A brief introduction is in order; Mistress Alison is a good friend and a very knowledgeable and experienced Mistress, she has also been a frequent contributor to PDQ. She is now available to answer questions from both Mistress and sissies alike, assuming a respectful tone of course. These email conversations may well be included at some future date in PDQ though a request for privacy would be respected. Feel free to write her at and please don't waste her valuable time asking "where / how can I find a Mistress?"

Dear Mistress Alison,

There is a situation at home which I hope you can advise me on. I have been married to a wonderful man these last seventeen years. We do not have or want a family because this world is heading who knows where. He is a wonderful husband who provides for us both really well. He does not over-drink, womanise, gamble although he is by no means a saint. Our sex life is very enjoyable.

What slightly concerns me is that one night he got into bed, we both sleep in the nude, and after lying there in the dark for several minutes he asked if he could put on a nighty. I was completely taken aback but I thought what's the harm. I just said, yes, you know where they are, go and get one. He chose a pink nylon drip-dry nighty that I rarely wear, so unsexy, and a pair of pink panties. He put them on and got back into bed and I've rarely known sex like it.

This is where my concern started. In the morning, Saturday so no work, he got up to make a cup of tea still wearing my nighty. I noticed two of what seemed to be semen stains on the front of my nighty. This made me wonder if wearing my nighty had caused him to be aroused so much that he had masturbated himself. I was a bit upset that rather than wake me to make love he had chosen to pleasure himself. He brought the tea and got back into bed still wearing my nighty. I said nothing to him about it.

I've looked in my diary and I have seen that he has worn my nighty every night for almost nine weeks. I've noticed other mornings when fresh semen stains have appeared on my nightwear. He has worn the same nighty every night and refuses to let me wash it. Odd but I don't mind. I asked him quite openly when these stains became really noticeable why he had masturbated during the night. His reply was that sometimes he woke up with an erection and rather than disturb me he pleasured himself instead. I am broad-minded and I do not have a problem with it. In fact, in the past when he has become amorous and I am a bit under the weather I have suggested to him that he has a wank instead. And he has laid next to me without any suggestion of resentment and masturbated.

On the Saturday and Sunday mornings he comes to the breakfast table in his/my nighty. In fact we went to a local cheap store and bought him an equally cheap nylon housecoat. I've noticed that he never closes the housecoat but leaves it open giving me a view of his semen-stained nighty. Why? Is he that comfortable in my presence or is he showing off? Several times I have seen his nighty tent out with an erection. Each time he has gone upstairs. It's obvious that he has gone to masturbate rather than take me to bed. Again, I've said nothing. I don't want to upset the apple cart.

Five weeks ago, another Friday night, I became aware of movement under the duvet and I realised that he was masturbating again. I decided to let him finish. When he had done so I simply asked him what he thought about while playing with himself. His reply sent shock waves up and down my body. He replied after some hesitation that he often wondered what it would be like to wear a dress. And would it be alright if he wore a dress when we got up? I didn't want to send out the wrong signals but said if that was what he wanted then by all means. The worrying bit was within seconds he had developed a hard-on and this led to a prolonged session of love-making. Afterwards I laid awake for what seemed hours going over in my mind what was going on.

In the morning I dressed him in my clothes. He ended up with panties and bra, hold up stockings, skirt and blouse all of which he choose himself from my closet. We had absolutely nothing planned so he let me know gently but firmly that he would stay like this till bedtime. This he does now each Saturday AND Sunday unless we are going out or are having company. He accepts that this is strange behaviour but it is harmless fun and it relaxes him. Our love-making has become much, much less frequent since but I have not challenged him so as not to make the situation worse.

I didn't know what to do so I turned to a friend of mine who is a man-hating, butch, feminist lesbian with very outspoken views on men. Several times she has said that once sufficient semen has been harvested all men should be surgically castrated and emasculated and the same happen to new-born male babies allowing only a small number to reach sexual maturity to top-up the sperm banks. Have we reached 1984 and a Big Sister state?

Obviously I told her the couple in question were acquaintances of mine. Her advice gave me food for thought.

