Running in womens clothing
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The Mandela Effect - Born With Women's Legs free porn video
Author's note: This is a short story that has been in my mind for a
while. It could be a one-off or the beginning of a series. If you like
it, and if you have any idea for future episodes, please leave a review.
All rights reserved Shiraz Derwine. Only for publication on FictionMania
unless otherwise stated.
The Mandela Effect - Born with women's legs
----------------------
Sometimes reality warps around us. We know that line from a movie at
heart, but it's different fro what it actually is in the film. We think
we've seen a famous brand's logo enough times to know it well, but it's
just not what it really looks like once we double-check. It's our
partner's phone number which we have dialed every day for the past few
years that, one day, just happens to be completely different.
We tell ourselves that we are crazy, that we are getting old, that we got
drunk but there's nothing wrong with us. Our consciousness just jumped
into another version of ourselves in a different reality, very similar to
the one we come from apart from some small details. It happens all the
time, but we rarely realize it.
----------------------
The usual tune of my phone's alarm woke me up at eight AM sharp. It was
the first Monday after my two weeks beach holiday and getting out of bed
that early wasn't easy. I drove back home the night earlier with just
enough energy to hug my mom, dad, and my sister, and throw myself in bed.
I had a great time with my mates. We were all the same age, 28 years old,
and we had known each other since primary school. Some of them lived far
away but we had always managed to gather during the Summer to make some
great new memories. We had just spent fourteen days at a beach house we
rented for ourselves, surfing and boozing non-stop.
As soon as my feet touched the carpeted floor I felt that something was
weird but I couldn't put my finger on what. All I knew is that I had to
be at the office before half-past nine and that I had to be fast. I
zombie-walked to my bathroom and looked at my face in the mirror while I
brushed my teeth. The sun and the seawater had given my skin a nice
golden complexion. I took a quick shower, dried myself, and quickly got
back into my pajama pants and t-shirt to go and have some breakfast in
the kitchen. My sister was there, eating a bowl of oats and red fruits.
"Good morning big brother!" She smiled at me.
My sister was two years younger than me. Like the rest of the family, she
was blessed with good genetics and she was quite hot. Her dark blonde
hair was tied in a ponytail and she was wearing a tank top that gave me a
good view of the cleavage created by her large breasts.
"Good morning Angela!" I said back as I prepared a couple of toasts with
jam. "How has life been without me around?"
"All nice and quiet. I spent most of the two weeks in the pool and
sorting out my old clothes!" She explained. "Nice... err... pajama you
have there!"
"This? I bought it on holiday! I forgot mine at home and I got the
cheapest replacement I could find!" The black and white tartan pants
weren't exactly the most eye-catching thing in the world, but they did a
good job during the breezy evenings at the beach house.
"Sure! It's just very... how can I say it... chaste! Anyway, I better
hurry! Catch up this afternoon! Also, you may find some of my stuff in a
corner in your room, sorry about that. I must take them to charity and I
left them there while I moved other things around. Just ignore them and
I'll take them to charity one of these days!" She told me while she put
her bowl in the dishwasher and left.
I quickly finished my breakfast and went straight to my room to get ready
for work.
Having an office job in a large company doesn't seem like a good thing
for many people, but I was quite happy with mine. I was working as an
advertisement designer for a large clothing brand that owned shops all
around the world. I had studied art in Uni and I was able to quickly find
a job which required little more than knowing Photoshop. Over the past
two years, I grew professionally in my division and I was managing a
couple of people other than myself. The wage was ok and, thanks to the
fact that I was still living with my family, I was saving most of it.
The company didn't have a dress code but everyone liked to look smart-
casual. Every year we would get gift cards and discounts to buy some
clothes from our catalog and there was no reason to be shabby. One of my
favorite combinations was a black suit with just a dark navy t-shirt, and
I had a summer suit made of light cotton that was just spot-on. I wore it
many times but I also bought two more copies of the whole outfit in case
they decided to roll it out of production.
