Oh, Gawd, I just realized that the title above is a Bambi trigger.  Shit.  

I may need a minute.

There.  That’s better.

It’s May 1’st; half-way through my week of Bambi.  So, how is it going?

Well, I feel blissed out and at ease.  There have been no spooky hypno moments, if you don’t count the freezing, or the chanting on my knees, or those moments when I dance around the house like a feminized slut with the conscious knowledge that I cannot stop myself.  And the near total amnesia.  Other than that, nothin’.

I have been trancing on average about three times per day, and it leaves me very spaced out and horny.  Very horny.  Constantly horny in a way that seems almost invasive.  If I were thinking anything, it might bother me, but I’m simply blank.  Blank and horny.  NEED more.  CRAVE deeper.  It’s an itch I can’t scratch; a craving that feeds on itself.

New desires are bubbling out of me:  I need to dress in public, I need to submit, I need to be a sex slave, I need to be hypnotized in public.  Don’t even get me started on COCK.  Ideas that make me very aroused:  my Wife being seduced and fucked, being made to dress and perform for others, being maid to my Wife and her lover(s), giving myself to a tranny party as a plaything.  All of these desires are either new or in a new emotional technicolor that is breathtaking.  In short, I’m in deep!  Body and mind are both enslaved.

I woke up this morning after at least five consecutive days of being stoned, dressed and tranced.  Yesterday, having run out of ‘supplies,’ I took the boat to the mainland.  Under my boi clothes I was dressed in a corset and stockings, with a light trace of eye makeup, and wearing my breast forms under my sweater.  I bought more, um, supplies, then came straight home to trance.  From somewhere I got the idea that I should remove my sweater and drive home in corset.  I applied lipstick in the car mirror, just to add a bit more risk.  It was a lovely day.  I missed it.

I was out of bed - in uniform - at 06:00.  Gently stoned and blissed out on porn:  06:10.  It’s now 09:20.  I have needed fresh air and exercise for days, but I just keep falling into uniform when I step out of the shower.  Planning otherwise doesn’t seem to help.  I faintly recall at least two or three instances where I froze this morning, muttered something to myself aloud, felt a rush of arousal, and then my brain restarted.  

I just finished my coffee.  It’s time for a shower.  The Old Self would get into jeans, do some yard work and read a book.  There is no doubt that is what I ‘should’ do.  Bambi, on the other hand, will rummage through my femme clothes, assemble a sexy, tight, slinky uniform du jour, and leave it beside the shower, just in case she wants to dress.  Then, once dolled up and suitably pacified, the obedient little sissy bimbo will lay down on the bed, insert her earbuds, and hit PLAY...

I can safely guess what is about to happen now.  It feels delicious.

/H