What a change!

    The course sounded interesting on the internet: religious debate!

    I signed up and got the adres!

    He was handsome and welspoken!

    His dark skin and Arab hospitality won me over!

    I kept coming back!

    Our meetings went from weekly to daily!

    Our focus shifted solely to Islam!

    All He said sounded soo logical!

    I ate out of His hand!

    He suggested some changes to my lifestyle!

    I shouldn’t spend so much time with my wife, family or friends!

    In Islam you serve!

    It all made sense, or He made it make sense!

    Our relationship grew closer!

    He decided it should also grow physical!

    I agreed without question!

    Daily I was naked at His feet, while He read from the Quran!

    I worshipped Him!

    He told me to dress more modest, like a muslimah!

    Naturally I agreed!

    Our sessions continued, as did my submission!

    I was now worshipping His COCK as His Arab words filled my brain!

    He turned me into a pathetic FAG!

    Begging for His COCK!

    I converted! It was the only thing to do!

    He named me Yasmine!

    He made me His bride!

    He moved us back to Dubai!

    I used to be the typical white male!

    Now I am His muslimah FAG wife!

    Natural selection!

    We are the future!

    Join The Revolution!

    The Sexual Jihad has begun!


    This is my abya and hijab. I no longer wish to dress like a slut. I want to wear these clothes that Allah approves of, that our husband would approve of. I want my penis to be locked up. I want my makeup to be modest. It feels so good being converted. So ready to give everything up for my husband and for Allah. 


    Oh, Ashadieeya! You will be so radiant!

    Yes, your penis must be locked away. Your husband must hold the key. It and you belong to him now. Your body was once a parody of masculinity. Western and weak. Now it is smooth and perfumed. It belongs to your strong, powerful Muslim Alpha Male master and husband. The thoughts in your pretty head belong to him as well, sister! Think thoughts of pleasing, of obeying. What could possibly be more perfect?

    – Ameera


    Be modest!

    Be obedient!

    Be muslim!

    Be proud!

    Become a Sister of The Revolution!

    Join us in white male slavery for our Arab Masters!

    Follow The Right Path!

    Contact your Sisters and convert!

    Find yourself in hijab!

    The Sexual Jihad is there for you!


    I have taken the leap and donned the Hijab. Thank you for spreading word of the Sexual Jihaad Sisters! My place is as the muslimah wife of a strong Arab man, meek and obedient, subservient to him in body and mind. My penis belongs in chastity, a vile reminder of my false Western manhood. Only his strong Arab penis will complete me. I am his to be taken as he pleases. Praise be to Allah!


    Our new sister Zahara has cast off her counterfeit Western maleness and embraced femininity and obedient service to her rightful Muslim masters! More femme Westerners join our revolution each day!

    Hugs! – Ameera

    (more of my fiction)

    Following the international business conference in Dubai, my former Western male identity simply ceased to be. My Muslim master told me that I didn’t need to worry about it any longer, and so I simply didn’t. I bowed my head and nodded, a smile on my prettily made-up face, and accepted his authority to make all decisions regarding my life going forward, as it should be.

    I had arrived at the conference as a married man, at least nominally heterosexual, having never really closely examined my own sexuality nor my spiritual beliefs. Simply another Western male cruising on auto-pilot through his own life, never truly understanding what was missing, until he demonstrated to me how my life could be complete in every way.

    He had this unmistakable air of Alpha Male authority about him. I was taken by that from the beginning, even though I didn’t understand what it meant. My own mind was awash with feelings, unbidden thoughts and newly awakened desires. The touch of his hand actually gave me goosebumps that first time, and still does today.

    As it it were the most natural thing in the world, he simply took charge of me, and I followed. He taught me about his culture and religion and how these influenced his business dealings and outlook on the world. It did not dawn on me until hours later, after meetings and conversations and dinner, that I had been in his sights all along, that I had value to him and not merely as a business acquaintance. As he explained later, I was an unpolished gem, my true nature and needs hidden away, just waiting for Him, put in his path by the will of Allah.

    He led me by the hand that first time, into the elevator that would take us to his palatial penthouse. That act alone, being led by the hand by a man, a man who had sexual intentions for me, was enough to make my thoughtful mind turn off. The force of his will was inesapable. I was fascinated by this man, enthralled by him, and the thought that he wanted a deeper and more physical relationship with me thrilled me to my core. In the back of my mind, I thought it would simply be a dalliance, a one-time thing, when-in-Rome, a chance of a lifetime to live out a sexual adventure.

    What I could not have known, and yet what I am now most thankful for, is that this would be the last time in my life that I would wear male clothing. The suit, the starched shirt and tie, the proper Western business shoes, all of it – when they came off of my body that night, I never touched them or anything like them ever again.

    There in his room he seduced me. We stood by the window, the lights of Dubai twinking below, and he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. My clothes fell away. Deeply in his power, I did not object as he began to speak to me using feminine pronouns and delicious little possessive nicknames. I felt like a girl. He told me that I was a girl, to him. In comparison to him, I was truly female. It was all so overwhelming.

