Dear Diary

Dear Diary.

I never really like my job, the best I could manage was feigned enthusiasm in front of my supervisors, but it paid well, and so far I had been able to spoof my way through 3 years of regular paychecks with minimal effort.

Cube life sucked the life out of you, but computer programing wasn't really difficult and at least it paid far better than most of the other drone positions that were open to recent college graduates. By the time I had come off probation and realized I hated it, I was too used to the money to go elsewhere.

Then everything changed, our boss retired and a new manager was promoted in from another department, now things really sucked.

We had weekly status reports to write, quotas to fill, the expectation that we would work on our own time to meet some of the increasingly unrealistic estimates that had become part of our daily grind was clearly, although unofficially stated.

Fuck that.

I was in the door at 7:30 AM and out at 4:00 PM, and if I didn't make a deadline it was because the deadline was crap, not because my performance was at fault.

I managed to string it out, oblivious to changing circumstances for another 3 months before I was called into Human Resources.

I left HR with a Performance Improvement Plan, the dreaded PIP, no one ever comes back from a PIP, it was time to work on my resume and get the hell out of here before the hammer fell. It's always easier to get a job, when you have a job, and reading the comments in my PIP, I estimated I had a maximum of 3 months and maybe as little as 6 weeks before they sacked me.

Then the strangest thing happened, as I glumly made my way back to my cube with the realization the gravy train was quickly becoming derailed weighing me down, my new manager, the person responsible for all my troubles called me into his office.

"Look, Joe, I know I PIPed you, and we both know that far too often that doesn't end well"

I nodded, I really had nothing polite to say to him.

"Here's the thing," he continued, "you deserve it, you know you do."

He paused for a moment.

"I've been playing the management game for a really long time, and I can spot potential when I see it, even if that potential is deliberately trying to hide.

"You could be a star if you could get your head out of that cloud of resentment you carry around and begin to concentrate on and enjoy your work.

"I'll work with you on improving your performance from a technical and administrative point of view, but I think you need something more, have you ever been to a life coach?"

I shook my head.

"That's available through the employee help program, it will show HR your taking the PIP seriously, and that's going to get you more leeway, more time to earn your way off it.

"I don't expect any work from you today, get on your computer and on to the employee portal, get signed up, let me know you've done it by close of business and I promise you, you'll have no greater ally in the months ahead."

Well, one thing led to another, and after filling out a couple of online questioners and a face to face interview with a life coach, HR called me in to review his report.

The summary was pretty accurate actually, it's not that I was technically incompetent, but a combination of laziness often due to boredom, and not being assertive about the contributions that I had made, made it look like I was badly underperforming.

I had some minor issues that could be easily be addressed but the major issue I had to overcome to raise my performance closer to my bosses expressed exceptions, was in the life coaches' opinion, mental.

The life coach wanted to work with me on the other stuff, however as a first step he wanted me to take a short course of hypnotherapy to attack the mental block he thought he'd identified, only then did he think his treatment could be fully effective.

He told me that was quite common, and he regularly used a hypnotist called Dr. Fuller. He went on to explain things in more detail.

Dr. Fuller insisted that his sessions were the only task assigned to a patient on the day they visited him, he had a theory that his instructions could become garbled if his patients did anything other than relax after their sessions.

It was for that reason that his session were always in the morning, so his patients could fully immerse themselves in their treatment for the rest of the day.

I'm not sure the life coach would have been happy if he could read my mind, an extra day a week off work in exchange for an hour sitting on a couch with some weirdo repeating positive reinforcement while I slept, only an idiot would say no to that.

And so it was agreed, I signed on the dotted line and HR started to make appointments for me.

My first scheduled visit to the Dr. Fuller was to be an introductory session and didn't count as part of my treatment plan; filling in forms, giving him the approval from HR to invoice the company for my treatment, and a brief chat.

I don't remember talking to him for an hour, but I did, I vaguely remembered him telling me that I probably wouldn't remember much from our sessions, so that sort of made sense.

He had few demands of me; perfect attendance for his appointments, to do nothing except relax at home after our sessions, and keep a diary.

