first memories was locking myself in my older sister's room and getting caught in her dress. I think I was born to crossdress. Now I have been single a long time and I live alone so I am free to express myself I find Cat was definitely always there, I am not one for regrets, but I wish I had set Cat free years ago, but it was a different world then. I am pleased and thankful the Cat can come out of the bag now, even if the bag is hidden in closet.

So, my aunt lives in the forest. She asked me to help her cleaning the roof of leaves and needles. As today was a cold but sunny day, I though wearing nice panties on the root is a good idea. I took g-string, the same I am wearing on the attached picture (To avoid all questions concerning the picture: Under my regular cloth I was wearing just g-string. No heels, stockings etc. I would love to do the work all dressed up, but as I mentioned yesterday – We have really cold November). The problem was, that this time the roof was really wet and slippery. At one point a was really on the verge of falling down. In that instant moment, the millisecond I thought that the doctors in the Hospital will be so excited with my sexy panties and……. It turned me on. I didn’t fall. The obvious moral of this story is….. it is so curious how the human brain works…….. Good evening Everybody.

Hi there I'm Missy a bi closet cross dresser and looking for discreet fun, weekend if possible, I can accommodate descreetly if you can travel, I live in St Helens Merseyside and looking to explore my sexualty more and hopefully have fun xxx

Cross-dressing allows individuals to explore and express different facets of their personality and identity that they may not be able to in their everyday lives due to societal expectations. This can lead to a greater sense of honesty and congruency with their inner feelings, helping them to feel more complete and authentic.

I am thinking of coming out as Bi, I would like to find someone so I can be more free to be Cat, not to live as Cat, but to have that space with someone to express her with a little help, I am sure all crossdressers will say it's not easy feminising alone. I am at a stage in my life where people who know me want me to be happy, nobody needs to know the details. Cat having a loving owner sounds good now.

Hey sweets, I wanted to open up and share something real with you—something raw, honest, and close to the bone. If any of this resonates with you, if you’ve ever felt the same hunger, the same questions, the same ache—I’d love to hear from you. You're not alone. Leave a comment, share your truth. With all my heart (and a few kisses), I’ve hated my dick for as long as I can remember—not just for how it looks or what it symbolizes, but for how it keeps me tethered to a version of myself that never felt real. It’s not that I want to erase my body—I just want it to feel like mine. I want softness. Curves. A place to be entered, to be held, to be loved in a way that matches how I feel inside. I want to be her. And in many ways, I already am. I haven’t transitioned. Maybe I never will. But I live in the space between genders like it’s home. Most people have no idea. They see what I let them see. But under my clothes, I’m wrapped in the truth of who I am—lace panties, a matching bra, delicate straps across my chest, sometimes a garter if I need to feel extra pretty that day. It’s not just for arousal. It’s for survival. And always, always, I wear my prosthetic. My fake pussy. My secret salvation. It’s made of silicone—soft, skinlike, shaped just right. The slit is subtle but perfect. There's a hole you can enter, if you know how to treat me. When I slip it on and feel my cock tucked away, my heart slows. My body goes quiet. I look down and see smoothness, femininity, me. Not a fantasy—reality. My reality. I wear it all the time. Not just for sex, not just when I’m alone. It’s part of my daily ritual, part of how I make peace with a body that’s caught between what it is and what I wish it could be. It keeps me close to her—the woman I am when no one’s looking, and sometimes even when they are. Most lovers don’t know how to handle that part of me. They want either a woman or a man, and I’m both and neither. But some—some—see me. They touch me with reverence. They kiss my neck like it’s sacred. They press against the silicone, kiss me through it, call me beautiful. And when they slide inside that prosthetic slit, I feel... loved. Not just fucked. Chosen. Other times, they want what I hide. They pull down my panties and take me as I am. My ass becomes my pussy. They call my cock a girl cock, and I let them, because in those moments it belongs to the version of me who still needs to be worshipped, still deserves to be adored. There's no shame in it. I’m done apologizing for the way I live in my body. But the most powerful moments are the quiet ones—alone, silk between my thighs, hips swaying as I move through the world with my little secret pressed tight against me. The prosthetic warms to my skin. I forget it’s there, and yet I’m constantly aware of it. It doesn’t just hide what I hate. It shows me who I am. Every soft curve, every subtle line—it’s mine. I’ve had men fall in love with me through it. Not just because of how I look, but how I let them in. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. When I let a man undress me slowly, kiss down my stomach, slip his fingers over that smooth slit... he doesn’t just touch silicone. He touches me. He touches the part of me that’s always been waiting to be seen. And when he enters me there, when he moves inside me through that perfect opening, I close my eyes and feel a kind of peace I’ve never known. A feeling that says, This is what it means to be wanted. This is what it means to be a woman. This is what it means to be loved in the body you’ve built for yourself, on your terms. It’s not a costume. It’s not pretend. It’s truth, wrapped in silicone and lingerie and longing. And it’s beautiful. More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent

