Convenient Arrangement
Keywords: Convenient, Arrangement,
1 2 3 4 Next
*Author's Notes*
Before reading this story please be aware that that some people would label this work as obscene and pornographic in nature. It contains several themes including transgendered, homosexual and lesbian issues in addition to graphic sexual descriptions.
To make the action flow more freely and the stories light-hearted, I have taken a socially naïve approach and have not included the usual protections that intelligent people would choose such as condoms, birth control and out safeguards against sexually transmitted diseases. Such risky behavior as those exhibited by the characters of this story should not be followed.
If any of these topics make you uncomfortable please look elsewhere.
If this sounds like a story you might find interesting, enjoy.
*CHAPTER 1*
It had been nearly a month since I had visited a few local clothing stores a few miles from my home. Business had been predictably slow on that wet and rainy Friday filled with cold drizzle. I parked in one darkened corner of the lot and sat staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror for several seconds asking myself why I was doing it yet. The shopping spree, where interesting enough I rarely fought up the courage to stand in line and purchase something, had become something of a monthly ritual for me. The reflection looking back at me wasn't one I was used to seeing but it was an exciting site. The brownish bangs hanging down near my glass frames highlighted my auburn eyes that stared out from a light combination of mascara and eye shadow. My roundish face had a touch of foundation and powder and featured a pair of pouty lips adorned in a light red lipstick. It was an attractive face but it wasn't going to draw any undue attention. The wide shoulders I possessed were draped under a dress coat made higher by shoulder pads that hopefully downplayed their size. Rounding off the look was a dress skirt, nylons in matching navy blue and a pair of reasonable pumps featuring heals that would create that delicious clacking sound against the concrete and hard linoleum I knew would be waiting for me inside if I ever made it to the building.
There was a family crawling into their van between me and the store and within a minute the had pulled away, their headlights illuminating my car as they swung past. The parking lot, for all intents and purposes was a ghost town. I took one more look in the mirror, felt my heart begin to hammer at a quickening pace and felt a strong erection swelling under the resisting pad of material I had stuffed inside my girdle and panties. I rubbed it with a hand, adorned with press on nails featuring a French manicured style, making sure everything was in place and that the hard bulge wouldn't be noticeable under my skirt. The double-breasted style of my coat hung low enough to hide anything and after checking the area once more I unlocked the door, grabbed my purse and stepped from the warmth and safety of my car into the cool, damp evening.
Making sure I had my keys safely zipped away in my purse I pushed the door shut, signaling the next stage of my trip. I strolled towards the bright lights of the first store, noticing nervously that several teens were lingering near the entrance, probably waiting for a ride. If everything went as planned, there wouldn't notice anything unusual about me and I'd slip inside without issue and spend a half hour or so lingering around the various departments, looking for something nice to buy myself.
It was one of the rare times, feeling particular courageous, that I plucked several items from the racks and slipped inside the dressing room to try on the clothes and take a few minutes to catch my breath as the adrenaline continued to course through my veins. Besides the women's restroom, there was no more inner sanctum than the dressing room and I had invaded it, not to disrupt or cause an issue but to simply relax for a minute and enjoy trying to be the woman that I appeared to be in the mirror. I had only come in here twice before and managed to slip in and out without any company but that night, a month ago, two other women who apparently knew each other, had come in just after me and were chatting and trying on clothes in two other stalls nearby.
They apparently didn't like the lighting in the changing stall or the smallish mirror and were busy swapping clothes and checking out their appearance in the larger, well lit mirror in the main hall of the changing area. I concentrated on my last few items, lingering with each, hoping the pair would complete their tasks, make their decisions and allow me an exit unseen. I had finished my own selection and had gotten dressed again while the pair continued to prance about in front of the mirror that I could see through the crack in the door of my stall.
