From the other side

This is a guest post written by a trans man who wishes to remain anonymous.  For purposes of discussion, he goes by Omega.

I’ll keep the history short.  We all have different stories, but at the heart of them, they’re all the same.  Our entire lives, we knew something wasn’t right.  We knew something was off.

But I’d learned to live with the Off.  I’d accepted it as part of me.  The bitterness I felt at having the wrong body was the thing I assumed all women felt.  Some hate their thighs, some hate their breasts, some hate their hips or their stomach or their calves or their shoulders.

I hated….

Well, I didn’t really hate it.  Not once I became an adult, anyway.

The woman I was outside was the Off, but she had her uses.  I’d learned how to work with her, how to use her to get what I needed.

And she’s a tough bitch.  She knew how to protect me when I needed it.  She covered me up, she built walls around me to keep out those who would hurt me.

She’s stronger than anyone else I’ve ever met.  And she’s tireless.  A warrior.

Because she’d lived in this world as a woman, and I never really understood what that meant until I set her aside and entered the world as a man.

The things she’s endured, the things she’s dealt with…

There’s honestly no way to comprehend it without living it.

I respect her.  I admire her.  I resent her for existing.  I resent the fact that I needed her for so long.  I resent the fact that I still do.

Because it wasn’t until I was able to pass as a man that I realized just how strong she was.  How strong she was forced to be.

I took advantage of her; I used her.

Because I never knew what it meant to be her.

The truth, the pure and objective truth, is that sexism is alive, and male privilege is depressingly real.

She noticed it before I did.

Because it was subtle at first.  There was so much else going on, I didn’t notice it.  I was too worried about things like going to the public restroom.  But she noticed it.

It devastated me again to realize it.

People speak to me differently than they did to her.  They look at me differently.  They react to me differently.  Cashiers, waiters, car mechanics, the postman, employers, employees, the entire world sees me differently than they saw her.

The amount of respect strangers unthinkingly show me is different than the respect they showed her.  The level of competence people assume I have is different than the level they assume she had.  The way they accommodate me is different than the way they accommodated her.

It’s not everyone, and it’s not every situation, but it’s consistent enough to be a pattern, and the pattern holds true.

I realized how hard she is.  How hard she needed to be.

I realized just how much of the anxiety and dislike of myself wasn’t due to anxiety or depression, but from the way people saw me, the way they treated me.

It’s so unfair, what she had to go through to protect me, the way the entire world shrugged her off as having less worth.  The car mechanics who scoffed at her, the computer and technical repairmen who ignored her, the plumbers and electricians who walked into her home and blatantly disrespected her, the way doctors shrugged her off, the demeaning comments from any man who disagreed with her, the way everyone subconsciously belittled her.

I never even realized it until it suddenly wasn’t there anymore.  I look back on my childhood, on my adolescence, on my young adulthood, and realize that I had been a victim of sexism all my life.

Even she didn’t know the full extent of it.  Not until she saw the difference in the way I’m treated now.

For a long time, I hated her.  I hated her because she wasn’t me, because to me, she represented every lie I had to tell, every secret I had to keep, every part of myself I couldn’t acknowledge.  She was everything about myself I hated.  She was everything about myself that was off.

Now, I realize that she’s the strongest part of me.  Because she had to be.  She had to learn to stand tall when people scoffed at her, when people shrugged her off and dismissed her, when they belittled her, when they told her she was worth less than I am.

She learned how to stand up against those who felt entitled to her body, she learned how to let go and not let their touch haunt her the way it haunted me.  She learned how to protect us from those who saw us as nothing but an object to fuck.  From those who grabbed her on the street, those who sneered at her, who leered at her, who tried to break her.  She learned how to protect us from those who wanted to pull her down and destroy her, from those who wanted to make her less than human.

She learned how to be hard, how to be defiant, how to prove them wrong.  She was everything that was off about me, but she was my protector in a world that hated me not just because I was trans, but because my voice was high and my body was feminine.

And she’s far from the only one.  So many women go through worse than I did.  So many women hurt worse than I did.  I was lucky.  And I’m lucky in that I don’t have to deal with it anymore.

I never truly appreciated the constant battles she had to fight until I didn’t have to fight them anymore.  I never appreciated the strength it took to be her until I saw how much easier it is to be me in our society.

I’ve only been reliably passing as male for a year or so.  I’m still learning who I am outside of her.  And she’s still there to jump to my defense when I need it, because she grew up in a harder world than I live in.

I will always admire the strength it takes to be her, to be every woman.  Even they don’t realize how hard it is to be them, and that makes me angry.

These women have fought these battles every day.

Not against everyone, but against enough.

At least once a day, they are somehow, someway told that they are worth less than men.  But they keep going.  They keep fighting.  They learn how to get past it.

They don’t realize their own strength.  Just as she didn’t realize her own strength.  She didn’t realize what it took to live through a normal life as a woman until she saw how much easier it is to live a normal life as a man.

She resents that.  And so do I.  All the insecurity, all the doubt, all the pain of feeling not good enough, she thought there was something wrong with her.

But no, she was perfect.  She wasn’t me, but she was perfect.  It was society that let her down.  Not any fault or shortcoming of her own.

