Saturday, November 15, 1997

Fiction: Caught and Kicked Out

(I'm having trouble latlely about whether my hero(ine) should start off completely innocent, or if I should start him off as a closet girlie like me.)

I've long had this strange habit.  I like to wear women's clothes, and particularly their underwear.  But I've been careful to never let anyone know about it.  Not anyone.  It's a disgusting little habit, but I just can't help myself.  It just makes me feel so wonderfully sexy.  I mean, what man can seriously look at a pair of panties, or a garter belt, or nylons, and not feel aroused?  I've taken the next logical step: I put those things on.  I think they look irresistibly sexy, and I want to be in them.  I want to be like the girls who would wear such things: beautiful, sexy, bouncy, juicy.  When I slip into some lingerie, I want to be a girl.  I want to be as lucky as them, to have all those sexy little panties and bikinis and leotards to wear all the time.  Girls don't know how good they have it.

It just so happens that one night, A__ was away at her parents'.  Or at least, that's what the plan was.  I took advantage of the opportunity to pull out my lingerie and parade around in her clothes.  As I said, that was the plan.

We live in the middle of the city.  Our front door leads to one of the busiest streets anywhere.  Even at night, there are people milling about.  It's a very busy area.  

I didn't hear her when she came home.  She was trying to sneak up on me, as I so often do to her.  I didn't hear her unlock the door.  Imagine her surprise when she saw me right away, prancing around in her mini-skirt, her silky underthings clinging to me underneath.  I know that I probably almost fainted: her waist is much slimmer than mine, not only because of our gender difference, but because she is so much smaller than me.
Anyway, she went ballistic.  She ran at me and started hitting me.  She beat me on the head a few times, and then she threw me out the door.  All the way out the front door, as a matter of fact.

So there I was, all sprawled out on probably the busiest sidewalk ever made, wearing nothing but women's clothes.  I even had a pair of women's shoes strapped onto my feet.  They made it difficult to run, but they sure felt sexy against the nylons wrapped around my feet.  

I sort of picked myself up off the floor knowing full well how ridiculous I must look in women's clothes.  People were staring at me.  I felt so naked.  And there was nowhere to hide.  Not even an alley, or a bush, or a doorway.  I was standing there, looking like a complete freak, in the most public place in town.  I might as well have been on a stage.  

I self-consciously sashayed to the front door, which was locked, and pounded.  "A__!  Please let me in!  A__!"  I looked over my shoulder, and noticed that a small crowd had begun to gather at the spectacle.  I could feel the little summer breeze blow up my skirt and tickle the naked skin of my thighs, left exposed by my garter belt and stockings.  I was quite sure that people could see the little straps on my butt leading to the stockings as I stood there, whaling at the door.  I was so ashamed.  Most girls don't even dress that revealingly!

I had no choice.  I couldn't get in.  I couldn't just stand there with all those people staring at me.  So I did the only thing that I could: I ran away.  

I ran away in my high-heeled shoes, my skirt too short to flap in the wind.  I tried to slink around walls, and sort of hide myself wherever I ran.  But everywhere I went, people saw me.  I was irrevocably exposed!

At length, I found my way to a dark alley, where I hid behind a dumpster.  But I was still trapped.  What could I do?  Take off my (or, more accurately, A__'s) clothes?  Was running around naked any better than running around in women's clothes?  No, I had to keep my clothes on, despite the fact that they weren't really mine.  I had to stay like this until I could somehow get back into my house.  I had to walk back there, too, and create another scene.  I had no money, no keys, nothing.  Just me and my clothes.

As I stood around pondering my situation, I marvelled at how different it feels to be dressed like a girl outdoors.  I still felt very sexy.  My shoes made me so conscious of my effeminate situation every time I took a step that I couldn't forget what I was wearing.

What was I to do?  I had to get home somehow.  I was totally helpless out here.  And I was dressed like a girl to boot.  I slinked to a pay phone on a dark street corner and called A__ collect.


"Hi, sweetie."

She paused.  "Hi."

"Sweetie, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?!?  What the Hell was that in my apartment?!??  It sure as Hell wasn't my R__!"

"I'm sorry dear.  But it's getting cold out here.  Please, let me in."

"Why should I?"

"A__, please.  You can't just let me sleep outside dressed like. . . this."

"I shouldn't let you do anything dressed like that!"

"A__, I'm sorry.  Please, just please let me come home.  It's not the way it looks.  I'll explain everything."

Another pause.  "Alright.  Come home.  We'll talk about it."  And she abruptly hung up the phone.

I slinked back to my apartment, trying hard not to let anyone look at my face too closely.  Luckily, my long, luxurious hair covered most of my face.  

I finally managed to make it back home.  And A__ waited for me at the front door.  "Let's go for a walk," she said as I scurried to the entrance, desperate to get out of public sight.

"Please, A__," I whispered coarsely.  "Let me in!  Let me get out of these clothes!"


I stopped in my tracks.  "Why do you want me to walk around like this?"

