The Purse Came First free porn video

The Purse Came First By Varian Milagro "Don't forget your purse, Larry." I came to a stop. I turned and looked at the speaker; it was my co- worker Janine, a short, serious minded woman in her mid thirties. She smiled at me and pointed to my desk. "You wouldn't want to forget that." I looked at my cubicle and sitting on my desk was a black woman's purse. It had short handles, was around a foot or so tall and looked like something a stylish lady might carry. It also had not been there seconds ago when I got up to leave work for the day. "Very funny, that's not mine." "What?" Janine gave me a frown. "Who put that there? It wasn't there a second ago," I said. "Are you making fun of me?" I didn't find this funny, not in the least. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied. "Look, if you want to leave it here that's fine with me; I was just trying to be nice," she said as she turned back to her computer. "Thanks," I muttered. I looked around as I walked slowly back to my desk, fully expecting someone to jump out and laugh at their prank. This had to be a joke, but I didn't know how anyone could have placed the purse on my desk without me noticing. Once at my desk I opened the purse and found set of keys that looked remarkably like my own. I reached into my coat pocket for my keys, the place where they had been just moments before, but they weren't there. I pulled the keys out of the purse and verified that they were indeed mine. "What the...?" I breathed. I stood at my desk dumbfounded; there was a purse on my desk with my keys in it, a purse that appeared out of nowhere. After a few moments I picked up the bag and tucked it under my arm like a football and headed out the door. Once in my car I placed it on the passenger seat and examined its contents. Besides a matching lady's wallet everything else in the purse belonged to me, my phone, my thumb drive and my pocket knife. I looked in the wallet and it contained my driver's license, cash and credit cards. I was flabbergasted. As I wracked my brain trying to figure out how this was possible, my headache began to grow in intensity. I had awoken in the morning to a massive hangover. I had drunk a few beers the night before, but hardly enough to bring on a headache of that magnitude. Aspirin had helped a little, but the headache had persisted all day. After a few moments of not knowing what else to do, I started my car and headed for home. On the way home I stopped at a local mini-mart to pick up some supplies. This store was more expensive than the big chains and lacked their inventory, but it had a certain special something the others lacked. I picked up some chips and dinner in a bag. It wasn't very healthy, but it was quick and easy and my cooking skills left a lot to be desired. I could boil a mean pot of water, but other than that I was at a loss. I made my way to the checkout and the store's certain something special. Stacy was one of the store's cashiers and the reason I came here with its poor selection and high prices. She was just about what I would call a prefect ten. She had so many things going right, her pretty innocent looking face with its big green eyes, framed by a mane of thick wavy red hair, her tight lithe body with its tiny waist, curvy hips and luscious ass. I know a few people who would discount her due to her small tits, but I thought they fit her slender body very well. She stood around five-eight or five-nine, but that was in heels. It was hard to guess her true height because she always wore heels. While her co-workers were all jeans and t-shirts, Stacy always dressed real nice; skirts, dresses and tights. Her only real flaw for me was her age. She was probably close to twenty years my junior; way too young for me. I liked younger women, but I thought that a decade younger was pushing the limit. Stacy greeted me with friendly recognition. I doubt she knew my name, but I was a regular customer. "That will be $11.27," she said. "Are you having a good night?" "Can't complain," I replied as I fished my money out of my purse. "That's good to hear." I handed her a twenty and then it suddenly dawned on me that I had the purse with me. I'd been carrying it around the store, its strap slung over my shoulder like it was a normal thing for me. It had been so automatic. "Here's you change," she said. "Everything all right?" She asked with a look of concern. "Sorry, long day." "I like your purse, is it new?" "Yeah, you could say that." I looked at Stacy for a sign of irony or mockery, but she seemed sincere; it was almost as if my carrying a purse was normal to her. "Well, have a good night." "Good night," I replied. I took the purse, groceries and my bewildered self back to my car and drove the final mile to my home, where hopefully things would start to make sense again. Once home I dropped my purse on the kitchen counter and put away the groceries. I then headed to the bedroom to remove my suit and change into sweats. I hung my suit next to the few others I owned in my closet. I was not a suit and tie kind of guy, but work had a strict dress policy. Once I'd changed I headed back to the kitchen to microwave my dinner. While waiting for my dinner to finish I noticed the dirty dishes in the sink. I considered putting them in the dishwasher, but I remembered that the dishwasher was full of clean dishes and I lacked the motivation to empty it. The dishes weren't the only thing to slide when it came to cleaning my home. I tried to keep the clutter to a minimum in the few rooms I still used, but I'd been letting it get out of hand of late. The fact that my house was way too big for one person did not help in its maintenance. It had even been too big for me and my wife, Karen, when we bought it back in 2002. I would have sold it and moved into something smaller, but with the housing collapse last year no one was buying. Karen and I had met in 2000, just after my 30th birthday. We were setup by my friend Brandon. Karen was a friend of a girl he had been dating at the time and we went out on a double date together. Brandon stopped seeing Karen's friend two weeks later, but Karen and I kept going out. I tend to struggle to be at ease around most people, but there are times when I meet someone and something clicks and I am totally at ease around them; Karen was one of those people. We were married within the year, she moved out five years later and was dead two months after that. I was surprised when she walked out. At first I thought maybe there was someone else, but she was convincing in her denials. She said I didn't appreciate her and life was too short to live with someone who could take or leave her. I tried to assure her otherwise, but she said it was too late. We also fought a bit, but it was normal stuff I suppose. She thought that all I cared about was sports and I thought that all she cared about was spending all our money. After her death Brandon had helped pack up her stuff and move it into several of the many rooms in the house for which I had no need. She had so much crap, so many useless things; the vases, the figurines, the dried flowers, the candles, the "art" work, the doilies, the knick knacks, the jewelry, the endless shoes and the clothes and clothes and clothes. Brandon had wanted me to give her stuff away, but I couldn't bear to let it go. I may have thought it was all crap, but it was her crap and once it was gone so was the last of her. So it all sits in boxes in the many rooms I do not enter. I only really needed four rooms anyway, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and living room. The last of which served as dining room, study and entertainment room. Shortly after dinner while catching up on the sports scores on ESPN my cell began to ring. I made my way to the kitchen and found the phone in my purse; it was Brandon. "What's up Brandon?" I