A letter from Stephanie

Gurls, if you've been keeping up with my blog, then you already know all about sweet little Stephanie!She’s a total sissy gurl—blushing, giggling, and always looking adorable in her little outfits. 

But more than that? She’s actually the husband (or should I say wife? 😉) of one of my absolute best girlfriends. And lately, she’s been spending so much time with my own sissy hubby—dressing up, playing girly, and, of course, doing exactly as she’s told.

But you know me, girls—I’m curious! I had to ask her: What is it that fascinates you so much? Why do you crossdress? What is it that you truly desire when you dream of being a woman? 

Stephy turned the brightest shade of pink, totally flustered, giggling, fidgeting, dying of embarrassment! It was adorable, but she didn’t really give me an answer—just a few nervous little murmurs and the usual clichés.

But then… a few days later, I found something very interesting sitting in my inbox. 💌

It was an email from Stephy. And ohhh gurl, it was juicy. You have to read this!

Dear Ms. Kate,

The other day, when you asked me why I dress, I wanted so badly to answer. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud—I was too ashamed, too humiliated. But here’s the truth…

I dress because, deep down, I know I’m not good enough as a man. I dress because it makes me feel alive. I dress because I look at myself and I don’t see a strong, capable provider—I see someone who has failed. I know that probably makes no sense, but let me try to explain…

I am weak. I don’t have the discipline or drive to truly make it as a man. I make an okay living, but I know I won’t have a comfortable old age. I’ve wasted money, I’ve been selfish, and I’ve put my own gratification before the future. And I hate myself for that.

But more than anything? I know I can’t give my wife what she truly needs. She deserves a strong, dominant, real man—one who can take care of her, pleasure her, make her feel like a queen. And I know, deep down, that I can’t be that man.

I can’t satisfy her. I can’t make her moan. I know she loves me, but I am sure it is more pity than love. I can’t give her the life she deserves. 

I dress because I am weak.

I slip into my silks and lace, feeling the delicate fabrics cling to my body, transforming me into something softer, something less. I paint my lips, curl my lashes, and stare at my reflection, imagining myself as the kind of woman I desire—effortlessly beautiful, irresistible, wanted.

Because in my mind, women have it easier. They don’t have to struggle, they don’t have to fight to prove themselves. They can just be pretty, sexy, and playful, and a real man will take care of everything. I want that power, that freedom, that surrender. I want to make my life easy.

As a man, I have failed. I know I can’t live up to the expectations placed on me. I don’t have the strength, the discipline, the dominance that a real man should. But if I were her… if I were that perfect, feminine vision… everything would change.

I imagine myself as her. A woman who can simply lie back, part her legs, and let real men take control. Let them do the hard work. Let them provide. Let them bring the pleasure I never could.

And I know exactly what that makes me.

I am a cuck. And it makes sense. It’s the way things should be.

A weak, pathetic, inadequate little thing like me has no place trying to be a man. I should step aside. I should watch—helplessly, shamefully—as my wife is taken care of by men who deserve her. Men who can truly satisfy her in ways I never could.

I should accept that she deserves more. That I will never be enough.

And you know what? As humiliating as it is… it feels right.

That is why I dress.

I know it’s shameful. I know it’s pathetic.

But it’s the truth.

Love,
Stephy

What do you guerls think? Have you ever met a sissy with similar feelings? Is this just part of who they are? Let’s chat!