Faraday Serum II Best Laid Plans
- 3 years ago
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A Day, Interrupted free porn video
A free day.
Are there any better words than those three to the ears of a closet
crossdresser? For Sam Simons, the answer was no. A free day to take his
time with his make up. A free day to pick out the perfect outfit, wear
it, take it off and pick out three more that are just as good. A free day
to relax, chill out and take a break from himself. This is what stretched
out far in front of him. Hours of uninterrupted crossdressing. A free
day.
Sam woke up earlier than he usually ever would on a Saturday. He had
planned to meet his oldest friend, Donny, today but they had put there
plans on hold till Sunday. They had no real plans anyway. Just the kind
of vague ideas friends comes up with for a lazy Saturday. Sam's new plans
were much more appealing to him.
He first headed to the kitchen. As giddy as he was about the prospect of
a whole day dressed up he knew breakfast was still important. Something
light, he reasoned. Something a lady concerned about her figure might
eat. Yogurt and a banana. Perfect. Sam had never known why he had begun
crossdressing. As far as he could tell very few did. He had heard stories
of domineering girlfriends forcing it upon their men, of discovering a
taste for it after a halloween party, of women stuck in the wrong body.
All of these seemed alien to him. He just started because he did. That
was the only reasoning he could ever come up with, as unsatisfying as it
was to him.
While laying out his make up for the day, Sam felt the familiar
relaxation that came with dressing. For him crossdressing was stress
relief. A chance to throw off all the worries that came with his job, his
love life (or lack thereof) and his social life. It was a chance to be a
new person for even a short while. It was the chance to be someone
confident, sexy and free. Sam was none of these. He figured a lot of
crossdressers felt exactly the same way.
As he applied a thin layer of foundation to his face and shaped his
brows, something he had been doing for years now, his mannerisms shifted
ever so slightly. His knee cocked as he leant over the bathroom sink,
straining to push every last hair on his brow into place. He daintily
lifted the eyeshadow brush and stroked it across his face, expertly
blending light and dark tones into a smokey eye look. Sam knew he wasn't
transgender. He knew he wasn't a girl trapped in a boys body. Any time he
tried to spend more than a day dressed he found himself unable to do it.
He was a boy and after a while he always needed to be a boy again. But he
had recognised the change in the way he held himself as a girl. He was
aware of the slight swing in his hips when he walked, of the way he held
his legs together when sitting, of the pout he found himself currrently
displaying as he slid the slick, lip gloss across it. He knew he wasn't
transgender, but he knew when dressed he felt like a woman.
Sam looked over at the outfits he had set out for himself. He stood
there, hands on hips, wearing just a bra that he could only pretend to
fill. He had become a dab hand in the art of padding. All three of the
outfits would do. One black, one blue, one gold and sequined. They all
complimented the heavy, dark make up he had created. They were all short,
tight dresses. His deliberation didn't take long. He was a sucker for a
little black dress. Just the kind he liked, miles away from the bland,
functional clothing he wore as a boy. Sam had always dressed somewhat
provocatively. He loved the slight constriction of a tight dress, and the
way his legs looked in high heels and short skirts. He figured it was all
part of becoming that other person.
The slight tap of the heels on tiled flooring as Sam entered the kitchen
made him smile. He loved that sound. He loved that he was making that
sound. He brushed a long strand of blonde hair from his wig off his face
as he bent down to check the fridge. It was lunch time. Time for food.
Something light. A chicken sandwich. Perfect. Sam grabbed the ingridients
and layed them out across the counter. He looked out across the New York
street from his window. When he had first moved to the apartment Sam had
made an effort to close all the curtains so as not to be seen. He was
terrified of being found out. Of having this relaxing and personal past
time exposed and stripped away. That was over a year ago now. By this
point he had stopped caring. He knew on some level just how good he
looked. He had pictures, videos, and comments from people online
confirming it. He knew that anyone looking in through the window wouldn't
see a boy in a dress. Just a girl. A girl with too much make up and
wearing a very short dress for a saturday afternoon, but a girl all the
same.
After lunch the camera came out. Sam couldn't pin point exactly when he
had begun to take pictures of himself but he knew it was one of the more
fun aspects of dressing up. The chance to pose and pout and achieve a
look that was even more sexy and confident appealed to him greatly. He
also knew he loved to be looked at. To be seen as a sexy confident woman.
He guessed in some ways it was a chance to push this side of himself out
into the world, without having to risk actually exposing himself. It was
safe. Despite this he had often thought about leaving the building
dressed. The idea of being outside in heels and a dress and make up was
exciting and terrifying in equal measures. The furthest Sam had manged
was opening his front door and stepping out into the apartment block
hallway. The slamming of a neighbours front door just a floor above him
had sent him scampering back inside. He had not attempted it since.