She said that my husband is either definitely a closet homosexual frightened to come out and that I should expose him to family, friends, work colleagues etc straight away for his own sake or he desires gender reassignment surgery which he must undergo as soon as possible before it leads to mental health issues. She also thought that he would probably exhibit paedophile activity quite soon if he had not already done so.

I have heard stories of cross dressing men who develop homosexual tendencies or undergo GRS. I am really worried that he may fall into one of these categories. I know that he isn't a paedophile as he is so gentle. I feel that my friend's assessment of this is informed by her extreme lesbian views.

I am very worried and don't know what to do next. I looked on the internet which surprisingly led me very quickly to PDQ then Aunty Helga then you. I apologise that my email is so long but once I put pen to paper I experienced such a feeling of relief. You may be able to see the wood for the trees with your experience and expertise. I have read a number of your posts and they also seem to be full of common sense suggestions.

Please can you advise me even if it's only to say, 'I would suggest consulting a sexologist or medical health professional in the field of ????? who can speak to you and your husband in person'. However, I'm not sure my husband sees it as a problem for himself. He doesn't suspect that it is becoming a problem for me. I'm quite embarrassed as before Christmas we had what I considered to be a conventional marriage and now I am being forced to discuss my husband with someone I have never met.

I want and need and pray to get back the man I married. Please help me to do so. Could he be gay or want to become a woman?

I don't object to this appearing on the PDQ website if you think it might help others as long as you remove my name, please.

Yours sincerely,

Dear J

Your letter struck me as a cri de coeur and what has happened to your marriage is a breakdown in communication. You obviously love this man and nothing you have written leads me to conclude that he does not love you, or that his affection has waned in the seventeen years you have been married.

Ignore your man hating "friend" she knows nothing of what she speaks, your husband is not a closet homosexual, and definitely not a paedophile, he is a transvestite. Fewer than 1% of transvestites seek gender reassignment, and I doubt your husband is one of them. He is sexually excited by wearing the clothes normally associated with your own sex. This is incredibly common.

The question you have to ask yourself is how much this bothers you; your husband has revealed a side of himself of which you were previously unaware. What you need to do is sit down and talk, share, be honest and open. Most transvestites are to some degree sexually submissive, so you could use this to own advantage. He is indulging in the filthy male habit of masturbation, tell him this must stop

You have had seventeen years of happy marriage, what do you want from the next seventeen? Please sit down and talk and don't hesitate to contact me again if you think if will help.

Yours sincerely
Mistress Alison

Dear Mistress Alison,

I don't know how to thank you enough for your response to my problem concerning my husband's crossdressing. That in itself wasn't the problem; it was what it might represent.

I received your reply on Friday 21 March and by the Sunday, today, there WAS no problem thanks to you.

I didn't respond immediately to your email because after I had read and re-read it several times the germ of an idea of how to put your advice to good use began to take shape. I didn't just want to tell you my plan; I wanted to show you that it has worked. It was so simple but, without your advice, I would never have thought of it by myself. Two to three hours later I was ready.

At this stage, Mistress Alison, you may wish to skip to the end of my account as it is almost as long as War and Peace.

I went shopping and bought everything I needed to make my husband's favourite meal. I got back and prepared his dinner at 6:30. He came home looking as though he was carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.

I suggested that he relax with a hot bath and then come down for dinner wearing a nighty and a pair of panties. I could see him began to query this so I just told him, "Bath, nighty, now," and tapped him on his bottom, "By the time you come down dinner will be ready".

He did as he was told and came back looking much less troubled than earlier and he had on a nighty and stroking his bottom I could feel the outline of a pair of panties. Good. Part 1 of the plan was working.

He sat down to a glass of wine and it encouraged me to see that he made no attempt to sip from it until I joined him. In the meantime I went into the kitchen to serve us our evening meal. Soon, we were tucking into steak, chips (US fries), grilled mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, peas, onion rings. For pudding ( in the UK all deserts are puddings ) I had made Spotted Dick - no, Mistress Alison, it's not an SDI - it's a suet sponge pudding filled with dried fruit and served with custard. Several times he started to ask what was going on but I silenced him with smiles and touching the back of his hand. I cleared the table and by now we were just starting on our third glass of wine. In vino veritas. Part 2 was complete.

