R Chrissie Remembers Mommy - Chapter 3
Chrissie confides to his doctor
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Chapter 3

Chrissie Remembers Mommy

 

I awoke on Saturday morning drenched in sweat from the hot flashes I had been having all through the night. The strange erotic dreams I had about my mother, Rob, Alex, Helen and Heidi were still hovering barely beneath my consciousness. It was 7:00 am and Heidi was still asleep next to me in our bed. I quietly slipped from under the covers, grabbed my robe and went to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror and learned lesson one about makeup: wash it off before you go to sleep. The skin around my eyes was blackened by smudged mascara and eye liner. I washed my face, dried myself and went to the toilet where I sat down to pee. The moment I sat on the toilet a hot rush rose from my chest and my body temperature seemed to rise by 20 degrees. At the same time a wave of femininity ran through me, almost like an erotic jolt had been passed through my body. The rush was far more intense than anything I had experienced during my three years of oestrogen treatment and I could tell it was only a precursor for what was to come over the next few days. My nipples felt like they were on fire and even the satin robe I was wearing seemed to be made of sandpaper. I stayed on the toilet for far longer than I needed to just to get over the hot rush. When I felt confident enough I went to the sink and washed my face once again, just to cool it down.

I reached into the medicine cabinet to get the bottle of hormone pills my doctor, Helen, had prescribed me. I looked at the instructions, opened the bottle and dry swallowed two of the tablets. I read the description on the bottle and saw that the side effects included hot flashes, confusion and temporary loss of memory. Those warnings weren’t anything new to me but I never did get to the point in my previous treatment where I felt like the classic dizzy blonde. Now I was there. I felt like an addled, scramble brained, ditsy bimbo, but I also felt a sense of relief that any last remaining masculine hormonal impulses were being expelled from my body and I was becoming more feminine each hour of the day. Something about becoming whatever I was becoming felt right. I don’t know what that will be, but I feel more confident in the future than I do about the past. If, as Helen says, I am just a sissy or a pansy, then I am going to become more sissified each day.

I made my way downstairs to the kitchen and made myself coffee which I enjoyed whilst sitting on the sofa. It was the same sofa Rob had been sitting on less than 24 hours before and where he had splayed his legs and I had submissively sunk to my knees in front of him and cleansed his massive cock with my tongue. I blushed just at the remembrance of it.

 It was strange that my erotic dreams during the night included my mother, but not so unusual if you knew the history of my childhood. It’s the one big secret in my life and it’s a history my mother and I only share together.  I have never told anyone about the strange relationship my mother and I had. I have never gone to a psychologist or a counsellor to talk about it. I have never been too drunk to tell someone of the strangely erotic childhood I had. I have never felt confident enough in anybody to confide in them my secret life, except maybe Helen. There is an underlying compassion in her which balances out her steely, sophisticated veneer. I also sense that she would grasp the intense eroticism of it and enjoy the story. Helen and Heidi may be best friends and alike in many ways, even to the extent that their looks complement each other, but there is a depth to Helen which Heidi lacks. Heidi defines herself by her relationships with men and is attracted to the dominant types who use her until they tire of her whereas Helen seeks out a singular type of man to fulfil a need inside her, then she makes them fall for her and, when she tires of them, she discards them. The types of men Helen snares are typically darker and often villainous. She seems drawn to danger.

Knowing Helen is an early riser like myself I called her and asked if she wanted to meet for coffee. I told her I had something to tell her I had told no one else in the world. She seemed intrigued and told me to come over in half an hour with croissants and the newspaper. I looked out the window and saw the sun shining and people walking the streets in short sleeved t-shirts. I ran upstairs and showered and dressed in a blue cotton blouse, white cotton shorts which showed off my toned thighs and white trainers. I remembered to wear nice lingerie and fitted the silicon fillers in my new bra. When I looked at myself in the mirror I saw a wholesome suburban woman looking like she was off to play a game of tennis. The weather and the waves of hormones running through my body made me feel particularly girly and perky. I just put on some mascara, saving the eyeliner and lipstick till later in the day.  I put all my things in a canvas handbag and skipped down the stairs and out the door. Heidi was a very late sleeper and would probably be still in bed by the time I returned. Two hot flashes later and I was at Helen’s front door. I had my fourth hormonal rush of the day while she prepared coffee and I sat in her living room waiting for her. I fished a handkerchief out of my bag and patted my forehead dry and Helen set the tray on the coffee table in front of us. She poured us each a cup and sat down, tucking her tan legs underneath her.

“How do you feel today?” asked Helen. “I can tell you are getting flushed. How many hot flashes have you had?”

