I started crying.Part of me was not ready for this, part of me wanted to go back to thattime when I was my mom's precious sissy, cleaning the house to...ether andhaving a good time. Back to when she thought of me as more than just abroom in a closet.But it seemed those times were gone for good. My life as a person wasnow officially and truly over.I forced the tears to stop flowing and made myself smile. If I was goingto be an object, at least I could be a useful and pleasant one. Idecided to. There is nothing in the rooms but white, sterile surfaces and clean, crisp order. Finally, Crysta takes a seat on the floor beside the immaculate bed. Before her is a full wall of mirrors. They are the sliding doors that house the closet. She sits with her knees bent, feet flat on the floor. Her rich dark hair tumbles in unkempt waves past her shoulders. Crysta watches herself, first running a slender hand through her Hispanic locks. She opens her legs. The peach of her pussy is swollen and. More

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