No man will ever understand the strength it takes to be a woman in a world where women are worth less.  No man will understand the strength it takes to be a woman in a world where no one wants to acknowledge the battles they still fight.

Where people pretend it doesn’t exist.  Where they shrug off a woman, where they brush off her battles.

Women can vote and have bank accounts.  What else could they possibly want?  Why can’t they stop whining?

It repulses me.  It makes me want to turn from the world.

But she’s not heartless.  Because, while I wanted to hate every man for what she went through, while I wanted to sneer at the little trials they thought were just so hard, she was the one who stopped me.

She reminded me that pain is not exclusive to women.  She reminded me of the good men who do fight for women.

She reminded me of the women in my life that I admire.  Women like Domina Jen, who are unbelievably strong, who will never understand the true extent of their own strength, who don’t need anyone to hold them up, but who graciously love and respect the good men in their lives.

But even that a battle in and of itself.

Domina Jen made a mistake once.  She let me see the contents of her email inbox.  And that brought on a whole new wave of bitterness.

Because I will never again have to deal with what she deals with.  The things she considers normal, the threats and the insults that she and everyone around her dismiss, the nonchalance people who love her feel at the way she’s treated, even her own simple, graceful shrug, saying, “That’s just the way it is.”

It infuriated me.  Because it’s not fair.  And who is going to stand up for her?  Who is going to fight for her?  Who is going to let her lean on them the way I could lean on her?

Who could she lean on when the weight of holding me up got to be too much?

No one.

And the internet is only one small facet, one small glimpse of what it’s like to walk through life like this.

A constant and cruel punishment for the unforgivable crime of having a high voice and feminine body.

No man fully understands what paying for that crime feels like, and how deeply it hurts to be met with the dismissive, apathetic attitude so many men exhibit.

Because they don’t want to see it.  They are uncomfortable with being confronted by it.  They are uncomfortable realizing how much harder things like going to the bank or getting your oil changed or running a business are for women.

There’s no rest for these women.  I escaped it, and seeing it from the outside made me realize how bad it really is.  But for the rest, there’s no escape.

I wanted to be angry forever.  I wanted to lose myself in my anger.  And even Domina Jen couldn’t snap me out of it.

But she could.

She was the one who reminded me what it feels like to love a good man.  She was the one to remind me what it feels like to have a good man love me.

She kept me from getting cold.  She kept me from letting the bitterness consume me.

The same way she kept me from letting the bitterness consume me when she had to be my mask.

I know that one day, I won’t need her anymore.  I’ll be able to put her in a little box, close it, and lock it forever.  I’ll be able to leave her behind and move ahead as me.

But that box will always be close to my heart.  Because she saved me, every moment of every day, and she will continue to save me right up until the moment I don’t need her anymore.

It’s isolating, seeing the world from both sides, and it’s why I have gravitated to other trans people.  Because I’m not the only one who sees it.  All trans men see this.

Trans women see the reverse, and my heart hurts for them.  Because they have no way of understanding this world they’re coming in to until they walk into it.

Because transitioning is awful enough, it is anxiety-inducing and depressing enough, without having to come to terms with this new reality.  Having to understand that being true to who they are means that the world will forever see them as less than their mask.

It makes me cynical, but she won’t let me lose all hope.  She stubbornly hangs on, reminding me that giving up never made anything better.

One day, it will be better.  I have faith in good people.  I have faith that good people won’t give up.

I have faith because I know that she isn’t the only fighter around.

Babies lower libido

Jen,

You mentioned your kid having an impact on your sex life and I was wondering if you could help me with a bit of an issue with me and my wife.

We both identify as switches and our play often encompasses a wide spectrum of different kinds of power dynamics.  Most people don’t get it but we’ve been together almost five years and it’s always worked great for us.

Six months ago we had a baby.  Our first.  And I couldn’t be happier.

But my wife’s sex drive tanked after she had the baby.  It still hasn’t come back even a little bit.  And nothing I do seems to help.  I’ve been taking on more and more of a Dominant role hoping to get interest and it really hasn’t worked.  About half the time she just isn’t interested at all.  The other half she’ll engage but the play is always really short and just sort of bland.

We’re definitely in a rut.  I don’t want to pressure her or anything.  I know she has a lot on her plate but I just don’t know how best to help her.  Any advice you may have would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you in advance.

Oh, dear.

Well, I don’t know your wife, so I can only speak for myself, but you’re not going to like my answer.  Hell, even I don’t like my answer.

And the answer is…..

There ain’t shit you can do but wait it out.

After I had the kid, my libido outright disappeared.  From what I understand of other women’s experiences, that’s relatively normal.

Because think about it.  Take away the physical crap, and the fact that it takes months to feel yourself again physically, but let’s just look at the hormonal stuff.

Because hormones play a pretty big role in libido.

For months, her body was affected by the baby.  And most guys don’t really get just how much the baby affects the mother.  I mean, a lot of people have heard that if the mother is injured or sick, the fetus will send stem cells to the affected area of her body (this is horrendously oversimplified, btw, but that’s the gist of it), but that’s just one thing, and that doesn’t really affect her in the day-to-day.

She’s literally got foreign DNA in her body.  The body, as a general rule, doesn’t like foreign shit in it.  Which is why rejection is such a big deal for organs or implants or literally anything put in it that was not in it when we were born.

