A photo from a couple of years ago. One of my favorite outfits.

New Outfit Do you Think it's Nice

New Outfit do you Like it

Melanie in her lovely all-black outfit!
#BlackSatinBlouse #BlackPleatedMiniSkirt

Matching bra and panties. Now must look for an outfit to go with them.

I love going out in this outfit

Hello ladies
Posting all my outfits
Some days later I will not get a chance for dressing up

Hello ladies
I bought this outfit long back
Tried now.

Tammy's ex missus has stolen all my sluty outfits and my big fat dildo. So I have to start my sissy collection all over again. Tammy would love to **** my arse with my 9" dildo right now and video it to show you all, but all I have is my fingers

All this horrible weather the last….forever! With me working outside I’ve not been feeling very femme recently unless I think mud wrestling is appropriate! Nothing a trip to the city hasn’t sorted though so many gorgeous styles outfits just brought me back my mojo! Love to you who need it x

What happens when I get horny dressed up ! I wear my outfit hehe 🫢 x
#pvcskirt #pettiskirt #stockings #suspenders #highheels

Good morning ladies, I hope you are well.

And if you are not, I hope this cozy everyday outfit of mine will brighten your day.

Posing in my outfit
#skirt #pettiskirt #stockings #suspenders #highheels

New outfit

A simple white t-shirt and gray plaid pants are a winning combination for a modern and relaxed look.​ I really Like this outfit.

What is your favorite piece of clothing to achieve maximum comfort without sacrificing style?

All Black Schoolgirl Outfit and also Cat Girl Version sans tail I do like how comfortable this outfit was, it was very soft

Rate the Outfit, I'm in A Cute Skirt, Black gothic Fishnet stockings and My Fave Five Nights At Freddys Movie Jumper. Plz rate the Outfit ?? :3

Pre-outfit lazy sunday~
You think i should try red lip ?
Gonna show a new dress today~

Happy Valentine's Day everyone here's my cute outfit for Valentines

Work from home outfit :)

so hard to decide what to wear, so many clothes, so many outfits, so little time before wife gets home

Was seriously thinking about going for my first walk outside. Was gonna drive to nearby town and go for walk on seafront but it's cold wet and windy so another time. Will try on some outfits instead.

I ordered my new outfit. I hope you like it. Im much excited and i hope it will fit perfectly...

#crossdresser #cosplay

Another outfit from my day alone. Trying out a blouse and skirt combo.

Here some pics of the Maid outfit hope you enjoy

Another new dress but I don’t like the colour of the top half. Looks good with my jacket and turns into a nice skirt with my black body underneath. Gave me an idea so tried with yesterday outfit too. Quite pleased with myself!

Finally a chance to dress up, not been able to since November, Todays outfit super Tgirl

Gym outfit tonight

Love this combo ..... Also, My new outfits got delivered today ... Super excited to try them all on tonight make some new content

I needed a new maids outfit, a friend kind of has a long term loan of my old one

Thinking about getting this outfit what do yall think

A silly style?
I asked myself
However bought and tried...
And now go to work...
And guess...
Nobody ever mind...
Just taller boots
And sexy outfit
Soooo suits...

The case came in sideways, like everything else north of the equator these days.

Over the irradiated murky Atlantic pond, Glasgow didn’t rain so much as accuse. The drizzle slid down the soot-stained tenements like it knew every sin committed inside them. Post-war, post-bomb, post-everything that ever pretended to be civilized. The apocalypse didn’t flatten Scotland the way it did Los Angeles, it hollowed it out instead, left the bones standing and filled the gaps with whisky, guns, and ghosts.

I wore black that night. Not the practical kind.
The statement kind.

A black oversized tartan satin headscarf wrapped tight around my hair, catching the light like wet ink. Over my face, a sheer black chiffon voile veil, the mourning lace thin enough to breathe through, thick enough to hide regret. The rest of me was Victorian grief dialed up to eleven: glossy black tartan blouse with rococo frills, satin panels hugging me like a second conscience, skirts whispering every time I moved. I looked like a widow who’d buried the world and decided it deserved it.

In Glasgow, that bought me anonymity.

