Good evening sweets! I'm off to work. But thought I'd leave you with a story. 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 Chrissy on the Hillcrest Bus The bus hissed as it opened its doors on University Avenue, right in the heart of Hillcrest, San Diego’s famous gay neighborhood. I climbed aboard, heart racing a little faster than usual. On the outside I was in my “boy clothes” — plain pants, a simple shirt — but underneath I was my secret self: Chrissy Marie Tunnell. Pink floral panties hugged my smooth hips, a matching bra cupped my chest, and tiny flashes of trans-colored jewelry — a ring, a dangling earring — shimmered in the afternoon light. I wasn’t fully comfortable living openly as a girl yet, but I loved leaving little clues for anyone observant enough to notice. As I walked down the aisle, I felt eyes on me. One man’s gaze dropped to where the pink waistband of my panties peeked above my pants. Another tilted his head just enough to catch the faint outline of my bra straps beneath the thin cotton of my shirt. My jewelry glinted when the bus jolted, and I knew they’d seen the colors. Their eyes followed me hungrily as I slid into a seat halfway down. Even the bus driver, watching through the mirror, licked his lips and adjusted in his chair. “Hey…” one man finally said, his voice a mix of awe and lust. “You’re Chrissy… the trans model, aren’t you?” My cheeks burned, but I gave a shy smile. “Yes.” A low whistle came from the back. “Damn. You should take those clothes off.” I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “I can’t here…” Then the driver’s voice, gravelly but warm, floated down the aisle: “It’s okay. I won’t say anything.” His eyes met mine in the mirror, daring me. A shiver ran through me. My body trembled with a mix of nerves and arousal as I stood up slowly, the bus swaying beneath my feet. I grabbed the metal pole for balance, slipped off my shirt one button at a time, and slid my pants down my thighs. Gasps and murmurs spread as I revealed my pink bra and panties, smooth legs, and the bulge already straining with need. “Goddamn…” someone whispered. I posed for them, turning so they could see the curve of my ass, bending just enough to make my cheeks round and full under the thin fabric. I arched my back, running my hands down my torso, teasing myself for their eyes. The air hummed with catcalls and whistles, every sound feeding my arousal. I felt powerful. Desired. Exposed. The driver adjusted his mirror again, his eyes glued to me. My cock twitched inside my panties, leaking, the wet spot spreading. A chorus of moans and encouragement filled the bus as I spread my legs, cupped myself through the silky fabric, and let them watch my face flush and my chest rise and fall with each deep breath. I was their show, their Chrissy, their secret goddess on wheels. Chrissy’s Bus Show – The Climax The bus swayed along the road, but I barely noticed. Every set of eyes was on me — hungry, wide, devouring. I stood in the aisle in nothing but my pink floral bra and panties, my smooth skin glistening under the fluorescent lights, my cock straining the damp satin. “Do it, Chrissy,” someone whispered, voice husky with need. “Yes… show us,” another begged. The encouragement hit me like waves of heat. I hooked my thumbs under the band of my panties, tugged them tight against my bulge, and let out a trembling gasp. My cock pulsed, the wet spot spreading. The riders groaned, some openly rubbing themselves as they watched. I spread my legs wider, arched my back, and cupped myself through the silky fabric. The friction was maddening. My hips bucked, the panties darkening with each spurt of precum. “God, look at you,” the bus driver moaned from the mirror, his knuckles white on the wheel. The passengers cheered me on, clapping, catcalling, shouting my name. “Chrissy! Chrissy!” I slid one hand up my chest, over my flat stomach, to my bra — tugging at the cups, making my nipples stand hard under the lace. My other hand rubbed furiously over the soaked bulge, grinding, stroking, teasing myself to the edge. The entire bus rocked with my moans. My thighs quivered, my lips parted, sweat dripping down my temples. I was lost in it, lost in them, lost in the rush of being seen. Then it hit. “Ahhh—!” My body seized, cock jerking uncontrollably as I came hard in my panties. Hot, sticky release poured out, soaking the pink fabric, running down my thighs. Gasps and cheers filled the air, some passengers clapping, others moaning with me as if they’d climaxed, too. (continued in comments below): -Chrissy

