Wrong Number Chapter 15
- 3 years ago
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Psychosomatic free porn video
Psychosomatic
This isn't just a story. It's all true. In many ways
it's a strange and ironic path that my life is
taking. Sometimes I wonder what else can
happen to me. You see, I've always liked
women's clothing. I like the look, the feel, and
the psychological benefits I receive
crossdressing. However, I'm getting ahead of
myself.
It all started around the age of five. My mother
accidentally put one of my older sister's knee
socks in with my socks. It must have happened
with static in the laundry. Anyway, I found it in
my sock and underwear drawer one night. On a
lark, I decided to try it on. I don't know why,
but I think that I was intrigued by how soft it
was. Maybe I just wanted to feel like a girl. The
girls in my family always got special treatment.
They got away with murder. My brother and I
never got away with anything. It was unfair; my
parents wouldn't even be consistent with both
my sisters' punishment. My parents always gave
in, and let them off the hook before they were
supposed to. Maybe I wanted to be that little girl
who got the special treatment.
That night I wore the knee sock to bed. It was
so soft, so thin. I just loved the feeling. I felt
kind of weird, but I kept the sock. I hid it
underneath my mattress for weeks. I wore it at
night, and relished the sensations.
Growing older, the cravings increased. I must
have been nine years old when I tried on my
mother's pantyhose for the first time. I was a
little freaked by the sensations, at first. I got
spooked, like when you get spider webs on you.
The hosiery was thinner than I expected. It was
so soft, and the yarn was so thin. It had a wispy
feeling that did remind me a bit of spider webs. I
took them off immediately, even before I really
got them up my leg. I knew I was doing
something wrong. However, the sensation kept
calling me back. An hour later I pulled the
pantyhose on all the way. I couldn't believe how
soft they were. I loved the way they felt. I
wanted to wear them forever, but I knew that I
couldn't. That was the real start of it all.
Over the next few years I would sneak whatever
articles of clothing I could get my hands on, and
my body into. I couldn't stop it. I was so
compelled; I'd keep a stash anywhere I could. I
would hide panties, hosiery, and eventually
leotards in all sorts of places. In all three
bathrooms of our house, they were hidden under
the sinks, on the ridge where the front cover of
the vanity was. Many times I would go into the
bathroom, strip down, and get "dressed." I
would stay in there for as long as I could.
Eventually, as I got older, I discovered how
wondrous it was to masturbate while dressed. It
became even more of a compulsion.
Soon, I had conditioned myself, sexually, into a
compulsive crossdresser. When I finally learned
psychological theory, I learned about Pavlov's
dog. I had become the dog, but instead of
drooling, I was sexually aroused. Turned on by
the feeling of panties and hosiery, I found I
could no longer stop. I started psychological
self-exploration. I tried to figure out how and
why this was caused in me. I started exploring
my lifelong attempts at self sabotage.
Furthermore, I started exploring and revisiting
fantasies of the past and present.
I suddenly realized that cross-dressing was only
one of my fantasy/fetishes. I learned that I was
always trying to engage in all sorts of forms of
self sabotage, and that it took many forms. I had
fantasies about becoming a drug addict at the
hands of another person. That I lost control to
the drugs, and was forcibly feminized by that
person. I had fantasies of being indoctrinated
into a cult. I felt aroused at the prospect of
losing myself to someone else's control. With
each exploration, the fetishes and fantasies
always went along these lines. Losing control,
and not being able to stop. I always ended up
with the fem. persona. Many of the dreams and
fantasizing went along these lines. As time went
by, I made multiple attempts to self-actualize at
least one of the fantasies I had. More on that
later.
It was in high school that things started
changing. While having fantasies, fetishes, and
wet dreams of being feminized, I crossdressed
whenever possible. I'm not sure what type of
effects had manifested in me, but physical
manifestations are always bound to occur.
Everyone knows about psychosomatic illnesses.
When an illness has a root cause in a
psychological state or problem, that is what it is
called. At that time, I had no suspicions. The
first of a number of maladies was diagnosed in
me as a teenager. During the routine school
system screenings, they discovered some
curvature in my spine. I was sent to an
orthopedist who had multiple x-ray screenings
done. They discovered three curves in my back.
It was a case that bordered on being serious
trouble. At that time, the normal treatment for
curvature that was serious was the Milwaukee
brace. It was a medieval looking contraption
with metal, leather, straps, and restraints.
