Diary: Shoes, and the Prospect of Living Alone

Against my will, a bunch of crazy ideas came to my head today.  First, I remembered that I do this only when I fail with women.  My only recourse is to make myself a woman.  Second, I realized that I need some sexy sandals.  I’ve never really worn women’s shoes.  I’m tantalized by sandals and heels now.  They’re so ridiculously feminine.  Utterly, unmistakably for girls.  How humiliating, how deliciously, beautifully effeminating it would be to wear some, and walk around a bit in them.  Then it occurred to me that once I move out, I can mail order anything I want.  Anything at all.  Including pretty girlish shoes.  I wouldn’t have to worry about hiding anything.  I could stock up to my girlish heart’s content.  And finally, I got the idea to take pictures of myself in women’s clothes.  Make a visual record of my debauchery.  How incriminating.  How utterly humiliating.  I’ll look horrible, but it will be incontrovertible proof that I am a flaming pantywaist, and that I love it.  I imagine that I’ll make a little story out of it: the boy who is forced at first to wear these things, but who slowly gets used to them, and finally grows to adore making himself girlish.  How I wish I had shoes now!  There’s a picture of Katie Price that has me particularly horny.  It’s all about her shoes, somehow.  Anyway, off I go!