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If It's Skirts That You Like free porn video
If It's Skirts that You Like...
By Jackie
I was just riding the subway home one afternoon when I made the mistake of
my life...I checked out a skirt.
Now mind you, I had always had a healthy appetite for the ladies. And at
age 32, a single, successful attorney who stood 6'1", a trim, athletic 160
pounds, with a full head of close-cropped brown hair, the ladies sometimes
looked back. But it was always in good, innocent fun.
Until her...
I preferred to stand on the evening commute home. I liked to look across
the train and see what was on the menu. On that particular evening,
however, I didn't need to look across the train, because right beneath me
was an attractive, young 20-something girl. She looked like perhaps she was
a secretary at one of the offices downtown. I checked her out carefully,
trying not to look too hard or get caught.
At first, I thought I was successful. She had full, long blonde hair cut
with cute bangs out in front. She wore a little make-up, but not too much
to be noticeable. She had a simple blue t-shirt on over somewhat small
breasts...
Did she look up and glare at me? I couldn't be sure. But I was being very
careful, and her nose seemed to be stuck in a book, so I continued to check
her out. The book looked funny - some kind of scribbles I couldn't make
out. Then again, I was reading upside down, so maybe it was just the angle.
She smirked but didn't look up. Must have been something in the book. I
continued my examination. She had on one of those long black skirts down to
her ankles that cling closely to a lady's curves and seem to stretch when
they walk, causing women to make those cute mincing steps. She had on
running shoes, too, which was a trend with the secretaries on the train
these days. Too bad, I thought, because I like it when they're in heels
better.
She glared at me. Huh, it's like she's hearing my thoughts, I thought.
Nah, couldn't be. As she looked back down at her book, I completed my
examination. Very cute...but what was that? Oh, she has a little mustache.
Nothing terrible mind you, just a few discrete white hairs on her upper
lip, carefully bleached, but I prefer my ladies perfect, you know...
"Oh you do, do you?" she asked me. I looked at her in shock. She just
smiled. "We'll see about that." With that, she tore a page from her book
and handed it to me. "You're going to need this," she said.
I glanced at the page. I couldn't make anything out of it. It was all
written in weird scribbles, right side up or upside down. I looked up from
the torn page. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "I didn't say a word
to you."
"Oh, you'll want to very soon," she said with an eerie smile. "Bye," she
added with a coquettish smile as she stepped off the train at the next stop.
I pondered over the page and tried to figure out what the words said. It
must have been Arabic or something, though, because I couldn't make anything
out of it. I finally just folded the page and stuffed it in my coat pocket.
"Weird chick," I muttered to myself. I was happy to get off the train a
few stops later and enjoy the fresh air while I made the four block walk
home. My roommate Jack would love this.
I am not exactly sure when the changes started. All I do know is that I
was about halfway home a few minutes later when I noticed that my shoes were
shifting before my very eyes! First they extended down at the heels,
growing a full 2". Then the fronts melted away, leaving my toes exposed -
painted pink and encased in nylons! - with little straps across my ankles.
My trousers began to open on the insides, and quickly grew together into the
exact skirt that girl had been wearing a few moments earlier. I felt my
underwear crawl up into my crack and become uncomfortably small. My jacket
dissolved away into a tiny little blue t-shirt, and I felt my shirt and tie
disappear underneath to form a bra. My briefcase suddenly grew much
smaller, and the handle became a long strap which snaked up my arm and over
my shoulder.
I nearly toppled over, standing there in the middle of a busy city street
precariously balanced on two inch heels, people all around me staring
strangely. My size 11 feet barely fit in the shoes, and my 46 inch chest
stretched the t-shirt to its limits, showing the outline of the bra holding
nothing beneath. The page that had been stuffed in my coat pocket fluttered
to the ground, and I nearly fell picking it up.
I looked carefully at the page, and noticed the first two lines of words
re-form into English:
If it's skirts that you like,
then it's skirts that you need.
The rest was still gibberish, but I could make out those lines. Huh. Then
I realized that I had a raging hard-on. Why? I never got off on wearing
women's clothes like those freak transvestites I saw on TV. But I must have
been sporting a nine or ten inch erection - bigger than usual - and it
showed through that tight, clingy skirt.
People were really beginning to stare, so I ran as fast as I could in those
damned heels and skirt the rest of the way home. The skirt really was
tight. I had to make those same foolish mincing steps I had thought about
earlier. I must have been quite a sight, a huge man in heels and a skirt
running down the street into my building.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" my roommate demanded as I slammed the
door breathlessly behind me. Suddenly, I felt the overwhelming need to kiss
Jack on the cheek. I sashayed - yes, sashayed - over to him and said in a
breathy contralto "Nothing you couldn't fix," and pecked him on the cheek.