The doctor explained to me that I had three
curves. As I recalled, one was a scoliosis, one
was a kyphosis, and the last was called a
lordosis. I'm not sure if the spelling is correct,
but if my memory is correct, that is what the
curves were called. Anyway, he went on to say
that the scoliosis is a side to side curve. The
kyphosis is a humpback when it becomes severe.
The lordosis is a swayback. The kyphosis and
lordosis that I had were larger curves than those
that are normally found in boys. He said that
later on in life these curves could cause some
severe back problems. He said that the S shaped
curve that I had were at angles that were closer,
but even exceeded those of a normal girl. Well,
later in life, my back does give me some trouble.
When I returned to school, I had special
exercises that were shown to me by a physical
therapist to do regularly. The thing is, when you
become diagnosed with something, you become
more sensitized to others with that malady. I
looked around at those kids that were in the
same class as me. There were a number of kids
that wore the Milwaukee braces. All but two of
them were girls. One of the boys was born with
severe birth defects. The other was a nice guy
that I didn't really know. There were many more
girls that had back braces. I did wonder, but
quickly dismissed it as just some anomaly.
However, many times while growing up, my
younger sister would tease me. She always
insisted that I had a girls butt.
Now, as I said before, I began to try to engage
in activities that would facilitate the self-
actualization of some of my fantasies. At a place
that I worked during high school and college, we
would have lunches on weekends with our co-
workers. We worked outdoors, and had the food
catered in. I would normally find someone
(usually girls) to eat with. Most of the girls I
worked with were very cute. They wore
uniforms with knee length skirts. They would
only wear hose if it was cold outside. Since we
worked summers, that wasn't all the time, but
we did work at night, too. On those occasions I
got to see (and fantasize) a lot more. Anyway,
the first time I started trying to fulfill one of
these fantasies was on one of these Saturdays, or
at least that's when it started.
We had just finished the lunch between shows,
when one of the girls pulled out a pack of
Newport Lights. None of the other people
around smoked, so everyone started hassling her
so she couldn't light up. One of the girls
suggested that we help her quit the nasty habit,
and swiped the pack (which was still outside her
purse). We all started playing keep away, when
one of the girls also ripped the cigarette out of
her mouth, ruining even that one. She was very
upset. By some coincidence, I ended up with her
cigarette pack. Everyone urged me not to give
them to her. I teased her, and she flirted. There
was a lot of give and take, sexual innuendo, and
all round fun. I told her that I promise to hold
them for her, and if she had problems quitting I
would give them back. She playfully agreed, and
surrendered. She didn't ask for them back even
the next day. Two days later, I saw her smoking
again at work. When I asked her about it, she
said that she couldn't quit. She had already
gotten hooked. I watched as her lips stained the
cigarette red. There was something sexy about
her. We never dated, but I did like her.
At the end of the week, I was wearing panties
and hosiery under my clothing, and had some
flats hidden in a bag in my car. I went to a park,
slipped off my shoes and socks, then slipped on
the flats. The park was empty. I pulled out the
cigarettes from my glove compartment (where I
had hidden them for safekeeping). I had a
cigarette lighter in the car. I pushed it in, and
when it popped out I lit the cigarette. I took my
first drag, and inhaled. I got up, closed the door
of the car, and started strolling through the park.
I held the cigarette as I had seen women doing
it. I started fantasizing, but felt a bizarre,
unfamiliar rush. It was my first experience with
nicotine. I felt a little dizzy, like I was drunk.
That's how it started. I thought about all of the
sexy girls I knew who smoked, and wished I
could look or appear as one of them.
After that first experience, I felt the desire to
become more like this girl. I started noticing all
sorts of things related to girls and women who
smoked. The news and women's talk shows
would report that smoking was rising with
teenage girls up through college age. There
were many reasons cited for it. Among them was
peer pressure, to create a desirable sexy look,
and lastly, as an appetite suppressant. Many girls
used cigarettes to merely keep their weight
down. By the time they wanted to, most girls
couldn't quit. I wanted to be one of those girls. I
wanted to lose that control, become a smoker,
and tie it to my crossdressing (and being one of
those girls). I finished that pack of cigarettes,
then bought another. I decided to buy that same
brand. Later I tried Virginia Slims and More, but
I went back to the Newport Lights to emulate
that first girl more.