answered. "Larry, I'm going to be a bit late tomorrow, probably no more than ten minutes," Brandon replied. I looked at the purse; I had forgotten about it again. When I had retrieved my phone, it had seemed perfectly natural that it was located in the purse. I found it weird that I could so easily forget something so strange and foreign. When I had stopped at the store earlier in the evening I had automatically grabbed the purse and slipped its strap over my shoulder as if it was something I normally did. It was so automatic. I didn't even register its presence until I started pulling my money out. Hell, I'd even thought of it as 'mine'. I definitely didn't think of it as mine right now; it may have my stuff in it, but it wasn't mine. "Hello...you there Larry?" Brandon asked. "Yeah, I'm here," I replied. "No problem about tomorrow. Thanks for the heads up." "Later," Brandon said. I looked at the purse again and thought about tomorrow. Would I automatically take it with me to work? Would I even remember it as being strange? I grabbed a pen and paper and quickly wrote myself a note. I woke up Thursday morning later than normal so I needed to hurry to leave on time. I made my way to the bathroom which adjoined my bedroom and shaved my face during a quick shower. I brushed my teeth and slapped on my deodorant; my hair was so short I didn't even need to brush it. I went back to the bedroom and put on a pair of boxers and then my suit after which I made myself some coffee and toast which I'd eat on the drive to work. I checked the time, twenty five minutes from bed to leaving, not a record, but not too shabby. I grabbed my coat and purse and headed to the garage. As I opened the door to the garage I noticed a piece of paper tapped to the windshield of my car. 'IDIOT! Why are you carrying a PURSE?????' it read. I looked and sure enough it was tucked under my right arm just like it had a right to be there. I dumped the contents of the purse and stuffed them into my pockets. I tossed the purse back into the house and headed to my car. I pulled out of the garage and proceeded to work, finally. If traffic was kind I could still arrive on time...doubtful. Traffic turned out to be lighter than normal and I would have made it on time, but for the anxiety and the nausea. The anxiety began as soon as I pulled my car out of the garage and slowly continued to build as I drove to work. The purse dominated my thoughts. It wanted to turn around and retrieve it desperately, but I wasn't going to give in. I think I could have made it if it hadn't been for the nausea which crashed into me with only a few miles left of my trip. It came on so suddenly that I almost puked all over the dashboard. I tried to continue, but with my office almost in sight I decided to turn around. I couldn't believe I was going to drive all the way back home to retrieve the thing, but I did. As soon as I started towards home I felt the nausea begin to ease, vanishing completely by the time I pulled into my driveway. The anxiety did not completely disappear until I touched the purse. I quickly put my stuff back in the purse and called my boss to let him know I'd be late; he was not amused. This time the drive was uneventful. I looked over at the purse sitting on the passenger seat and it just looked so natural. No one said anything about the fact that I was carrying a purse as I entered the building and made my way to my desk. It was just another day at work. After work I headed to the gym to lift weights with Brandon. It was lower body today, which meant a lot of leg lifts and squats. Brandon and I had been lifting together twice a week for just over two years now. After Karen died I had lost all motivation for self care. I pulled away from everyone and nearly lost my job. Brandon stuck by me though and would not let me self destruct entirely. He talked me into working out and soon we were lifting weights regularly. I'd not only got into much better shape, but it helped with my general outlook as well. Brandon and I had met in the late nineties on a fantasy baseball league. Discovering that we had both migrated from southern California to northern Oregon got us talking and we soon realized that we also shared a common interest in all things sports and could talk about it for hours. Our friendship grew over the years mostly centering on watching games together on TV or the occasional live game. Brandon was five years younger and stood an even six foot, about a half inch shorter than me, but he was quite a bit leaner. While we had similar muscle mass, my crappy diet kept me packing quite a few extra pounds. Brandon had shaggy dirty blond hair and a face that seemed to draw the ladies, something he used to his advantage regularly. Karen and I had tried to encourage him to settle down, but he was looking for the 'right' woman. Until then he said he would enjoy himself while working his way through the field. These days Brandon was my only friend. I have always had trouble making friends and the few that I did have were either couples friends who sided with Karen when she moved out, or left when I became a self absorbed asshole after her death. Since then I didn't do much else besides my job and the gym with Brandon. The people at work seemed nice enough, but as with most people I struggled to talk to almost all of them. I always had a hard time thinking of something to say. I could talk sports for hours, but people at work had little knowledge on this topic, besides who had won the previous day. The workout was uneventful, lots of scoping out women while encouraging each other to lift our best. We didn't fully agree on what made a ten when it came to the ladies, but we both loved to gander at the fairer sex. I liked women who were slim, pretty and could hold a conversation, Brandon liked them with huge knockers and dumb as a post. I'd told Brandon more than once that if he would date a woman with an IQ higher than her bra size that perhaps he would find the 'right' one. He wasn't convinced. Lately Brandon had been trying to get me to ask out a woman, any woman, but I still wasn't ready to start dating. While changing back into our street clothes after a post workout shower I once again noticed the purse, currently sitting in my locker. "Hey Brandon, can I ask you a weird question?" I asked hesitantly. "Shoot," he replied. "Do you think that it's weird that I have this?" I pulled the purse from the locker. "No, why?" He asked, barely looking up. "You mean you don't think it's strange that I have this with me?" "No, should I?" Brandon asked. Now he looked directly at me with concern. "Is everything all right, what's going on?" "Nothing, just asking," I replied. Brandon went back his stuff. I decided to persist. "What if Frank over there carried a purse, would you think that was weird?" "Hey Frank," Brandon called across the locker room. "Larry thinks you're going to start carrying a purse!" "Fuck you both," replied Frank. A few of the other guys in the locker room laughed. I finished dressing and headed out with Brandon to our cars. Once outside I began again. "One more question, if it so strange for Frank to carry a purse, why don't you think it's weird for me?" Brandon thought for a moment. He looked perplexed and for a moment it looked like he realized that there was something strange going on, but it quickly passed. He shrugged his shoulders and slapped me on the back. "It just isn't," he said. "See you later." As I drove home I contemplated the bag sitting next to me. Was it really that bad carrying a purse? It could carry a lot more than my pants and jacket. No one else even seemed to even give it a second glance; it was just normal to them. I figured what the hell, I carry a purse now. I figured why not, life is too short to worry about the small stuff. The heels that appeared on my feet at work the following week, well that was another