Jack shoved me away. "What the hell?" he demanded.
"I don't know," I growled as my voice dropped back down to my usual
baritone. "Don't ask, you wouldn't believe it," I mumbled and stormed off
into my bedroom. Jack laughed in hysterics. "I never knew," he said.
"Make sure nobody does," I shouted back, stripping the offending feminine
items off my body and jumping in the shower. The phone rang, and I heard
Jack grab it. He came into the bathroom. "Hey, Jenny says she's going to
be about a half hour late, so don't come over right away," he shouted.
"What are you kids up to?"
"Women!" I shouted back. "They're never ready on time. We're doing a
chick thing and seeing the opera," I replied. Jack laughed. "I would think
you would sympathize," he answered. "Shut up," I said, and slammed the door
shut behind him as he retreated.
Jenny was my girlfriend, and she was very nice as girls go. It was nothing
serious, and I'd dump her for the next best thing, but for now, she would
do. I showed up at her door at 7:30, a little annoyed because we wouldn't
be able to grab a drink before the show. Why can't women be ready on time,
I asked myself as I adjusted my tuxedo collar and rang the doorbell?
Jenny opened the door. She looked good, as usual, in a long red
open-backed cocktail dress. She was cute, but no great shakes. She smiled
as she saw me, and the flowers I offered. Women are so easy, I thought.
"Hi!" she squealed and threw her arms around me. Ho-hum. Secretaries are
cute, but I grow bored very quickly. "Can we go?" I demanded.
"Sure," she said quietly. She tossed the flowers on the table beside the
door and we walked to my car - a Jeep Cherokee. Tough for women in skirts
and heels, but there's no other vehicle for a real man.
We got to the opera just in time for the first act. I sat through it,
bored as could be, and contemplated the fun to be had later. As the lights
went up for the conclusion of the first act, Jenny asked if we could have
some champagne. "Sure," I replied. "I'll go get it."
I stopped in the men's room on the way. I was just standing at the urinal
when I noticed it starting again. One minute, my fly was open. Then next,
my fly was zipping itself shut and disappearing before my very eyes. I
pinched off the flow and clattered across the marble floor in my three inch
heels into a stall before anyone noticed anything. I hoped. My tuxedo
pants fell away from my legs, forming into a long, full green skirt. I
could swear there were layers under there. I felt my socks snake up my legs
and attach themselves to garters around my thighs - the remnants of my
boxers. As I looked at my coat, it quickly melted away, forming the straps
of a lovely sequiny green dress. Lovely? What the hell was I thinking? My
damn clothes had just turned into a forest green, floor-length sleeveless
formal gown. Forest green? How did I know that? And again, why the raging
hard-on?
I took stock of my situation. I was in a men's room of the opera during
intermission wearing a formal gown. This was the end of the date with
Jenny. I would have to slip out after the second act began and try not to
be seen by any of the other lawyers in town.
The lights flashed and the men's room cleared. The attendant gave me a
funny look as I dashed out of the stall - I guess he hadn't seen the six
foot man in the formal gown come in - and I made it across the main hall to
the parking area unseen. I covered my face as I made a run, in those stupid
heels, to my jeep. Now I regretted my choice of car. Poor Jenny, I
thought. Wait a minute - poor me! I drove home. Fortunately Jack wasn't
around, so I shrugged off the dress, stuffed it in my closet, pulled on a
pair of boxers and a t-shirt and went to sleep.
Jack woke me the next morning. "Hey sport, Jenny called earlier and she's
pissed," he called through the door. "Yeah, yeah," I replied. I threw off
my covers and rolled my feet onto the floor - and nearly tripped over my
lacy, floor-length nightgown as I stood up. "What the..." I shouted in
surprise. "You OK in there?" Jack asked. "Yeah, it's nothing," I said as I
quickly pulled the nightgown off.
I studied the page that girl had given me on the train. What is going on?
I wondered. I hoped that whatever it was was over as I took a quick shower.
I checked myself out in the mirror. Looking good, I thought. I pulled a
couple of errant hairs that seemed longer, lighter and out of place in my
otherwise perfect hair, and put on a pair of khaki pants and a polo shirt.
Golf with the partners today, and my chance to shine.
Once I arrived at the club, I slung my clubs over my shoulder to join the
partners. I was about halfway across the parking lot when I felt my shoes
getting a bit tighter. I looked down to see that my golf shoes had become a
pair of strappy white flats. I realized in horror what was coming next. My
khakis pulled about halfway up my legs and stopped, forming a perfect pair
of shorts. Then it all stopped. Thank goodness, I thought. I hurried back
to my car and grabbed a pair of street shoes before they saw me.