Of course we have progesterone to help deal with that, but the higher amounts of hormones in our bodies, coupled with the hormones produced by the fetus, is a big burden.

Over 9 months, those hormones build and fluctuate as needed.  It’s a gradual thing, and it adjusts depending on how far along the pregnancy is and a number of other things.

But then, she has the baby, and it’s the sudden absence of the baby’s hormones, plus the more or less sudden cessation of the production of her hormones, and just as it took months for the hormones to build and help her body normalize while she was pregnant, it’s going to take months for her to adjust now that the baby is born and go back to normal levels.

There’s nothing you, or she, or anyone can do about it.  There does not exist a quick pill she can pop, there does not exist a sex therapist or psychiatrist or whatever who can fix her hormones.

I know what she’s feeling right now.  Pretty much every woman who’s had a kid knows what your wife is feeling now.  It’s not great.

Because we’re not idiots, and neither is your wife.  We know that there’s something off, we know that we have no libido, we know that our partner isn’t happy with what’s going on, and we know that there’s nothing we can do about it.

What sucked sweaty, hairy rhinoceros balls was how long it took for my libido to come back.  Granted, there were a couple of other things that contributed (one or two of which I’ll get into here), but it was a good solid year, maybe even a year and a half, before my libido started getting back to normal.

Don’t want to wait that long?  Tough.

Well, there may be some things you can do.  But I make no promises.

First of all, stop trying to get her interested.  Stop it.  Just stop.

Sex is not a part of your life right now.  At all.  Just accept it and move on.

Why?  I’m happy to tell you why.

Because she knows that you’re unhappy, she knows that she’s letting you down, and every time you mention it, every time you come on to her and her stomach turns (because yeah, no matter how hot you are, no matter how much she loves you, that’s about the reaction), and she’s faced with the decision whether to fake it to satisfy you or to be honest and let you down again, it’s going to be a step backward, and it’s going to put her in a bad mood, and it’s going to take longer for her libido to come back.

Because right now, on a subconscious level, she sees sex as a negative thing, because of all the baggage that’s attached to it right now.  Because every time you try to engage her, she feels hugely pressured, and it’s just another reminder that she’s not herself and it’s almost like her body is betraying her.

She feels pressured to be the person she used to be, when she’s still trying to figure out how to live in her new body.  It’s an unnerving and uncomfortable experience, and it lasts months.  The more pressured she feels to be who you want her to be, the longer it’ll take for her to feel normal again.

You want to help her?  Take the pressure off of her.  Stop focusing on the sex.  It sucks that you’ll have to do without, and I get the impression that you’re monogamous, so going outside the marriage isn’t an option (*note* if you are monogamous, do NOT broach the subject of opening the marriage right now.  Yeah, she might be open to the idea, but more likely she’ll be hurt.  This is temporary.  You can go without sex for a couple months.  You’ll live, I promise).

Once she feels relief from that constant pressure and negativity associated with disappointing you, she should be able to turn her focus to herself, and figuring out her new “normal.”  The sooner she can do that, the sooner her libido will rise.

And help out around the house more.  Changing dirty diapers and waking up at 2 am to the sound of a crying hungry baby doesn’t turn anyone on, okay?

I don’t know if she works or stays home, but regardless, it’s exhausting.  And I don’t know how active you are as a parent, but just statistically speaking, mothers do most of the work.  They also do most of the housework.  If your wife is working, she’s got to do all of that with holding down her job.

If she’s not working, then most of the time she doesn’t even get to interact with another adult until you get home.  She has no escape.  She has no breaks.  She has no sick days.  She can’t ever step away.

She feels that pressure weighing down on her, and she resents the baby, she resents you, and she hates herself because a “good mother” wouldn’t feel what she feels.

I flat out hated Kazander for the first 5 or 6 months after the spawn was born.  He could get up every morning and go to work, and have discussions with grown ups, and for the first couple months I was breastfeeding, so I couldn’t drink, I couldn’t go anywhere without a pump, I couldn’t leave her with a sitter for an evening and just get out and relax, I couldn’t get a break.

And then of course I hated myself for hating him, and for resenting the spawn.  I knew I was being ridiculous for blaming him for everything (even though he’s the one who wanted her, while I was leaning toward adoption).  I knew intellectually that millions of women feel what I felt, and that it was okay, and it’s normal, and temporary, and everything would eventually be fine.

Intellectually, I knew all that.  It didn’t help me in the moment, though.

Working mothers also deal with guilt from a different place.  Because after maternity leave, they struggle with leaving the baby to go back to work.  Because if they breastfeed, they have to work pumping into their work day.  And there are a number of moms I knew who worked and breastfed, and particularly for those who had male bosses, there was always that fear that eventually the boss would decide accommodating her pump schedule was just too inconvenient.

I know a woman who works as a private secretary who would literally pump in the car, while she was driving, doing errands, so her boss wouldn’t decide it was too inconvenient.

Of course, in her case, her boss found out what she was doing and immediately put a stop to it, and firmly let her know that there was never any errand he needed her to run, there was never anything he needed her to do that could not wait twenty minutes.  She only had to pump once each shift anyway, so she had nothing to worry about.