I was to write a review of my day before I went to bed, a review of my dreams first thing after waking.

Two pages a day was all he required.

Once written down I was never to revisit them, reread them, or edit them.

I could do that.

He went on to tell me the reason I was never to reread my entries was that he wanted an honest unexpurgated account of my life.

He explained a complex theory about coming to terms with my past affecting my future self, and that the first time you wrote something down you tended to be fully honest, but if you went back, the desire to edit things, clean them up to make yourself look better, or less embarrassed, was almost overwhelming.

He didn't want me thinking about the diary until I was in his surgery, only then could we discuss its contents.

He told me he was going to quickly put me under and leave a suggestion to encourage me to write, on schedule, and from the heart.

From my point of view a day off work for a few pages of scribblings seemed like a great trade, as I wasn't too interested in what the pages contained, that set of instructions was all fine with me as well.

The diary he gave me didn't have dates on its pages, rather it had days and weeks, ranging from Week 1 Day 1, through to Week 26 Day 7.

A half a year might seem like a long time he told me, but most of his patients needed at least that much time, often longer, and as such, it was the amount of time our HR department had approved for my initial treatment plan.

I hoped my progress was as slow as possible, 26 4 day weeks, I laughed internally, if I could actually keep my job that long, the PIP might have been the sweetest thing that ever happened to me.

I had been brought up Catholic, the ritual of the confession never really sat very heavily on me and my usual practice was just to make things up and say I had lied at the end, as I lay on my couch watching TV after our meeting, I had the strangest feeling that I had confessed everything about my life, even the hidden things, to Dr. Fuller in a way I had never done to a priest.

Week 1 Day 1 - Night Entry.

I got up late, watched some TV, showered and caught a bus across town. I arrived at Dr. Fuller's office about 10 minutes before my 10 O'clock appointment, then his Personal Assistant led me in to his surgery right on time.

I arrived home about 12, and slept through the day, I really don't remember being tired, but I must have been because I don't remember waking up at any time and I rarely sleep more than 2 hours at a stretch without reaching to my bedside table for a drink of water.

Week 1 Day 2 - Morning Entry.

My dreams were surreal, confused, bizarre, I am not sure what the word is, but they were not normal.

I am standing in front of Dr. Fuller in a yellow summer dress, I have pulled the skirts up, below I am wearing yellow suspender and stockings, I have no other underwear on, and my cock, balls, and legs are cleanly shaven. I can see my hand move up and down the length of my cock, it seems longer and wider than usual, I masturbate furiously and as I cum I cry out, "I am your sissy Master."

Dr. Fuller stands up from his couch and crosses the floor to me, he has a yellow silk ribbon in his hands and I dip my knees as he ties it around my neck, in deepest brown are written the words, "Sissy Josephine - Property of Dr. Fuller."

He pushes me to my knees with a light hand on one shoulder, with the other he undoes his pants which fall to his ankles, he is wearing nothing underneath, his cock and balls are as clean shaven as mine, but his cock is larger and wider, I feel his hands in my hair as he pulls my mouth towards his erection then the room goes dark.

The dream replays time and time again throughout the night, a constantly repeating cycle until finally, I wake with a massive hard-on. Lying in bed I masturbate inside my boxers, as I cum I want to cry out in real time, "I am your sissy Master," but something prevents me for doing it.

Once I am in the shower I proceed to shave myself below the neck, everything, arms, legs, chest, I have never shaven anything except my face before.

As I shave around my cock it hardens, I let my hand gather around it, and leaning into the spray of warm water, spread my legs and push my ass out, Dr. Fuller is behind me, his large cock enthusiastically hammering my tight ass as I cum on to the floor and watched my semen swirl down the drain.

Surreal, confused, bizarre, not normal, concealed, secret, previously unrevealed, released.

Week 1 Day 3 - Evening Entry.

Once a week everyone in the office would go out for pizza, wings, and beer. The managers picked up the tab, as I was never one to turn my back on a free meal I was usually one of the last to leave. Tonight I just wanted to get home as soon as possible so I could get back to dream state. 1 slice of pizza and 1 beer satisfied my social obligations, then I hurried home.

