Seasons

So as the bulk of the female population start to prep their bodies for the feast of flesh as the weather turns warmer,  and what a lovely few months that will be, I go the other way for the same reasons. I let my hair grow back to its old length and convert myself back to being a normal hairy bloke. Hairy and normal enough to lead a local sports team without attracting comments in the changing room.

A far cry from the hairless,  stocking clad sissy slut of those long happy winter months.

This is not without compensations. Which are that my fantasies switch to darker slave fantasies. Me naked with heavy steel shackles and collars. Frightful rubber hoods - dark and occluding. My breath choked by heavy black collars and starved by thin holed hoods and breathing tubes.

Or tough rubber suits clinging taut to my skin slick with sweat. Rubber straight jackets initially cool and slippery with talc but eventually clingy with sweat.  Mummifications become welcome opportunities to obliterate my ugly features and in my pupa state become a long endurance test as the hours roll by - minor inconveniences grow fiercer and the body cries out for release. My sex does too but with still less prospect of escape. Especially when I'm reduced to nothing showing just the tell tale wires of tens units. Surging away and quietly cooking my sensitive regions. Lost to anyone's sight (least of all my own) and yet not to my senses.

From the soft sensualness of sissy bondage to the darker dreams of pale naked flesh and dark black leather and rubber and punishment for my residual male identity. Strapped and buckled and chained for punishments I very much deserve. Or the permanence of shiny cuffs and chains - cooling in the heat, but unyielding and industrial. And from the transformation of me to something better looking and aspirational to my more richly deserved obliteration.