My Vice

Jeordie stood infront of the mirror in his mother's flower patterned dress. He had on her makeup and had smeared it over his face. He felt satisfaction from this. He picked up his favorite blade and cut across his skin.

He basked in the beauty of fresh blood dripping from his wounds. He bit his lip reaching for his mother's wig. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was so sick. His mother would cry if she saw him and he knew his father would flip ten thousand fucks (If he knew his father). He shivered as tears welled in his eyes from the thought of his father being disappointed in him.

He cut deeper on the other arm loving the pain it brought. He sighed as the anger and depression melted from his tense muscles.

He put on his mother's sheer stockings and let out another sigh. It felt amazing. He felt a sharp heat fill him. Similar to sexual arousal but he looked down at his sheer stocking and saw the panties he put on earlier. He bit back a moan. So sick.

But he felt so good defying society's expectations. He looked harder at himself feeling the anger and depression wash away like grim from his insides.

He cut more shallow ones just for more pain.

Jeordie hissed and held back a moan. He looked like a disheveled drag queen but that was the part that excited him the most. He felt himself getting hard. He whispered,"Fuck..." low in his throat palming his hardening cock.

He took it out stroking himself as fast as he could he wanted nothing but relief.

After a few moments of looking at himself in the mirror and pleasuring himself to that image he arched his back with a growl.

The feelings were indescribable. So twisted so sick.

He didn't know if he was a budding drag queen, a transexual, a confused individual, or just a sick fuck!

He growled feeling ashamed going to wash the filth and blood off of him.

But he did no longer feel angry and everything was calm once again.