And I’d go out on a limb and say that the vast, vast majority of male employers are the same way.  People generally aren’t assholes.  Chances are there’s nothing to worry about.  But there’s still that tiny nagging fear.

Many working mothers also feel guilty for leaving home.  They struggle with missing their kid, and missing such a big chunk of their kid’s day.

I mean, regardless of whether your wife works or stays home, it sucks.  She deals with all of that, all day, every day, and then she comes home and cooks, cleans, and takes care of the baby, and even without hormonal imbalances, it’s no surprise she has no libido.

So it sucks for you, in that you’ll have to just do without for awhile, but if you can suck it up and wait it out, and help alleviate some of that pressure, you’ll be able to cut down at least some of the time you’ll have to wait before her libido returns to normal.

And trust me, she’ll see the effort you’re putting in, she’ll see how you’re working to help her, and she’s not going to forget it.

Obedience revisited

So I’ve had a few conversations over the last few weeks on the concept of obedience.  And with my last story, more than one person was surprised at the level of obedience in the sub.

A fellow Domme even scoffed at the idea of a sub being that obedient when it’s something he doesn’t want to do.

… Um, what?

There are subs who don’t obey their Owners?  There are Dominants who don’t expect their subs to obey them?

Is this actually a thing?

Maybe I’m just weird, but obedience is kind of a big deal with me.  Like, that’s one of the biggest requirements I have.

I expect to be obeyed.  If I don’t have complete confidence in being obeyed, I’m not interested.

Sounder expressed similar sentiments when I told him about it.

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One of the many reasons I adore him.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what I expect from my subs.  And what I think all subs who are not at this point should aspire to.

Does that mean you can’t have limits?  Of course not.  Sounder has limits.  Star has limits.  And both of their limits are absolutely respected, without question.

Does it mean you have to obey a command that is dangerous or illegal or something that you can’t or shouldn’t obey for whatever reason?  Of course not.

There’s a difference between obedience and mindless obedience.  I don’t want mindless obedience, or mindless anything.

My subs have incredible minds and wonderful personalities.  I don’t want to take that away from them.  They’re strong people, I wouldn’t be able to take that away from them if I tried.

If there’s a reason why they can’t or shouldn’t obey me, they tell me.

But “I don’t wanna” is not a good enough reason, folks.

If there’s a reason they can’t or shouldn’t obey me, they need a better reason than “I don’t feel like it.”

For example, if I show up at Sounder’s house after work tomorrow with a man, and tell him to get on his knees so the man could use his mouth, it’s pretty safe to assume he’s not going to want to do it.

But he’s going to do it.

Now, if there’s a reason why he can’t do it, or he shouldn’t do it, that’s a different story.  Maybe he just had dental surgery.  Maybe he’s had migraines all day.  Maybe he’s got the flu.  Maybe his mom is on her way over to his house to have dinner right at that moment.  Maybe he has to be at a work dinner in 30 minutes, and he just came home to change.

I mean, there are a million legitimate reasons why he can’t or shouldn’t obey that command.  And of course he should tell me if there’s anything like that.

Another example was this past Monday, when I went to his house.  I’d told him I wanted us to go to the salon and get pedicures, because he’s eventually going to go dressed as a girl, and we’ll have a girls’ day at the spa.

But because I’m nice, I told him he can wear his boy costume the first time.  And I told him we were going to go on Monday when I got there, and then we’d go back to his house, he’d get out of his boy costume, and we’d do other fun things.

And he immediately tensed up about it.  After explaining his reasons, I asked him if it was a hard limit.  He said no, it wasn’t, but with everything else happening that night, the added stress of a situation he wasn’t comfortable with, coupled with the time it takes him to get dressed up and beautiful for me, would be an edgy, negative kind of stress that could impact the evening.

Which was a really good point.  There was going to be enough else to make him anxious and nervous, and I didn’t want him tense and anxious, so I dropped it, and told him we’ll do it another night.

Easy enough.

Now tact matters.  How you say it matters.  Had Sounder just flat-out told me no, I wouldn’t have been super pleased.  He didn’t tell me no, and he didn’t tell me some version of “I don’t feel like it” or “I don’t wanna.”

He explained, clearly and respectfully, what the consequences of obeying me would be.  I agree with him, that those were not awesome consequences, so I agreed that it wouldn’t happen.

And the way he handled it, and every situation like it, is exactly what I want.

If he hadn’t said anything, and just done what he was told, knowing it would stress him out and impacted the rest of the night, I would’ve wondered what went wrong, and how to fix it.  I probably would’ve told him that he needs to tell me when those kinds of situations come up in the future, so we can avoid it happening again.

If he had flat-out refused, if he had responded with, “No, I’m not doing that,” I would’ve been really, really annoyed.

I’ve been told I’m just slightly unpleasant when I’m annoyed.  Most people who know me try to avoid that.

So either of those options would not have been what I wanted.  Sounder did exactly what he was supposed to do.  He didn’t mindlessly obey me, and he didn’t disrespectfully tell me no.

And yes, I am 100% confident in his obedience.  I can relax, knowing that I’m not going to have to strong-arm him into doing what I want.  I can just enjoy his presence, I can enjoy tormenting him and hurting him and degrading him and all the things I love doing to him.

