The Way it is Now CH7
- 2 years ago
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Thinking With My Dick - Ch7 - Permanent Mistakes free porn video
Yeah, it's been a while. Life happens, and writing this was one of the
casualties. While I do have plans for quite a bit more of this story, it
may take some time to actually get the chunks on the page. Sorry to
those who've been waiting, hopefully this is enjoyable.
===================================================================
I woke up the next morning before the sun came up, disoriented and
desperate to pee. I rolled out of bed and almost collapsed sideways
into the wall as I landed on the heels that I'd forgotten I was wearing.
I tottered to the bathroom, too desperate to piss to take the time to
unstrap myself from my shoes. I caught a glimpse of myself in the
mirror, and the shame flashed through me again. Make-up was smeared
across my face, a mess from sleeping in it, still wearing lingerie and
dangling earrings like the world's worst, least convincing drag queen.
After relieving myself, I struggled out of out my girlie gear, and then
tackled my make-up and tacky press-on manicure. An hour, and half a
bottle of nail-polish remover later, I'd finally gotten back to being a
boy, or my imitation of one. My pile of girl shit went into the closet
in a ball, treating it badly was the best revenge I could get on myself
for my behavior last night, meager as it was.
Showered and dressed, and I was just throwing some deodorant on when I
saw the pill bottles, the feminizing drugs that had triggered my debacle
the night before. I'd cleaned up all the shameful traces of last night
but this. They should go straight in the trash. They should, but I
couldn't quite bring myself to. They were valuable, I couldn't just get
more. Not that I should need more, I wasn't doing anything like that
again. Arrggghh! This should be an easy choice! Why wasn't it an easy
choice?
They'd go into the medicine cabinet, at the back. Then they'd be out of
the way. That was a kind of a compromise? Right? They'd just go back
there, and I'd forget about them. And I did it too...Just not before
taking out today's scheduled dose and swallowing them down before really
thinking. I trembled a bit as I did it, even after last night I
couldn't completely get off this path.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
My days settled into a bit of a routine. I held off dressing again for
ages, almost two weeks. But eventually I caved. Within three weeks my
toenails were painted again, and by the end of the month, I was wearing
panties regularly again. Through it all, I kept taking the pills.
They didn't seem to be having much effect, thank god. I was still a
passable guy at work, and it was only with work that I managed to turn
myself into an androgynous looking girl on the occasional evening. I
was getting off to girlie clothes on the regular, but at least the
release kept me from going to far, and I cycled between bouts of
femininity and purges after coming down from an orgasm.
It might have gone on that way for a while, but once doctors are
involved, they like to check up on you, and pretty soon I found myself
back at Dr. Hillard's office for tests and a progress update.
I'd dolled myself up pretty much the same way as before, a scoop necked
top, skin tight jeggings, some flats, plus full makeup and jewelry. My
attempt to look the part of 'adult woman' as much as possible without
falling over into the caricature that most of my mastubatory wardrobe
tended towards. Sitting on the examination table, I waited impatiently,
legs crossed and foot bouncing furiously, and girlishly, from nerves as
we waited for the faster bloodwork and Dr. Hillard checked through my
chart and asked the occasional question.
It was hard to pay attention, my mind kept wandering off trying to think
about how to get out of this, how to call it all off and get myself off
the pills. Dr. Hillard's questions kept catching me by surprise as I
turned the problem over in my mind. It should have been easy to just
come out with it, but how do you broach that with anyone, let alone a
Doctor? "Hey Doc, this is actually a big mistake, I'm not trans, I've
been feminizing myself for weeks as a masturbation aid, and the last
time I was here I lied about everything to get prescription drugs."
Yeah, that'd go over real well.
"Have you been noticing any effects?" Hillard's question jolted me
back.
"What?" Effects? I guess he's asking about the pills. "Oh, not really
yet. Not a lot of action going on up..." I gestured awkwardly at my
chest area.
"I meant side effects. Breast development doesn't usually start quite
this soon, but you should begin seeing it in the near future." He
obviously meant to be encouraging, but the news that I might start
growing tits soon was anything but. "Any changes in mood? Weight?
Swelling? Gastrointestinal issues? Anything out of the ordinary?"
"Oh, no. Nothing like that" Thank god. This is bad enough as it is, I
don't need side effects.
"Have you seen a decrease in unwanted erections?"
I shivered for a moment in shame, as the question intruded on my
thoughts. "No, definitely not." I couldn't help thinking of all the
boners I'd had over all this girly stuff, that's what drives me to wear
it most of the time, it'd almost be a relief to stop getting it up all
the time.