matter. Well, they weren't actually heels, I know that now. They were actually a sling-back sandal and practically flats, but at the time all women's shoes were heels, boots or sneakers. Something else I didn't know at the time, but found out that night was now all my shoes were now ladies shoes. Not only did my existing shoes change, but my closet was packed women's shoes. I was at work the following Wednesday morning, looking over some budget numbers when Lucy, a salesperson at my company, came to my desk. "Good morning Larry, do you have the margin analysis for the Cooper account? Oh, I really like your sandals, are those new? " I looked down and saw them. You would think I would have at least felt the air on my naked toes. I stared at them dazedly. "Yeah, they're new alright," I said without looking up. "Where did you get them?" "I have no idea," I replied. "You don't know where you bought your shoes?" She asked, giving me a bit of a frown. "Uhh...they were a gift." "Well, that's nice, you've got to like free. Say, Kelly and I are going to get some Thai for lunch, do you want to come?" "Sure, that would be great," I replied. I may have been just as shocked by the invitation to lunch as I was by the sudden appearance of woman's shoes on my feet. I never got invited to lunch anymore. "Sweet, we're going to leave at 11:45; Kelly's driving." "That sounds good. I should have the analysis done before lunch." "Thank you so much; I could really use this sale," she said. "See you at lunch." I was thrilled at the prospect of having lunch with Lucy. Of all the women at work, she was the one I desired most. Lucy reminded me of Stacy in a lot of ways; similar build although Lucy was a couple inches taller. They shared a love for skirts and dresses, something Lucy's profession demanded, not so much Stacy's. Where Stacy had red hair, Lucy's was golden blonde. Lucy had more curves than Stacy, particularly up top. Lucy wasn't as top heavy as Brandon's bimbos, but she could really fill out a sweater. I'm not the best at guessing women's ages, but I would put Lucy around 30. Besides her beauty it was Lucy's way with others and her outlook on life that really endeared her to me. She was one of those people who were loved by all and who'd never met a person they didn't like. She laughed easily and had a smile that lit up a room; it was no wonder she excelled at sales. What really attracted me to Lucy was that she made me feel better about life when she was around; her enthusiasm for life was infectious. She was also one of the people with whom I could talk. I did not run into her often at work, but when I did she would always ask how I was and if my team had won. While I did not feel anywhere ready to date, if there was one person who could get me to change my mind it was Lucy. Unfortunately, I discovered that Lucy was living with someone named Gary for over a year now and they were very committed. Even though I did not have a shot at her romantically, I did think it would be nice to be her friend. Whenever I was around her my day would brighten a bit, but I had no clue on how I could invite her to do something outside work and it not seem like a come on. But now she had invited me to lunch out of the blue. I just wished it had been a day when my shoes had not changed into women's shoes, but it was better than never. I began to get agitated at the thought of the sandals on my feet. I'd come to terms with the purse, but at the time it did not occur to me that it would happen again. I was really frightened now. I did not know how far this would go. Would my clothes suddenly change into a dress or would I find my boxers changed into panties? Was I going become a complete cross dresser? Did regular cross dressers get sick when they were away from women's clothes? I'd never really thought about why some guys dressed up as ladies. Perhaps I had caught something that was going around. Of course that would not explain how the shoes and purse just appeared out of nowhere. It also did not explain why no one else seemed to notice. Well, they noticed, but they thought it normal. I wondered if my coworkers really did think it was normal. Could it be some vast, elaborate practical joke? Maybe, but that would not explain the weird nausea and anxiety that happened when I tried to leave my purse behind, or how natural it felt carrying it. For a moment I considered going to a shoe store and buying some normal men's shoes, but I doubted that I could make it to a shoe store and back before lunch and there was no way I could do it and get Lucy's report finished in time. Then I remembered my gym bag. I kept sneakers in my gym bag and the bag was in my car. My sneakers were a little ratty, but at the moment I didn't care; they were better than what I was currently wearing. I rose and headed to the door. Walking in the new shoes did not feel particularly weird. Being able to see my toes while walking around at work was definitely new though. Once at my car I retrieved my gym bag and opened it and found sneakers, but they weren't mine; these looked brand new. They were white with light blue trim. While technically these were probably women's sneakers, no one would be able to tell the difference. I changed my shoes and headed back inside to get Lucy's report done before lunch. I really did not want to disappoint her now that she had invited me to lunch. I was able to get the report done in plenty of time and met Lucy at her cube at 11:45 sharp. She smiled as soon as she saw me and jumped up and grabbed her purse, an action which reminded me that I was carrying one as well. "Hi Larry, let's grab Kelly and get going," she said. "I'm really craving some Thai food." We met up with Kelly and we were soon on our way to the restaurant. Once we arrived we were shown to a table and given menus. Lucy and Kelly split a tofu dish with steamed vegetables while I opted for a normal sized Pad Thai. As soon as we ordered Lucy turned to me. "OK Larry, you have to tell me what is going on with your shoes." I started to panic. What should I say 'women's shoes magically appeared on my feet, I swear'? I wondered if she now thought the purse was odd. I decided to play dumb. "What do you mean?" "Why were you wearing sneakers at work? Aren't you worried that you'll get in trouble?" Lucy asked with a look of concern. I felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. I was relieved that she didn't think I was cross dressing, but at the same time if she did think I was cross dressing it would mean that my world might be back to normal. I tried to think of a decent reply. None came. "Well, I was just in the mood, you know." "No, not really," Lucy replied. "If George Anderson catches you wearing sneakers on a Wednesday he'll freak." "You're right, I'll change my shoes once we get back from lunch," I answered. Once our food arrived Lucy and Kelly launched into the latest office rumors. This is what usually happened when I was the only guy around a bunch of women. They would start talking amongst themselves on topics such as office gossip, relationships, fashion or which celebrity is sleeping which celebrity; none of which I had any knowledge or interest. I started counting sugar packets. "Well Larry, what do you think?" Lucy asked "What?" I looked up and both women were looking at me, waiting for my answer. "Do you think Wendy is hooking up with Jason from marketing?" Kelly asked. "I don't know," I replied. "'I don't know' is not acceptable. You're new here so I will let that one slide, but you must share your thoughts on the matter," Kelly said. "Yeah Larry, spill it, do you think they're having sex or not?" Lucy asked conspiratorially. I thought for a moment. Then it hit me "They just might be. I mean, I was in a budget meeting for marketing last week and Wendy had a laughable request and Jason not only jumped a little too strongly to her defense, but afterwards