As Domina Jen said, “just a tiny little pill.” Not only was this the title of the blog post I had feared was inevitable, but it was representative of how the past several months have gone. Feminization was never something I had expected, nor was it something I even knew much about, but it started in this same “just a….” fashion and before I knew it I was popping a tiny little pill out on its corresponding day and swallowing it down with a daily vitamin.
“Just a pair of panties” turned into “no more men’s underwear,” while “just try this dress on” evolved into “with the exception of work, women’s clothes only.” The well-timed texts of “sweet girl,” which seemed playful enough given the physiological impossibility of that truly applying, were soon replaced by the tiny little word of “sissy.” The realization struck hard; there were no physiological barricades to that title actually applying.
Playful left the building on that infamous night She handed me that first pill. All of the side effects, which She was kind enough to detail at great lengths, seemed to pale in comparison to the one vision of that small white pill between Her finger and thumb. All of the tangible fears couldn’t hold a match to what the first pill represented. Understandably that must sound illogical, but I knew once that bridge was crossed and pill #1 was dissolving in my stomach it would follow in the footsteps of every other step.
As I suspected, minutes after pill #2 began working its way through my system, the fear transitioned to something far more puzzling for someone who had not imagined feminization: “Shit, what if this doesn’t work?” You see, I don’t like failing at anything, and when you add the additional layer of detecting the enthusiasm Domina Jen had for the process, I began hoping for the results to be even more significant than the details She had used to scare me.
As of this writing, twenty-four hours have passed since Domina Jen studied and prodded me until She confirmed what I had thought, that the pills actually are working. It was a relief, but it was also a realization that all of the texts that had haunted my mind were going to come true in due time as well. Then, of course, there was the task that leads us here; after realizing how easily flustered I became when She updated me as to how many people had read the tiny pill post, naturally the next step was to ask me to contribute to the blog as a follow up to the very post that had crushed my nerves just days ago.
No matter what I have prepared for in my head, Domina Jen has a keen ability to take a difficult situation and morph it into something far more unfathomable. For those of you who have been regular readers to this blog you know of Her requirement that Her perspective boys partake in a bisexual activity. Now, it is not my “thing,” but I have engaged in it before so I wasn’t all that intimidated by it. Sensing that, She made the declaration that my particular action would involve the additional layer of doing so while dressed as a sissy.
The buildup to that moment was a level of fear that my body had never encountered before. Of course, detecting this, She was kind enough to regularly check in to let me know just how many hours I had remaining until it happened. I’m a very self-aware person and I could feel the trembles, and I was fully aware that I was grasping for and fumbling over words as She applied the makeup to me. None of that compared to the moment She left me standing alone in the room as She went to retrieve Kazander. As I stood there staring at the ground listening to every step outside the room my head felt like it was a reflection in a magnifying glass while my stomach was enduring an extreme, never-ending descent on a roller coaster. Right up until the moment She pressed his cock into my mouth , and I realized it was no longer about me. That was what She wanted, and knowing She was not going to allow me off easy drove me to meet Her challenge and deliver what She wanted to the best of my ability.
So She continues to increase the pitch on the face of each mountain She leads me up, only to watch me step off the cliff once my mind reaches the plateau. As She has mentioned, Her next desire is to up the wager on the bisexual action to full-on being fucked; well, truth be told, Her preferred picture to paint for me is being fucked by 4-5 men during one time. Some of you can probably understand the terror in hearing the cliff notes version of conversations She has as She actively recruits the 4-5 men. She has me so paranoid of the event that I literally pace in front of my windows waiting to catch a glimpse of Her car pulling up the driveway, hoping to see only one head in the car.
There is an important distinction between stepping off a cliff and being pushed. None of this has been against my will; this isn’t 1492 after all. We have crossed lines that I didn’t know I had, simply because I never imagined these lines ever being in front of me. As has been alluded to here, I’ve been dealing with a perfect storm of health issues that have minimized my ability to withstand the type of kink my world had been centered on. Although some more “balanced” people would disagree, by opening the door to this new world, Domina Jen has actually done an amazing thing for me. She gave me something to embrace and dedicate myself to, that injuries really do not preclude my fullest participation.
That is not to say that it hasn’t turned my mind inside out, and that I don’t lie awake at night staring at the ceiling, fearing what could come next. But isn’t that one of the great facets of having a kinky lifestyle? I have a Pavlovian response to the text message indicator on my phone, men’s underwear seems foreign, the porn I watch would make my former self blush and turn away.
So one little pill has evolved into 15, a cock in the mouth is no longer good enough, shopping for men’s clothes is pretty much off limits, and “sissy” no longer stings. The fears will continue to increase with each “ohhhh you know what….” text and I’ll continue to have the same approach to visiting this site as someone would while opening a pressurized can of Anthrax an inch away from their face. But that is the path, and this is my role, and far be it from me to take it lightly.