The doctor frowned, "Hmm...that's a little behind schedule."
The tone of his voice brought me fully back to the conversation, and I
suddenly realized how my off the cuff answer had sounded. He thought I
was transitioning, like really transitioning, not this stupid erotic
fantasy I was fucking around with. I made it sound like the drugs
weren't working fast enough stop my penis working. As much as I wished
I wasn't getting off to dressing like a girl, I didn't want to break my
penis to do it.
I was still trying to think of how to take that back before he barreled
on, "Well, given you're not seeing any adverse effects, and your blood
work has come back fine, we'll try increasing your dosage." He looked
up from his notes and smiled, in what I'm sure was supposed to be a
reassuring fashion. "It might even speed up your development up here."
He gestured to his chest.
I dry swallowed, terrified, and struggled to find my voice. "Great!" i
croaked out. Great?! What the fuck am I saying. My doctor wants to
give me stronger HRT drugs because he thinks I'm upset that the current
ones aren't growing boobs and shrinking my dick fast enough. Nothing is
'great' about this. What do I say to get out of this?
I was still gawping at him when he finished writing out the
prescriptions and stood to shake my hand and leave. I shook a bit as I
packed up my things and headed out. I tried to sound chipper as I
signed out and the receptionist assured me my new prescriptions would be
in the mail soon. Chipper seemed better than hysterical, but still a
damn sight worse than actually fixing the problem.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
After that appointment, nothing changed, and everything changed. The
next day I went to work like I always did, and the day after that, and
the week after that. All my girl gear still called to me from the back
of the closet where I stuffed it in shame, but that wasn't new. The new
prescription came, and, of course, I started taking them.
I was terrified that the drugs would immediately start changing my body
in ways I couldn't hide before I could get myself under control and get
out of this stupid obsession. Every morning I got paranoid as I looked
in the mirror. Were my features getting softer? Nipples puffy? A new
roundness to my hips? It was impossible to tell day to day, but no one
gave me any strange looks, so maybe it was all in my head.
No, the thing that did me in was exactly what had started this, my
boner. The Dr. Hillard was right, the new drugs did start helping out
with 'unwanted erections'. The only problem was, it didn't stop me
getting horny, it just made it much harder to keep it up and get off.
The come down from an ejaculation had been my safety valve. I got
horny, dressed up, came, and shamefully purged myself of girlie stuff.
It wasn't a good system, but it kept things from getting too far out of
hand. Now, I'd get horny, and go girl mode, and just kind of stay
there, wallowing in low grade arousal.
Before the new drug regime I can't have spent more than a handful of
hours a week beholden to my feminine addiction, but now I was only
getting off once or twice a week I seemed to be going girlie all the
damn time. Most days I'd get home from work and swap straight into
feminine clothes, sometimes just yoga pants or leggings, but more often
than I'd like skirts or a dress. It would just about scratch the itch
of persistent horniness, but even if I went to town jerking off half the
time I ended up just inadvertently edging for ages. So the girl clothes
kept coming out earlier and often, driven by my horniness, an
increasingly inconsistent solution to my problem.
The bras really worried me. I was slipping into them far more often
that I was comfortable with as well. The first bras I'd bought had been
stuffed deep in the closet. Those were large cup sizes that I'd padded
out, when I was a guy crossdressing as a girl. The bras I had now were
different. Tight little training bras, fit for a teenager, for a girl
just starting to grow breasts, and now, for me, a guy just starting to
grow breasts. As I swung between girl-driven horniness and purges, so I
swung between absolute paranoia that I was starting to grow tits that I
couldn't hide or get rid off, and giddy excitement that the bras were
shaping my chest into real cleavage.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
My fits of girliness were edging closer and closer to my 'real' life,
and feeling increasingly real themselves. It was genuinely becoming
possible to start forgetting about 'real' me, the guy who went to work,
had friends and coworkers, had a past, and a future. When I was home
and dolled up, it was so easy to tunnel vision on girl clothes, my
changing body, and my raging boner, and think that all that was my life
instead of an increasingly out of control aberration.
I'd started fantasizing about my private girl life more and more outside
of the home. It would come to me during the day, or on my way home. I
even moved a pair of flats into my car so that I could wear them driving
home. It terrified me whenever I considered the possibility that
someone might find them under the seat one day, not that I'd ever invite
someone into my car now that they were there. But increasingly I was
looking for some new way to bring my girlhood with me 'everywhere', even
to work. The painted toenails, or panties under my pants weren't
cutting it anymore. My self-destructive streak wanted something that I
could easily ditch, something that put me at risk of discovery, even if
just in a small way.
