MidReal Story

Desire's Delicate Duality

Scenario: Напиши эротическую историю про феминизацию, желанную кастрацию и последствия
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Напиши эротическую историю про феминизацию, желанную кастрацию и последствия
I’ve never told anyone this before.
Not my parents, not my friends, and certainly not any of the girls I’ve dated.
It’s a secret I’ve kept to myself for as long as I can remember, and it’s one that I’ve always been too afraid to admit out loud.
But now that I’m sitting in Dr.
Sullivan’s office, staring at the clock on the wall and listening to the sound of his pen scratching against his notepad, I know that I can’t keep it to myself any longer.
I have to tell him the truth.
I have to tell him what I want.
“Ethan.” He looks up at me, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
“Is there something you’d like to talk about?”
I swallow hard and nod.
“There is.”
“Good.” He sets his pen down on the desk in front of him and leans back in his chair.
“What is it that you’d like to discuss?”
I take a deep breath and look down at my hands, which are folded together in my lap.
“I want to be a girl,” I say.
“I want to wear pretty dresses and makeup, and I want to have long hair and look beautiful.
I want to be feminine and delicate and everything that I’m not.
And I want to be castrated, too.
I want my testicles removed so that I can’t make testosterone anymore.
I want to be smooth and soft and hairless, like a woman.
I want to be completely emasculated.
And I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or why I feel this way, but I can’t stop thinking about it and I can’t make it go away.
And it scares me, Dr.
Sullivan, it scares me more than anything else in the world.”
His expression is unreadable as he watches me speak, his eyes locked on mine.
When I finish, there’s a long moment of silence between us, and then he says, “Thank you for sharing that with me, Ethan.”
“Of course,” I say quietly.
“I’m sorry, I just…”
“Don’t apologize,” he says firmly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.
And I want you to know that you’re not alone.
“Your feelings are not unheard of.
In fact, they’re quite common.” He pauses, watching me closely.
“What you’ve described is a form of gender dysphoria.
It’s the feeling of being uncomfortable with your biological sex and the gender role associated with it.
Many people experience these feelings at some point in their lives, and there are ways to address them so that you can live more comfortably in your own skin.”
I blink, trying to take in what he’s telling me.
“So… what should I do?”
He smiles reassuringly.
“That will depend on what you’re comfortable with.
There are many different ways to treat gender dysphoria, ranging from therapy to hormone replacement therapy to surgery.
If you’re interested in exploring these options further, I’d be happy to recommend some resources for you.”
I nod slowly, my mind reeling with the possibilities that he’s presented to me.
The idea of being able to explore my desires is exhilarating in a way that I never thought possible, but it’s also terrifying.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“You’re welcome,” he says kindly.
“And remember, Ethan: it’s okay to be who you are.
No matter what that might look like.”
I stare at him for a long moment before nodding slowly and standing up from my chair.
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Mia has been supportive of what she calls my “journey into the unknown,” although I know that it can’t be easy for her to watch me flounder as we explore the depths of my psyche.
When I told her about my conversation with Dr.
Sullivan, she seemed pleased that I’d been honest with him about my desires, but also a little apprehensive about the implications of that truth coming to light and the fact that it could change my life forever.
After all, it’s one thing to have a fantasy, but it’s another thing entirely to admit that fantasy out loud and accept that it might never go away.
The morning after my confession to Dr.
Sullivan, I wake up to find Mia missing from our bed, and part of me wonders if she’s had second thoughts about my revelation, or if she’s simply giving me space to process the truth in my own time.
It takes me a few minutes to shake off the haze of sleep and remember exactly what happened yesterday, but when the memory comes rushing back to me, it feels like a bucket of cold water being dumped over my head.
I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes as I try to make sense of everything that’s happened over the past twenty-four hours.
Mia’s absence doesn’t last long, though, and when she returns a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of coffee, she settles back down on the bed beside me, her expression soft and concerned.