I never fully achieved that goal. I never became
the habitual smoker, but do partake when
dressed sometimes. In fact, I've used smoking as
another psychological reinforcement for
crossdressing and only smoke while dressed. The
sexiest I've ever felt while dressed was with red
lipstick staining a cigarette held between two
fingers with red shaped nails on the end of them.
Although I like to let my nails grow for a while,
it's been spotted too many times by kids and
adults alike. I rarely shape my fingernails until
right before having to cut them. It's been great
for the Halloweens that I have decided to go en
femme.
One Halloween I did it up quite well. I could
never pass, but I did an exceptional job with
what has been dealt me. The woman who cut my
hair was throwing a big costume bash, and she
invited me. I had another party to go to that
night, too. So on this Halloween I decided to go
for it. My fingernails had gotten exceptionally
long that year, and were perfect for shaping.
They must have been between 3/4 and a full inch
long (cuticle to tip). So I spent the time, energy,
and effort to shape and lacquer them. By the
time I was done I was extremely proud of my
work. I wished that I could keep them that way.
When I got to the party, the friends that were
there were in shock at my costume. Few people
realized that someone like me would be capable
of going that far for a costume.
One girl who was sitting on a couch next to me
started asking me about my prep work. She was
flirting a little with me, and it gave her the
perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation.
She asked question after question. Things like, "I
see you did a great job shaving your legs. Has
anyone ever told you that you have some
shapely, sexy legs? How long did it take you to
shave them?" I started to blush, but answered
the questions. My best feature is my legs, and I
was very proud of them. When she looked me
over she glanced at my nails and asked if she
could check them out.
I said, "Sure," and I soon learned my mistake. I
looked at her face as she inspected my nails. Her
jaw dropped, and her eyes met mine.
She asked me under her breath, "Oh my god,
these are your REAL nails, aren't they?"
After seeing her reaction, all I could do was nod.
She was amazed and told me that I did a
fantastic job. However, she was shaken and
asked me if I was a transvestite. Again all I could
do was nod. She kept it low key, and didn't
draw any attention to me. She then told me that
she wouldn't say a word to anybody. I thanked
her. I never saw her again.
After that party, I never did a perfect job on any
of my crossdressing activities. If it looks too
good, it raises suspicions. It's horrible. On one
hand you want to do your best, and make
everything look as good as possible. On the
other hand, anything that looks that good will
attract undo attention, and pique curiosity. It's a
fine line as far as how well you can appear. It's a
huge frustration to say the least.
I continued to live the life of a closet
crossdresser throughout most of my college
career. On very few occasions would I let
someone in on my little secret. Some women
who were very close got to know, but rarely
would anyone find out.
When I started dating the woman who became
my wife, I was very open and honest about my
life as a crossdresser. She thought it was a little
weird, but she said it was OK, because she was
weird, too. So we kept on dating. She knew I
wore lingerie and hosiery almost every day while
we dated and wasn't the least judgmental. She
would always ask if I was too hot wearing the
extra layers and such. However, I NEVER was
made to feel strange by her. I fell madly in love,
and we married after two and a half years of
dating.
My wife has always been open and accepting of
my being a crossdresser. At times she has tried
to be supportive. Sometimes she's helped by
buying me lingerie for certain holidays. At other
times she's made time to allow me to "prance"
as she puts it, around the house. She's a great
and understanding wife. As funny as it may
seem, she rarely wears a dress. She almost
always wears pants and very little makeup, if
any. So she wars the pants in the family, and
me...well...
We were both fast-tracking it. We bought a
house after our first anniversary, and were both
in management. After a few years of working
and remodeling the house we decided it was time
to start our family. We had a baby girl, and
things were crazy. I still "pranced" every chance
I got, but it was becoming more difficult. Being
a family man made it far more difficult. So things
were getting a bit stressful. We worked hard and
ran through a complicated routine spending one
day together each week. It was hard.
After a year of going through this routine, we
decided to try and get out of that rut. We both
wanted out of our jobs and had ideas about
starting our own businesses. I really was the first
to come up with a business idea. So we decided
that I would work on it part time. I juggled my
slate even more. It was even more stressful.
Within a month, my part time business started to
exceed my full time wages. It was time to make
my break. I resigned from my job, and invested a
large amount of money in inventory. I was set to
do a trade show the weekend after my last day
of work. The stress levels were excruciating.
