As early as I can remember, I’ve had a sissification fetish. I don’t know where it came from, how I got into it, any of that. And frankly, I don’t care about how I got it anymore. I watched my porn addiction drag my fetish out of control, to the point where I was fantasizing about it constantly and couldn’t find any arousal in anything that didn’t involve it somehow. As I went through high school and my first year of college, it was slowly getting weirder and more intense
to the point where every time I finished, when I looked back at what it was I was watching, or looked at what I was wearing, or what I had been thinking, the shame was so bad I could barely look at myself in the mirror, knowing that this had become so much of who I am and what I do.
Over spring break my freshman year of college I decided I was done with it. I couldn’t do it anymore; I couldn’t be a porn-addicted sissy freak. I couldn’t be the guy who couldn’t get a boner unless he was wearing panties. That wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore. So I had an idea of what to do, and I followed my idea to the letter for the next ten days. And it all started with the fact that I don’t like chocolate.
I don’t like chocolate. But that wasn’t always true. When I was a kid, I loved chocolate. I had it as often as my parents would allow, in any form I could get my hands on. But on Halloween when I was eleven or twelve (I don’t remember, not important), I had a lot of chocolate from Trick or Treating, and for the first time my parents didn’t make me “eat a little now and save the rest for later”. I spent the entire day on November 1st eating as much chocolate as I could fit in my mouth, and as great as it was at the time, I felt fucking horrible for the next couple days. And ever since then, I can’t eat chocolate without thinking of how gross I felt after my chocolate binge that Halloween.
So last spring break, I took one day and went full-on sissy crazy. All dressed up, my face covered in makeup, taking in as much sissy porn as my bandwith would allow and jacking off like I was making commission on it. I probably watched ten hours of porn that day and blew my load a dozen times. And it was wonderful – at first. By the end of the day, I felt drained, dirty, ashamed, and I could barely even feel anything below the waist. I took everything off, took a shower, and went to bed feeling like a fucking train wreck.
Days Two and Three
I spent these couple days clearing it all out of my life. Donating or throwing away all of my outfits and other equipment. Unsaving all of the porn from my reddit account. I actually went out, bought a cheap flash drive, moved all my porn I had downloaded from my computer onto the drive, and I drove down to the pier and threw my porn into the fucking ocean. God, that was an awesome feeling. Seriously.
Sometimes I imagine that the flash drive floated across the ocean to the other side of the world, and miraculously still works, and somewhere there’s some guy who found it on the beach and is wondering what sick fuck had a flash drive with multiple gigabytes of fucked up sissy fetish porn on it.
During these two days, I didn’t masturbate at all; even the thought of it made me feel sick to my stomach after what I did on day one, and my balls were still sore from the hardest workout I’d ever given them. The only interaction I had with porn these days was either deleting it or transferring it to the drive and subsequently the Atlantic. Not like anything I might have seen during these two days would have done anything for me, since I was still actively disgusted from the day before.
Day Four was one of the best days for me. I had been trying my hardest to not just avoid porn of my fetish, but also to try to think long and hard about what ever turned me on about it in the first place. And when I took that close of a look at it, there was nothing hot or sexy about it. I was disgusted. So when day four rolled around, I decided to fantasize about having regular, vanilla sex with a girl I sat with in my psychology class. (Side note: psychology is an interesting subject. I guess this whole post is about psychology, when you really boil it down.)
It seemed miraculous at the time that I could find myself aroused by a fantasy of “boring” normal sex with someone. That day, it felt like a superpower. Three days without porn and without entertaining my fetish, and all of a sudden I could have a boner whenever I wanted about whatever I wanted? That’s extraordinary! In retrospect, that’s absolutely ordinary. I didn’t realize the detrimental effects of over a dozen years of letting my fetish, and the porn that drove it, control me.
Best wank I ever had.
Days Five through Ten
I bought a small pocket notebook first thing in the morning on day five. I didn’t masturbate or look at any porn at all for this whole stretch of days. I brought the notebook around with me, and any time an urge to look at porn or a sissy-oriented thought popped into my head, I got out that notebook and wrote this sentence over and over until the urge passed:
This is NOT who I am.
I chose day ten to stop doing this because it was day ten that I got to the last line of the last page of my notebook. After this notebook was full, I took it into my backyard, burned it, and threw the ashes into the ocean, off the same pier that I threw my porn a week and a half earlier. Just like before, this felt better than I could ever describe.
After the Experiment
The next day and every day after that were all normal. I would say “back to normal”, but this was new. “Normal” was uncharted territory. But God, “normal” feels good. Day Ten of my experiment was the last time I felt like it was necessary to not masturbate, as it was this point that I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t the masturbation itself that was the problem. I still haven’t looked at porn since Day One, but even if I did I still don’t think I’d find anything attractive about it. With my porn addiction in the rearview mirror it just doesn’t interest me anymore. And that feels great.
My life has all changed for the better since I did this. I came out of my shell, joined a fraternity, and made some of the best friends I’ve ever had. I ended up asking the hottie from my psych class out, but after going on a couple of dinner dates it seemed pretty clear that we weren’t cut out for each other. But hey, that’s how it goes sometimes. Life doesn’t always work out like that. Sometimes things don’t work out with the Psych girl. Sometimes you meet a really great girl a few months later at a social with her sorority and find yourself happier than you’ve ever been with her. Once I finish posting this, I’m going to dinner with her and her parents.
It’s been a year since I got rid of my fetish and my addiction, and all the signs so far point to them both being gone for good. As long as I keep it up I don’t see that changing.
I’m twenty. I’ve seen a big boost in my confidence, followed by improvements in every other area, but I’m 90% sure the confidence helped out everything else, and I’m sure that the boost in confidence was a result of cutting the poison out of my life.
TL;DR: Figure out what’s holding you back and kill it. Freedom is a hell of a feeling.