When I get the call, I obey.  There is no sense making a fuss, feigning resistance or trying to create a distraction.  The call becomes very insistent, and when obedience is not forthcoming, it can result in the visitation of much petulant mayhem upon one's life.  

Yesterday I got the call.  Wife and I had spent a very nice weekend in varying states of horny and stoned.  It was lovely, but owing to the effects of the weed, I was as horny on Monday as I had been all weekend.  So, Wife and I prepared for work, packed lunches, and kissed on the cheek.  Cars were started, just like every day.  I pulled out of the driveway, let her disappear at the light, then I turned about and parked back in the driveway.

I took one 50 mg hedgehog and a 40 mg THC cap; same as today.  I sat down to organize my toys, same as today.  Then, after about an hour, a tidal wave of arousal broke over my head.  A particular novelty was my out-of-nowhere contention that I had been programmed to experience weed as hypnotic trance.  Perhaps it was in a hypno file.  Perhaps I made it up.  I don't know, but the effect was gently and compelling and oh, so very erotic.  I just felt slowly consumed by the knowledge of what I needed to do.  

I dressed in all red lingerie with the red spotted strappy pumps.  Coming down the stairs felt like floating onto the set of my own personal sissy porn movie.   It was eye-rolling, hand-shaking, knee-wobbling heaven!  I followed up with a vape, then some oil (a bit more than half the size of a grain of rice, I must admit).  Several doses of oil.  

Much of the day, I was a senseless blob of lingerie and arousal.  Shattered.  Brain dead.  Feminized.  Utterly submissive.  It was delicious!

There came a point, passing 17:00ish, when I realized that I wouldn't be passable as straight when Wife was due to return after 20:00.  I think the realization arrived with a deranged peel of laughter, some manic arm waving,  and a bit of mindless pillow humping.  I wasn't much better when she walked in.

Wife is simply awesome.  She looked at me - clad once again as a boy, albeit reluctantly - and she started to laugh.  She was gentle and caring, and found my predicament very droll.  Even this morning, she found my residual mental infirmaty very funny.  In fact, she was very supportive of the suggestion that I take a sick day off to recover.  Her only admonition was, "No funny business for you today, okay?"  I hastily nodded agreement.

It has been 47 minutes since I took an edible dose large enough to stagger a donkey.  It is intensely erotic to be a human time bomb (Apologies to the NSA if this blog post causes any inconvenience or additional work.  References to "time bomb" are intended merely for aesthetic value, and should not be allowed to infer any intent beyond the literary.) waiting for the sudden overwhelming release of pure hot feminine arousal.  It seems that the onset is delays, and rendered somewhat more sudden, when I take pains to stay focused and active.  Sitting and waiting is counterproductive.

Writing this post, for example, garters, stockings, panties and bra.  Elapsed time 0:53 minutes, and suddenly *pop* my head is immersed in Pink Fog.  High heels, lipstick, corset.  Feeling femms movements invade my hands, my legs.  Waves washing in and out, each wave reaching higher.  They say that a man can be washed away in ankle deep water, and the image lingers as I feel awash in feminizing energies that threaten to take me away.  Stark contrast to drowning, the prospect of utter immersion in feminization feels good, delicious, necessary.  Victim alloyed with accomplice.  

Weed equals trance.  Must obey.  Must...

dress

submit to hypnosis brainwashing

go deeper into submission

become a mindless sissy faggot transvestite cock sucker hypno-slave.

/H