It started two nights before my last day of work.
I was taking a night class, for credit. Once a
week we would sit for two hours, take a break,
and then have one more hour. That night
something was odd. My legs fell asleep during
the first two hours. I shifted around
uncomfortably trying to get my feeling back.
When the break came, I took the opportunity to
walk it off. I walked on pins and needles all the
way; down two flights of stairs, bought a coke,
then climbed the two flights back to class. The
strange thing was, both legs were still asleep. I
finished the class, still asleep. Went to my car,
still asleep. Got home, got in bed that night, still
asleep. It was a rough night. The sensations
every time I moved were pins and needles.
I went to work to work the next day, pins and
needles and all. I called the doctor saying I know
it's probably just nerves and all, but the
sensations are driving me nuts. I told her about
the show coming up, and she told me that she
didn't want to prescribe anything, because she
wouldn't know how it would affect me during
the show. She said she would be curious when
Monday rolls around, to see if it was all gone.
Surely, if it was due to stress it would subside by
then.
The show came and sure enough, I was worse. I
began tripping and losing my balance. Definitely
nerves, or so I thought. The show went
exceptionally well. However, my legs hadn't
improved. By that Monday, I was getting worse.
The sensations started to climb towards my
waist, and I had severe problems walking. The
doctor had suspicions and called a neurologist,
immediately. He normally wouldn't have gotten
me in so quickly, but my symptoms mimicked an
ailment that is very rare. Numbness climbing up
your body, loss of motor function. Only
afterward did I find out that if I had it, there
would've been nothing he could do. He wanted
to study me. You see, if I would've had that
disease, it is usually fatal within days. He just
wanted to poke and prod me as if I was a guinea
pig. What a comforting thought that is.
The long and the short of it was that I had been
stricken very hard with a case of Multiple
Sclerosis. I nearly lost the ability to walk,
altogether. High heels were now definitely out of
the question. In fact, trying to put on hosiery
was painful. I couldn't stand the sensations of
getting dressed. It didn't matter how fine and
frilly the clothes were. Everything felt like
sandpaper going on, along with the pins and
needle with any changes across my skin. The
pleasure and solace I found in crossdressing was
gone. The compulsion was not, however. I kept
up, even though it was difficult and painful. I
couldn't stop.
Over the next six months, many of the symptoms
began to subside a bit. Although I didn't dress as
often, because of the painful sensations, I still
did. My ability to walk improved, though I still
limp to this day. I started to learn everything I
could about MS. The first thing that I learned, I
didn't pay much attention to. It seems that
women are twice as likely as men to be stricken
with MS. I found that even though men were
getting it, it was definitely women who suffered
from the disease. I found myself chatting on the
Internet with others afflicted with MS, and
generally speaking, they were all women. The
chat channels became giddy and silly at times.
Conversations ranged from MS to typical female
conversations. Rarely were the channels male
dominated, or the topics male oriented.
As time went on, I learned how to better cope
with the disease. I finally came to terms with the
fact that I had MS over a year later. The one
thing that was important and always emphasized
by doctors, others afflicted, and experts, was
stress management. To that date, the most
effective form of stress management for me had
been cross-dressing. Stress is a major trigger for
exacerbation's in MS. It was ironic. Being
dressed and more feminine was the very thing
that prevented me from being afflicted from an
illness more commonly found in women.
Years later, I had other major episodes of MS,
but for the most part my stress levels have been
lower. I owe some of that to cross-dressing.
Over the past few years I have discovered more
about the disease, and about myself. Also, as we
get older we tend to fall apart. My back
problems were worsening. I have read all sorts
of TG stories on all sorts of websites, and
newsgroups. One common theme was corseting.
I was intrigued by the ability to get shapelier
while dressed (as everyone does). So I started
reading up on the subject. I found out, after
trying to buy shapers in the stores, that many
men were purchasing them for back problems
(or so they claimed, as told to me by
salespeople). After much debating, I decided to
make the plunge. I bought a couple of corsets
over the Internet. My wife was OK about lacing
me up, and that was a big help. She often jokes
that my cleavage is larger than hers, in a corset.
Sometimes, she even jokes that I should wear a
"manssierre" or a "bro" (as they were called on
Seinfeld).