From a drawer, I picked my t-shirt and put it on. All the sports I played
during the holiday made me look super fit and the top was giving me a
great shape. In the wardrobe, I took the blazer off the hanger, I found a
pair of socks, a thin black belt, but I couldn't see the pants. I dug
through all the clothes folded on the shelf at the bottom of the
wardrobe, but I still couldn't find them. I opened the other side of the
large wardrobe, where I usually kept the clothes I wore less frequently,
and I found that, oddly, half of the space was taken by neatly folded
skirts. Since the color matched the suit, I took one in my hands thinking
that it was the pair of pants, but I quickly realized the true nature of
the garment when I let it unfold and it was just a couple of feet long.
"Why did Angela put her stuff in my wardrobe?" I wondered.
I closed the wardrobe and I remembered that I had taken a pair of those
pants with me to the seaside, just in case we met some chicks and I
needed to look cool. I opened my suitcase, that was still in a corner,
and I found the pants that I immediately wore. I also took out my black
shoes, that I had with me on holiday for the same reason. The same weird
feeling I had when I woke up came back to me as the pants seemed to fit
weirdly. Even the shoes felt larger and wrong. Once again, I blamed the
fact that I had not worn them for a while, and I decided not to pay too
much attention. I took my car keys and shot out of the house knowing that
I was almost late.
"By mom, dad, Angie!" I shouted as I ran through the house.
"Bye Peter!" I heard my mom's voice as the door closed behind my back.
I got to the office building a few minutes earlier than I expected and I
took my time grabbing a coffee from the kitchen corner.
"Peter! Good to see you back, man!" Said Terence, one of the designers
that I had been supervising for the past year.
"Good to see you too, Terence! What was life like around here?" I asked,
sipping my drink.
"All good! Nothing out of the ordinary. We are still working on those big
banners for the exhibition in San Fran and we are waiting for Prague to
send us some material. How was your holiday?" He asked back.
"It was awesome. Perfect weather, waves, sun, a pool table in the men's
cave, and free-flowing beer! It doesn't get better than that!" I tried to
describe my time away.
"Did you find a girlfriend or something?" he went on.
"Nah. No chicks in sight, which is fine! More time to spend with the
guys! Why do you ask?" I replied.
"Just curious! The last time I saw you going all conservative is when I
had just joined and you were going out with that Mormon girl! Anyway,
time to go back to work! Nine-thirty o'clock!" He walked past me.
That was the second time in less than an hour that someone had told me
that I was being chaste or conservative. What was it all about, I asked
myself. The feeling of weirdness that I had already felt twice crept up
my back once more.
As I walked towards my desk I greeted some more of my colleagues whose
desks were scattered around in the wide open-space office. Some more were
chatting while sitting on the luxury sofas inside what we called the
"private lounges" that were just meeting rooms with transparent walls.
Headquarters insisted that everything in the building had to look
stylish, and they poured a lot of money into the building's renovation
when the company was saved from administration one year earlier. I
noticed that more than one person gave me a second look as I made my way
to my seat, where I stayed in my armchair for the following two hours.
I sent a few emails and I received an appointment on my calendar with one
of the stylists. We usually had a fortnightly chat to make sure that all
our campaigns were aligned with the types of clothing we would produce in
the upcoming three months. We were a fast-fashion group and we had to
think ahead by at least one season. The meeting was scheduled to span
over lunchtime, which was fine since they were providing sandwiches.
"Hey, Petey! Look at that tan!" Sonny greeted me as I entered his office
where two assistants were going through a mountain of prints.
Sonny, I have no idea if that was his real name, was the word "queer"
personified. If you looked up the word on Wikipedia you'd find his face.
Like many stylists, he was a bit eccentric and used to dress in a very
colorful way. The only thing that kept me from thinking he was gay was
that whenever he invited me to one of his parties he would always end up
in a threesome with at least two smoking hot girls. I think I
occasionally say a guy going in and out from the bedroom, but that was
totally in line with the character. I liked Sonny, in a very non-sexual
way, as he was always cheerful and he didn't care if people laughed when
he was intentionally behaving like a drama queen.