“I think that was my fourth and, if I’m not mistaken, the fifth is about to come,” I replied. “It’s a disconcerting feeling and in the midst of it I sort of forget who I am but when they subside there is a warmth inside me and I feel a wave of femininity engulf me. With the stronger dose I feel like my breasts are going to grow by a size each day. My nipples are super sensitive.”

“I wish we could grow you breasts like that, but when you are over thirty it is very hard to grow them just through hormonal treatment,” replied Helen. “We’ll get you size B breasts within the month. Don’t you worry. The surgeon I have in mind will make them look as natural as possible. You’ll be proud of them.”

“Just think, four years ago I never thought of going through this and I wouldn’t have if you and Heidi hadn’t insisted upon it, and now all I want to be is a woman,” I said. “Now I feel disappointed if men don’t look at me in the streets and I don’t get wolf whistles when I pass a group of builders. Two men tried to pick me up in a wine bar last night when I wore a skirt and heels out for the first time.”

“Chrissie, you will never be a woman but you should be happy being a sissy,” chided Helen. “When we started treatment you were an angry man whose wife slept around and made you feel inadequate. You were inadequate for her as a lover and you can’t blame her for finding better men. Now you have accepted things as they should be and you are happy to be the person you are. You will never be a woman but you will be a stunningly attractive sissy that men will lust over.”

Even with the hormone treatment I still felt a wave of humiliation engulf me as Helen pointed out some rather obvious truths and I felt myself blush as I often did when she was painfully honest with me. I knew what course my life was following but I still had yet to fully accept that my sexual function in life was to satisfy the erotic kinks of normally straight men. Any sort of confidence I once had in myself as a heterosexual man had now been eroded and, after the hormone treatment I had begun years ago and, as I began to develop into an attractive facsimile of a woman, I had become much more shy and embarrassed by the attentions straight men gave me. I know in many ways I came across to people as a shy virginal teenage girl and, unfortunately, for a certain type of man that was very appealing. Truth to be told, I attracted the same type of man my wife Heidi attracted but in my case there were going to be no long-term relationships. A typical alpha male will be happy to spend whatever time it takes to take me sexually but once they will have satisfied themselves they will be on the way. Nobody buys a sissy flowers or wines and dines them. They don’t even have coffee with them afterwards. They just zip up their trousers and walk away.

“Now, I am very curious about your secret,” said Helen. “And I expect an erotic story that will blow my stockings off. Be assured, this is not something that I will ever discuss with Heidi. I suspect you are going to tell me something that was transformative in your life and, I have to admit, I feel honoured that you want to tell me.”

“Is it erotic?” I asked rhetorically. “Yes it is. It is probably the strangest and most erotic set of experiences I think anyone could have. The amazing thing is the act itself has been turned into a word of scorn but in reality it is a beautiful and extremely erotic thing because it is so unacceptable to the norms of society. To let the cat out of the bag, if you have never met a motherfucker before, you have now.”

Helen took in a sharp intake of breath and, when I studied her face, I saw some colour rise for the first time since I have known the normally enigmatic woman. The temperature in the room seemed to rise as well, not helped by the fact that my fifth hot rush of the morning was beginning to overwhelm me. My brow became wet with moisture as the hormones pumped through my system with a ferocity I had never yet experienced. My brain seemed to freeze and I began to feel faint as the room did a brief spin. I lost track of time as what were actually seconds of confusion seemed like drawn out minutes of suspended animation and I was lost in a delicious wave of femininity which coursed through my body in wave after pleasurable wave. My enlarged nipples burned in a deeply erotic way and I found myself trying to touch them and sooth them although they were covered by my new bra and the silicon fillers. I closed my eyes until the sensation passed and when I opened them I was temporarily confused by the sight of Helen and struggled to remember where I was and what made me come to see my doctor and my wife’s best friend. Just like a heroin addict is addicted to the rush after he injects the drug in his veins I had become a willing servant of the hormones that Helen injected in me every week and I lived solely for the mornings when the hormonal rushes streamed through my system. I never felt more alive in my life than when I was engulfed by the overwhelming flow of oestrogen and felt the woman inside me break free from my masculine past. It was like waking to a new world of hyper reality when the pleasurable sensations finally seemed to ebb.

“You are glowing,” Chrissie said with a smile. “You look just like a dizzy blonde. Sometimes when I see you I can’t believe you are not a woman. Now, get your thoughts together. I want to hear all about you and your mother.”

“I’m sorry, but I am a bit confused,” I said with a giggle, using the handkerchief to wipe my brow. “I guess I have to get used to a new paradigm in my life every Saturday morning.”