In his mind, there’s no option but to obey me.  If there’s not a legitimate reason why he can’t or shouldn’t, it’s just not an option.

And that mindset frees him up to just truly experience what I do to him.  He can enjoy the nice things I do to him, and he can endure the not-so-nice things I do to him.  It feels deeper, more real, because he doesn’t have that little voice in the back of his mind urging him to tell me no.

I enjoy fucking with his mind, I enjoy taking him on these crazy mental and emotional roller coasters, I enjoy playing with emotions like fear and dread and humiliation.

And he can let go and simply enjoy the ride.

Past the point of no return

You have come here
In pursuit of your deepest urge
In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent…
Silent…

I have brought you
That our passions may fuse and merge
In your mind you’ve already succumbed to me
Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me
Now you are here with me, no second thoughts
You’ve decided…
Decided…

Past the point of no return
No backward glances
The games we’ve played till now are at an end
Past all thought of if or when
No use resisting
Abandon thought and let the dream descend
What raging fire shall flood the soul?
What rich desire unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction lies before us
Past the point of no return
The final threshold?
What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn
Beyond the point of no return?

M’kay, so my geek was showing there for a second.  But there’s not a whole hell of a lot out there more fitting right now.  Andrew Lloyd Webber knows his shit.

Tonight was fun.  Like, seriously fun.  Like, a million different kinds of fun.

Like, whoa.

So there’s this adorable sissy I own.  And earlier this week, I’d decided that he was going to take a big step forward today.

He was going to suck cock.  No big deal, there.  He’s done it before.  But this time, he was going to finish, and swallow.

Not a huge difference, right?

Heh, heh…

Poor Sounder.  It was a rough week for him.  Yesterday and today were the worst, of course.  I really turned up the fear factor, and gave him quite a bit to think about.

Oh!  And on… Thursday, I think?  While he was at work, he asked, “Did you ship something to me?”

“No, why?”

“I got a delivery notification.  I’m not expecting anything.”

Well, cool.  I didn’t think anything else of it, until later that night, when I asked what had been delivered.

His response was, “Yeah, God or whoever’s in charge definitely likes you more than me.”

I laughed.  “Why do you say that?  What was in the box?”

“Lingerie I ordered 6 months ago, and it never showed up.”

Ooooh, really?

I was intrigued.  Particularly when he was hopeful that it wouldn’t fit.

But, because the entire Universe works tirelessly to accommodate me, I received a text a few minutes later, after he’d tried it on.

“Of course it fits.”

“Is it pretty?”

He didn’t answer with words, but his answer was more than enough.

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Holy shit.

Like, ho-ly shit.

Um, yeah, it’s fucking pretty.

So yay!  He had amazing new lingerie to wear while he swallows cum.  And damn, that is some fucking hot lingerie.

I was even more excited.  I couldn’t wait for Sunday to get here.

So today, Kazander and I pulled up to Sounder’s house and knocked on the door.  He let us in, and I think my whole face lit up when I saw him, dressed up, his hair and makeup done, wearing one of my very favorite pairs of his panties, a pair with no back.

Actually, there’s a picture of him wearing that pair on his blog, along with some other incredibly sexy pictures.  And of course, I have it right here.

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I love these panties on him.  So pretty.

Dude, he was just so damn hot.  I didn’t wait, I barely dropped my purse and my bag on the floor before putting my hands on him, pushing him against the door and groping him.

I turned to Kazander.  “I love these panties on her.  They make her ass look so perky, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they do.  She’s fucking hot.”

And I just have to go on a quick tangent.  Because, while Kazander and I aren’t really “there” sexually with each other, he has become a really kind of amazing partner when it comes to Topping others.

I mean, he’s inexperienced as fuck, of course.  He struggles to find that balance between pushing limits and crossing lines.  As we were talking about how we wanted the night to go, I had to hold him back more than once, and remind him that if we break our toy, we won’t be able to play with her anymore.

But it’s awesome, it really is.  It’s so much better to have to hold someone back than it would be to try and encourage someone who just isn’t into it.

So I was excited, and turned on by how Dominant Kazander was through the whole thing, and how easily he fell into that role.  The two of us, sharing and using Sounder together, is pretty damn amazing, actually.

And Sounder really is such a fun toy to play with.  He was so nervous.  I’d been fucking with his head for days, and I wasn’t gentle.

I wasn’t gentle today, either.  I had him bend over the arm of the couch, his ass exposed and waiting.  Of course we were going to put things in it.

But I was nice, I went with something small (instead of the largest toy I have, which Kazander had wanted to use).  Kazander stood next to me as I eased the vibe into Sounder.

And once it was in, I asked Kazander if we wanted to do the honors.  He said, “Of course,” and took the vibe, fucking Sounder with it.

I stepped to Sounder’s side, putting one hand on the back of his neck and the other on the small of his back, really driving home the fact that it wasn’t my hand fucking him.

Poor Sounder, he was so tense, trying so hard not to enjoy Kazander fucking him.  And for a few minutes, he succeeded.  But then, Kazander and I could hear his soft, occasional moans.

It was so much fun, it was so hot watching Kazander fucking him with the vibe, and watching Sounder enjoy it.