"Look at you! Blessed by the sun with golden skin, and unwilling to show
it to us! How selfish! No, seriously, I hope you're ok and nothing bad
happened!" He said, leaving me wondering what he meant.
"I..." I tried to mutter something and ask for an explanation.
"No time for chatting now! If you're good then bring your pants and
boring shoes to the table and we can start!" he told me.
For the following three hours we went through what would be the next
Winter catalog. They focused on the color palette of the index page that
had to stand out without clashing with the bright pink and blue tints
that the clothes would have.
"Just to make sure you understand..." said one of the girls "... the
contrast we expect is similar to what these shoes have against these
tights, and then again with the mini skirt this model is wearing!"
"Sure, I see it!" I observed.
"So, imagine that you are standing in front of your mirror in December
and you see these three colors on you, and the catalog should remind you
of that!" she continued.
"I... I think I can imagine that!" I found a bit odd the fact that she
asked me to imagine wearing those clothes and those colors. The model was
sporting a pair of bright pink pointy high heels over opaque cream
pantyhose. Her mini skirt was a very pale blue wash of jeans fabric, and
it was quite short.
"Don't worry, Peter! I'll make sure they send you some samples!" Sonny
winked ad me.
I laughed at what I thought was a joke, but none of them laughed.
"Peter, are you sure you are ok? Look, I think we can call it a day for
the colors and the palette! Why don't you relax with a cup of coffee for
the last couple of hours today? You don't seem to be yourself today!"
Sonny told me. He told the two women to take the rest of the day and to
leave the sketches on the table for the next day.
I felt my head spinning. Once again people were talking to me in a way I
could not understand. Something was odd but I couldn't find what it was.
I followed Sonny's advice, I made myself some coffee and spent the rest
of the day just tidying up my email and looking out of the window. When
the first few people started to leave I did the same and I did the same,
noticing that some of them were giving me a second look as I walked
through the corridor.
"This is getting weird!" I thought.
I drove home and parked my car as usual. My parents' cars were in the
garage and my sister was already home.
"Peter! You're early! Come to the living room and tell us all about your
holiday! We barely saw you last night!" My mom called from the sofa when
I entered the house.
"Hi, mom!" I said while walking into the room. "And hi, dad!"
They both stared at me with "confusion" written on their face, which in
turn made me feel once again uncomfortable.
"Are you alright?" my dad asked.
"Sure! Why are you asking?" I answered.
That moment, my sister walked into the living room while speaking on her
phone. She had quick look at me and did a double-take. "I'll call you
back, sorry!" she said to the person on the other side of the line.
"Pete, are you ok?" she asked me, clearly worried, standing behind my
mother who was also staring at me.
I look down at myself to see if anything looked out of place. My suit and
t-shirt were fine. My shoes were laced. All my limbs were present. I
turned to see my face reflected in one of the mirror tiles that decorated
the furniture. Nothing seemed out of place. No bruises, no cuts, no signs
of me being sick apart from being weirded out by that situation.
"OK guys, this is really freaking me out. What's going on here?" I asked
them, standing behind a chair and grabbing its frame for support.
"What do you mean? We are OK with anything you decide to do, but you
can't expect us not to notice such a drastic and sudden change in
attitude!" My mother said. It felt like a parent's answer to a child who
decided to come out as gay.
"I... I... " I tried to understand but my brain just couldn't figure out
what the change was. "I don't understand. Can someone please explain it
to me?" I almost cried out.
"It's the stuff you are wearing!" my sister finally said.
"It's my suit! My blazer and my pants, like... normal stuff!" I stated
the obvious.
"Normal for the other guys, but not normal for you! And look at those
shoes!" She went on.
"What's wrong with my shoes? Are they broken or something?" I lifted them
in turn, to see if the sole was coming off or something.
My mother stood and came towards me. She placed a hand on my forehead to
test my temperature. "Peter, sit down. Are you sure you are feeling
fine?"