when the topic shifted they shared a definite 'look' with each other." "Nicely done, you catch on quick," Kelly replied. "Okay, consensus is that they're definitely fucking. Now what about Ellen, is she going to finally leave her asshole husband or what?" This went on for the rest of lunch. I kept up as best as I could, but it was hard to keep pace with such seasoned professionals. After lunch, as we headed back to the car, Kelly turned to Lucy. "Lucy, about Saturday, I'm not going to be able to make it," she said. "I'm really sorry, please don't hate me." "You can't do this to me. I was really looking forward to going with you. You're going to ruin my weekend you know," Lucy pouted. "What about Larry? I bet he'd go with you," Kelly said as she looked at me pleadingly. "Wouldn't you Larry?" "Uhh, I guess, what are we talking about?" I asked. "Kelly and I were supposed to go shopping together on Saturday," Lucy said. "It's all right Larry you don't have to go; Kelly and I can do it another time." She definitely looked bummed. "I would be happy to go with you Lucy," I replied. "You would?" Her face lit up. "That's great we'll have a good time, I promise." "Thank you Larry for helping me out," Kelly replied "You are not totally out of the woods sister," Lucy told her. "You owe me for ditching me again." Once back at the office I was feeling great. Thoughts of purses and women's shoes were totally out of my mind. Nor did I concern myself that I'd just spent an entire hour sharing office gossip that came from I know not where. I was too elated with my 'date' with Lucy. I'd been under the impression that her relationship with her boyfriend was pretty solid, but perhaps that wasn't the case. If I played my cards right on Saturday perhaps this could actually lead to something. I found a note on my desk from my boss when I returned from lunch; he wanted to see me right away. This wasn't good. Being called to his office was never a good thing; not being present when he wanted you was even worse, lunch or not. This was the last thing I needed; this job was one of the last things I still had in my life. I went to his office immediately. His door was open so I knocked on the door jam. "You wanted to see me Mr. Anderson?" "Yes, come in Larry and close the door," he said. Mr. Anderson was a stern and serious man. He was about two things, making money and image. He rewarded strong performers who exemplified the profession image he demanded; the rest were asked to leave the company. I closed the door and took a seat across from his desk. Being asked to close the door was not a good sign either. "Larry, I will come right to the point," he said. "Why are you wearing athletic shoes?" I open my mouth to reply, but he was just getting started. "Are you not aware of our dress policy Larry?" He asked. I started to reply again, but he went on. "I know there are other companies that allow jeans and athletic shoes all week long, but I find this to be sloppy; sloppy dress leads to sloppy work and I will not tolerate sloppy work. It is bad enough that we have causal Friday; I will not have a casual Wednesday as well." I let him continue. "You are a good employee Larry and I see big things on the horizon for you. It is not common knowledge yet, but Pete Larson has given notice; he will be leaving the firm next month. The board will want to hire from the outside, but I have in mind an internal candidate whom I believe can do the job. I believe that person is you Larry. I believe you can do the job, but you have to be fully committed, something I am beginning to doubt. Last week you were uncharacteristically late and today you are wearing athletic shoes. So you tell me, will you be fully committed or should I let the board go with an outside hire?" "I'm very honored that you thought of me Mr. Anderson," I replied. "I won't let you down." This promotion would not only mean a whole lot more money but also an office with a door. "See that you do not," he said. "Close the door on your way out." I went from Mr. Anderson's office straight to my car and changed into the women's sandals. I decided to go to the shoe store after work and buy some men's dress shoes. Being afraid I'd forget, and without pen and paper, I placed the sneakers on the driver's seat. I hoped it would be enough to remind me to purchase new shoes. The rest of the day went well enough. Despite my run in with Mr. Anderson, lunch with Lucy and our future date kept my spirits high. My new footwear slipped quickly from my mind. The sneakers on the car seat almost didn't work. I simply tossed them on the passenger seat as I entered my car upon leaving work. Something nagged at me I as pulled away from work and then it came back to me. Fearing that I would forget my mission mid trip to the shoe store I continually repeated 'men's shoes' to myself. I made it to the shoe store, one of those help yourself, discount shoe stores. The shoes at this store were not the best quality, but I only had two criteria; I wanted men's shoes and I wanted to deal with as few people as possible. If I tried to get help from an employee they would probably try to sell me high heels. I entered the store and made my way to the men's section and quickly found a pair of black dress shoes in my size. When I sat on one of the many benches to try them out, I noticed I was still wearing the sandals; it bothered me that I didn't think to change into the sneakers after work. As I was trying on the shoes, a woman and her small son came into the men's section. She took a look at me, looked down at the men's shoes and then gave me a look of utter disgust. I really wanted to say something nasty, but I figured it was not worth it. I put my sandals back on and went to the cashier to pay for my new men's shoes. For all I knew they might turn into high heels the moment I left the store, but if they didn't I thought I might be on to something. Once at home I found my new stash of women's shoes. My closet was now a rainbow of tall boots, short boots, high heels, low heels, sandals and some I could not even begin to name. I wondered what in the hell did anyone do with that many different shoes. Up until this point I had probably 6 pair of footwear, two colors of dress shoes for work, golf shoes, sneakers, work boots and some flip flops. I closed the door to my closet and attached a new note to the outside of the door. I placed my new pair of men's shoes directly under the sign. The men's shoes did not transform in the night so I wore them to work. I brought the sandals with me as well; I figured I should keep them on hand just to be safe. After the weird bout of nausea and anxiety I had encountered when leaving my purse at home I didn't want to be too far from potential relief. I didn't encounter nausea this time, but the anxiety did come and steadily grew throughout the day. I was coping pretty well and I think I would have made it through the day except for an encounter with my boss. I was headed down the hall to talk to a co-worker when I passed Mr. Anderson. As soon as he saw me he looked down towards my shoes and then looked back up and through clenched teeth said, "My office, now." I followed him to his office. Before either of us could sit he started in on me. "Did our talk mean nothing yesterday?" He asked angrily. "If you do not want Pete's position you could just say so," "I still want the promotion," I replied. "Are you trying to be funny then? Well if you are I hope you can see that I am not laughing. Please tell me what possessed you to wear those shoes today?" "What do you mean Mr. Anderson?" "Do not try my patience Larry. Are those men's shoes on your feet?" "What's wrong with men's shoes? You're wearing men's shoes. " "So is this some kind of statement? Do I need to bring HR in here?" He paused for a moment. "Look Larry, are a good guy and a valuable part of the team. I do not care what