 

“It all started when I came home one day early from school when I was 13 and I heard sounds coming from my parent’s bedroom,” I said. “I somehow knew what was going on even before I peaked in through the partially opened door to my parent’s bedroom but I was still shocked to see my mother cuckolding my father with my uncle. He was thrusting into from behind and she was crying out with pleasure. I remember looking at his huge cock going in and out of her and, while I watched guiltily, I couldn’t help but touch myself. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen or imagined in my life and it made my cock hard. My mother was young when she had me and was still an extremely beautiful woman who had married one of three brothers. My father was the geek of the family whereas his two brothers were masculine, muscular and manly. In retrospect my father was almost effeminate in comparison to his two brothers but he made far more money as a research scientist than they did as builders and the life he provided my mother and I was luxurious compared to what they gave their wives and children. They were both rogues, which is what probably drew my mother to them. She had a naughty streak in her which she hid from my father but, as I was growing up, I was acutely aware of the attention men paid her and the surreptitious glances she sometimes exchanged with them while we were out shopping.”

“She glanced sideways just as he was coming inside her and she saw me touching myself and just seemed to smile and waved me away. I went into my bedroom and closed the door quietly but I could hear them talking and doors closing. She finally opened my door wearing a dressing gown and asked me to join her in bed. When I followed her into the bedroom she told me to take off all my clothes and come under the covers with her. She touched me and felt my hardness and asked if I could keep a secret. She knew I adored her and she believed me when I told her I would never tell anyone about what I saw. She asked me if I thought she was sexy and beautiful and I told her she was the most wonderful woman in the world. Then she asked me what I would like to do and I even surprised myself when I told her that I would love to lick and kiss her pussy. She was shocked at first and told me it was dirty with my uncle’s cum but I told her that didn’t bother me and it was the one thing I wanted to do. She parted her legs as I lowered myself down and kissed and licked her pussy tasting a mixture of my mother’s moist pussy and the thick residue of Uncle Tom’s semen. Then she began telling me how to lick her clit and what she wanted me to do and before long she gripped my head in her hips and let out a moan and came violently.”

“Did that just happen one time?” Helen asked while her hand had slipped under her robe and she was touching her breast.

“No, whenever I came home from school my mother would ask me if I would like to lick her dirty pussy and make me guess which of my father’s two brothers had been with her that day just by the taste of their cum,” I replied, noting Helen’s flushed face and the red glow on her chest. “She would sometimes play with my prick and make me cum but it was only after my father died when I was 18 that we made love.”

“What else did you and your naughty mother get up to?” asked Helen. “She sounds like the perfect mother for a confirmed cuckold. What do you think she would think of you now that you are a complete sissy?”

“She is the last person that would be surprised,” I replied. “I was slight and petite when I was younger, just like she was as a woman and she would like to dress me up in her clothes and apply makeup to me and tell me I would make a much better girl than a boy. She told me I inherited my father’s small cock which was nothing like the big cocks his brothers had. When I started growing pubic hair she had me shave it and keep it smooth. She never bought me boys underwear. She and I wore the same panties which was easy because our hips were the same size.”

“I lived with her until I was 25 and the only masculine clothes I wore were for when I went outside the house. Inside the house we wore the same dressing gowns and, since our feet were the same size, we also wore the same slippers and shoes.”

I noticed then that Helen’s hand had drifted down to her crotch and she was rubbing herself under her panties. I had never seen the look of desire on her face before.

“Can you keep a secret with me just like you kept with your mother?” Helen asked with a devilish grin.

“I can if you never tell anyone what I told you,” I replied, not quite knowing what to expect.

“Come over her and kneel in front of me,” she instructed. “Kiss and lick my dirty pussy just like you did with your naughty mommy and try to guess who’s cum you’re tasting. I think if your slutty wife found out there would be hell to pay.”

I went and did what I was instructed to do and was rewarded when Helen locked her hips around my head and buckled into a strong orgasm. I knew immediately from the unique taste of her pussy that Rob had made a nocturnal visit to Helen’s apartment the last evening. It was the second time in 24 hours that I had tasted his cum and I was beginning to develop an appreciation for it. Just as Helen’s orgasm peaked the sixth hot rush of the morning engulfed me, far stronger than the five previous ones. This time the room spun twice and I lost track of time completely. When I recovered and, after Helen had gently moved my head aside, I opened my eyes and tried to recall why I was on my knees staring at a smooth shaved vagina and why my mouth tasted of cum and pussy juices. Once again I rode the waves of pleasure as the superior forces of oestrogen overpowered my ever diminishing reserve of testosterone. It felt as if my little prick was shrinking further into nothingness as my breasts grew more and more sensitive. Rather than being alarmed by the sensation I actually craved more and felt like begging Helen for another, stronger dose of the hormones.

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