Hi.  My name is Heidi and I'm a sissy faggot cock sucker mind-fucked transvestite hypno slave.

That felt good.

Welcome to my blog.  I've written numerous entries to the blog, and for a variety of reasons i have deleted almost all of the previous entries.  Like my prior purging, it's a wasted effort best relegated to the heterosexual past.

Let's see...it's 01:30 AM.  I'm dressed in purple stay-ups, black panties, black pumps and a nice constricting corset.  I look like a fuck toy.  I feel like a fuck toy.  I couldn't sleep.  My wife and I went to bed at a respectable hour, but neither of us could sleep.  I'm not sure what kept her up, but my insomnia is due to an acute case of Pink Fog.  In fact, I'm so deep in the Pink Fog that when my wife arose to use the bathroom I slipped on this nice pair of purple stockings.  She came back to bed.  We snuggled.  She asked me what was keeping me awake.  I took her hand and ran it along my nylon-covered thighs.

"Ah," she said.  "Horny are you?  What colour?"

"Purple."

"Nice," she said dreamily, and slipped off to sleep.

Now I'm awake, and deep in that form state of relentless arousal that consumes a sissy from the inside.  My hands are almost shaking.  My head is buzzing.  I ate a pot cookie.  It hasn't hit me yet, but I'll wake up stoned, and I already know how that will effect me.  I will crave to go deeper into feminization.  It's all I can think about.  

My plan - to the extent that any of this is premeditated, or even subject to my conscious control - is to let me wife know exactly what I'll be doing tomorrow:  dressing like a sissy slut, getting high as fuck, and dosing myself repeatedly with feminization hypnosis files as I lay on the couch in a state of sissy euphoria.  My plan is to utterly drown myself in sissy cravings; leaving a mind completely broken and open to deeper feminization.  Yup, that's the plan.  I'd say my odds are damn good.

Let's further bring things up to date.  Several months ago I told my wife all about my "crossdressing habit."  In fact, my lifelong secret sort of spilled out of my during a weed-enhanced episode of sex.  It seems that risking telling her became a sort of erotic thrill seeking adventure.  I took to dropping hints to her for an erotic zing, and on that particular night I was so high that it spilled out.  We talked.  She's okay with it.  I can't express the love and gratitude that I feel for that woman, knowing that she is prepared to love and accept me as I am.  It was a risk, but I'm glad I told her.  I trusted my partner with my erotic heart, and she earned that trust completely.  I'm proud.

About a month ago I felt the odd need to show her my Tumblr page, Deep in the Pink Fog.  I guess that urge arose because after I told my wife about my dressing I began to stash erotic images and fantasy ideas on the site, complete with little captions and comments for her attention.  Perhaps I was secretly hoping that she would troll through my browser history and find the page with its little comments for her, but she's too trusting.  So, subtlety be damned.  I sat her down and showed her.

The Tumblr site has a lot of pictures of elaborately dressed sissies giving service to their Mistress' strapon.  Clearly I was making a suggestion.  She simply said, "let's go shopping."  Have I mentioned that I love her?  The next day was a sissy dream come true.  We went shopping!  We bought me lingerie, high heels, dresses, cosmetics...I floated in a dream.  Oh, and we bought a very impressive strapon cock for her.  That night we got stoned, she dressed me, did my makeup, and then she fucked me gently.  I was in heaven.

Which brings us to the present, more or less.  We've played dress-up sex a few times since then.  It's utterly addictive.  Now that my secret is out, I have no reason to hide, and to my astonishment, no residual reason to resist.  The cat is out of the bag.  Now  that I've even been dressed in front of my wife, the whoe experience is somewhat "normalized" for both of us; however, it has done nothing to dampen the erotic power of the experience for me.  Suddenly I can dress whenever I want.  I can utterly indulge a craving that was a closely guarded secret for decades.  It has taken over.  Exploded.  