you do on your own time, dress how you want, but while you are in the office please follow the dress code, can you do that for me?" Mr. Anderson asked. "Yes sir" "Do you have appropriate footwear you can wear for the rest of the day?" "Yes sir." "Well then for goodness sake put them on so we can get back to business," Mr. Anderson said. "Yes sir." I left his office to swap out my footwear. I may have lost the battle, but I was determined not to lose the war. I may have to wear women's shoes to keep work happy, but that didn't mean I had to go all out and wear heels. I had a sign on my closet door to remind me to make good shoe choices; that should keep me wearing the sandals. I was determined not to wear high heels if I could avoid it. I did wear a pair on Friday night, but that was strictly in the name of science. I'd begun to suspect that I had a new gait. I was walking to a meeting at work when, for a moment, it seemed to me that I'd been walking differently than normal. I came to a stop and tried to determine what was different about my walk, but was unable. I started walking again staying aware of my gait. It seemed normal to me. I had similar sensations other times during the day. I suspected that in addition to wearing women's shoes I was now walking like a woman as well. I needed to determine if this was indeed the case, but was unsure how test my hypothesis. I doubted asking anyone would help. They would most likely respond as Brandon had when I had asked about the purse. I needed a second set of eyes, but eyes that I could trust to tell me the real truth. I eventually decided to film myself, that way I could review the footage and see for myself. Friday night I dug out my hand held video camera and set it upon a shelf across from the main hall in my house. I figured I would be able to catch quite a bit of myself throughout the evening from that location. I decided against wearing the sandals; I wanted to really test this so I grabbed a pair of black high heels. I'm not sure of their exact height, but they were several inches tall. I considered grabbing my tape measure to get an exact measurement, but that seemed a little obsessive. The experiment did not go very smoothly. For one thing, I found walking in high heels quite difficult and almost twisted an ankle a couple times. Also, I was very conscious of not only the heels, but also the camera, which was counterproductive. I needed to somehow forget about both so I could walk 'naturally'. While pondering how I could distract myself properly my cell phone started ringing. I went to my purse to retrieve it, but then remembered that I had left it in the bedroom. I started to hurry and finally broke into a run to catch it before the caller hung up; last thing I wanted was to end up in a dreaded game of phone tag. It turned out to be a wrong number. As I headed back down the hall I remembered the camera; I'd never been happier to receive a wrong number call. I retrieved the camera and reviewed the highlights from the evening. I watched some of the earlier portions where I was aware of the camera and I was as awkward in the heels as I had thought. I fast forwarded to the call and I was correct in my earlier suspicions. When I wasn't aware of them I walked in the heels like I had been born in them. Hell, it seemed I could even run in them with ease. I really didn't know how to process this. I really wished, and not for the first time, that I had someone I could talk to about this whole thing, but who would believe me. It was extremely difficult to deal with and all the more so alone. I woke on Saturday very excited; it was my day with Lucy all to myself. Today it would be just the two of us and I had a feeling our relationship would be going in a new direction. I had enjoyed lunches with her this week, but there was always at least one other with us. Kelly was absent after the first lunch; I wondered if it had anything to do with her cancelling on the shopping trip. We met just inside the entrance of the downtown mall. Lucy was wearing a bluish dress that showed a nice amount of thigh. She jumped up as soon as she saw me and gave me a big hug, her breasts smashing against me; the day was starting out great. "I didn't know the mall opened this early," I said. "The stores don't open for another thirty minutes, but I like to arrive a little early so I can work out my plan of attack." Lucy started to bounce a little in her excitement. "I am so happy you're coming shopping today, we're going to have so much fun. There are so many shops I want to hit today. Is there anything special you're looking for? I sometimes start at one end and go through each store until I hit the other end and then do the same thing on the other levels. Or we could just want to wander and see where the day takes us? What do you think?" "Well I...," I began. "Hold that thought, we need to get you to a shoe store and pronto. I like your sandals Larry, really I do, but we have got to get you something else to wear." "I have other shoes," I replied. "I just like wearing these." "Well, we'll just have to find you another pair you like then. You cannot wear the same shoes every day; people will begin to talk. " Lucy picked up a couple lattes from the bench next to her. "Oh, I brought coffee. I didn't know what you drank so I just got you the same as mine" "What do you drink?" I asked. "A triple shot, skinny, no whip, grande, mocha with a three quarter pump of vanilla," Lucy replied. "Hey, that's my drink too!" "Really?" Lucy asked, her face lighting up. "No, not really," I replied, smiling. Lucy let out a laugh "I can see we really are going to have fun today." I took a sip of the coffee as I followed Lucy to her favorite shoe store. The thing was pure sugar; I doubted I could finish it. Except for a couple mall walkers and shop employees we seemed to be alone as we walked toward our destination. When we arrived, I was unable to discern any difference between this store and the several others we had passed on the way. I assumed it had some special appeal to Lucy that escaped me; after an hour of trying on shoes I decided it must be the stamina of the employees. Lucy had me try on nearly every shoe in the place. Initially I was surprised they had shoes in my size; my feet are fairly large even for a man. Perhaps whatever had changed all my footwear into women's shoes was also at work in this store. She insisted I walk in the shoes each time I tried on a pair. The first pair she picked was of course a high heel. They looked similar in style to the pair I had been wearing at work, but the color was different and the heel was well over double the height. When I tried to walk I stumbled. "Perhaps you would like to try something with a smaller heel," the clerk suggested. While I was in full agreement with the clerk, I also bristled at the suggestion. She didn't think I could walk in heels. I don't like being told I can't do something; I'm very competitive that way. "Just give me a second," I replied. I knew that if I could make myself forget about the shoes I would be able to walk naturally, but I did not how was I going to accomplish that in a women's shoe store, wearing high heels and with two women staring at me. I thought back to the experiment from the previous night. I thought about the wrong number and how it had distracted me. I began walking again, this time focusing on a meeting from the previous day. I walked to one end of the store and back. "I hope it doesn't take you that long every time you try on a pair," Lucy chided. "We have a lot of others stores to hit today." "I just had to get my sea legs, it's been a while," I replied. Lucy laughed. "Well, you seemed to get back in the swing of things pretty quickly. What do you think about this pair?" I learned a lot about names and styles of women's shoes in that marathon session. I lost track of which was which, but I tried