"Because you need to be taught a lesson.  You want to wear my clothes, then you'll just have to wear them for the time being."

I stood there sheepishly.  "I'm going for a walk," she said.  "And I'm not opening that door.  You're either coming with me, or I'm not ever letting you in there again."

Again, I had no choice.  I went with A__.  

She led me through the crowded streets, she wearing pants, I wearing a mini-skirt.  I could sense her anger.  

"So?" she demanded.  I didn't know where to begin.  "Well, spit it out!"

"I'm sorry, sweetie," I answered sheepishly. 

"That's just not good enough.  What the Hell are you doing in my mini-skirt?  Why don't you start there?"

"I just wanted to wear it, that's all."

"Why?  Why?  What are you, some kinda drag queen?  Is that it?"


"Then what the Hell are you wearing my clothes for?  You're even wearing my undies, aren't you?  Aren't you?"


"So what gives?"

"A__, can we please not do this in public?"


"Please, let's go home.  You've taught me my lesson."

"I don't think I have."

"You have!  Can you imagine what it must be like to be dressed like this in public?"

"I sure can.  I do it all the time.  But the difference is that I'm a girl, and you're not."  She sure had me there.  "You're not supposed to wear things like that.  But hey, you're wearing it."

"A__, I never meant for anyone to see me like this.  Now the whole town knows.  And people are staring at me!  Please, let me go home!"

"NO.  I want you to understand what it is that you're doing.  You're dressing up like a girl, but you're not letting anyone see you.  I, on the other hand, have to look pretty all the time, and I'm supposed to have people stare at me all the time.  I think that it's time you started to understand exactly what it is to be a girl."

"But I don't want to be a girl!"

"Then why are you wearing my clothes?"

I couldn't answer.  Why was I wearing her clothes if I didn't want to be a girl.  Even though we were discussing it, I wasn't feeling so odd anymore.  What else could I say?  "Because I like them."

"So.  There it is.  You like wearing my clothes because you like them.  Why don't you just admit it?  You like wearing my clothes because you want to be a girl."


"Oh, yes.  And you'd better admit it.  Not just to me, but to everyone.  You want to be a girl.  And you might as well start coming out of my closet now."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you're going to wear my clothes in public if you want me to even let you step through my door again."

"But I am!"

"I mean voluntarily."

I was stuck.  "You can't do this to me."

"You did it to yourself.  Now you have to live with the consequences."

"So what exactly do you want me to do?  I'm already dressed like a girl in public."

"I want you to throw out all of your clothes, and wear only mine.  We've already started."

I grumbled.  "What if I refuse?"

"What choice do you have?  Everyone knows your little secret already."

"Alright.  Let's just go home."

"What's that?"

"I said, alright.  Now let's go."

"I want you to shout it out to everybody."

"Shout what out?"

"Tell them that you're wearing women's clothes, and that you love it."

"You want me to shout that?"

"Yeah," she retorted, "Who'll ever believe it."  She lifted my skirt as she said it.

Angrily, I stepped up a tree planter, and shouted: "I'm dressed like a girl, and I LOVE IT!"  I looked down at her, and she still looked angry.  "I LOVE IT!"  I repeated, just to spite her, just to make sure she heard me, just to make sure that she couldn't go back on me and tell me that I never did it.  "I FUCKING LOVE TO DRESS LIKE A GIRL!  AND I WANT THE WHOLE GODDAMNED WORLD TO KNOW IT!  DO YOU HEAR ME?" Each shout made me feel more and more liberated.  "I LOVE TO WEAR WOMEN'S CLOTHING!  I LOVE TO DRESS LIKE A GIRL!"

I looked down at last, after a crowd had begun to assemble, and saw a look of satisfaction on A__'s face.  I jumped down, and strutted away from her in a huff.  Every step made me feel more and more effeminate.  And I strutted right down the middle of the sidewalk, shaking my girlish little tush.  A__ followed behind me, but I didn't even look back.  I had said it, and I suddenly realized, blushing proudly, I had meant it.  And everybody knew it.

(It seems pointless to me to continue the story.  I would like to say that the hero went on to wear A__'s underwear forever, and that he got to dress up in her nightgown that night.  But that would be anti-climactic.)

Anyway, I would like to add that I'm experiencing the most amazing sexual rush ever by wearing all this stuff tonight.  I feel incredible.  I feel like such a little bitch.  I even went out on the deck like this.  Tonnes of people at the bus station can certainly see me.  I didn't go out in public, but I sure loved the feel of cool air on my legs and naked thighs.  This is just fantastic.  

That wonderful part about this fantasy that keeps me going is this: no matter how far I go, I can always go further.  I have gone further than ever tonight, and it only gets better and better.  Right now, I want to be a transvestite full-time.  Fuck men's clothes.  I want skirts, dresses, lingerie, bikinis.  This is just unbelievable.  I can't wait till I can go all the way.  Maybe I should even tell A__ about this, and involve her in it, too.  It would be even better if I could do it even when she's around.  But that would be crazy.

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