The mornings are nice. Just when you wake up from your most amazing dream and you still have *that* feeling linger long after you first open your eyes.

The cold morning sun shines on your pale and beautiful skin tenderly stroking it as if you were a newborn kitten in your mother's embrace.

You put both of your hands on your stomach and start to slowly slide them across your body all the way up to your small tight breasts that feel like they belong to a young teenage girl who has just reached puberty. Squeeze them too hard and they'll hurt.

You then turn around in your double bed with just one giant feather pillow in the center gently cradling your head, a few teddies, a heart-shaped pillow with the word "love" written on it in italics, a pair of black thongs lost somewhere between those pink and white silky barbie-like sheets and a few missed droplets of your favorite water based lube shamefully trying to cover up last nights kinky mishaps.

After about ten, sometimes fifteen minutes of finding heavenly pleasure in simply being alive and being able to roll around with no clothes on between those silky smooth bed sheets, you slowly pull yourself together and step out of bed into the realms of reality.

This is where everything literally turns to shit. The first thing you feel is an intense need to rid yourself from excess excrement that has piled up inside you overnight from an hour long shit pumping marathon with your newest silicone toy that your latest fan Richard, who is a pathetic overweight mid-50s closet homosexual, bought for you because it happened to be the cheapest thing on your Amazon wishlist.

Goosebumps, all over your body, as you sit in the bathroom. It feels like diarrhea, but you know it's just all that desensitizing lube from the night before. The same that messed up your barbie sheets.

As you let yourself go you suddenly feel a strange warmness flowing down your thighs. Quickly realizing what has happened you push down your tiny little sissy cock so the filth can flow freely into the toilet instead of all over yourself. Once again you'd completely forgotten about it as if it wasn't even attached to your body at all.

At this moment the harsh reality really takes hold. You are now fully aware of yourself - of who *you* are on the inside - but for some sick and twisted reason fate has completely fucked up your entire being by placing you inside the wrong body in the Russian roulette of evolution.

As the last few drops of lube finally find their way out from the darkness you feel exhausted from the night before. The back door is still tingling and look, there's even a drop of red amongst the transparent ones. Don't worry, you'll be fine.

It makes you deeply sad every time you think about all of this filth. It would be so much easier to have cravings for a big fat cock if you had an actual vagina. Needing to feel it throb and pulse inside of you as it bursts its juices all over the insides of your skinny body. But no - such luxury is never going to be because even with today's technology and surgeries you will always know for a fact that you cannot change your physical self to the point where it truly matters.

You will always be only half of what you feel you are on the inside. A character so deeply rooted into your psyche that you don't even know any more whether it's real or whether you're just an avatar controlled by something else.