My Stories

Yes, I have written stories – more like books actually. And I still continue to write, but now I am writing actual books and they’re not sissy related. I am as yet unpublished - only because I don’t have the courage to go out and look for an agent – despite the fact that everyone who I have allowed to read my work says that it’s excellent and better than a lot of what is out there now. My boss at work even surprised me a few weeks ago by asking if the sequel to my fist book was finished yet (not yet – still in the works). But it sure made me feel good.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The real subject of this blog entry is something else altogether, and for that, I need to go back to my writing beginning.

I used to hate writing. A lot! To make a very long story short, I have always been a very creative person (very!), but my creativity was always expressed in my music. I was a performer almost all my life since about the age of five. And yes, I was more than good. I’ll leave it at that except to say that all my creativity was focused around music and performing. But a few years back I decided to change careers and let’s face it, computers pay a whole lot better, not to mention more consistently. It was a good move financially for me. But the result is that I no longer express myself in music at all. I can’t even play the radio right anymore.

While I was in school studying IT, I started my own website dedicated to sissy ideas and humiliation. I never in my wildest dreams expected it to be popular. But it was. Then one day while desperately trying to come up with new content for the website, I had the idea for a story – complete with words and phrases and lots of images in my mind. So I sat down and wrote it – my very first story and I called it “Sound Sissy.” It was exceptionally long for a first story, but what the heck, the story was what I wanted it to be. Written for me, not somebody else. But while I was writing it, I suddenly discovered that I loved writing it.

Then more words entered my head and of course I had to write them. So my second story was born – “Peace In The House.” And it too was epic length. Both this novel and my first one touching on both my passions for forced cross-dressing and diapers.

And somewhere near the end of writing that, more words were in my mind. Not for a sissy story this time for a real novel. And I began to write again and to share my new writing with my wife. But now I realized that these words in my head were not meek little words that were asking to be expressed, they were instead THUNDERING to be let out.

And then more words thundered and I had to let them out – while I was writing my legitimate novel. And another sissy novel was born – “Girlish.” This one didn’t pay homage to my fetish for diapers, only forced cross-dressing. But to me, this one was by far my favorite.

Then, while I was still writing my first legit novel, yet more words entered my head that I seriously thought were for my website, so I wrote them. And somewhere in the middle of chapter two, I realized that despite the underlying concept of the story, this was another saga that was intended for the bookstores.

Then one day, I went to my computer and discovered that Yahoo had not only deleted my website, but my whole on-line identity as Karen. You wouldn’t believe how totally adrift I felt.

Eventually, I took three of the sissy stories I had written for my website (the ones mentioned above) and placed them on Crystal’s Story Site (storysite.org). My purpose in doing so was to preserve them and to make them available to anyone who was interested.

Maybe that was a big mistake. My first story, Sound Sissy, didn’t raise all that much of a fuss on the site (thankfully). My second story, Peace In The House, garnered a few comments, some good, some bad. But when Girlish finally came out, I felt like I was being attacked from every angle possible. And to be honest, I had some very great supporters who declared that it was a truly great story. But the majority of the readers really raised the roof!

Now let me explain. I guess I don’t write “nice” stories. I write what I want to write. I write what my own warped mind wants the stories to be. I don’t write for anyone else but my own sense of what it should be. And in truth, some of these stories write themselves, almost as if it’s someone else writing through me and I have almost no control. All my stories are one hundred percent made up fiction – but I like to think that I add that little something else that makes the reader think that it could actually happen. And in doing so, I use life! And despite what you may think, life is not always pretty.

In Peace In The House, I created a story where I went out of my way to make the main “victim” as sissified as I possibly could. The situation I created around him was there as a loose wrapper to bind it all together. And no, it wasn’t “nice” and no mother would probably allow what went on to happen – maybe. Real life can be harsh. I’ve seen far worse from parents in real life – personally. But my point in the story was just to thoroughly sissify the character, not to write a “nice” story.

Then there’s Girlish. Wow, what a ruckus. And mostly because of my last few chapters where violence entered the story. Despite the fact that I went out of my way to post warnings about the upcoming content (I don’t know what else I could have done), everybody seems to continue on and read it anyway. Then they complain. By the way, I knew about the violent scene in the story from about chapter three. The readers didn’t realize it, but the entire book led up to it. I had no control over it. It had to happen.

