Day Three.  Stoned.  Crossdressed.  Hypnotized.

There is a positive feedback loop at work here, but I can't wrap my brain around it.  Getting high makes me feel feminine.  Feeling femme makes me feel aroused and submissive.  

Already too hard to think.  Pleasantly so.  It might have something to do with that brownie that I ate 0:43 minutes ago.  

In the hetero-adult world of the daytime, I put such thoughts completely out of mind.  I can be straight and occupied and distracted, and feel like the person standing behind my eyes is some regular suburban dude.  

Then weed happens, and I feel a rush of softness, vulnerability and feminine craving, like some movie scene where the air rushes out of the space station, only to be replaced by some nefarious pink vapour.  Breathe it in at your peril!

Weed happens, then I am dressed as what I so clearly feel myself to be:  a slutty pink submissive sissy faggot transvestite. Then hypnosis happens.  Once I am mentally and physically prepared, some trigger is activated and I suddenly feel the intense need to be programmed.  I lay down on the couch, insert earbuds, there is something in my Dropbox...listen to the latest file.

Upon awakening, my body is writhing with repressed arousal.  I feel slutty and feminine and utterly blissful.  With a profoundly intense certitude, I suddenly just KNOW that I am transformed...I am a sissy faggot transvestite hypno-slave.  I must go deeper.  Submit.  Obey.

If this experience were a scalar, like a temperature or a pressure, it would be off the clock.  The experience, however, is most decidedly a vector, of spectacular magnitude, and direction aimed at the centroid of oneself.  It's a powerful force of inner insight, clarity, alignment.

Brownie+0:55 now.  Brain feels a bit like a pudding; all shimmery and soft.  The onslaught is just now occurring, the sudden landslide-like fluidity of my gender.  Was male, but *WHAM* under sudden weed-shock it's now something else.  This new gender is submissive, efeminite; a sissy.