After a week or so, we started getting some
reductions in my waist. The tighter the lacing
got, the better supported my back was.
Eventually, I found that when I took the corset
off, I found that not only was my back feeling
better, but I was also regaining some of the
flexibility in my back.
I had only had one problem with my corsets.
They were not strong enough to hold up to
being worn tightly. The ones I had purchased
only lasted so long before they fell apart. My
back started to cause pain again. If worn, I had
far less pain, even when I awoke each morning.
That was when I had the most pain.
Unfortunately, my sleeping habits cause me
lower back pain, as does standing for long
periods of time. A month in the corset seemed to
rid me of those problems. Once again, it seemed
wearing something feminine and trying to appear
feminine prevented me from problems caused by
having a more femininely shaped back curvature.
A pattern was beginning to manifest itself. Even
I could not be blind to it anymore.
Due to the MS, I was getting sick more often.
Having MS compromises your immune system,
and this was an unfortunate reality. About a
month ago, I was really feeling rotten. Even
more than usual; I felt horrible. I started having
all sorts of problems with going to the bathroom,
sleeping, nausea, vertigo, and I woke up one
morning jaundiced. Through all of these horrible
symptoms I also had a 100.8 temp...much
higher that my normal body temperature.
Originally, I thought most of the symptoms were
just my MS acting up.
I called the doctor, and was asked to come in,
because the jaundice was potentially serious.
They ran all sorts of tests while I was there.
Urine and blood tests were the immediate tests.
There were all sorts of questions regarding my
liver function. When the doctor came in, she told
me that I had something a little unusual for guys.
She said that differences anatomically make it far
more prevalent in women. I was informed that I
had become a high-risk candidate for urinary
tract infections. She jokingly asked me if I like
cranberry juice. She said that she recommended
it to most women, because it actually does help
prevent bladder infections. The MS
complications were causing me to be high risk,
and I now had to be careful, and try to do what I
can to prevent them. Yes, one more typically
female problem. This time wearing women's
clothing didn't serve beneficial.
I ran to the drugstore to get an antibiotic
prescription filled. It is rarely prescribed for men,
and is used almost exclusively for urinary
infections. I received twice the normal course,
because of my immune system. Afterward, I
went to the grocery store to pick up cranberry
juice. I found out that Ocean Spray was on sale,
and headed straight for that isle. As I started
reading for percentages of juice, ingredients, and
looking at the blends, I saw many women
stopping to pick some up. I looked around and
noticed no men around me. While picking up
and examining more juice, many more women
came to purchase the product. I started just
watching. Tons of women began moving toward
the section, cutting in, and going directly for the
juice they wanted. It was only women, and lots
of them. I was a man out of place. This made me
feel, as if not more, self-conscious than going
shopping for lingerie. It was weird.
I never felt so funked out in a grocery store.
Here I was, without a choice, buying something
that only women were buying. I really had
trouble dealing with this. I couldn't believe that I
was in this position. When I go for the lingerie, it
is of my own choice. It was the compulsion of a
fetish. This was a physical necessity, shopping
for the "women's" juice. If I picked up women's
supplies for my wife, I can always say it's for my
wife, without lying. This was different. I felt
strange that I was physically having women's
problems, and had to buy products for them.
The trip to the grocery store sent it all home.
Why is my body manifesting womanly
symptoms? What's going on with me? Are all
these illnesses psychosomatic in origin? Was I
developing problems due to some type of
psychological identification with women? Was
my body fulfilling some psychological
pathology? Was this all just some coincidence?
In general, I did feel better, and had less stress
when dressed. I suppose I am getting used to
cranberry juice. Can I live with the reality of
having these problems? Will new womanly
ailments crop up?
I have one more week to wait for the results of
some of the liver tests that I had taken. Since I
have had to wait, I did a bit of research on the
Internet about liver maladies. The specialist I
saw said that it might be the same illness that the
football player Walter Payton had. It is very rare,
but I think he put it out because 70 percent of
those afflicted with it are men. Of course, he said
it might be nothing. I, on the other hand, have
my own suspicions. While reading up on it, I
found another liver disease. It has similar
symptoms, but the numbers are different. I'm
almost willing to put money on having it. You
see 75 percent of those afflicted with that disease
are women. It would just be my luck.
We'll have to just wait to see what the future
brings....
Nadene
- 13.12.2020
- 26
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