I don’t write “nice” stories. I don’t write “short” stories. Everything I write is very long. I like it that way. I’m more interested in the emotions behind what is happening than in the actual action. I want to feel what the characters are feeling. So that’s what I write. Like it or not. As I said, I write for me.

I can understand that people want to read “nice” stories. But what I don’t understand is that, since everything I write is so long, why do they continue to read it? Why not put it down and go onto something else? That’s what I do when I read something I don’t like. I just can’t understand it.

All that was several years ago now. The stories were buried under the thousands that Crystal’s site holds. I would get a few comments scattered through the course of the year, mostly comments that I have learned to ignore.

But for the last few months, I’ve been getting lots of comments again, and I don’t know why. And I appreciate all the people who are trying desperately to help my writing, but the truth is I wrote the stories years ago and I’ve moved on now. Then this week I got the strangest comment I’ve ever gotten. Followed up by an email that expressed more of the same along with the instruction not to reply.

I loved this story. Too much in fact. This story is really messed up. Actually, I love this story so much that I hate it. The cruel actions of the sister and mother and how John was "killed" will forever haunt me. I am not a sissy, but I feel this cruelty for John's memory is too dark for this site. I wish I could just abandon this site forever.

And the email that followed:

I just needed to tell you something about the peace in the house stories. Did you put a subliminal background or text in there, because I seem to keep on reading it. I'm sorry, but I really need to get this off my back or this story will haunt me forever. What the mother and sister did was extremely cruel and insulting to John's memory. It was extreme overkill. The baby talk, girl clothes, high heels, and other girlish torments probably left the shadow of John in Christy in absolute hell. Thank you for listening to this email.

It’s a good thing this person asked me to not reply because I don’t think I can. Obviously this person has issues. It’s more than possible that my story made it worse. I seriously hope he didn’t read Girlish because he really would have gotten lost in it.

Anyway, as you can see, I’ve written sissy fiction and it’s been read. If you’re really masochistic then you can find the stories for yourself, but I don’t recommend it. And if you want to criticize them, then that’s your prerogative. But the truth is that these are old stories and I really don’t need or want it. I’ve been blasted enough.

Please, smile for me.

Things I Miss

Soon after I got my wife back home again, she slipped coming down the stairs and injured her left ankle and right hip. Nothing serious, but she’s hobbling around and in even more pain than usual. I wish I could find a way to take all that pain away from her, but as usual I’m totally helpless. So frustrating – especially for her.

Anyway…

I notice that now that my little adventure is over, that I really miss sleeping in a nightgown every night. No, mine wasn’t nice and silky, just comfortable cotton. But it was very nice never-the-less. And whenever I got out of bed, I felt like I was already dressed enough to walk around the house without putting anything else on. I miss that.

I miss wearing pantyhose all the time. Ok, I wore them so much that I hardly noticed them anymore while I was wearing them. But every time my hand strayed down to my leg to touch something or to scratch a bit, there they were, so soft and smooth. So wonderful to touch and feel. Oh, how I miss that.

I miss wearing my heels around the house. The change in my walk as my hips and arms moved a bit looser, a bit more feminine. So nice, and so missed.

I miss wearing skirts and dresses around the house. They were so comfortable. I felt so good in them. All packed away now out of reach. I miss them.

I miss the fun of deciding what I was going to wear every day. Especially the last few weeks where my wardrobe had grown to the point where I could mix and match a bit. What delicious fun. The clothes I wear now are certainly no fun at all. I miss it.

I miss my pretty long nails. So pretty. So feminine. I miss being able to put different color nail polish on them every day. So much fun. They had grown so long at the end there that I had to do things differently with my hands. I had to use my fingers a bit more girly. So wonderful. I miss it terribly.

I miss using feminine shampoos and deodorant too. I know I smelled a bit too girly for the last month, but I enjoyed that. I don’t know if anybody noticed it as much as I did – I guess because I enjoyed it so much. I miss it.