to remember as many names as I could. I tried on shoes with names like; mules, pumps, slides, ankle boots, knee highs, sling backs. I tried on each in a variety of heel height and thickness; kitten heels, stilettos, stacked heels, platforms, wedges, block heels. Add to that the fact that each came in a variety of colors, materials and designs, it was a wonder we ever left that store. Lucy insisted on purchasing two pairs of shoes for me along with a condition on each. The first was a pair of pumps with a kitten heel that Lucy insisted I wear at least once the following week. The other was a pair of strappy wedges with a moderate heel for shopping today, both of which apparently matched my bag. I did not want to give up my sneakers, but since it also meant I could finally stop trying on shoes and the poor clerk could finally get a break, I agreed to her terms. A succession of women's clothing and accessory stores followed. Except for the handbag store we visited half way through the day, Lucy stopped having me try on things. It was all her now. She tried on blouses, skirts, dresses, slacks, jeans, camisoles, necklaces, bracelets, the list went on. She was very interested in my opinion on each. I would give her a 'That looks nice' whenever she asked my opinion, but eventually she grew tired of this. "They can't all be nice Larry," Lucy said. "I need you to be honest here, brutal even. If I just wanted rote answers I would've dragged Gary here." While waiting for her to try on the next outfit I observed a couple ladies discussing the clothes they had just selected. I caught a couple phrases and hoped I could use them to bluff my way with Lucy. When she emerged from the dressing room I examined the dress critically for a few moments. "I like the way this hangs on you, and the color really sets off your eyes," I said. "You really think so?" She asked. "I do like it." She turned to the left and right while gazing at herself in the store's three way mirror. "I think I'll get it." I continued to listen to other women throughout the day, picking up as much of the lingo as possible. After another half dozen clothing stores, while she was examining what I swear was the exact same blouse she had dismissed three store prior, Lucy turned to me and said, "I think this would look rather nice on you. Don't you think?" I froze. Why was Lucy suggesting a woman's shirt to me? I looked down to see if my clothes were different. I was still wearing the same button down shirt, jeans and wedges. Perhaps she was joking. Could I be so lucky? "Earth to Larry," Lucy said. "Yes, it does look nice," I replied. "Why don't you try it on? There's a changing room just over there." Lucy pointed to the changing rooms in the Men's section. "Be back in a moment." I took the white, satiny, long sleeve blouse from Lucy and headed across the store. I examined my clothes again and they still appeared normal to me. What was going on? I feared that I was now going to be wearing women's clothes along with the shoes and purse. Where was this thing going to end? Once inside the changing room I tried to remove my shirt and I discovered that my top had in fact changed. It looked the same, but the buttons were now on the opposite side. Also, my t-shirt was not really a t-shirt; it was made of a much softer material, was sleeveless and had very thin shoulder straps. My jeans and underwear were still the same, thank goodness for that at least. I donned the blouse and headed out to find Lucy. She was waiting just outside the room and nodded her approval. I purchased the blouse in hopes that I could forestall her from making me try on anything else. I was in luck as that was the last clothing store of the day. When the day was over we hugged and we said our goodbyes, I climbed into my car and reflected on the day as I headed home. My hopes that it might lead to something romantic faded quickly during the day. It was clear that Lucy saw me as a companion not as a potential lover. It was worse than being in the friend zone; I was more in the girlfriend zone. Also, she went on and on about her relationship with Gary during lunch. She loved him dearly and would say yes instantly to a marriage proposal. Unfortunately for her he had a firm lack of belief in the institution of marriage. I was glad to have her friendship at least, plus I wasn't really ready to date anyway. Lucy was a lovely, funny, caring person and I was happy to spend time with her, no matter what we did. She was so friendly to everyone she met and had dour store employees wearing a smile within minutes. Her bright, positive outlook was infectious to all. Once home, while putting my new blouse away, I discovered that all my shirts had changed much as my shoes had changed earlier in the week; I had so many now. I really wished I knew what was going on. At that moment I had a weird feeling that there was something I was forgetting. I could not put my finger on it. This frustrated me and I was afraid it would bother me for the rest of the night; it was soon forgotten, however, as I quickly slipped into my usual routine. The next day I arose early for my monthly golf game with my father; we had golfed together regularly since I was old enough to swing a club. While we usually finished within a few strokes of each other I rarely lost to him. As I got ready for the day I wondered if I still had my golfing gear. I'd seen my clubs in the garage, but I would need shoes as well. I found a woman's golf shirt in my dresser along with my normal men's golf slacks. For driving to the club I opted for the wedges Lucy bought me yesterday, boy they were comfortable. In the garage I found my golfing shoes; they looked very similar to my previous pair. I put the shoes and my clubs in the trunk of my car and headed to the golf course. I arrived a little early and found a parking space close to the club house. I turned off the engine and as I tossed my keys into my purse I noticed a pencil that I didn't recognize. I pulled it out and took a closer look. It reminded me of a charcoal pencil that an artist might use. I was about to toss it in the back seat when I noticed other new items in my purse, one of which I recognized instantly; it was lipstick. I looked in the review mirror and found to my horror that the makeup was not only in my purse, but also all over my face. I tried to think of something to use to wipe my face clean when I heard my father call my name. I grabbed my purse and exited the car. "Larry, great you're early as well, they had a cancellation so we can tee off in ten minutes." My father stood a couple inches shorter than me, but was very trim. Since his retirement a couple years ago he spent several days a week at the course and it helped to keep him in shape. "Great, but I need to hit the head," I replied. "Well, don't take too long. I don't want them to give our new time slot to someone else. " I grabbed my purse and headed to the bathroom in the pro shop to wipe the crap off my face. The men's room was empty, which was a blessing. I grabbed a paper towel ran it under some water hoping the makeup wasn't water proof. Just as I was about to clean my face I remembered the incident with the men's shoes. It occurred to me that everyone probably thought this was normal now. To me, I looked ridiculous, especially since I had not shaved this morning and had a distinct five o'clock shadow to go along with the eye shadow. My father had not batted and eye when I met him a few moments before; he must think it normal now. Conscious of the time, I left the makeup on my face and headed back to my car to retrieve my clubs. For the first nine holes I couldn't get the makeup out of my mind. While I may have appeared normal to everyone else, it was not normal to me. My golf game suffered as a result and I found myself behind a few strokes at the end of nine holes. I was getting rather frustrated and I