I studied the pair as they went through bathing suits, skirts, dresses and a handful of other items, watching them lustfully from the safety of my stall. I could hear them getting dressed and undressed only ten feet away, perfect strangers. The erection that had grown to its full extent when I was strolling through the store because I was living life, if only for a short while, as a woman, was now throbbing when it added the additional excitement next door. I made some noise to let them know that I was around and continued to stare in jealousy at their ability to eat, live and work as women, something that appealed to me since my earliest childhood memory.
With my gear in hand and purse over my shoulder I finally determined that I had lingered long enough and after checking my appearance one last time I grasped the flimsy handle with my shaking hand and waited until each had returned to their respective stalls at the same time to slip quietly out and back towards the store. As luck would have it, another woman, a store employee, passed into the dressing room just as I stepped out of the dressing room but she made no discernable effort to look at me as she passed by.
I had decided the long line at the register was going too slow for my comfort and put back the items in their rightful place. I strolled from the store without incident, I thought, and returned to the safety of my car, the smell of adrenaline continuing to course from my pores over the scent of perfume I was wearing.
That was a month ago tonight.
Two weeks ago tonight I had arrived home to find my mail dutifully waiting for me. I had worked late, capping off another work week, and tossed a frozen dinner in the microwave as I sorted through it. Bills, coupons, newspapers; the usual stuff. Most ended up in the trash but a non-descript, letter sized envelope had caught my eye. I ripped it open as the cheese on my dinner entrée continued to bubble, half expecting another useless junk mail offer to tumble out.
I was wrong.
As I stared at the top page it's meaning came to me, the ding of the microwave punctuating the point of revelation. There were two pictures printed on the page, both in landscape layout. It wasn't high tech printing but something you'd see on any office laser printer. Neither picture was particularly sharp but I could tell from the background, the parking lot slick with moisture, that they were pictures of me emerging from the store a month earlier. It could have been anyone really but the one shot showed a woman climbing into the drivers seat of my car, the plate visible, if somewhat fuzzy. I was usually very observant while out dressed as a woman but no one watching me had caught my eye.
I had swallowed hard, ignoring my dinner for the moment and flipped through the other two sheets, featuring four more shots of me in various spots in the store that night. All were late in the trip, following the dressing room but they were me. If anyone had asked I could have easily denied that it was me or that they had been worked over with software but it was clear that someone had known it wasn't a typical woman shopping that night. The drive home had been uneventful and with traffic so thin it was clear that no one had followed me home. They either knew me or had access to the DMV computers and had tracked me down through my license plate. In either case, it appeared my secret, with who I had shared with only a small group of friends, was going to be exposed to the world in short order. I had never thought my cross dressing would be public knowledge but it appeared that the choice was no longer mine. I didn't have a lot of money but I had a job and reputation to protect and someone thought they had something to blackmail me with. It would come out sooner than later so I had steeled myself against this fact and was prepared to turn down any offer I knew might be forthcoming.
Then an email had arrived a few days later, not at my home account but at work and faced with the dilemma I was torn at whether or not I wanted my secret exposed. It had seemed like an easy decision when the letter had arrived but as I sat at my desk at work, surrounded by a sea of cubicles, with the blatantly clear email open on the screen I had second thoughts.
"Did you like the pictures I sent? They weren't that good I admit but it's clear it was you sashaying around that store with your perky fake breasts and that padded ass of yours. I really liked the one of you coming out of the changing room. Priceless! Now here's what you're going to do. You're going to get all dressed up, wearing that cute little red dress of yours and matching stilettos and you're going to drive over to Hine's Park this Saturday at noon and go for a little stroll"
That was it. I tried to reply to the email, wanting more information but the rejection came back in a few seconds. Apparently the sender was covering their track or didn't want to hear back from me. There wasn't going to be any type of negotiation.
Despite the circumstances in which I found myself I could feel my cock growing inside my shorts and my breathing and pulse both racing. The rush of adrenaline was striking again as I stood there staring at my reflection, manicured hands smoothing the red material stretched across my artificially curving frame.
1 2 3 4 Next
Keywords: Convenient, Arrangement,