With her short red hair and soft, pouty lips… Courtenay was a sight to behold. She was the kind of woman that I had no doubt many men would fuck wit...out hesitation. I would sit at my cubicle for hours, watching her work at her own desk. As I watched her, I wondered what it would be like to wave my hand through her short hair, how that hair would smell as I kissed the back of her neck or what noises she would make when I entered her from behind. Such fantasies are normal, healthy in fact. I was a sissy.And, as such, I adjusted. When it was time for me to take my morningpill, I adjusted. When the boobs plumped and swelled, I adjusted. When itwas time for me to go to the hair salon, I adjusted. When it was time tohave my penis locked in a cock cage, I adjusted.This was my life. I scrubbed. I dusted. I folded. I ironed. I cooked. Itwas no longer a kink. It was life.***Over the weeks, something seemed to change in Christine. She becameshorter, more demanding, quicker to lose her. More

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