I approached Part 3 with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation and the following conversation, at least the gist of it.

"Darling, I need to ask you some questions but you mustn't speak except to answer them and you mustn't ask questions. It will all soon become clear. Are you considering going in for gender reassignment surgery, that is, would you prefer to be female?" (This is available with no charge on our NHS service but only to those who can prove that they need, not just want, a sex-change operation. Several counselling sessions with psychiatrists, psychosexual counsellors, endocrinologists etc. From the first session and for 12 months the man must live 24/7/365 'en femme'. He then receives female hormones. After a further year he is re-assessed and, if found suitable, he undergoes GRS. That is how it works in the UK. However, he must pay for removal of excess jaw and brow bone to give him a rounder and more feminine facial profile.)

I saw the bewildered look on his face as he spluttered out a denial and with another touch to the back of his hand he stopped speaking.

"Are you gay? Yes or no. Just 'yes' or 'no'."

"No, I'm not".

"Finally, how much do you enjoy wearing lady's clothes?" (I made sure that my open question was phrased so that a simple 'yes' or 'no' would not be enough).

He explained that he enjoyed crossdressing as it relieved his stress levels, he enjoyed the softness of the fabric on his skin, especially the hemlines around his legs and (I could swear he blushed although it could have been the wine) it usually led to a prolonged sex session.

"Right, darling. Do you fancy an early night?" It was barely 8:30. He did. We did, taking the remainder of the 3litre box of wine with us. It was a great night. He was like an insatiable animal bringing me to two orgasms in quick succession. End of Part 3. So far, all was going to plan.

Here begins Part 4. I had it all mapped out. I awoke next morning, yesterday, before the shops opened. I left my husband in bed with the instruction to have a bath and shave his face closer than he had ever done before and his legs, at least below the knee and to be sitting on the bed quite naked for my return. I suspected that he thought another session like last night would follow. I hated to disappoint him but I felt that what was in my plan would prove better for him and for us.

I returned home mid-morning and as soon as I entered the bedroom his penis sprang to attention. Was he going to be mightily disappointed?

I went to the dressing table and brought back my cosmetics. I pulled up a chair opposite where he sat on the bed and applied first, foundation, then blusher, mascara, eyeliner and lipstick in a delicate shade of Coral. He started to ask a hundred questions but all I told him was to trust me. That shut him up.

Next, the goodies. The first item of shopping was a pair of clip-on earrings. Then a wig in a mousey shade of brown to match the colour of any number of 40+ year old ladies which, indeed, s/he would soon become. It was in a bob style with a fringe, the sides sweeping round so that most of the time much of the face was out of view.

Next, a new bra and to fill it I'd had to take my courage in both hands and enter a Sex Shop for the first time in my life where I bought a pair of breast forms, 'B' cup. On the back-9 now. A white camisole top, black hold-up stockings, white lace panties, skirt and blouse. I was thankful that he had small feet, size 8s, as that is the largest lady's size that most shoe shops store. Two inch heels in black.

I suggested that he look in the mirror. His face lit up. He was no Hollywood starlet or oil painting but he could pass as a lady in her 40s. A jacket and a scarf to hide the Adam's Apple. I then dropped my bombshell.

"Off we go. No one will suspect that you're not a gendered woman. Don't draw attention to your hands, don't speak and hold onto me. That will slow down your walk".

We were both nervous. Him in case he was read; me, in case the plan failed but, so far, it was going swimmingly.

The poor lamb was so shocked that he couldn't or didn't speak. So much so that he was in no fit state to drive so I did. He was a bit puzzled when I steered in the opposite direction to the shops so I explained that we were not going to the shops or to the nearest mall but to the one beyond that one. He brightened up. I believe he was concerned with being read, especially by someone who knew him. He was unlikely to bump into either a friend or colleague so far from home. We pulled up in the car park and my last words of encouragement were to remind him that everyone saw what they expected to see. He was wearing a skirt and blouse so he was a woman.

