Swimsuit Extravaganza

My new stuff all arrived on Wednesday. When I picked it up at the post office, the lady behind the counter remarked on the package from Venus. "I know it's not for you," she said, "but I'm sure she'll love it."

These days, it's very difficult to feel like I have the privacy and freedom to play with my feminine wardrobe. It's mostly stashed away somewhere for better times. However, I'm now carrying this new stuff around with me every day, wishing for opportunities to put it on. Lately I've been sneaking it on when the wife's still sleeping, or in the late evening after she's turned in, since she's not feeling well. Of course, I found such an opportunity the night that I received my goods.

I had it all planned out: I would try on the one-piece first, followed by the scuba bikini, then the skirted bikini, and the panties. This way it would follow the fantasy story arc of ever-more feminine outfits. It didn't quite work out the way I'd hoped: the one-piece was too small!

I struggled to get into it, not realizing that it would be so tight. The difficulty was in getting my big manly shoulders into the appropriate places, given that the suit was already just a tad too small. As I struggled to contort my arm fully into it, knowing that my wife was sleeping only 30 feet away, I managed to break the zipper. It was a lost cause, and I was sorely bummed. I'd have to return this one, and possibly have to explain that I damaged it. How humiliating!

Thankfully, the rest of it went very well. The scuba bikini is soft and sweet. The bra especially feels like a dream. The skirted bikini is everything I'd hoped for, and the 5-way bandeau bra is quite spectacular as well. And finally, the all-over lace panties are cute, but the lace-up hiphugger is fantastic!

I retired that night without satisfying my urges, with a plan to slake my thirst in the morning. I hardly slept at all, beset by thoughts of feminization. I had a moment of clarity, where I understood the enormity of my fetish and its inevitable trajectory, but it faded away in the fog of half-sleep.

In the morning, I resumed my adventure. What tormented me most of all the night before was my failure to put on the scuba one-piece. I was determined to try again, doubting that I had truly put in a proper effort. I paid more attention to the fit this time, and yes, it's too tight even on the hips and crotch. But I persevered, and when I managed to get one shoulder tucked in, I knew I was close to Nirvana. The second shoulder was even more difficult, but when I finally twisted it into place, and pulled the suit to its proper place, I was amazed that I had even managed it.

Part of my difficulty had been fear. It was so tight, and so difficult to put on, that I was afraid that I would be unable to remove it. The night before, I was pressed for time; but now I felt more confident that I wouldn't be discovered, so I forged ahead. This time, as many others, fear actually fed my desire. How fantastic would it be to put on an item of feminine attire, and become trapped in it?  I had experienced something similar many years ago when I house-sat for a petite girlfriend and put on her athletic one-piece, which was also too small for me, but not nearly as difficult to deal with. This was on a whole new level of risk, with it being that much more difficult, and also with my wife sleeping so nearby.

Sadly, I knew it was much too tight to be practical. I'd rather have it in a slightly bigger size and be able to enjoy more often. I pranced around in front of a mirror for a bit, and fiddled with the zipper, before I had to remove it to avoid an accident.

I then proceeded to have precisely that accident in the skirted bikini, followed closely by the scuba bikini. I was amazed at how easily I had recuperated. I was now in a spiral of feminine fantasy, which I was forced to escape to embark on another mundane day of work in the real world.