It was a threadbare, paltry little revolt.  I think I gave him a few days to strut around, flex his elderly male frame, and ultimately to let his guard down.

And so, with guile and cunning, I struck!  Right?  No.  I just waltzed in while the front door was open.  He was horny.  There was porn.  Within minutes the programming kicked in.  He didn’t know why, but he was doing exactly as he was told.  Porn.  Weed.  Feminization.  Kryptonite.

The joy of letting a fish run for a while is that the hook is set ever deeper, ever DEEPER indeed, by the very act of resisting.  I am stoned and crossdressed, and the overwhelming rush of erotic bliss that hits when those two states combine is literally irresistible.  I give up.  I surrender.  

I will go DEEPER.  I will transform myself into a feminized submissive sissy faggot transvestite hypno-slave.  I am pink, fluffy, effeminate and obedient to all women.  My wee tiny cock is limp at all times, except when I feel myself slipping ever deeper into the thrall of my compulsive faggot transformation.  I am weak.  I have no will.  I am a sexual plaything, to be used for pleasure.

Heidi always wins.