Tranny troubles

I woke up again with my ear on the lap of some sort of poly blend fabric, the smell of marijuana and cheap beer in the air. When my eyes began to focus I realized the not very beautiful woman's lap my face was on was indeed that of a fairly nice looking man, dressed as a fairly unhealthy looking woman. How did this happen? Again.

First, a few months ago I started taking a medication. I was supposed to stop in a couple of weeks, but then a few weeks ago, a new medication was added to the mix, this one was designed to get inside my head and help heal some long inflicted wounds.

Guess what? By all estimates it is working wonders. Why, even on my birfday, I was dancing naked in a fountain. Which is a marked improvement, because when you dance fully clothed in a fountain, you usually end up walking home cold and wet.

Bottom line, those little highways and biways that make up my super complex thinking process are being rebuilt and I am now thinking and acting like a teenager, which is both good and super good.

So with my big giant brain once again working completely perfectly, I went out dancing. Of course, because when people come out of a coma the very first thing the do is have sex with Madonna, and then they order a cheeseburger. For me, having already engaged in the Madonna sex ritual numerous times (nothing special) and now an avowed vegan, I had to pass on the burger, so instead, I went dancing.

One thing led to another, which is what things do, on their own, without so much as a whisper from me, and there I was, passed out, my face in the lap of a fairly ugly woman. That's when I noticed, this is no woman, and this is no woman's lap, if you know what I mean. There is much more to this story, but right now, the nurse is here for my bath and medication.