Kazander wanted to fuck him with more than the vibe, though.  He tried pretty hard to convince me to let him fuck Sounder right then and there.  And for half a second, I considered it.

But no, that’s the next step.  I wanted Sounder to taste cum for the first time.  I wanted him to actively make Kazander cum, feel him shoot his load, and consciously swallow it.

Being fucked will, in many ways, be harder for him to handle than sucking cock, but there’s a level of passivity there.  All he’ll have to do is bend over and stay still.  Hell, I could tie him down, even, and take away his choice in the matter.

The end result would still be the same, no matter which hole we used.  Sounder would have a man shoot his load into him.  He’d officially be my sissy cumdumpster.

But with a blowjob, he has to be the one to do it.  He has to make himself my sissy cumdumpster.  He has to make the conscious decision to obey me, to do this thing he really doesn’t want to do, to make me happy.

Sure I could tie him down and let men use him.  And I will.

But not the first time.  Not tonight.  Tonight was going to be all him.

We went upstairs, and I happily showed Kazander the beautiful, pink, lacy sissy bed that Sounder sleeps in.  And then Kazander sat down on that bed, took off his pants, and waited expectantly while I told Sounder to get on his knees.

I pushed Sounder forward, holding Kazander’s half-hard cock and sliding it into Sounder’s warm, wet mouth.  I didn’t even have to push hard, or tell Sounder to open his mouth, like I have in the past.  Sucking cock is starting to come easier to him, I think.

He’s a very good cocksucker.  Kazander didn’t last long.  He came, his cock throbbing as he shot his load into Sounder’s mouth.

And Sounder, the obedient, darling slut, didn’t spill a drop.  I watched him, Kazander’s cock still in his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.  The look on his face was just absolutely precious.

Afterward, Kazander put on his clothes and went out for a cigarette, while I stayed there with Sounder, him on all fours on the floor.

“You’re a cumdumpster now,” I told him, my hand between his legs, rubbing his p-spot.  “And you’re going to cum with the taste of his cum still in your mouth.”

He didn’t take long, either.  I let him up, told him he could change, and that I’d meet him downstairs.  Kazander was ready to leave (we’d taken separate cars because he wanted to get home quickly).

But before he left, I asked him what he thought of Sounder’s mouth.

“It was great.  She’s a talented cocksucker.”

And it was funny.  I said, “You know what we should’ve done?  I should’ve had you cum yesterday.  Or this morning.  So you’d last longer.”

He nodded.  “I was thinking the same thing,” he agreed.  “Oh well, now we know for next time.”

I grinned.  “Thinking about next time already?”

He shrugged.  “I’m never going to turn down a blowjob from a hot slut.”

He left, and Sounder came downstairs, and he and I settled on the couch to watch a movie.  I sat there, my arm around him and my hand around his neck, and he started pushing forward against my hand, wanting me to choke him harder.

At one point, he even took my hand, pressing it harder against his throat.

And for the record, it really doesn’t take much to make me go from normal to turned-the-fuck-on.  Like, not much at all.  Sometimes, all it takes is a hand on mine, and an unspoken request to be handled more roughly.

My hand went between his legs, rubbing his p-spot again.  He spread his legs, leaning back against me, squirming and moaning as I rubbed him to an orgasm.  And then another.  I didn’t stop, I didn’t give him time to rest, I just kept going.

With my other hand, I fondled his breasts, but when I finally pinched his nipple, and heard him gasp, “Yes, please yes,” I intensified everything.  Combining the pleasure and pain, it didn’t take long for him to cum again, pushing hard against me and crying out, still writhing uncontrollably.

I’d never seen him that turned on before.  The way he moved was different, his voice was different, his mannerisms were different.  And it made him bolder.  At one point, he slid off the couch, kneeling at my feet.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He bent down, kissing my feet while I ran my fingers up and down his back.  But, while I certainly enjoyed that, I wasn’t done making him cum, and pulled him back up on the couch with me.

I actually lost track of how many times he came.  It was definitely more than five, and it might have been more than ten.  And holy hell, they were intense.  It was so damn hot to watch. His back arched, practically screaming, clinging to me, his legs thrashing as the sensations overwhelmed him.

And I still wasn’t done.  I got off the couch, lying him down flat as I sat beside him, still rubbing his p-spot with one hand, the other around his neck, and now I could choke him even harder.

He came again, one last time, arching his back so high, I was worried he might hurt himself.  But he didn’t, he lied limp on the couch, panting and gasping, still squirming just a little.

“Are you alright?” I asked, grinning.

“I don’t know… I can’t handle it.”

I laughed.  “That’s a good thing.”

I got up to wash my hands.  After a moment, he managed to pull himself to his feet.  I walked up to him, and he wrapped his arms around me.

“That… That was… Just mind-blowing,” he murmured.  “Earth-shattering.”

“I can see that.  Was it enough to make up for earlier?”

“That part actually wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

“Well good, see?  You’re a true born sissy.  It all just comes naturally to you.”

Any other time, he, being that perfect mix of sweet and sarcastic, would’ve had a sarcastic answer to that.  But this time, he barely managed a half-muttered “uh, huh,” before pulling me close again and resting his head on my shoulder.