I miss my diapers too. But not like I used to. I guess maybe the hypnotic recordings made some subtle changes there. I used to love them for the humiliation factor of wearing them. But not anymore. I just love them for the pleasure of wearing and wetting them. You don’t know how awful it is now to have to run to the toilet all the time. And sleeping is a pain because I get up two or three times a night. By the time my little adventure was finished, I hardly knew I was peeing any more at all. Even at night. It was soooo nice. I really miss that.

Mostly though, I guess I miss being able to express and give into my sissy side every day. Now, it’s all bottled up behind this false facade that everyone expects me to show. I feel it as a major loss. I may have regained my wife, but I’ve also lost the ability to fully express a major part of me – my sissy soul. But it’s there waiting, and someday I’ll get to let it out once again.

Be kind to yourself today. You deserve it.

Running From The Hurricane

Wow! What an ordeal. My heart and thoughts are totally with everyone who has evacuated from the path of the storm. No matter what damage the hurricane does – you’ve all made a good decision to leave.

I left my home at about 4 am on Saturday to drive to Northern Louisiana and pick up my wife. I was aware of the hurricane heading that way, but all the weather reports indicated that I had plenty of time and wouldn’t have to leave to come back till Monday. How wrong I was. I made what usually takes me 10 to 10 and ½ hours to drive in a little over 9 and ½ hours.

I got there for lunch, then took a two hour nap because I hadn’t slept much the night before. After I got up I helped with a few things they needed my help with through the rest of the afternoon, then it was time for an early dinner. But right after dinner I started watching TV for a while. They keep it on the news and the weather channel most of the time and what I saw concerned me a lot. The mayor of New Orleans called for an evacuation and I was very concerned with the traffic flow problems along the major interstates I needed to travel. That, and I had a feeling that just getting gas was going to be a problem. I discussed it with my wife and we made the decision to leave right away – no waiting.

We packed the car quickly and got out of there. It was still a while before it got dark when we left and the traffic on I-20 when we got there wasn’t too bad at all. But the further I travelled, the heavier the traffic got. I was really worried about how bad it was going to be when I went through Jackson MS. Fortunately it was just heavy and no real problem. But I had a feeling it was going to be really bad around Meridian MS.

It was getting really late by the time we got to Meridian. I had it in my mind to stop and get a hotel room, but all thoughts of stopping were quickly dashed from my mind when I-59 joined I-20. We crawled past Meridian at about 40 mph and I considered that really good. Every gas station we saw along the way was packed with cars. Every hotel looked packed too.

I knew I needed gas one more time before I could make it all the way home and there is one station I usually stop at before the Mississippi – Alabama border where the price is usually a lot cheaper. I dared to pull off the road and get gas. I was lucky. I was only about two cars back waiting for the pump.

After I got gas, we went inside to use the restrooms. It was there that my wife met and talked with an elderly woman from New Orleans who asked my wife if we were from there too. She was by herself on the drive because her husband refused to leave their home. She was completely distressed over the fact that she may never see him again. I think she had good reason. Our hearts and prayers are with her. I think of her often even now, and really do hope her husband – along with everyone else – will be just fine.

Getting back on the interstate after that was a major problem. In just the few minutes we had been off the road, the traffic congestion had gotten a hundred times worse. We literally crawled over the Alabama border. Fortunately, we turned off at the first exit to head east across the state, but even there, we were in the company of many “caravans” of evacuees. Going through Montgomery proved to be another nightmare. More traffic on the interstates again. All the way to the Georgia border – in the wee hours of the morning – all the gas stations and hotels along the way were packed with people.

We turned south just before we got into Georgia and went another route – away from the interstates – that would take us much more quickly home. It was like a huge relief to get away from all the cars. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky when we got home. We were both exhausted and slept most of the day.

Just to let you know. I haven’t really suffered any problems after being in diapers for so long, not really. But I’m very worried about wetting the bed. It seems that when I sleep now, I’m waking up when I have to pee, but it takes me a while to realize that I do need to pee. It’s like the feelings have hidden themselves. They’re there, but my mind has to search its more forgotten corners to find them. Luckily, no problems – yet.

Today, I have a feeling I’m going to be glued to the TV, watching the storms. My thoughts and prayers are with everyone who has had to leave their home. My further prayers are with everyone who is volunteering their help, or is helping for some other reason. A big thank you to them for all that they do.