Living

When I was young, in response to the common sense lessons I doled out to the adults, I was often told that things didn't work the way we wanted them to, and that I didn't know that because I hadn't really lived yet.

They were correct. I've spent a little more than a third of my life as a pet sex slave, been sheltered by secret owner and family alike, and yet... in living a relatively sheltered life, I manage to be more free than any of the people I remember from school. I'm misfortunate(rather than unfortunate), but obstinate, with an apparently astounding drive to survive.

Many people would call me lucky; I have an apartment that's nice and just two shortcomings from being perfect, a wonderful, sexy mate who can make me blush and scream in pleasure at the same time, two intelligent cats that get along, a few very close friends who make up my family, and most recently, a job I love that sets me free from many of the difficulties of modern life. I won't need to worry about commuting, or taking time off, even on a moment's notice. It encourages my body's transformation into what I wish she would be, and for me to take better care of myself.

I get to live out my dream of professional pervert, and my income is dependent on what I want it to be.

Things aren't perfect, but they're good.