I'm broken.  Not malfunctioning, but rather "broken" in the sense that they describe teaching a horse to take the bridle.  Broken.  Admittedly, I was never quite "normal."  Even as a teen I had a mysterious urge to wear pantihose.  I dreamed about being hypnotized by clever temptresses in high heels.  Nevertheless, I was normal.  I drank beer with the guys.  I read books.  I jogged, God forbid.  My (ex-)wife and I had occassional missionary sex.  On special occassions she would wear lingerie for me with an evident look of disgust on her face.  Woo hoo!  Lucky me.

Then...the Internet.  (A comment which should suffice to estimate my age.)  I think I was still learning how to use the newfangled mouse when I clicked up a picture of a transvestite.  I can still see it:  she wore a red neglige, red garters and stockings and a sexy pair of strappy heels.  Her makeup and hair were perfect.  I was transfixed.  I could tell it was a guy, sort of, but she exhibited every form of sexiness that I could imagine.  Some long dormant feelings stirred within me.  

Before long I was standing in front of hotel mirrors, dressed as a sexy tranny slut, and feeling rocked by alternating convulsions of arousal and submission. I called her, "Heidi."  I didn't know where the urge came from, and didn't understand what was happening.  I was on erotic autopilot.  

That was Strike One.

Online hypnosis is a mixed bag.  Most of it is gawdawful, consisting of techno music and flashing images of cocks with the word "suck" written over top.  Some of it, however, is real clinical hypnosis.  It took me a while to find the good stuff:  Isabella Valentine, Jenny DeMilo, Mistress Amethyst.  The very idea of hypnosis always resonated with me erotically.  The prospect of sissification/feminization hypnosis was kryponite!  My dabbling turned into a recurrent craving.  The experience always felt great, and left me feeling calm and centered.  What was not to like?  I never barked like a chicken, or found myself doing anything overtly "hypnotized."  Mainly, the files seemed to suggest things that were pleasant to imagine, but I didn't think that they were actually transformative in any sense.  (In the movie version of this blog, ominous music will play in a minor key to foreshadow my discovery of how fucking wrong I was.)

When circumstances allowed, being dressed and tranced was a particular thrill.  

That was Strike Two.

One of my wife's friends does weed.  I hadn't done any in years, but one day I made an offhand comment that maybe we should get some.  We smoked a joint.  We had incredible sex.  No, Incredible Sex.  Weed is a huge erotic amplifier to me, and apparently to my wife.  Probably others too.  I'm just guessing here.  

Then one day a wee lonely synapse in my brain went *SNAP*, and I thought that dressing and getting high would be nice. I think I also imagined that I'd perhaps listen to a hypno file while dressed and high.

OH MY GOD!

Strike Three!

In retrospect, that was the day that my mind broke.  The depth and intensity of that arousal was an erotic lightning strike to the frontal lobes.  Indescribable; an endless entirely mental orgasm that instantly short circuited every part of my mind not directly responsible for GETTING DRESSED, STONED AND HYPNOTIZED.  Need.  Crave.  Overwhelmed.  Transformed.  Programmed...by the fucking feminization files to which I had been listening!  Too late, I realized that it was classical conditioning.  I quickly began to associate the intense feelings of arousal with the images conveyed in the hypnosis files.  Dressed, stoned, hypnotized...and *ZAP* a orgasm in the mind that seems to last forever and reaches truly epic intensity.  I didn't stand a chance.  

That's what lead me to buying a weed vaporizer.  That's why I ceased purging and ordered a bunch of new slut clothes online.  That's why I ended up telling my wife, and why I now have an entire closet of high heels, dresses and lingerie.  That's why I'm sitting in my living room at 02:15 AM, dressed like a fuck doll.  That's why I shall spend tomorrow (defined now as four hours hence) in a state of submissive feminized stoned tranced bliss.  I will embrace it.

Deeper.  I must go deeper.  

I saw a sissy caption on Imagefap recently.  A sexy crossdresser was staring vacantly at a computer screen.  The caption read, "Your sissy cravings are making you dumber every day, and you don't even care anymore."  Nope.  I no longer have the will to resist.  It started with shy glimpses at tranny porn.  It ends with my complete surrender to submissive sissy faggot cock addiction.  I'm just watching the headlights getting closer, brighter, bigger.  

I am a sissy faggot mind-fucked cock sucker transvestite hypno slave.

/Heidi