Dream Date
Keywords: Date, Dream,
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Who would have thought it; I was reduced to finding a partner on the Internet? I had read about these dating web sites and though dubious I found one, completed my details and waited. A few days went by and I heard nothing. I waited a few weeks and still I heard nothing. I turned to an old girlfriend for advice. I'd known Julia since school and though close our relationship was plutonic and I loved her like a sister. She was quick to help and offered to come round and have a look at my profile.
A few days later, beer in hand, she was sitting next to me on my sofa, laptop on her knee. She wasn't impressed. She felt my profile was all-wrong, it didn't paint a true picture of my personality and my photo didn't do me justice. All in all she wasn't surprised I'd had no one enquiring about me.
First we had a long conversation about my ideal woman. I told her in nauseous detail; tall, slim, hourglass figure, long blonde straight hair, blue eyes and a warm smile. She was disappointed that I hadn't mentioned her character.
'You know,' I said, 'someone like you but feminine.' Not surprisingly this agitated her, as Julia was short, over weight, with black curly hair and dark brown eyes with a mannish appearance.
'You don't deserve someone like me, you're shallow, fickle and too fucking picky for your own good.' she screamed. You're despicable.'
I shrugged my shoulders. She was probably right but I couldn't help it.
I trusted her implicitly and let her have free reign. I gave her my password and she merrily changed my profile while I popped out and got some more beer from the local off-licence.
On my return she proudly showed me what she had done. I wasn't very pleased and needed another beer. I no longer sounded like a man. She made me sound effeminate, weak and submissive. She had changed my profile name from 'Leaping Tiger' to 'Pretty Petal,' said I enjoyed dancing, playing the flute and digital photography. I was a follower of fashion and I loved long walks in the country, the theatre, cooking and entertaining. Only the digital photography bit was true. I sounded like a complete wet sissy.
'Today's woman wants a sensitive guy who can look after themselves, be caring and loving, not some athletic hunk who plays golf all weekend and drinks down the pub.'
'But I don't play the flute or go to the theatre.' I moaned.
She laughed, 'That's a creative license, how many hopefuls give a true profile, besides you enjoy cooking and entertaining. Don't be so whiny, trust me on this, what do you stand to lose?'
'Ok ' I say, 'but fashion, I had never considered myself a follower.'
She looked at my jeans and T-shirt then the goofy picture of me on my web profile.'
She nodded in agreement, 'Show me your wardrobe and perhaps we can find something more appropriate.'
Minutes later she was rummaging through my closest and chest-of-draws as if she was my mother. I could tell by her sighs that she wasn't impressed. I left her to it and poured us another drink. At least I was having fun and by now I was feeling quite intoxicated. On my return she had found an old pair of trousers and a colourful shirt. I didn't recognise them at first then realised they weren't mine but cast-offs from an old girlfriend. I laughed. 'That's a women's blouse, I think and a pair of ladies trousers,' I said. 'I'm not wearing them.'
Julia smiled and her fingers where already tugging at my belt as if my words had fallen on deaf ears.
'You really have to trust me. A future girlfriend wants to see you in something colourful and bright and all your wardrobe consists of is blue jeans and black and grey tops. Dull, dull, dull. Now don't be such a baby. It's only a photograph I'm going to take, they won't be able to see detail.'
I grin sheepishly and reluctantly let her pull my jeans down and T-shirt off like a mother undressing a child.
Dressed in just my underpants her hands were soon all over my smooth willowy legs like a rash.
'My goodness', she gasps, 'your legs are amazing you keep them well hidden. They're so long and smooth. Do you shave and moisturise? You shouldn't be covering them up.'
Flattered I smirk but ignore her remarks.
The slacks where as you can imagine incredibly tight on my bum showing every curve but straight legged and flowing almost like old fashioned flares. My baggy underpants caused the trousers to bunch and crease rather unsightly.
'I'm not sure if these will give off the right message. They're quite obviously for women.' I say, 'they have no front fly, no pockets and a side zip. Men's trousers just aren't designed that way.'
Julia was disappointed too. 'You'll have to take those awful underpants off,' she said. 'They're making your bum look deformed.'
My eyes widened and I felt myself blush. 'Don't be daft,' I said.
'But those underpants are truly awful you should be ashamed. You're a typical guy, have you no shame?' She then rubbed her chin thoughtfully, 'there is an alternative,. She grins sheepishly like a naughty schoolboy. She rolls her eyes. 'Have you got any panties from your old conquests?' she almost spat the words.
