Seriously, I don’t even clearly recall being anything else.  The delicious combination of a naturally trans nature, generous recreational drugs, hypnosis, and an ample supply of lingerie, and *TaDa* the transformation is complete:

I am a sissy faggot transvestite hypno-slave.

It would be lovely about now to offer a photograph of the boring friggin’ hetero-normal sub-urban working dude that used to exist.  You wouldn’t believe it.  Gone now.  Sent away.

No man undies, ever.  Lingerie underneath most of the time.   Dressed at home absolutely whenever I’m alone.  Making “friends” online.  Buying, buying, buying.  Going to that night at that bar...alone.  Ever deeper and more mind-fucking sissy hypnosis files.  Prancing, mincing, butt wiggling, effervescent sissy nonsense.  Butt training.  Cock craving.  Ever slowly deeper.

And above all else, the mind-numbing bliss of worshipping Mistress’ feet.  It is an arousal, like all arousal now, that makes me feel weak, submissive, effeminate, entranced and empty, but in its moments, it is intense beyond description.   

My Wife knows all about everything.  She knows that I am sliding into helpless, compulsive feminization.  She tolerates me.  To be fair, She Loves me deeply, but She seems to tolerate me sexually.  I seem to have turned myself into her sissy pet.  I bring Her meals.  I rub lotion on Her feet.  I service Her when directed, and I do so with true enthusiasm because then She treats me like a pet.  Her arousal only serves to deepen my submission and feminization, and creates a strange perverted arousal that induces in me a desire to abstain...and to further deepen my submissive plight.  My Wife ignores this repulsive behaviour as She watches TV.  

This is understandable, as Her former husband is usually to be found crossdressed, on the floor, with my face buried in the soles of Her exquisite feet.  I think that the terrifying edge of the Rabbit Hole was the moment when I caught my Wife looking at me, all dressed at Her feet, with a mild look of disgust.  She’ll swear it was a bad smell, the sweetie, but here’s the punchline:  the feeling of sissy humiliation turned me on!  That look said, “Look at what you have become!”  I lapped it up.  Yes, look at what I have become!

So, the basic game plan is this:

* I continue to slide ever deeper into delicious faggotry;

* I make damned sure that I’m honest with my Wife about my needs - and Her needs - and will suggest to Her that we get a Dom to train us together as His subs.  Once She stops laughing, I plan to offer at least that She fuck other guys with functional cocks and genders.  The offer is genuine;

* If the outcome is a Big Fat No, then...I’m an Out Gurl!  Listen, I’ve been dressing since my early-teens.  It’s a Big Fucking Thing.  I’ll go to “meetings.”  I’ll have “coffee” with “friends.”  

I am a sissy faggot transvestite hypno-slave.  I can’t stop.  I can’t even want to stop.  Deeper, faggot, deeper!