To calm him down we went for a coffee and I made sure that he sat with his back to the other tables so no one would be in a position to study him. I say coffee. He had a cold drink with a straw to suck on so it wouldn't smudge his lipstick. He had his back to the other customers but anyone leaving the restrooms to his left would have seen part of his face, the rest hidden by the wig.

We then went shopping and bought, amongst other things, dresses, skirts, tops, lingerie, two coats, one long and one short, more shoes and accessories including a handbag. I made sure that he didn't get designer-label clothing which might draw envious and close-up looks from other women.

Next stop was a sushi bar for something to eat. I chose this so that we could sit at the bar facing the chefs while looking in the overhead mirror at other diners. It filled my husband with confidence to realise that here he was wearing women's clothes in public for the first time and that no one was taking a blind bit of notice.

After eating we went to a hotel bar for a cocktail and he changed into one of his new outfits in the lady's restroom. This time I applied a much deeper red lipstick and more vibrant colours round the eyes. Again, no oil painting, just a typical woman out with one of her girlfriends. Then into the cinema to watch a film where he could relax in the dark while still indulging in his crossdressing.

It was then back home; he drove. We sat together on the sofa, holding hands but not speaking, just smiling at one another. Our nerves were shot to pieces. "Early night?". Up to bed with what was left of the wine, you know how we Brits like our alcohol, undressed and another night, I was going to say of passion, but it was lust, our animal instincts took over.

It went like a dream, like clockwork. The plan was simple but effective. Although I pride myself over my scheming it would not have been possible with my concerns over his possible GRS and gayness. But you put those to rest. Thank you. I could cope with crossdressing.

Sunday morning, Mistress Alison, thank you on so many levels for your advice on the questions of my husband wanting GRS and being gay. Not that it would have bothered me. He was still the man who walked me down the aisle 17 years ago. I would never have helped my husband fulfil his desires without you putting me on the right road. Looking back it was so obvious but like many people in my position I simply couldn't see the wood for the trees. I, we, are so very grateful to you and hope that others can find comfort and solace in your words of wisdom.

We are now planning more trips like this now that he is confident in his ability to look the part.

One final note. I have considered what part my lesbian friend played in this. I don't believe for one second that she acted out of malice. She was so utterly wrong and misguided in her summation. She knows my husband and got she it wrong. You and he have never met; you got it right. I will remain friends with her as I was the first person apart from her parents to whom she came out as being gay. My husband has asked me to pass on his gratitude and his love.

I apologise for the length of the email but I felt the need to tell you the full story.


Dear J

Thank you for wonderful letter, which I greatly enjoyed reading, and I am only too glad to have been able to help you and your husband

Being a Scot by birth though now living in England I know all about chips, puddings, Spotted Dick and the NHS requirements for gender reassignment, but thank you anyway for the crib.

I don't think your lesbian friend was acting out of malice either, we all view any given set of circumstances through the distorting prism of our own experience or put a little less charitably our personal prejudices. Because I am no more immune to doing this than the next person, I am going to mention your husband's apparently willing obedience to your instructions. As I said in my previous e mail most transvestites having some degree of submissiveness and I think you could exploit this. I am not saying you should, though in your position I definitely would, merely that you should consider asking him if he would like you to become his Mistress. This doesn't have to involve brutality or even physical punishment, it is more about control. It doesn't have to be 24/7 it could be limited to the bedroom or to your outings or to one night per week, but it does mean him doing exactly as you tell him without question. In any case I would tell him in no uncertain terms that his masturbation has to stop and if he is unwilling or unable to control himself then you will take steps to enforce your control via a chastity device. You may be pleasantly surprised by his reaction. His being in chastity will mean he only gets sexual relief when you are in the mood and therefore it will be better for you both.

I intend submitting your letters to Auntie Helga for publication, it will be too late to make the March issue but hopefully she will include it in a later edition. I will edit your name to a simple J.

I wish you and your husband well for the next seventeen years and beyond.

Yours sincerely
Mistress Alison

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