"I am not sitting down! What's wrong with my clothes? And my shoes? Is
there something wrong with my legs?" I asked, tensing every single nerve
in my body.
"I don't know!" my sister said. "I don't know if there's anything wrong
with your legs. I can't see them for the first time in... what... fifteen
years?"
"What?" was my only reaction.
"You have been wearing skirts and only skirts since you were a teenager.
I didn't even know that you owned a pair of pants until I saw the pajama
this morning, and now you have two! And you are not even wearing heels!
This is just plain weird!" She explained, screaming as if I weirded her
out.
"Why would I wear heels and skirts? I am a guy!" I screamed back.
"You are a guy but you have a woman's legs! Since you found out in junior
high school you have never worn anything but skirts. And I don't think
you've left the house with less than four inches heels in the past ten
years!"
I sat down on the chair in front of me. I saw my mother and my father
nodding as she spoke. I tried to think more, but everything went black as
I passed out.
"Peter, are you ok?"
"Peter!"
"Come on big bro, wake up!"
When I opened my eyes my whole family was looking down at me. I
recognized the fabric of the sofa under my head and I had a bag of ice on
my forehead.
"What happened!" I asked, slowly rising to a sitting position.
"You blacked out! That was freaking scary!" my sister answered.
"Did I hit my head?" I tried to sew together the few things I could
remember of the last conversation.
"No, the ice is just to make you feel a bit better!" my father said. "Do
you feel you can sit down? Otherwise, I can give you some pillows..."
"I'm fine, dad. Thank you! I just had this weird moment... like a lucid
dream where my clothes were weird and nothing made sense, and then it all
turned black!" I explained.
"That's OK honey!" My mother hugged me. "You seemed a bit off! Hopefully,
now you're ok!"
I hugged her back. Her familiar warmth was soothing and calming.
"Look, why don't I make your favorite dish tonight, steak and chips..." I
liked what I heard. "... and you go upstairs and put on something more
comfortable? Your sister has prepared your favorite skirt on the bed and
you can wear it with the red heels that you like so much!"
I jumped from the sofa.
"What?" I screamed.
"He's doing it again!" my sister said.
"How can this all be true? Are you playing a prank on me?" I looked at
them as if they were undead in a zombie movie and I was the only human
left.
My father fetched a photo book from a shelf and handed it to me. "Why
don't you sit down again? Take your time!"
"Should we call a doctor?" my mother asked my dad.
"There's no need. He's just a bit tired!" he said to her, and then he
turned to me. "Peter, we'll be in the kitchen so you can have some space.
If you need us, just call us!"
I opened the book. I knew it very well because I helped my parents
putting it together and printing all the pictures from the files I had on
my cloud storage. There were family pictures from when my sister and I
were born to just a month back, and I had seen them just before leaving
for my holiday.
I skipped the first few years and I went to find the high school
pictures. In a mind-bending twist, wherever I appeared in a photo I was
wearing a skirt. Not just a skirt, very feminine shoes too. I remembered
being in those photos, even setting up the timer on the camera to snap
some of them, but I had no memories of wearing other than pants and
trainers or black men's shoes. As I browsed through the photos of my
sixteenth and seventeenth birthday I could not ignore the fact that my
legs looked hot in the ever-rising heels and shorter skirts. I even found
some holiday photos of me with an ex-girlfriend and we were wearing
matching school pleated skirts.
I closed the book and I stared at the wall for a few minutes.
"Are you OK big bro?" Angela came in from behind the sofa, seriously
worried.
"I don't know. I can't remember any of this. Or, better, I do remember
all of it but I can't recall ever wearing a skirt or heels in my whole
life!" I confessed. "Why did I wear skirts anyway? I'm a guy!"
"You have a woman's legs. It only makes sense that you dress accordingly.
And you've always been very proud of your long pins!" She explained.
"Look, I can prove to you that I am right! My pants were in my suitcase,
along with my pajama! Let me make a call!" I said, picking up my phone
and calling a number on speed dial.