Sitting here alone wearing a satin thong and matching bra heels with ankle straps a black blouse with a short red Minnie skirt, I've just put on fake nails and makeup and wig, I feel so sexy, and I want someone to share the experience with, yeah would love to be submissive and be a discreet gurl for the right person xxx

Good evening sweets! I'm off to work. But thought I'd leave you with a story. 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 The Meeting That Got Out of Hand I showed up to the office dressed in my “Supervisor” uniform — black polo shirt tucked neatly into black pants, shiny work shoes. On the outside, I looked like any middle manager headed into a boring meeting. But under it all, I wore my little secret: a lacy pink bra and panties. Just knowing they were against my skin made me shiver with anticipation. The room looked like an office conference space, complete with a long table, chairs, and quarterly reports scattered around. Five others were waiting — three men in polos like mine, and two women in skirts and blouses. I sat down and kept tugging at my shirt, worried my bra straps might show. That’s when one of the women leaned over and smirked. “Chris… is that lace I see under your collar?” My stomach flipped. I froze, heat rushing to my face. Everyone’s eyes snapped to me. The strap had slipped just enough to peek out. One of the men chuckled, leaning forward. “No way… are you wearing a bra under that uniform?” My hands fumbled at my collar, trying to hide it. “I… maybe.” My voice cracked. The woman reached over and tugged my shirt down just enough to reveal the delicate strap, then the curve of lace against my chest. Gasps, then laughter, but not cruel — hungry. Aroused. “Stand up,” another man said. “Show us.” I hesitated only a second before rising to my feet. Heart pounding, I pulled my polo up, exposing the pink bra stretched across my chest. The room went silent, then filled with low groans of approval. “Fuck, Chrissy,” one of them whispered. “Turn around.” I obeyed, bending slightly. My waistband had slipped low enough that the lacy panties showed above my pants. Someone reached out, tugging them down just enough to expose the curve of my ass. The first touch made me gasp — a hand sliding over the silk, squeezing, then pulling my pants down around my thighs. Now I was standing in front of them in bra and panties, my cock already swelling against the lace. They closed in. A woman pressed her lips to mine, lipstick smearing as her tongue slid into my mouth. Hands roamed everywhere — groping my ass, tugging at my nipples through the bra, cupping my cock through the panties. “Get on the table,” the tall man ordered. I climbed onto the polished surface, lying back as they surrounded me. Someone yanked my panties aside, freeing my cock, already dripping. A hot mouth enveloped me, sucking hard, while another tongue flicked over my nipple, teeth grazing until I cried out. My legs were spread wide, panties shoved down, and I felt a slick finger pushing into my ass, stretching me open. I moaned around the cock one of the men slid between my lips, gagging as he held my head and thrust deep. It was a blur of sensation. One man fucking my throat, another pumping into my ass, their bodies grinding against me while the women took turns riding my face and jerking my cock. The table shook with every thrust, papers scattering like a storm. “Good little slut,” someone growled in my ear as they pounded into me from behind, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the office. My cock spurted across my stomach, hot and sticky, but they didn’t stop. They used me until I was soaked with cum inside and out, my bra twisted, panties torn, lipstick smeared across my face. When it was finally over, I lay sprawled on the table, trembling, dripping, utterly used. The others buttoned their shirts, straightened their skirts, laughing softly as though the meeting had gone exactly as planned. I wiped the mess from my lips, my chest still heaving. “So…” I whispered, voice raw, “should I type up the minutes?” The room erupted in laughter — and I knew I’d just passed my first real office initiation. -Chrissy