    In the twilight, he kissed me until I melted into his arms, then guided me to the bed and made love to me. For the first time in my life, someone made love to me. It was tender and loving, hot and passionate. He ruled my body. I accepted his authority over me, over and over again, whimpering into his shoulder has he took me, sobbing joyously as he had me on all fours, panting and begging for more as he had me on the bathroom countertop. Hours upon hours of serving him, pleasing him, offering myself to him, being taken again and again. He claimed every last ounce of my male-sex virginity, every bit of it. My head spun, thinking of how I had gone from not even mildly curious about sex with a man to becoming his insatiable pleasure toy.

    Night turned to day turned to night. He told me not to worry about the conference, about my return flight, about my former life. I was so deeply in his thrall. He kept my mind filled with new visions of femininity, of obedience, of opening myself to the light and truth of Islam. He kept my body wracked with pleasure, and he took his pleasure from my moaning, twisting, straining body, again and again, with great relish.

    Night turned to day again and only then did I notice that my clothes were gone. It was no matter. After bathing I covered myself in a beatiful caftan, feeling so desirable for the first time in my life. He supervised me, seeing that I dressed appropriately, and then others joined us in the suite, Arab men and women. They spoke in Arabic and I did not understand them. I merely sat in my chair, covered in my flowing and feminine caftan, gazing at him adoringly, still dizzy with pleasure. Later the women helped me with my makeup for the first time. He had simply cupped my chin, kissed me until I grew weak, and told me to accept it and obey his wishes. I did and was grateful.

    I have no idea how many days passed until I was once again outside the hotel room and in the sunlight. I was a new person. I was now a muslimah, glowing with femininity and obedience. My life now had purpose.


    Miss Victory Violet


    Vintage Femininity

    The perfect “sissy wife” dress is likely to be found among vintage clothing lines that feature 50′s and 60′s femininity.  Among the most feminine are those flared dresses made to be worn with petticoats, featuring a slim waistline that enhances the flared fullness of the dress/petticoat combination.

    Yes, they’re perfect for housework also. 


    The Revolution grows stronger day by day!

    More and more white males know what their place in the world is!

    To serve and submit as a feminised muslimah fag wife!

    Follow us in The Sexual Jihad!

    Convert to Islam and obey you Arab Masters!

    We are the future! The Final Solution for Mankind!


    First of all, that outfit is darling! So feminine and modest. You can just imagine how her man must approve of her!

    All of you inferior, femme Western males out there, just imagine how you would feel wrapped in clothes like that! What’s more, knowing that a strong Muslim Alpha Male has put you there, has stripped you of the vestigates of your unwanted masculinity, has feminized your mind and your smooth body to turn you into a pleasing and desirable muslimah wife!

    Just picture it! Oh, how wonderful it would be! A strong Muslim husband to guide and protect you, to serve and obey with your body as well as your mind, to keep you in chastity and in proper fashionable, modest clothing such as this!

    Follow your hearts, sissies and femme-males! The future lies in submission – not in the tawdry “submission” of your brutal and degrading pornographic fantasies, but in submission to superior Muslim Alpha Males.

    I desire to be forcibly feminized and converted to Islam by big bearded mature Muslim man. To become his wife and forever enclosed into hijab or niqab. I want to be confined to the home and made to do demeaning, domestic chores, only allowed outside with permission and accompanied by an escort. I want to be told my voice is awrah, and forbidden from speaking directly to men apart from my husband. I want to be constantly told that my being “just a woman” makes me an inferior and dooms me to a life of subservience. I want to be reminded frequently that I am now a Muslim woman, and must act as one. I want my rights and privileges taken away until I am nothing but a demure, helpless little Muslimah housewife.


    For all white sissyboys, faggots, girly creatures and want-to-be’rs!

    The Sisters of The Revolution have found their calling!

    We believe that weak white males should submit to Arab Masters!

    Convert to Islam and become obedient muslimah wifes!

    Living just to serve and obey!

    For a strong future for mankind!

    The Sexual Jihad!

    If you wish to join us, feel free to contact me or my Sisters Ameera and A’shadieeyah!

    If you wish to do so anonymously thats fine!

    Share your thoughts with us!

    We follow our hearts what we feel is The Right Way!

    Look inside yourself and reach out!

    We are ready!

    XOXOXOXO Sister Yasmine


    Oh, Sister Yasmine, that was so beautiful! <3

    xoxoxoxo Sister Ameera


    Sister Yasmine, I want to join, I want to convert to be part of a new world. I want to obey, I want to serve, I want to be a muslimah wife. XOXOXOXO Sister Hatice

    Be honest with yourself. Beneath your fear, your aversion, your hatred, there is a deep curiosity of what it would be like to be her. In truth, you passionately desire the object of your hatred, you are only obscured by your inhibitions and cultural conditioning. Abandon those inhibitions, overcome your fear, accept your desire clearly, embrace the veil and submit. Join her, become her.