Week 2 Day 1 - Morning Entry.

I have been having the dream of me in the yellow summer dress repeatedly, it is the only dream I have now, and sometimes sitting at my desk in work, a daydream of it takes over and I blank out to the world around me.

I have been coming in my sleep as I dream as well, the stains in my boxers attest to that. I stopped having wet dreams at 14, and now 10 years later they are back.

Every time I masturbate it is to the image of me on my knees, Dr. Fuller pulling my willing head towards his erect cock.

But now a disturbing and strange hangover has come from somewhere, I can run the vision in my mind at will, any time, but if I try to do that and simultaneously masturbate, the images suddenly blank out and my cock quickly subsides from an erect to a flaccid state and I simply cannot continue to orgasm.

If I keep my mind blank of pictures and simply narrate the actions I know I would be seeing, my cock hardens into an even firmer state. However, I need to speak out loud, if I subvocalize my cock still subsides from an erect to a flaccid state.

"My head moves towards his cock and my mouth opens willingly to receive his member."

Now I can continue.

"I suck his cock, it tastes good, he takes more control of my movements as his passion rises, his hands are locked in my hair and he is forcing my movements, it is not so much a blow job now as a face fuck."

I'm at the cusp of coming

"I feel his cock shudder in my mouth, from the eye a long hot stream of semen shoots out to fill my mouth, as I swallow it all, my own cock explodes."

In real life, I cum.

Week 2 Day 1 - Night Entry.

I'm sitting on the couch, Dr. Fuller is reading my diary, I can't remember a word I have written in it, and I have no compulsion to try.

"Our first session has produced excellent results, I am very confident I can help you, but it is going to take time."

He continues to read pages that I have no real memory of writing.

"This is very good Joe, what you write at the start of our journey is vital for me to know and understand, it's a roadmap, it lets me know the real barriers we will have to overcome, the big issues that we will have to refine over time, and the little things that we will simply cross off one by one, a session at a time."

I remember being very happy to hear that, then he asked me to looks into his eyes.

I remember waking in my own bed, much later in the day. As always my boxers are stained with cum, but I do not remember going to sleep, I don't even remember the journey home.

Week 2 Day 2 - Morning Entry.

The dreams of me in the yellow dress have now been replaced with visions of my last session with Dr. Fuller, over and over they repeat.

I am sitting on Dr. Fuller's couch, I confess the yellow dress fantasy to him. Shamefully I tell him the issues I am having with my masturbatory habits.

He tells me such things are to be expected so early in the process, but as long as I can successful orgasm through masturbation in some fashion, any fashion, he's not too worried.

I watch as if I was a bird with x-ray vision looking down into Dr. Fuller's surgery, I remove my shoes and socks, and hand the socks over to Dr. Fuller. He gives me a replacement pair, ladies ankle length socks, white with two yellow bands at the top.

Dr. Fuller hands me one of my own socks and speaks to me, I blush but nod in understanding.

I stand and let my pants and boxers drop to my ankles, my cock is already hard and large, I place the sock on my cock and start to work it but it is rapidly going soft.

I sigh.

"My head moves towards his cock and my mouth opens willingly to receive his member."

Rapidly I bring myself to orgasm, I then hand the soiled sock over to Dr. Fuller.

He hands me the second sock, and once again I masturbate into it and hand it back to him.

It crosses my mind unusual things are happening to me, normally I can't get hard after I've cum for at least half an hour, today my cock remained rigidly erect for the full hour until Dr. Fuller had me redress before he ended our session.

I stop at Macey's on the way home and buy 20 pairs of similar socks to the ones I am now wearing, half have yellow bands at the top, the other half, pink. Yellow has always been my favorite color, but I know this is the first time I have ever purchased anything pink, I hate pink.

My sock drawer no longer has any males socks on it, they have been replaced with my Macey's purchase, and the old ones are now stacked singly on my bedside table. Almost without thinking about it I reach out and pick one up, place it around my cock and repeat my mantra.

"My head moves towards his cock and my mouth opens willingly to receive his member."

I place the stained sock in a Ziploc bag, I don't even consider this strange because I know they will be handed over to Dr. Fuller at our next session, its treatment, not perversion.