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

Maria, Temu, and the Erotics of Sovereignty Desire doesn’t vanish when you come out of the closet. Sometimes it intensifies. For many of us, the first place we allowed ourselves to explore softness wasn’t a mirror but a shopping cart. Late at night, scrolling through Temu, your fingers hovering over lace, satin, heels, wigs — you feel both shame and excitement. This is not just consumerism. It’s confession. It’s the nervous system reaching for a taste of the forbidden in the safest way it can. The Temu Confessional Apps like Temu make desire frictionless. A few taps, a few clicks, and a world of clothes appears. For a closeted cross-dresser, this can feel like oxygen: finally, a way to try on the self in secret. Packages arrive unmarked. The closet fills quietly. But with the thrill often comes a hangover. You tear open the bag, hold the fabric to your face, feel the rush of dopamine. And then — shame. The ghost whispers. The mask tightens. The cycle begins again. This is not moral failure. It is the nervous system trying to circulate energy in the only way it knows how. From Consumption to Ritual Maria reframes this. She does not shame the click, the purchase, the dress. She asks: What am I seeking? What am I feeding? When you shift from impulse to intention, Temu stops being a guilty pleasure and becomes a ritual. Each purchase is a small act of sovereignty. Each garment a message: I exist. I am allowed to clothe this body in softness. Instead of hiding the package like contraband, you open it with reverence. You let yourself breathe. You let Maria into the room. The Erotic Current Cross-dressing is always erotic at first because danger and desire are fused in the nervous system. The fabric is not just fabric; it is a current. Maria does not deny the eroticism; she integrates it. When you wear the dress consciously, when you allow desire without shame, the chemistry changes. Dopamine is joined by oxytocin. The tremor softens. The erotic becomes energy, not just arousal. It becomes nourishment, not just loop. Temu as Training Ground Temu and apps like it can be traps — endless scrolling, endless spending, endless hiding. But they can also be training grounds for sovereignty: a place to learn what you like, to name what you desire, to claim it as yours. Maria does not throw away the app. She uses it as mirror. She asks: Does this purchase feed my ghost or my sovereignty? Does it deepen shame or open freedom? The Love of Temu There is nothing wrong with loving Temu if you know what you’re doing. Love the colors, the fabrics, the possibilities. Love the quiet thrill of seeing yourself reflected in an item you never thought you could own. But love it as a step, not a substitute. Love it as a doorway, not a cage. When Maria loves Temu, she loves it as a tool of becoming, not a hiding place. ________________________________________ Reflection: Turning Clicks into Sovereignty 1. Name Your Pattern How do you use apps like Temu? As thrill? As escape? As quiet self-expression? Write it down honestly. 2. Reframe the Purchase Take your next garment or accessory and treat it as ritual. Before opening it, breathe. Say: I welcome this as a piece of my wholeness. 3. Feel the Current When you wear what you’ve bought, notice your body. Where is the tremor, the thrill, the shame, the relief? Write down what you feel. 4. Anchor the Energy Ask yourself: What is one small way I can bring this softness into my life outside the closet — even without the garment? Write it as a commitment. ________________________________________ Desire is not the enemy. Shopping is not sin. Temu is not shame. They are currents. When Maria steps in, the current becomes conscious. What was once a loop becomes a ritual. What was once a guilty pleasure becomes a small act of sovereignty.

I'm trapped in a body a don't like no more.. Can't take no more anymore my time is up.. Hope your life's all go well time for God to hold me bye people

Do pink strappy heels go with black hold ups!! Probably not but still fun! Xx

Have you ever noticed when you mute the TV that the logo looks like a woman strapped to a bed in a spread eagle manner??

