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 I am as yet unpublished - only because I don’t have the courage to go out and look for an agent – despite the fact that everyone who I have allowed to read my work says that it’s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.