started taking it out on my father. After hitting a shot into the rough on the third fairway he dropped a second ball and prepared to hit it. "Do that and it will cost you two strokes," I said. My father glared at me as he picked up the ball "It's just a game Larry." He was always trying to take a mulligan and it annoyed me to no end. There are rules in golf and if you are not going to follow them then you are just cheating. I usually suffered in silence, but my frustration with the new development on my face and its affect on my game had me in a foul mood. My dad could sense it and we skipped the normal male bonding banter for rest of the first nine holes. We took a break before the back nine and I used the time to pull myself together. It was one thing to wear makeup, but to let it mess with my golf game was unacceptable. I wasn't going to lose to my father; I would never hear the end of it. My golf game improved on the back nine and I made a couple birdies to come one ahead with one hole to go. We were sitting in the golf cart, waiting for the foursome ahead of us to finish putting on the 18th green, when my father turned to me. "Your lips are beautiful enough son, let's tee off." I realized that I had a compact in one hand and was applying a fresh coat of lipstick with the other. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I couldn't believe I had actually put on lipstick in front of my father. As I teed off I was still very rattled at how automatic applying makeup had been and as a result my shot hooked dramatically and made a spectacular splash in one of the course's many ponds. I finished the game down two. We grabbed lunch afterwards and my father paused only briefly in his nonstop retelling of his win to remind me that my mother would like to hear from me. I said I would call her, but we both knew I would not. On the way home, I purchased fresh veggies and chicken from the grocery store. I wanted to start eating better; my current diet made it hard to keep trim. I botched the dinner as usual. It wasn't so bad that I had to throw it out, but it certainly wasn't good. I ate while watching ESPN to catch up on the day's sports scores. Afterwards I decided to clean up the kitchen. I'd been letting it get rather messy and it was really beginning to bug me. The whole house could use a good scrubbing, but I only had energy for the kitchen tonight. Before going to bed I used some cold cream I found in the bathroom to wipe the makeup off my face. Knowing that I would need to deal with makeup I arose early the Monday. I headed to the shower, kicking off my panties on the way. After washing and shaving I dried myself and then wrapped the towel around my waist. I'd briefly considered going to work without makeup, but like the shoes, it was apparent that people would find it weird if I didn't wear makeup. If it wasn't for the possibility of the promotion at work I might have risked it, but Mr. Anderson was already annoyed with me over the shoes. If I had another run in with him, I could kiss that promotion goodbye. Of course deciding to wear makeup and being able to apply makeup were two very different things. I looked at the vast array of cosmetics on my bathroom counter and I found I could name less than half of them. I'd seen my wife put on makeup enough times that I knew the basics, lipstick goes on lips, eyeliner around the eyes, but I also knew it required a bit of expertise. The difference between a young teenage girl's made up face and a woman in her twenties told me that there was definitely some skill involved. I thought back to the golf game and how I had automatically applied lipstick during the golf game. If I could switch to auto mode I would probably start applying it like I'd done it my whole life. The trick was making myself forget about putting the makeup on my face while putting makeup on my face. I then remembered a trick I used to do to make myself last longer while having sex with my wife. I started recalling last season's offensive stats for the starting players on my favorite baseball team. As I put on foundation I tried to recall slugging percentage, eye liner was on base percentage, eye shadow home runs and so on. It worked like a charm. Now I just had to do that every morning for the rest of my life. On my way into my bedroom to get dressed I spotted the lacy, pink panties on the floor and the truth of it hit me. I opened my closet to find skirts, dresses, women's dress slacks and in my dresser tights, nylons and panties. It was like Karen was back; the closet and dresser were crammed with women's clothes and the bathroom counter clogged with makeup items. I knew one thing for certain; I was not going to wear a dress. I needed to dress nice enough to comply with the company's dress code, but I really doubted that skirts or dresses were required. Women at work all dressed professionally and a few wore slacks. I made a mental note to look up the company policy on women's attire, but today I would just have to wing it. I searched through my unmentionables to find the most basic panties I now owned. I had to dig under some pretty racy stuff, but I finally found a stash of plain cotton panties in assorted colors. I selected a plain white pair. I added to this a pair of grey wool slacks and the blouse and pumps I had picked up at the mall with Lucy. On the bright side I didn't have to wear a tie now. Oh lucky me. Forty minutes later I was sitting in my car, parked outside my office. I made no move to exit the vehicle. I had worn women's shoes and carried a purse at work last week, but that was minor league compared to what I was about to do. I looked at my clothes and checked my painted face in the rearview mirror. I felt ridiculous. I looked ridiculous. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against guys who wear women's clothes. I say live and let live, but it wasn't something I had ever considered for myself. I was beginning to entertain the idea of going home and skipping work, thus abandoning any hope for the promotion, when I was startled by someone knocking on my car window. "Morning Larry," Lucy called. "A little morning meditation before work?" She chuckled. I exited the car. "I wouldn't want to be too early, it'd set a bad precedent," I said as I gave her a hug. "I like your outfit; that blouse looks so nice on you." I returned Lucy's compliment and we headed into the office together. My recent lunches with Lucy made me aware of a difference between men and women when it comes to greeting each other. Guys shake hands and if they are friends usually flip each other shit in some way, while women complement each other; probably because the men in their lives are always forgetting to do so. I'd been one of those guys with Karen and it made me feel bad. Thoughts of running home left once I was at work for a few minutes; everyone treated me exactly as they always had. I didn't catch anyone giving me the slightest double take and I don't believe it was just out of courtesy. I used to wear my hair a bit longer, still professional, but more of a normal business man's cut. The day I came into the office with my near buzz cut people reacted. It was an abrupt change and some co-workers were caught by surprise when they first saw me and the reaction was evident on their faces. There was none of that today; my new wardrobe was perfectly normal to them. I threw myself into my work and soon the clothes and makeup became normal to me as well. At lunch it was just Lucy and me. As we were being seated Lucy asked the hostess about her day. This reminded me of the mall and how she treated everyone. "You sure are nice to everyone you meet," I said. "I used to work retail and it can be tough working with the public; some people like to share their misery. When I helped a customer who was nice and would ask me how my day was going it brought a glimmer to my day. So, now I