I was reluctant to admit, I had but she didn't wait for me to answer and soon found a minuscule pair of silk panties with lace trim in a top draw.
'l don't believe you,' she said laughingly, 'all these girlfriends leaving their clothes here at your stud pad. Where are these beauties now or are you telling me porkies and these pretty things are really yours?'
I stare at her aghast 'They're not mine, stupid,' and blush as she slid them up my legs. I wiggle my hips sending a unexpected yet delightful warm sensation sweep through me as the soft silk caressed my cock like a glove and the lace tickled my skin.
The slacks glided up my legs and hugged my bum like a long lost friend, this time with no unsightly creases. With their polyester mix they slid over the panties like slippery eels heightening the wild sensations that now careered throughout my body like a crashing car.
Though all was not right, rather alarmingly because of the tightness of the material they now stretched across my bum like the skin on a snare drum hugging every contour and I easily saw a visible panty line.
'For crying out loud,' I shouted. 'You can see I'm wearing girls panties.' I reach down to take them off but Julia smacks my hands away as if a child stealing sweets off a counter.
She smiled dismissively and I saw just a trace of satisfaction. 'Actually,' she said, 'I think you look rather hot and don't worry no one will notice.'
I pulled the long colourful top down over my bum in an attempt to hide the obvious but it just made matters worse. The shirt wasn't a shirt or even a blouse but a short silk jersey dress with full-length tie sleeves and a scooped neck. I shuddered, closed my eyes, screwed up my face into a snarl and stamped my feet like a child in a supermarket.
'This is crazy,' I gasp but Julia ignored my tantrum choosing to pull it about until it hung correctly making my shoulders look slight and my arms slender. I smelt the feminine perfume immediately and the soft, silky fabric tickled my skin sending shock waves like electric current through me. My cock began to throb excitedly, straining against the tight panties that where cocooned in the stretchy slacks and I began to feel strangely aroused. I resumed my usual calm and felt my cock dampen with precum.
Not wanting to make a spectacle of myself I closed the bedroom curtains as Julia returned to my wardrobe like a squirrel looking for stored nuts. She rooted right at the back and at one point I thought she might climb in.
'When did you last say you had a girlfriend,' she said finding another dress, a paisley mini skirt, a pencil skirt and a black wrap. 'These are gorgeous I'm surprised they didn't want them back. You've got a women's wardrobe squirreled away.' As if a pirate hunting for buried treasure she crossed the room and rummaged in my chest-of-draws and found tights, more panties, stockings and a bra.
I blushed. 'I really need to do a clear out,' I say.
Next Julia was on the bed beside me rummaging in her tiny make-up bag that she had pulled from her shoulder bag.
'Now I know you'll complain but just bear with me while I explain... Your eyes are the windows to your soul and your lips must be plump and kissable if you want to be sexy.' she laughs and gives me a cheeky grin. 'Your current picture makes you very lifeless and unattractive. I don't know what you where thinking of when you put on that shirt for the picture it makes you look ashen.' Don't worry I will only add a little powder here and there to give you some extra colour. All the actors on TV wear a smattering of make-up for the camera.'
So I sat there bemused and slightly sozzeled in girlish slacks and a mini dress on the pretence that she was making me more appealing as she plucked my eyebrows, dusted my eye lids with shadow, lengthened my eye lashes with mascara and painted my lips with a bright lipstick. It struck me as more than a little powder but frankly I enjoyed the attention and the alcohol had made me rather woozy and sleepy.
'I hope you know what you're doing,' I mutter in dismay as she brushed my hair as I felt myself transformed.
She nodded like a make-up artist on a film set but was concentrating so much she said nothing.
A minute later she's shooting me with her digital camera as if a gun and telling jokes to make me laugh but by now I was sufficiently drunk to laugh at anything. She made me stand, sit, bend and crouch and strike a variety of poses like a model in a clothes catalogue.
Finished she loaded the best pictures onto my web site but refused to show me until done. It's true I could have changed at that point back into my tatty jeans and T-shirt but I now rather enjoyed wearing the smart slacks and mini dress.
I was later horrified with the pictures she loaded. They made me look very suspect. It wasn't obvious as to my sex. I could easily be a girl or a boy and even reading my profile didn't help despite it saying I was a male.
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Keywords: Date, Dream,