The Femdom Doctor's Humiliating Prescription: 'Wear makeup, dress as a woman, become a sissy faggot slut'

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Lately, I've lost weight and I'm trying to be more attractive. I realize, however, that my body is very aged and little and I can do nothing.

I haven't in a long time, but would love to be dresed again and on y knees in front of a man or sissy

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Vince knew his brother was right and gave the pussy a few more humps before shooting his load inside the little bitch. With every push he spurted his hot seed inside the slut, filling his bowels. Maybe it was good he wasn't a real girl, he would have been super pregnant when he and his brother were done with him. Now, having been on female hormones for nearly 4 months, I realize that the thought of going off them is vaguely terrifying. I like the effect they’re having on my body. There are moments of doubt, and a few of those moments have manifested as intense anxiety that makes me hate everything I’m doing, but on most days I know that these are positive changes. It feels like progress. It was surprisingly easy to do this. Once I got past many months of agonizing over a course of action, and then a few more weeks just working up the courage to make a phone call, it was only a matter of going to the clinic, discussing the medical implications of treatment, and signing a form saying I understood what I was doing. A blood test and a trip to the pharmacy later, I had the pills in hand. It was an off-handed comment that I ignored at first, but then later asked her to elaborate on what she meant. She talked about the different components of gender transition: social, medical, and surgical. I may not be dressing publicly in women’s clothes or asking people to recognize me as female, and I certainly don’t have any surgeries planned, but medical transition is just hormone therapy, which I’m now months into. Therefore, I am medically transitioning. Her argument was logical, but I still resisted it. Her message to sex workers is, “Regardless of how you end up in sex work, don’t let anybody tell you that you are any less of a person. People will tell you to ‘get a real job.’ They will judge you. They will hate you. Don’t let it get to you. Just keeping doing what you need to do. Just because you don’t have legal rights doesn’t mean you don’t deserve them.”

I have a desire but to this point have only dressed as a woman . . . I want to increasingly become more and more swishy when in male mode and ultimately date men. . . People think all sex workers are victims, or they are really messed up or abused because otherwise they wouldn’t be selling their bodies,” she says. “But that’s not true. My life as a sex worker was boring and normal. It’s a job like any other. The only difference is that because you have no legal protections, there are certain risks involved.” The thing I noticed immediately was that nothing was immediately noticeable. I didn’t feel the sudden calm or rightness that many transgender people say they feel when their brains are operating on the correct hormones. I didn’t feel anything at all aside from eagerness and curiosity. At least, not right away. That,s for me, too! I would adore to cuddle up with one like that, and give him, well, just give him!Jill began staking out cafés, where she would snatch sandwiches and run. She ate out of dumpsters and slept in the cemetery where police wouldn’t bother her; the sprinkler system provided a way to get clean. She was lonely, unhappy and overwhelmed. Then Bruce walked into her life.

Aside from not curing my depression, feminizing hormones have been everything I hoped for. Breast growth began in the first month, sooner than expected, and as of today they’re large enough to cup in my hands. I could probably still get away with going shirtless at the beach, but just barely. They jiggle painfully when I walk down stairs. Other than being anxious about hiding them, I’m okay with having breasts.

I met Jill Brenneman in 2011 at a conference for sex workers in Asheville, North Carolina. Standing behind a podium ironically flanked by crosses, the tall redhead delivered a presentation so spellbinding that the audience seemed to breathe and gasp in unison. Her story of brutal rape, of slavery, of dungeons, of "50 Shades of Grey" bondage gone horribly awry, was so dark and harrowing that one wondered how she had even survived, much less summoned the strength to stand before us. One of the most common mistakes, Kilmer-Purcell says, stems – um – straight from sissy salutations: I have always been a sissy faggot. I started dressing and being with boy and men when I was 14. I love being a sissy faggot

Jill was bound, gagged, suspended from a beam by her wrists, raped and beaten. Afterwards, Bruce, breathing heavily from the effort, informed Jill that she was now his slave. She would work for him as a submissive for sadistic clients. Then he untied her wrists and left her crumpled on the floor. We practiced endlessly on each piece of equipment,” she says. “I had to learn what it felt like and how much it hurt and how I was supposed to respond. We also worked on my cover story, which was that I was a student from Louisville and was so in awe of him that I decided to become his submissive girlfriend. If I was questioned I was to say this was all consensual.” Bruce told Jill that he ran an entertainment agency and offered her a chance to audition. Excited at the prospect of work, but also wary, Jill asked if the “position” would involve prostitution. She didn’t want to do that. Bruce stood up angrily, shouting that she had asked a stupid question and he wasn’t going to help her. As he stormed off, Jill ran after him and begged him to reconsider, promising that she would ask no more questions. Bruce relented and invited her into his car, where he blindfolded her. Ann Coulter and Isaiah Washington may want to take note of Josh Kilmer-Purcell‘s new column in Out. Fed up with the miscommunication and inappropriate faggot flinging, the homo-journo’s penned an uproarious satire on the ins and outs of befriending bent boys (extreme example pictured).Vince slapped the slut hard in the face to prove his point. He got up and walked up behind his brother. The boy still flailed and tears were running down his face but Matt kept his rapid pace up for about 15 minutes. Pushing deep inside with every stroke, aligning his bowels for the life of a faggot rape toy. My skin is softer, I think. Softness isn’t exactly something you can measure, so this may just be a placebo effect, but it seems like the veins on my legs and forearms are less visible. I got carded when buying alcohol for the first time in years. Then it happened again the next day. I’m 36 years old. As I came to know her over the years, to enjoy her dry sense of humor, her keen intelligence, her blunt manner of speaking that forces you to take off every mask, I learned the other side of her story too. Her real story is not a tragedy. It is a lesson of redemption and courage, second chances and taking chances. Above all, it is a story of empowerment.