"We don't usually wear shorts and street shoes, mister," one of the
partners growled. I made my apologies and humbly lost 18 holes of golf,
trying to make light conversation. The partners were clearly not impressed,
however, and I was constantly worried my clothes would change in the next
instant. It was a relief to be done a few hours later, unchanged. I made
my way back to my jeep, relieved.
No sooner was I in the jeep, though, than my short legs opened up and
formed a knee length floral print skirt. My street shoes became the same
pair of strappy white flats - oh good, I could use two pairs, I thought.
What?! Before I could worry about that, though, my shirt dipped low into a
simple white blouse that would have bared cleavage, if there was cleavage to
bear. Instead, it bared chest hairs. And again, the raging hard on -
though not quite as noticeable.
Unfortunately, I had swerved into another lane as the changes occurred, and
a cop pulled me over. "Are you drunk, mister?" he demanded. I stammered my
reply. "No sir." "What the hell are you doing in women's clothes?" he
asked. Indignant, I replied "Is it a crime for a girl to want to look
pretty?" Wait a minute, wha --? The cop just stared and handed back my
license. "Whatever you say. Be a little more careful -miss." I just sat
there, flabbergasted.
I drove home and snuck in before Jack could see me. I pulled on a pair of
cut off shorts and a t-shirt. Maybe I'll just wash the jeep, I thought. I
set up the radio, got the bucket and sponge and began my weekend ritual of
washing my car. This is better, I thought. I can forget all about the
weird stuff.
Not for long, though. Within half an hour, my cut-offs suddenly became
shiny and leather. As I stretched across the hood of my jeep, the shorts
crawled up my legs and formed a tight leather mini-skirt, completely
exposing my backend. My t-shirt morphed into a sexy red blouse, while my
shoes became six inch stilletto heels. What the --? Then I felt my boxers
slowly ooze down my leg, forming fishnet stockings as they slid down. This
time I was not wearing panties, but it didn't seem to matter. My hard on
wasn't all that huge - maybe three inches at best. I dashed into the house.
This is not good, I thought. The changes had become more rapid each time,
and more importantly I was running out of clothes. I was down to my last
pair of street shoes. I had some running shoes, and some hiking boots. I
had plenty of clothes, but how long would they last? And these hard ons?
Maybe I wasn't usually nine or ten inches, but three? What the heck.
A few more of the light colored hairs wafted in front of my eyes. I ran to
the mirror and noticed that they were coming down over my eyes, and that I
had feathered red hair over my ears. I got a pair of clipped and shaved
them off. This is really bad, I thought. I decided to get dressed and try
to figure out what to do next.
I pulled on a pair of boxers and shorts, and grabbed a t-shirt. As I bent
down to grab my shoes, I felt my boxers slide up into my crack. Dammit! I
thought. Oh well, it's only panties. The shorts stayed the same. I
grabbed the shoes, but they quickly transformed into a pair of blue pumps.
Oh good, I thought, I'll need blue. Wait a minute...
The shorts didn't stay short. They quickly fluttered down my legs, forming
a wispy translucent skirt with another pretty floral print. Oh, how nice!
I thought. Hold up, that's not nice. I am running out of clothes! My
t-shirt had become yet another white feminine t-shirt - but more ominously,
it fit better. And my hard on wasn't hard.
I stripped off the skirt and panties. There before my eyes was the
beginning of a perfect pussy. It wasn't very deep, but it was clearly a
pussy. I touched my mound and felt a surge of electricity. Wow! I am in
big trouble, I thought. But this is not too noticeable. Maybe if I just
cover it up with some clothes and run down to the department store for some
more shoes and stuff, this will stop.
I glanced at the torn page from the girl's book. The second verse had
become more clear now, and I could make it out:
The larger you get,
the deeper you'll be.
So, that would be my new pussy. Wow, I'll be nice and deep! I thought.
Bullshit I will, I growled. I am going to find that girl as soon as I get
some new shoes and clothes.
I tried to get dressed, but every time I grabbed a pair of pants or a
shirt, they rapidly transformed into some form of ladies apparel. I quickly
assembled a fine collection of bras, panties, formal wear, business clothes,
pretty floral skirts - and no pants. Not even any women's pants.