They called me Han here too, though the locals said it like a question. I’d followed the trail across the Atlantic after a shipment of American surplus hardware went missing, Tommy guns, plasma pistols, a few toys left over from the end of the world. Fallout New Vegas tech, Hollywood Hills money, Highland routes. Someone was running iron through the glens and washing it down with single malt older than the war itself.

The back streets off Trongate were crooked enough to make a Dutch cameraman weep. Buildings leaned in close, sharing secrets. Gas lamps flickered like they were afraid of what they might illuminate. I walked slow, heels deliberate, veil fluttering just enough to let the right people notice and the wrong people hesitate.

That’s when the femme fatale found me.

She leaned against a doorway like she’d been waiting for the end of the world to catch up. Hair platinum under a cloche hat, lips dark as a closed casket. Scottish, sharp, and carrying herself like a blade wrapped in silk.

“You’re far from Hollywood, sweetheart,” she said. “And you’re dressed for a funeral that isn’t yours.”

“Everyone’s funeral is mine eventually,” I said. “I just like to dress appropriately.”

She smiled. That was the mistake.

Her name was Moira Blackwood. Whisky broker. Gun runner. Mourner by trade. She dealt in Highland routes, smugglers who knew every fog bank, every forgotten rail spur left behind when the bombs fell south. The Americans supplied the firepower. The Scots supplied the patience.

And someone was skimming.

Bodies were turning up in the lochs. Empty bottles floating beside them like punchlines. Moira wanted to know who was cutting into her business before it turned into a clan war with automatic weapons.

We took a train north that barely remembered being a train. Through valleys drowned in mist and radiation snow. I kept the veil on the whole way. In the Highlands, superstition still worked better than bullets.

The smugglers met us in an abandoned distillery, barrels stacked like tombstones. The tartan of my outfit mirrored theirs, same pattern, different intent. They watched me carefully. Men always did when they couldn’t decide what category to put me in.

That hesitation saved my life.

When the shooting started, I was already moving. Heels skidding on stone, skirts swirling, revolver barking from beneath layers of satin and sorrow. Moira went down fast—winged, not dead. The real culprit bolted for the back door, carrying a ledger thick with names and lies.

I caught him by the loch.

The water reflected us in stark monochrome: him shaking, me looming, veil rippling like smoke. He confessed quickly. They always did when faced with someone who looked like death had chosen tartan satin couture.

I left him there for the deep dark water to judge.

By dawn, the Highlands were quiet again. Moira paid me in whisky older than memory and ammunition stamped with American lies. Fair trade.

Back in Glasgow, I stood in a cracked mirror in a boarding house that smelled of coal and grief. I removed the veil last. Always last.

Another city survived. Another secret buried. Another outfit stained with rain instead of blood.

The world was still tilted. Still broken. Still rolling on at the wrong angle.

But as long as there were shadows to walk and clothes that told the truth my mouth didn’t have to, I’d keep going.

Mourning never goes out of fashion.

Hope everyone is enjoying the weekend. Photo for my friends who like to see me in gym outfit, you know who you are

First time tried this outfit

A simple and cute outfit, Hope yall like

Last night outfit

And with a lil #AI magic you can really change your look. Its crazy and wild. Though, I do my best to get close to what she will look like as I do the hair, makeup, outfits, etc... then i let the AI add some fun lil perks.

I was playing around with A.I. and made this and don't worry i won't post a lot of A.I. content (unless you want me to) i just thought this was cute so i would share it side note the outfit hair and my face are real just the movement and voice are A.I.