Week 3 Day 1 - Morning Entry.

I am very excited, I have another appointment with Dr. Fuller today.

Every time I put on a pair of girly socks, my cock becomes engorged and I have to masturbate it into subservience. I have run out of socks to soil, I count the Ziploc bags I will deliver to Dr. Fuller today, 30, in the last week I have masturbated 30 times, my cock and balls have never had so much action. I was usually a once a day in the shower sort of guy, rarely more than twice, my libido is going crazy, I want to pleasure myself again, but without a sock to cum in, it just doesn't feel right.

Week 3 Day 1 - Night entry.

I am sitting beside Dr. Fuller, his fingers are lightly stroking my neck as I speak.

"You're really helping Doctor, things are going much better at work, and my weekly write up in my PIP said I have really turned things around, I am consistently meeting expectations and my communication skills are vastly improved, my boss is really happy with me."

"That's great Joe, why don't we work on some new issues to take you to the next stage, stand up, face me, and masturbate while I give you your new instructions."

I remember removing my shoes, pants, and boxers, but not my socks, by the time I am mostly naked from the waist down, my cock is already erect and my hand greedily moves towards it.

I don't remember what he told me while I masturbated for him, I just remember that still naked from the waist down, I am kneeling using a Clorox wipe to clean my cum from his hardwood floor. As I do, I know that I really want to taste it. I've masturbated thousands of times in my life, and I've never had that thought before.

Week 4 Day 1 - Morning Entry.

I'm like a junkie jonesing for a fix, I need to see Dr. Fuller, my appointment is at 10, and I'm sitting on my couch fully dressed, at 5.

Week 4 Day 1 - Night Entry.

I'm crying, Dr. Fuller hands me his handkerchief, I'm explaining that I've lost the will to masturbate, I've haven't cum since I can't remember when, but without being able to cum, I don't feel I'm improving at work.

I don't know how my increased Libido is linked to my improved performance at work, I just know it is, and I'm standing still, I am afraid my PIP will fail and I'll be out of a job, and then I won't be able to see the Doctor and...

"The last time you came was in my office last week Joe. I told you not to masturbate this past week, we will cross an important bridge today, and I wanted you to be ready for it. Once we have crossed that bridge, we will begin to work on improving your home and work life and you will see that it progresses far more rapidly than we have been doing so far, are you ready to move on?"

Through my tears, I answer affirmatively.

I have taken off my shoes, but not my socks, I remove my pants and then my boxers, I hand the boxers to Dr. Fuller and in return I accept I pair of white cotton panties.

"Do you have yellow Doctor," I ask him cheekily, "my favorite color is yellow."

"White panties are for virgins Josephine, yellow panties are for sluts, and you are not a slut, at least not yet."

He pauses as he considers me, "that is some way off."

While he talks I put the white panties on.

"They look very good on you Josephine, how do they feel?"

My hand touches them, I feel them cover my ass, "Sexy doctor, they feel sexy and..."

"And what Josephine?"

Josephine? Again! A girls' name!

Did that feel strange? No! Not Really.

"And right Doctor, they feel right."

Did the name feel right also?

Not completely, not when I first heard him say it, but now that it is echoing and reverberating inside my head, it feels like it's my true name, the name I've always hidden from and have now joyously discovered and accepted.

The doctor gives me some time to let my thoughts run crazy, he speaks only a few words as I stand in front of him, the top of my erect cock now peeking out of the white panties.

Instinctively I know where this road ends now, with me flat on my back, my legs spread wide the good doctor between them fucking my ass.

No, not my ass, my pussy.

Pussy?

Another instruction from the Doctor I suppose.

I know the thought should bother me, instead, it excites me, and I want the day I lie down for him to come very soon.

He hands me back my boxers, they feel nasty to my touch now, I want to drop them on the floor, but the Doctor gives me new instructions.

"You may masturbate again Josephine."

I wrap the boxers around my cock and quickly cum in them. I'm not sure that your balls can store a full weeks' worth of semen at a time, but the explosion when I came felt like a dam had broken and released its contents.