Still, there was a part of him that wondered.
Sam checked the camera, scrolling through picture after picture of
himself. He looked good. He knew he did. No one could have guessed the
girl throwing her hair back, biting her lip and standing prone on all
fours in these pictures was a boy. Sam smiled. The loud knock at the door
wiped the smile straight from his face.
He froze.
The knock rang out again louder than before. Sam edged slowly towards the
hallway, taking care to not make a sound. He held the camera close to his
chest. The door banged again. From the other side a deep voice rang out.
"Sir!?! Mr Sam Simons!?! Can you please let us in!"
"Who is..." Sam caught himself before he could finish. He cringed and
held his head in his free hand. What had he done? Not only had he let
whoever was out there know he was inside the apartment but he had
answered in a voice that was definitely a mans voice.
"Mr Simons!?! Is that you? This is the NYPD!"
"Fuck," Sam whispered to himself. The police? Why were the police here?
He frantically wracked his brains to think of anything it could be. He
kept a little weed in the drawer in his wardrobe. He had a small unpaid
parking fine. A stupid, irrational part of his brain even questioned
whether crossdressing was illegal. Another loud knock at the door brought
him round, "Sorry. What is it? What do you want?"
"Can you just open the door, Sir!?!"
"What do you want?"
"We have reason to suspect you are in possesion of a large amount of
illegal substances! We have been authorised to search this flat!" A large
amount? He had one small bag, enough for two spliffs at most.
"I think you've made a mis..." The voice on the other side of the door
interrupted, louder and harsher than before.
"If you do not open this door we will be forced to break it down!"
"What!?!"
"We have been authorised to search this apartment! We have been
authorised to break down this door if necessary, Mr Simons!"
"What? No, please d..."
"I wil give you to the count of ten to comply! If you do not open the
door within this count I will break this door down! Ten!" Sam dropped the
camera in shock. What could he do? He was stood there in his shortest
dress, with full make up and a wig on. The officer knew he was a man.
"Nine!" If he opened that door he would be exposed.
"Eight!" If he didn't he would be exposed anyway.
"Seven!" He didn't even have that much weed. Why was this happening?
"Six!" Why didn't he just leave the apartment today? Why did he stay in?
Why did he crossdress today of all days?
"Five!" Sam tried to catch himself. He forced his breathing to slow but
his heart and his mind were racing. Maybe the officer wouldn't care. He
was NYPD. He has probably seen a lot weirder things than a shy
crossdresser.
"Four!" He's probably had training in what to do in this situation. He
probably has to be mindful of other people. It's part of his job.
"Three, Mr Simons!" There wasn't a large amount of drugs anyway. The
officer would come in, see that there was no issue and Sam would get a
slap on the wrist. He'd show the officer where the weed was specifically.
He would be in and out in ten minutes.
"TWO!" What other choices did he have?
"ONE!!
"WAIT! I'll open the door!" Sam braced himself. Perhaps he had been too
late. He fully expected the door to fly off it's hinges as NYPD stormed
in. It never happened.
"Quickly, Mr Simons!" The voice was impatient and angry. Sam took a deep
breath in. His heart was pumping so hard he could hear it in his ears as
he approached the latch. He cursed himself for not renting an apartment
with a looking hole. The sound of the chain was as loud as it had ever
been as he pulled it across and let it swing down from the door. Part of
Sam wanted to run. To go and hide in the bathroom. To rip off the wig and
wipe away all the make up and hide. It took a lot for him to ignore this
part of himself. Instead he reached up for the handle. With his free hand
he smoothed out his wig and his dress. He didn't know why. The door
slowly creaked open.
The hallway was empty. Sam stood there bewildered. Staring back at him
was nothing but the blank wallpapered drywall across the hallway. The
only sound was the heart beating inside Sam's chest. He shifted nervously
in his heels.
"GOTCHA!" Sam slipped back from shock, his tall heels catching on the
wooden floorboards. He fell hard on his backside, his short skirt riding
up to reveal his lacy, black underwear undernath sheer pantyhose. He hit
his head on the wall behind him, sending his blonde wig off at a strange
angle. He sat there in stunned silence. It felt like he was going to have
a heart attack. Through the blonde haze across his eyes he could just
about make out Donny, his oldest friend stood in the doorway, his smug
grin slowly shifting to that of utter horror at what was in front of him.
"What the..." he began to say.
"Fuck," whispered Sam.
Gert
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