My own outfit tonight is the usual liturgy of satin devotion: full length satin slip beneath a long, bias-cut satin kaftan in the same deep cocoa family, sleeves falling past my knuckles in heavy, liquid folds. Satin gloves to the elbow. Satin socks sliding inside satin lined house slippers. Even the thin belt I tied at the waist is doubled satin cord. I have not worn anything else cotton, wool, denim, polyester in years. Skin has forgotten every texture but this one. There, resting on a perfectly smooth, shimmering brown satin pillow, sits the mannequin headform. Draped across it is the headscarf fresh from its tissue paper cradle only an hour ago. The silk satin is so densely woven, so exquisitely finished, that it looks poured rather than cut and stitched. I approach the mannequin headform with deliberate slowness, my satin gloved fingers trembling just enough to send faint shivers through the fabric. The spotlight above casts a warm, golden halo, making the brown satin headscarf and hijab gleam like polished mahogany. The pillow beneath them is plush, yielding slightly as I lift the scarf first careful, so careful not to crease its pristine folds. It unfolds in my hands like a living thing, cool and heavy, the weave so tight it feels like liquid silk against my palms. I pause, holding it up to the light. The edges are hemmed with invisible stitches, the kind only a master tailor would bother with. No fray, no flaw. Just endless, unbroken sheen. My breath catches as I imagine the transformation ahead the ritual that turns ordinary skin into something exalted, wrapped in satin sanctity. First, the preparation. I glide to the satin draped vanity nearby, where my tools wait: a small satin pouch of pins, each head coated in matching brown mother of pearl, a fine misting bottle of distilled water scented with a hint of vanilla to enhance the fabric's natural luster; and a full length mirror framed in burnished brass, its surface polished to reflect every nuance. I sit on the satin stool, my kaftan pooling around me in soft waves, and begin with my face. A light dusting of translucent powder to mattify the skin no shine but satin's own allowed. Then, the undercap: a simple brown satin skullcap I slip on, smoothing it flat against my scalp until it's seamless, invisible. Now, the headscarf. I fold it diagonally, creating a perfect triangle, the hypotenuse edge aligned with mathematical precision. I drape it over my head, the point falling down my back like a veil of night. The front edge rests just above my eyebrows, cool against my forehead, and I cross the ends under my chin, pulling them taut but not tight enough to hug, to cradle. The hiss of satin on satin is intoxicating, a whisper that echoes in the quiet room. I tie a loose knot at the nape, then tuck and pin the excess fabric into soft pleats, fanning them out like wings. Each pin slides in with a satisfying click, securing the shape without piercing the illusion of fluidity. I stand and turn to the mirror. Already, the transformation stirs: my features soften under the frame, eyes sharper in contrast to the rich brown. But it's incomplete. The hijab waits on the mannequin, its longer lengths beckoning. I retrieve it next, unfolding the rectangular expanse yards of satin, bias cut for drape. This is the heart of the ritual, the layer that envelops and defines. I position it over the headscarf, centering the wide edge along my hairline, letting the bulk cascade down my shoulders and back. The weight is luxurious, grounding, like being swaddled in opulence. I wrap one end across my chest, over the opposite shoulder, then bring the other around to meet it, creating a crossover that hints at modesty but screams indulgence. Pins again strategic, hidden hold the folds in place: one at the temple, another under the chin, a third securing the tail at my back. Adjustments come in waves. I smooth with gloved hands, coaxing out ripples until the surface is flawless, a continuous flow of brown that catches the spotlight in undulating highlights. A spritz from the bottle, just enough to set the sheen without dampening. I step back, then forward, turning side to side. The mirror shows perfection: head to toe in satin, the new pieces blending seamlessly with my kaftan, as if I were carved from a single bolt of fabric. The ritual peaks in movement. I walk the room's perimeter, feeling the hijab sway with each step, the subtle friction of layers building a symphony of sound rustle, slide, sigh. It's meditative, this pacing, a communion with the texture that owns me. No exposed skin, no interruption; just satin encasing, protecting, obsessing. Finally, satisfaction settles. I return to the spotlight's center, the mannequin now bare beside me, its pillow dimpled from absence. The darkness beyond swallows everything else, leaving only this: me, ritually reborn in brown satin, ready for whatever devotion the night demands.

Time for a quick outfit change.

Looking forward to dressing up in leather outfit tomorrow

My more tame work out outfit. Less seventies than the last one I wore !

#2 - My latest rocking outfit

Had a great day, here’s my Sunday outfit. I wore a nice long leather trench coat over this outfit and of course some lovely silk underwear. Smoked a few cigarettes and yes Linda is a happy girl tonight. xx

One of my latest sexy looking outfits. AI art and all.

These Are AI photo of me, face and pose is me, just thought I would see how I look in various different outfits, really like the wedding dress ones

So I wasn't going to post these ones, no make-up or anything...but last week I started putting together my first girls outfit, trying to find my style. It's not finished but wanted to see it and see what y'all thought.

How did I do, Girls? Xx
#crossdresser #crossdressing #highheels #skirt #selfie