Mornin all 💋 got some new pink strappy heals yesterday, had to get them on 🤣👠👗💋

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With the intense heat last week i didnt wear any lingerie as i normally do but as it had cooled down last night the lingerie and heels were back on and wow it felt so good and that feeling as you pull your stocking up and attach to straps was as good as ever and a nice way to relax with a gless of wine after work

This was what i got punished with last night, by my better half #Strapon

My better half thought this was cute the other night - Me struggling with a stocking strap! lol - Let’s be fair, there are worse problems to have!! 🥰

excitement at the pub last night, bunch of cops turned up and took one of the drinkers away in cuffs! One of the bunch i was with was shouting "Cuffs in the pub!!! Cuffs in the pub!!!" so i held up my little backpack and what's on one of the straps, still haven't found the keys...

A girly night in tonight with the Mrs, all dressed up, while she does my makeup, Then takeaway, chic flick and a few drinks.Then I'm hoping the strapon comes out and I get bent over! x

Went for my evening walk, 2.5miles (didnt intend it to be that but was fed up of usual ways. Wore one of the new bras and the backstrap could do with coming in one notch. The advantage though is that the girls have a bit more freedom and bounce 😮. So they were jiggling quite nicely. Plus being in my grey pencil skirt the ass wiggles more so jiggling all round. Plenty of looks from the drivers 😛.

I had some time to try on my bra, holdups and suspenders today, I was a bit rushed so my straps aren’t straight and my panties are a bit all over the place but I hope that you like the photos. Xxx

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New strapless top 💋

New Chastity Cage an Collar I Got. #sissyslutexposed #sissyexposed #exposure #exposed #trap #feminization #Sissy #Sissyslut #Exposedsissy #Exposedslut #Cockslut #Femboy #Nativesissy #Pantyboy #Cockwhore #ExposeMe

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Thinking about getting Off This Site..... #sissyslutexposed #sissyexposed #exposure #exposed #trap #feminization #Sissy #Sissyslut #Exposedsissy #Exposedslut #Cockslut #Femboy #Nativesissy #Pantyboy #Cockwhore #ExposeMe

Hi ladies xxx Temu find ! Pls share your Temu surprise finds below!! Anything that exceeded your expectations or is just really good for the money ;) This is a metallic full length dress, but as with many Temu things, they are a tad tight. I love tight when it's right! So I ordered a 10 (usually 14) and if you ignore the arms straps (or cut them off) this makes a gorgeous metallic long tube skirt. I've been after one for so long that feels tight all the way to the ankle.. restricts the walk a little bit. And at 6' things are rarely floor length. This is a bargain! Xxx (Pics are todays office outfit x)

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Leather skirt and strappy heels look is how it is today

Been out shopping today as weather a bit foggy Bought a new dress. pair shorts. Cropped trousers and a strapless bra

Feeling really horny trapped in work 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

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Good morning ladies, guess what... It's the WEEKEND so breakout the lingerie, strap on your heels, open some wine and be the woman you truly are 👠👗🥂💋🌹

New heels, Kurt Geiger nude and loads of straps. Easy to walk in too.

New heels, Kurt Geiger nude and loads of straps. Easy to walk in too.

I Can't Wait for Summer, I'm Pretty Tired of Not being Able to Take Naked Pics Outside. #sissy #sissyexposed #exposed #femboy #trap #feminization #Cockslut #Nativesissy #Pantyboy

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I’ll be home around 8 pm, be waiting for me clean and naked on the bed.They say men can orgasm through their prostrate, let’s see how much I can drain you with My Strapon

Hey all you beautiful girls, Patti has a problem, I love to dress pretty like a girl and I definitely love other cross dresser and she loves being a sissy girl but I am bi , married , Just not happy ( it’s complicated )with kids for the last 30 years and me and a female at work started being sweet to each other. I want to tell her about my feminine side but even my wife ever 30 years don’t know I dress it would be nice if she comes with a strap on or toy, just me fantasizing about her and me dressed seducing a big hard c ^*k but I don’t think she is kinky. Patti doesn’t know what to do ? Hide my sissy side or tell her I about my sissy side ?

Trying a new blouse with wet look leggings/ leather skirt. Aso got a pair of ankle straps with an adjustable chain. Can even chain them together, not that I've tried to, yet !! 😉💋

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