“How are you feeling?”
she asks quietly, handing me one of the mugs.
I take it gratefully, cradling the warm porcelain in my hands as I think about her question.
The truth is, I’m not sure how I feel right now, other than confused and a little apprehensive about what the future might hold for me now that my secret is out in the open.
But there’s another part of me that feels lighter than it has in a long time, simply because I’m no longer keeping this part of myself buried deep inside where no one can see it or touch it or make me face the reality of what I want—what I need—out loud.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, looking down at the coffee in my hands.
“I don’t know how to feel.”
“That’s okay,” she says gently, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“You don’t have to figure everything out right now.”
“I know,” I say, closing my eyes and leaning into her touch.
“But what if this changes everything?”
“Then it changes everything,” she replies with a shrug.
“But you’re still you, and you’re still amazing, and nothing can ever change that.
So no matter what happens, we’ll figure it out together.”
I smile at her words, grateful for her unwavering support and the fact that she has never once judged me or made me feel like less of a person because of my desires.
I don’t know what I would do without her by my side as we navigate this uncharted territory together.
Even though she’s not entirely sure what to make of my confession to Dr.
Sullivan, she hasn’t hesitated to help me in any way that she can, and having her in my corner makes all the difference in the world.
Now all that’s left is to figure out how to tell her about the other thing that Dr.
Sullivan and I talked about—the thing that scares me more than anything else—and hope like hell that she’ll still feel the same way about me when she knows.
“Thank you for being here,” I say softly as I open my eyes and return my gaze to hers.
“For everything that you do for me.”
Her lips curve into a sweet smile, her eyes sparkling with affection as she reaches out to take my hand in hers.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” she says, squeezing my fingers as we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments longer.
“Now that you’ve let everything out, do you feel any better?”
I exhale roughly, giving her hand a grateful squeeze as I pull her into a tight hug.
“I do,” I whisper into her hair.
“I really do.”
When I finally manage to pull myself together and leave Mia’s room, I go back to my own to get ready for my appointment with Dr.
Sullivan, quickly turning on the shower to let the water heat up before I strip off my clothes.
As I stand beneath the spray, my thoughts turn back to my conversation with Mia—and to everything that has happened since I finally worked up the nerve to tell her about what I want and need from her.
I’m not sure what I was expecting from her when I finally got up the courage to tell her about my darkest secrets, but I never could have imagined that her response—that her first reaction—would be to climb onto my bed and kiss me as if she’d been waiting for me to admit my feelings all along.
I’ve spent so much time over the last few years trying to push her away because I was afraid of what she would think if she knew the truth, that actually having her support—and her encouragement—was a welcome surprise.
Now that I have it, I don’t know what I would do without her—and I just hope like hell that telling her about my castration fantasy won’t change anything between us.
When I get out of the shower and towel myself dry, I pull on a pair of black boxer briefs and a snug-fitting white V-neck T-shirt before selecting my usual dark wash jeans from my closet and tugging them on over my hips.
It’s not the most exciting outfit in the world—far from it—but I’ve always liked the way that the simple combination of jeans and a T-shirt looks on me, especially since I’ve worked so hard to maintain my athletic build over the years.
I have a feeling that I’ll be sticking with the same look for the foreseeable future as well because even though Dr.
Sullivan has encouraged me to experiment with clothing he considers more feminine in the past, I haven’t had much interest in doing so until now.
Still, I can’t help but wonder what he’ll say about everything that I told him yesterday—or whether he’ll even want to continue having our therapy sessions when he knows the truth about what goes on inside my head.
I’m not going to lie: I’m a little bit nervous when I walk into his office a few minutes later and take a seat on the couch across from him.
But I also can’t help but notice that there’s something else there too—something a little bit like relief now that I no longer have to hide the fact that I want to be feminized so badly.
“Good morning,” he says pleasantly as soon as I sit down.
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