Everything had become skirts or dresses or frilly nightgowns - but
everything was definitely very, very feminine. Finally, I threw on the
running shoes - they turned pink, but stayed running shoes. I put on some
shorts, which mercifully remained shorts, if pink, still shorts, and a
shirt. The first shirt rapidly crumbled into a sports bra, but the second
t-shirt stayed the same. All of my clothes were gone, replaced by pretty
things.
I brushed more hair out of my eyes. Glancing in the mirror, it became
clear that my clippers could not keep up with the red mane now flowing from
underneath my usual brown hair. I threw a baseball cap low over my eyes,
tucked all of the hair up underneath, and looked in the mirror. Still my
face - but was my ass getting fuller?
I arrived at the mall and dashed for the men's department. Maybe she just
cursed my clothes, I hoped. New clothes won't have the same curse. "Can I
help you, miss?" a sales clerk in the men's department asked. "Can it,
buster," I growled back. I was still six feet tall and broad-shouldered,
dammit. He backed off quickly.
I desperately took a pair of khakis off the rack - and watched them tumble
into the sweetest summer dress I had ever seen. At that moment, my whole
world shifted. The shorts, previously happy to be merely pink, shrank into
the shortest of tennis skirts. I felt my t-shirt shrink into a tight white
tennis top. Most unusually, I felt my sports bra fill. I looked down to
see my chest swelling, heaving with each breath I took until my chest stood
out at a good, pert C cup. I pulled the torn page from my pocket. More
words had become readable:
Your chest will fill out,
like the heaving of the sea,
I'll say! They felt like huge melons. I looked up at the shop keeper - up?
- who stared back at me in shock. I now stood at a petite 5'6". I looked
at my fingers, which now had perfectly manicured red nails. My ass felt
like two pillows had been added. My hair burst out from under my ballcap,
and the ballcap became two tiny little hair clips. I could feel my new red
mane reach down to the middle of my back, and I could see the red bangs
which now hung just above my eyes.
Shit.
I purchased the summer dress and drove home. As I made my way home, I
looked in the mirror. It was still my face, including the beginnings of
five o'clock shadow, but otherwise I was all woman. My legs were
spectacularly long, and my feet now very petite. My red hair framed my
out-of-place masculine face very nicely, I thought. Nicely! I have to find
that girl. I could feel what should have been a hard-on, but was clearly my
pussy deepening with each passing moment.
I got home and ran into the apartment. Jack just stared, dumbfounded.
"Who are - is that you?" he asked incredulously. I just nodded. I could
feel my face aching. I looked down at the sheet as the second to last verse
came into shape:
The girl that you like,
is the girl that you'll see.
I dashed into the bathroom. My nose was shrinking, turning slightly upward
and pert. My brown eyes grew larger and turned an emerald green as my lips
filled out into a luscious red. My cheeks got higher and more pronounced,
and my eyebrows became perfectly shaped arches. I felt something twist in
my throat. It was done. I was a woman - the very skirt I had ogled
yesterday.
I sashayed out of the bathroom. "Jack," I said in my new sultry soprano,
"I don't want just a peck on the cheek this time." I pulled him toward me
and we kissed long and hard. Soon, he was penetrating my newly formed, deep
pussy, helping me explore the new depths. Even as I felt his warm sperm I
loathed the feeling, but at the same time felt a delicious tingle deep
within.
After we made love, the last verse came into shape:
And when it is done,
you'll wish it wasn't me.
Part of me felt trapped. How could I be a skirt?! Yet every time I tried
to resist, my clothes just turned frillier and prettier, and I just craved
sex even more.
Epilogue:
I was riding the train about seven months later when I heard a familiar
voice from behind me. "Oooh, maternity wear - and it's oh so becoming on
you!" she cooed.
I spun as quickly as my seven months pregnant body could turn to see the
very same girl I had ogled months earlier. "How could you do this to me?" I
sobbed. "I haven't been able to wear anything but skirts, dresses and
frilly night gowns since I met you. Every time I touch something for me to
wear, it turns into something even prettier than I had on before, and I need
to wear it. The only clothes I can touch without them changing are Jack's
when I am folding laundry. I lost my job, and now I am pregnant with Jack's
baby." I cried.
She just laughed. "Next time maybe you'll think twice about chasing the
skirts, eh? And by the way, at least I made you perfect. I still have that
little mustache you made fun of all those months ago."
I felt pleased with my beautiful hair, body and face, and my always perfect
clothes. Even as I felt the pleasure, I felt my former male self loathing
the pleasure. I was trapped in a world of satin and silk, and there was
nothing I could do. Worst of all, I loved the constant sex with my husband,
Jack. I couldn't wait to have the baby so we could start again.
So much for chasing skirts.
The End
Mei
- 25.05.2022
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