But he seemed really unsteady on his feet.  “Come on, let’s sit back down.”

We sat back down, I pulled him close and put my arm around him, and he rested his head on my shoulder.  And really, in less than two minutes, I realized he’d fallen asleep.  The poor thing, so worn out, so overwhelmed.

I sat back, resting my head against his, letting him rest while I watched the end of the movie.  Then, I woke him up, and he walked me out.

I think he’ll sleep well tonight.

And when he wakes up in the morning, in his sissy bed, he’ll remember exactly what it felt like to kneel at the edge of it, obediently swallowing cum.  And he’ll know that there’s no coming back from that.  For the rest of his life, he will never not be a sissy cum dumpster.

Past the point of no return
No going back now
Our passion play has now at last begun
Past all thought of right or wrong
One final question
How long should we two wait before we’re one?
When will the blood begin to race
The sleeping bud bursts into bloom?
When will the flames at last consume us?

Past the point of no return
The final threshold
The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn
We’ve passed the point of no return

Someone’s back on pills…

Can you guess who it is?

Go on, take a guess.

It’s Sounder!  He’s back on birth control pills!  Yay!

And just like last time, there have been some wonderful changes in a very short amount of time.

Most notably, his breasts have grown.  Again.

Like, a lot.

Like, it’s getting to the point where they’re pretty damn noticeable even under his clothes.

I mean, they’ve been noticeable under his clothes for awhile, but only if you were looking for it, and only when he moved a certain way.

I remember the first time I noticed was back when he was taking the pills the first time, and we’d gone out for drinks after he got off work.  He was wearing his boy costume, his work clothes, and looked like a man.

But at one point, he turned and stretched a bit, and I saw the curve of his breasts under his shirt.

And goddamn, it was fucking hot.

But literally no one else would ever have noticed that.  I noticed it because I think I can safely assume I’m more familiar with his current body than anyone else alive (other than him, of course), and I notice things like that.  Also because I was aware of the fact that he had breasts, and was looking for little hints of them.

And I mean, they’re not huge.  I couldn’t really notice a difference in looking at him head-on.

But when I touched them, the difference was unreal.

When I first met him, his entire body was hard and muscular.  Two months of the pills before had softened his breasts and added… I don’t know, half an inch or so to his hips, giving him a subtle, feminine curve.  In fact, he’d gained four pounds while he was on them.

There wasn’t much change to his hips tonight, but his tits are growing much faster than I thought they would.

Which is fucking awesome, m’kay.

I grabbed them and was flat-out stunned by the size and softness of them.  A month ago, I could grope him and get about half a handful.

Tonight, I groped him and got more than a handful of sexy sissy tit.

Like, holyfuckingshit, that’s so fucking hot!

He, of course, preferred to pretend that it wasn’t that noticeable.

“Maybe they’re not actually bigger,” he said.

“Well, it’s either that or my hands have shrunk.”

“That’s always possible.”

He’s adorable when he grasps.

But no, they’re growing.  I really noticed the difference when I looked at him from the side.  His stomach, abs, hips, everything is flat.  And once upon a time, his chest was pretty flat, too.

Yeah, that’s not the case anymore.  It’s subtle, but it’s damn sure there.

So he’s going to need to start wearing a bra soon, and not just when he’s dressed in his girl clothes.  I don’t want his tits to start sagging.

I’ll be nice, though.  His work shirts can often be on the thin side, so we’ll stick with plain flesh-colored (or colored to match whatever shirt he’s wearing) sports bras, that won’t be seen through his clothes.

Eventually, if he’s going to keep up the boy facade, we’re going to need those chest binders that ftm trans men wear.

But I’m happy.  If they keep growing like this, he won’t ever need breast enhancements.

And of course, his cock still doesn’t work.  At this point, it’s safe to assume that it probably never will again.

So the only way he can cum is from prostate stimulation.

Which is unbelievably, amazingly, wonderfully awesome.  He’ll never be able to cum like a man again.  He’ll never be able to fuck a woman again.

Yay!

There’s one thing I love even more than the physical changes, though, and that’s the effect it has on his mannerisms, and the way he moves.

It was something completely, wholly unexpected.  Nothing I read about even hinted at this kind of change.  I noticed it before, and was just blown away by it.

I don’t think I’ve ever consciously registered the way men and women move/writhe/squirm/whatever when they’re being teased before.  It wasn’t until that night, watching him writhe as I held the wand to him, that I realized there’s a big fucking difference.  Suddenly, every girlfriend I’ve ever had, every girl I’ve ever played with flashed in my head.  And yes, there are similarities in the way they moved.  And yes, Sounder now moved like that.

He arched his back like a girl, he ground his hips like a girl, he even started whimpering like a girl, the longer I went on.  Over the months that I’ve played with him, I’ve gotten very familiar with his body.  I could tell immediately that he was moving differently.

And hell no, I didn’t expect that.  That’s not a physical change, like breast growth or rounder hips.  That’s a mental, physiological thing.  Nothing I’d read about the effects of the birth control mentioned anything about that.

It wasn’t subtle, either.  At first, I thought for a minute that he was doing it on purpose, to please me.  But the more I teased him, the more I realized that no, this was natural and completely unconscious.  He wasn’t even aware of it.