Once I had the idea, I couldn't shake it. I'd driven past the shop
where I'd gotten my ears pierced, and it hit me. I could get another
piercing. Piercings always felt like a girl thing to me, especially
anything beyond the ears. I held out for weeks, knowing that this was
getting out of hand. But I wore down.. As long as it wasn't a facial
piercing, I could hide it easily, and piercings could close up over
time. That's what I told myself anyway, and finally, one weekend, I
caved.
I made sure I passed as well as I could. I was pretty slim at this
point, and my thin male body could be taken for a coltish girl with
narrow hips with the right clothes. Skinny jeans and a tank top, with a
padded bra to make the most of my bee-sting tits and wedge sandals to
thrust out my ass, got me the right silhouette. Make-up, nail polish,
and jewelry gave me a look of a slightly androgynous girl. I wasn't
especially pretty, but I definitely didn't suggest 'boy' either. If I'd
been less excited, this would have worried me, but it was all I could do
to keep my hands off my dick this close to such a transgressive
decision.
I drove to the store, and spent a little time browsing, before setting
on what I already knew I'd get, and in the end, I ended up with Kali
again. I'm not sure if I was happy or terrified that she didn't seem to
connect me at all with the guy who'd had her pierce his ears not that
long ago, but it certainly was easier not to have to explain.
"I'd like to get a belly ring." The inner boy in me cringed, but he
wasn't driving, girl-Jamie was in control.
"Cool! Have you picked out what ring you'd like?" I nodded, swallowing
hard, unable to trust my voice, and pointed at a long dangly silver
piercing.
Kali nodded. "That's a bit big for immediately after the piercing, will
give you a basic ball closure for right now, and you can swap that one
in once it's healed. Hop up on the seat there, and pull up your shirt."
She instructed as she bustled around gathering gauze and sterile tools.
She pulled up a stool to sit next to me, and measured where the piercing
would go, marking it carefully. "Don't want you to be crooked." She
joked. Then she sterilized it, and numbed it up with ice. "Now, this is
gonna hurt when I do it, and it'll be worse later. But take some
painkillers when you get home and follow the aftercare I give you, and
it won't be too bad. It'll look awesome on you when it's in."
I couldn't bear looking as she did it, but I felt pressure, then a sharp
pinch, then it was done. I felt Kali tugging at my body, and looked
down to see she'd already cleaned up what blood there was and was now
looping the ring through the hole, closing it with a ball, and bandaging
it to keep blood from getting on my clothes. It ached, but wasn't
intolerable. I had a belly piercing. Like a girl. I was thankful my
dick was tucked tight to my body in the jeans, as otherwise my secret
would have been out right then.
Kali gave me a bunch of instructions that I barely heard, some pre-
printed info about aftercare, and took me up front to ring me up for the
piercing and the jewelry. I idly flipped through a book of tattoo art
while she did that, and suddenly stopped, caught. I wouldn't go this
far would I? I'd stopped on a triple spiral design that I thought might
be Celtic.
"See anything you like?" Kali's voice jolted me back.
For a long agonizing moment, I wavered. Boy-Jamie came surging up,
desperate put a stop to this. The piercing was bad, but a tattoo? That
couldn't be taken out! That wouldn't close up! I took control, enough
was enough.
And then...then I fell again. "Could I get this one? Today?" One
manicured finger rested on the design I'd been stuck by. I could barely
believe the words. They sounded nervous to me, but to Kali I think they
just sounded excited.
"Sure thing! Well, assuming you don't want it too big or someplace crazy
that we'd need to do it over multiple sessions. We have time in the
schedule today."
"Could I get it here?" I had half turned, lifting the back of my shirt
and indicating my lower back. What was I thinking?
Kali smirked at me. "If you're sure, it's a bit of a statement having a
tat there."
Outwardly I nodded. Inwardly I screamed. I can't get a tramp stamp!
I'm a guy!
But I did. It hurt, both the tattoo, and having to lie awkwardly around
my new belly piercing to have it done. But there it was. I'd branded
myself, front and back, with the piercing and the tattoo. I'd never be
able to go shirtless again. But then again, with these tits, small as
they were, going shirtless was already pretty dicey.
I wanked again when I got home, standing up because I could yet bear to
lie down on top of my new tattoo. I had no trouble getting off this
time. Pushing the girl stuff to new heights always got me going, but it
also meant the high was over faster. The shame crashed down hard on top
of all my aches and pains, but this time there wouldn't any purging. I
couldn't just strip off clothes. Once more, I'd permanently marked
myself with the trappings of girlhood.
How was this ever going to stop?
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