Cross Dressing Story Novels & Stories

"He believes in knowing everything about his... acquisitions. Every detail matters when building the right image." I turned back to the mirror, studying the bride reflected there. She looked perfect—exactly what Killian Hart needed for his business arrangement. Beautiful packaging for a transaction. But underneath all the silk and crystals and carefully chosen elegance was just me. Celeste Andrews, the girl who'd sold her dreams for her family's survival. The girl who'd promised herself she wouldn't fall for moments of unexpected kindness. "The dress is perfect," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'll wear this one."

It was itching his skin already. After a few minutes of struggling to put on the clothes, Xander was dressed up and ready to get out of the dressing room. He held the wig in his hand and strolled out of the dressing room. The moment the women in the salon saw him, the place went dead silent, with their eyes popping open. Some of them were disappointed to see that a handsome man like him was gay. A woman spilt the water in her mouth on the face of the staff that was attending to her as her gaze landed on Xander.

She looked down on her clothes that looked ridiculous, she only had on Kevin's short and an oversize sleeved shirt. The old man had already noticed her an became excited. "My dear Lily!" He called out to her excitedly and Crimson turned to stare at the garden, she then began walking towards them shyly as she bend her head. Amber who heard the old man call out to someone looked back and was shocked to see Crimson walking over towards them in a strange outfit, how did she manage to get into such a respected mansion with that ridiculous dressing? "Grandpa do you know her? That is Crimson my band mate, are you sure you haven't confused her for someone else?"

“Do you truly need this many posters of those pop-idols?” I planted a hand on my hip, ready to defend my sanctuary. “Do you have a grievance with my decor?” Harrison shook his head, but the amusement didn't leave his eyes as he took a seat on the edge of my furs. “No grievance at all.” “You’d best not,” I muttered, slipping past him to fling open the wardrobe. “What should I wear to represent the Cruz name?” I caught him rolling his eyes in the mirror. “You’re consulting the wrong predator, Stick Girl. Just put on a gown.”

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

It was truly dilapidated, nowhere near the standard that Chrishell's persona as an artist from a comfortable, middle-class family would suggest. Heather's gaze fell on a photo lying on the table. She picked it up. In the picture, Chrishell was dressed in garishly bright clothes, holding a child. Heather raised an eyebrow. Chrishell glared at her. "What do you want? It was you, wasn't it? You had these people lock me up here!" Heather examined her carefully. Without the mask of cultured elegance, Chrishell looked utterly ordinary—far from the ethereal artistic muse she had once pretended to be. She seemed vulgar, even plain.

Well dear readers, did you miss me? Have you experienced laughing so hard because you’ve heard a ghost story from former critics of your ghost stories? This is one of the stories that really made me laugh for the same reason. It comes from another one of my human friends. And yes, this is a scary but funny story. ++++++++++++++ The storytellers this time are gay guys - all cross-dressers - who were with us in our theater productions. There were three of them and they didn’t believe in ghosts. They said that they couldn’t feel, hear, or see them anyway.

I don't want to ruin the night. As to what that anonymous guy instructed in the letter. I wore my navy blue tube dress with a pretty necklace that has a V pendant on it. I also covered my bruises with concealers and I finished about almost an hour covering it all up because its all over my body now and it even got bigger than before. If this was normal, I would've looked like a battered daughter because of the bruises I have in my body. Thankfully that's not the case. "Hey, are you nervous?" I heard Mal asking me. I was thinking too much I didn't even notice we'd arrived at the grand theatre.

"You think you will be attending a party? You plan on seducing all the rogues so that they will stop waging war?" I looked down on my clothes. Yes. I wore a yellow dress but there was a short underneath. "What's wrong with my clothes?" "We will be using a horse. A dress is not something you should wear in this situation," Knoxx informed. I lifted my dress and showed them my shorts and before they could see what was under it, they all looked away, their faces brightened. "What the fuck are you doing?" "Showing you my shorts," I answered. "Put your dress down!" Knoxx answered, growling. "Are you out of your mind, woman? Do you think we are not men?"