The only thing I can think of is that the hormones are affecting his brain chemistry in some way.  I mean, no one teaches a girl how to move like that.  It just comes naturally, because she’s a girl.  Maybe his mannerisms are becoming more feminine because of the increased levels of estrogen and decreased levels of testosterone.

Maybe?  I don’t know, it shocked us both.  But I freaking love it.

As obvious as it was back then, it was even more obvious tonight.

We were sitting together on the couch, him naked, watching TV.  He really is so sexy when he’s naked, and I had been playing with Tammi Lynn off and on the entire time we’d been sitting there.

But then, with a subtle thrust of his hips, I was immediately turned on.  I reached down, rubbing his p-spot.

Within minutes, he was gasping and squirming on the couch, his legs spread wide, writhing and moaning.

And once again, I was struck by the difference in the way he moved.  The way he arched his back, the way he thrust his hips, the way he moved his legs, I wish I’d recorded a video of it, so he could see it for himself.

That was my first thought, actually.  It was so hot, the way he moved, my mind immediately went to wanting others to see him move like that.  Writhing in my arms, whimpering so sweetly as his pleasure mounted.

Soon, desperate and hungry to cum, like the slutty sissy he is, he put his hand over mine, wordlessly begging me to bring him to the edge.

And when he came, his back arched, he moaned loudly, his hands clenched into fists, it was so fucking hot.  I wanted to do it again.

So I did.

Yeah, I definitely want to do that to him in the middle of a crowded room, and let everyone watch him move like a girl.

Beyond fucking hot.

Health update, and yay, new pills!

So I saw the oncologist last week, and he ordered like a million blood tests.  One of the tests has already been analyzed and I saw the results.  And there’s good news and bad news.

The bad news is that the numbers make leukemia even more likely.  Like, unless I have some weird, rare, undocumented condition, that’s what it is.  But the good news is that the numbers point to the chronic types, not the acute types. Which is good, because the most common type of leukemia in adults is Acute Myeloid Leukemia.

Which is basically a death sentence.  My age and the fact that I’m otherwise healthy help my odds, but even when people respond well to chemo, reoccurence is more likely than not, and one doctor said that he sees an average of 3 or 4 years between when people are diagnosed and when they pass away.

So that was a a definite worry.  But that’s something you would’ve seen in a complete blood count.  My numbers are high, but they’re not that high.

It’s the difference between, “well that’s concerning,” and, “bitch, you dead.”

Both the chronic types are easier to treat, slower to spread, and have higher survivability.  I can absolutely deal with that.

But now I have to wait another 2 1/2 weeks for the next step.  And I don’t know which tests he ordered, or whether he’ll want to do more blood work, or if we can just skip to the bone marrow biopsy.

Which is what I would prefer, actually.  He said that, because the test is so brutal, he doesn’t like ordering it unless he absolutely has to, and all he had was my basic blood work results, so it’s understandable that he’d want the more detailed test results before going that route.

I’m just hoping he ordered them all, and got them all done at once.  I mean, I have literally never had anyone take that many vials of blood at one time before, so it’s likely he ordered them all, but I won’t know until the results are analyzed and posted.

It’s always the waiting that sucks the most.

But I do have some fun things to keep my mind off of it.  Like the new birth control pills I got for Sounder.

He hadn’t been taking them for awhile.  An interesting side effect we noticed is that he completely lost his ability to jerk off, or cum like a man at all.  The only way he can cum now is through prostate stimulation.

Like being fucked like a bitch.

Which I find amazingly awesome, by the way.

But I was curious to see if it was reversible.  So after his 2-month supply ran out, I wasn’t in a rush to get it refilled.  I wanted to see if Tammi Lynn would regain function.

But it’s been months and months, and nope, he still can’t cum like a man.  So at this point, I’m assuming it’s permanent, and there’s no reason not to put him back on the pills.

So I went to see my gynecologist for a prescription, and to ask for a brand with a higher dose of estrogen.

And that’s where I discovered a bit of a problem.

As it turns out, all the leukemia bullshit interferes with a doctor’s willingness to prescribe hormonal birth control (I knew I shouldn’t have told her, dammit.  I usually don’t tell doctors anything they don’t absolutely need to know.  I broke my own rule and shot myself in the foot).

And it’s not like I could tell her the pills weren’t for me.

So she wouldn’t prescribe it at all.

But

My internist, who is an incredible doctor and easily persuaded, wanted to see me that afternoon for afternoon follow-up from a recent ER visit (I’m fine. It was “stress.”  Because apparently no one told the ER doctor that female hysteria isn’t a thing anymore.  Turns out, it was actually another symptom of, you guessed it, leukemia).

So I convinced him to prescribe the same pills he’d given me before.  It’s a low dose of estrogen, but it’ll work.  And I’m likely going to have to get approval from my oncologist if I want to up the dose.

So the low dose is as good as it gets for now.  But I liked the effects it had on him before, so that’ll work perfectly until I can just flood his system with estrogen.

Because even though the effects so far have been relatively mild, they’re still there, long after he stopped taking the pills.  His tits are still softer, his hips are still rounder, his ass is still perkier.  Putting him back on the pills will likely cause some more awesome (and permanent) changes to his body.

Isn’t that exciting?