try to do that for everyone I meet. It is such a little thing for me to do and totally worth it if I brighten one person's day, even for a brief moment. Plus I've been doing it so long now it's just automatic." "At the mall it seemed like you knew half the employees and you seemed to know something about each of them." "I ask people about themselves; people love to talk about themselves and I make a point of remembering. The next time I see them I ask them about something they told me before and it makes them feel special to have someone remember them." "Sounds like a lot of work." "At first, but once you get into the habit it's easy. You should try it. It will make you feel better about yourself." I met Brandon at the gym after work. As I approached the gym's locker room I became very nervous. There was something almost sacrilegious about wearing panties and lipstick into such a masculine domain. Once again no one reacted. I found a free locker, hung my purse on one of the locker's hooks and proceeded to change into my workout clothes. I realized too late that I should have double checked my gym bag before leaving the house. Its contents had not been spared during the recent changes to my wardrobe. My shorts were now black spandex with hot pink piping and only went to mid calf. The matching top left a large portion of my mid section bare. Once dressed, I appraised myself in one of the locker room's mirrors; skin tight spandex was not a good look for me. While I'd spent considerable time at the gym gaining strength the last couple years, I hadn't watched my diet very well. There were guys in the gym that could probably pull off this look, but I for one did not like looking at my exposed, hairy, flabby belly. I sucked in my gut and checked my reflection, turning from side to side as I did so. I looked a bit better with my belly pulled in, but I would eventually have to breathe. I reminded myself that it was time to take my diet seriously. If I was going to be forced to wear women's clothes, I wanted to at least look good doing so. I headed out of the locker room to meet Brandon. After our workout and back into our street clothes, Brandon and I stood in front of the locker room sinks. Brandon was combing his hair and I half sat on the counter next to him. "So, what are your plans for this weekend?" Brandon asked. "I don't know, it's only Monday I haven't thought that far ahead," I replied while setting my purse on the counter next to me. "Well, I'm going out with a couple others on Saturday, you should join us." "Hmm, not really my thing, you know that," I replied. "I was never into the pickup scene and I don't think I'm ready to date yet." "Come on Larry, It's been three years since she died. You've got to get back on that horse." "Right, let's say I do go," I said as I started digging in my purse. "You'll be talking up some blonde with a giant rack and I'll be talking to myself for the rest of the evening." "I promise no blondes this time," he said. "I'll stick by you the entire evening, I promise. We'll do whatever you want. Come on; don't stay at home on another Saturday night." "Fine, if it will get you off my back for awhile." I started touching up my lips. "Great you won't regret it," he replied. "We'll have a wonderful time." I looked at the lipstick in my hands and a thought occurred to me, what if it wasn't just me. Everyone thought the makeup was normal for me, but what if it was the makeup itself. Perhaps it was the makeup and clothes themselves that were perceived as normal, no matter who wielded them. "Brandon, do me a favor and hold this for a moment," I said handing him the open lipstick. "Uhhh...okay," Brandon replied. He took the lipstick from me with a frown on his face. "Nice lipstick dude; won't you look so pretty wearing that." One of the guys said to Brandon as he made his way back to the lockers. "Thanks Larry, you're a pal," Brandon said. He handed the lipstick back to me, so much for that theory. On Tuesday morning a Tiffany's outlet appeared on my dresser, there was every type of bangle and bobble imaginable. There was a large stand holding scores of earrings; hoops, studs and danglers, some of which were as long as my hand. Next to this was a large ornate wooden box with several long drawers containing rings, bracelets and necklaces. Since Karen's death the only jewelry I had worn was a men's watch. I was now the owner of several watches all too tiny to be actually functional. I wondered what my wedding ring looked like now; did it have a solitaire diamond? My wedding ring was buried with Karen; so that would remain a mystery. I found perfume in my bathroom where my cologne had been. Looking at my reflection I could see that I had a bunch of holes in my ears now. There were all filled with studs or small loops with the bottom most hole on each ear empty. This was the hole that my wife would reserve for the big earrings, the danglers or the big hoops. I counted the holes in my ears and there were five in each ear. I checked the rest of my body and I was thankful to find no more new holes. I showered and shaved, did the baseball thing while putting on my makeup and then went to get dressed. I had a couple new signs in my bedroom; one on my dresser reminding me not to go crazy with the panties and one on the closet reminding me to wear slacks which was just above the sign reminding myself to be mindful of the shoes. I went a similar route as the day before with the outfit; modest panties, slacks, plain blouse and low heeled shoes. I considered removing all the earrings from my ears, but I feared the anxiety that I had experienced when I went to work without my purse a couple weeks ago. I kept the earrings I was already wearing, but did not add any other jewelry, not even a watch. Later that day, while in the break room at my office to refill on coffee, I decided to try out Lucy's advice on a co-worker. It was Charlie from IT. I knew nothing about him, although I figured he must be into computers since he worked in IT. "Morning Charlie, how are you today?" I asked. "Fine," he replied. "So, what do you think about the latest product out of Microsoft?" I bluffed. I figured Microsoft had to have launched something recently. "Well, Windows 7 doesn't officially launch until Thursday, but I was a beta tester," he began. While I did not follow everything he said, a lot of it was fairly technical, he was very passionate and I certainly knew what to bring up next time I saw him. At lunch it was just Lucy and me again. With memories of the spandex outfit still fresh in my mind I ordered a salad along with Lucy. I told Lucy about my desire to go on a diet. "Don't diet Larry, that's a bad trap," Lucy said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Too many people go on diets, lose some weight and the gain it all back plus more the moment they fall off the diet." "So, what should I do?" "Well, cardio for one, but besides that make better food choices," she replied. "I can help you with that; I have a bunch of recipes that are low carb, low calorie, but taste awesome." "I'm not a very good cook," I said. "You just need practice," she replied. "I'll email you some of the easier recipes I know to get you started." That night I tried out one of Lucy's recipes and it actually tasted pretty good. It was a parmesan chicken breast with roasted romaine. The chicken was moist and flavorful, perhaps Lucy was right; I could do this. In hindsight the pierced ears should have warned me for what came next. Up until that point the only things that had changed were items of mine, just things. Sure it was my way of life too, but physically I had remained the same. When my ears became pierced it was the first time that my body had also been altered. It was not a major alteration, simple holes that easily could be made with a common needle, a very mundane thing, easily overlooked. But my body h