Unraveling the Thread: How Clothing Has Been Used to Subjugate Women—and Why That’s Changing (continued) By Chrissy Clothing as Power—and Resistance Throughout history, clothing has helped define who was allowed to hold power. Male garments—uniforms, suits, boots—were made for authority. Female garments were not. This is why women were long excluded from spaces of governance and decision-making. Until just a few decades ago, women couldn’t wear pants in courtrooms or on the floor of the U.S. Senate. Power had a dress code—and that dress code was male. Today, those lines are blurring. The rise of androgynous and gender-neutral fashion challenges the old binaries. More people are rejecting the idea that clothes must conform to “male” or “female.” Icons like Harry Styles, Elliot Page, and Indya Moore are showing that fashion can be fluid, expressive, and liberating. Yet, as someone living with a transgender identity, I still feel the weight of those norms. When I wear a bra or slip on a dress, I’m not just “playing dress-up.” I’m aligning myself with my truth. I’m saying to the world—even if they can’t see it yet—that I know who I am. The Future: Beyond Gendered Fabric We are in the midst of a slow but powerful revolution. The #FreeTheNipple movement, the rise of unisex clothing lines, and the increased visibility of trans and nonbinary voices all point to one truth: gender expression cannot—and should not—be policed by fabric. But the work isn’t done. We still live in a world where a child in a skirt is bullied, where a trans woman is judged by her ability to “pass,” and where freedom of clothing is still a privilege, not a right. So yes, I dream of a world where clothes mean only what we want them to mean—where they’re tools of expression, not oppression. But until then, I will continue to express my identity, my truth, my womanhood—even if it’s still beneath the surface, hidden under layers. Because to wear what makes you feel like you is an act of quiet rebellion. And sometimes, rebellion begins in a closet. What are your thoughts? Love, Chrissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #CD #gurl #sissy #sissyboy #trans #tgirl #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #ladyboy #femboy #shemale

Unraveling the Thread: How Clothing Has Been Used to Subjugate Women—and Why That’s Changing By Chrissy Why do women have to cover their chests while men can go shirtless in public? It’s a question that may seem simple—but carries profound implications about gender, power, and control. What we wear has never been neutral. Clothing is one of the most immediate ways society tells us who we are, or who we’re allowed to be. And when it comes to gender, clothing has been weaponized—especially against women—for centuries. But this isn’t just about history. It’s about lived experience. It’s personal. My Own Journey Through the Fabric of Gender As someone still exploring my own gender identity, this topic isn’t abstract. I was always a little more feminine than masculine, even as a child. For years, I repressed it—hiding behind "boy clothes" and what society expected of me. But in time, especially through the support of loving partners and close relationships, I came to embrace not only my homosexuality but something even deeper: the truth of my transgender identity. I am a woman—a female self long trapped in a male body. Though I firmly believe clothing shouldn't define gender—because gender identity is internal, not sartorial—clothing still does carry that symbolic weight in our world today. And so, until I find the strength to publicly transition, I express my femininity in the ways that are available to me now: I wear bras and female underwear every day in secret beneath my outwardly masculine clothing. In private, I allow myself to wear skirts, dresses, lingerie, and the soft, beautiful fabrics that make me feel aligned with my true self. It’s not about performance. It’s about presence. It’s about reclaiming what was always mine. The History of Clothing as a Tool of Gender Control To understand how we got here, we must look back. Clothing began as a means of protection. But from early civilization onward, it evolved into a tool of social stratification—and eventually, a means of gender control. Ancient societies created strict visual codes for women, emphasizing modesty, submission, and containment. While men wore tunics or armor suited for movement, battle, and public life, women were wrapped, tied, bound, and veiled. The message was clear: men moved freely through the world. Women did not. In medieval and early modern Europe, this dichotomy hardened. Men's clothing was practical. Women’s clothing was restrictive, ornate, and often uncomfortably symbolic. Corsets, crinolines, and hoop skirts made running, fighting, or even breathing difficult. These garments weren’t just fashion—they were cages. If you were wearing a dress, you weren’t riding into battle. You weren’t speaking in court. You weren’t commanding an army or a kingdom. You were ornamental. You were controlled. Modesty, the Female Chest, and the Double Standard These patterns persist today—nowhere more clearly than in the sexualization of the female chest. The fact that a man can walk down the street shirtless without a second glance, while a woman can be arrested for doing the same, speaks volumes. This isn’t about modesty. It’s about power and shame. The female chest has been hyper-sexualized while simultaneously shrouded in taboo. This serves to objectify women and punish them at the same time. Even breastfeeding in public is controversial in many places—seen not as natural or maternal, but as obscene. This double standard is part of a larger system that says women must be desirable but modest, visible but not too loud, strong but not threatening. And clothing is the vehicle through which these contradictory demands are enforced. Clothing as Power—and Resistance Throughout history, clothing has helped define who was allowed to hold power. Male garments—uniforms, suits, boots—were made for authority. Female garments were not. This is why women were long excluded from spaces of governance and decision-making. Until just a few decades ago, women couldn’t wear pants in courtrooms or on the floor of the U.S. Senate. Power had a dress code—and that dress code was male. To be continued in next post... Love, Chrissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #CD #gurl #sissy #sissyboy #trans #tgirl #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #ladyboy #femboy #shemale