"Luke? Hey man, how are you? Can I ask you a favor? Can you mail me some
of the photos you took at the beach house? Maybe some of us surfing or
doing stuff, too? Yes, now. I know, it's just that I need a few! Awesome!
Thank you!" I closed the call.
My parents must have heard my call and came to the living room, stopping
at the door and looking at me like you'd look at a sick puppy.
"You'll see! I wore my trunks most of the time and I even have some pics
in my pajama at the beach house!" I told them, happy to have found a way
to set things straight.
My phone beeped a few times, once for every picture that my friend
emailed me. My family drew closer to the screen as I opened the
attachments.
With my great surprise, I wasn't wearing a pair of pants in any of the
images. In the photos where I was surfing, I had on a bikini bottom. A
couple of the snaps had me in the kitchen drinking beer or preparing
dinner, and I had on a frilly and very short pink mini skirt. In the
picture of the night when we walked into town, the one moment I was sure
I had worn the same black pants, I was instead wearing a very tight black
mini skirt with a pair of towering black heels.
I dropped my phone on the carpet and I ran to my room. I opened every
door, every wardrobe, cupboard, drawer. I didn't have a single pair of
pants in there. Instead, I had mini skirts made of every possible fabric
and in every color. Inside the shoe racks next to the door were almost
forty pairs of high heeled shoes. Two drawers were filled with pantyhoses
and hold-ups while another one contained a large number of neatly folded
panties.
On my bed was a short mini skirt in black and red tartan, paired by my
sister with the red patent high heeled shoes on the floor. They looked
spectacular, but they were not something I remember I ever wore.
An hour later, my family was at the dinner table waiting for me. I was in
my room, standing in front of the full-length mirror and looking at that
weird reflection. My legs were nothing like the legs I grew up with. They
were long and feminine, athletic but soft. My skin was perfect and the
tan from the holiday made them look even better. My feet were two sizes
smaller than I remembered and they looked even shorted thanks to the high
heels. The cleavage of the red pumps made my legs look even longer than
they already were. My skirt was wrapping around my waist, that is where
my masculine upper body and my feminine lower body met, and it was
resting on my rounder ass. The black panties were holding up my penis,
that I had to tuck between my legs to hide.
Other than that, I was just wearing a plain black form-fitting t-shirt
that I bought at a concert the year before and that was in the same
drawer where I remembered I put it. I felt as if two realities were
colliding. Everything was normal except for the fact that half of my body
was smoking hot feminine and that people found it weird if I dressed that
part of my body in men's clothing. My own body was somehow betraying me.
I could swear I never wore a pair of heels before, but my feet seemed to
feel at home in those shoes and I could walk in them as if they were
flats. I had muscle memory for those things but it was not something I
could remember acquiring. The skirt, on the other hand, was a completely
different story. The thing was really really short, to the point that
when I was sitting down it was impossible for the fabric to cover under
my ass. I tried a few times sitting on the desk chair in my room, and I
always ended up with the cold leather touching my skin. How was that
"normal" and how was my family even OK with it?
I took a deep breath and started venturing down the stairs to meet my
family in the kitchen. I was feeling really weird and quite stupid
dressed in those clothes, but if I did anything wrong I could still blame
it on the fact that I passed out. I couldn't shake off the feeling that
they'd be there with a camera ready to tell me that it had all being a
prank.
"Here goes nothing!" I thought as I turned into the kitchen. My heeled
shoes started clicking on the hard floor and advertised my entrance.
"You are looking so much more like yourself now!" said my father, to my
surprise. "Feeling better?"
"I... don't know. I am not fainting so, maybe?" I said.
"That's good! Here's your steak and here are your chips! Eat up! You
probably had too much to drink and not enough food while you were away!"
my mom cheered.
"I really love those shoes! I think I'll buy a pair too!" my sister
chimed in.
In a clear effort to make everything seem normal, my parents immediately
changed the subject of our conversation and we simply talked about work,
some politics, and I told them a bit about my holiday even if I was still
trying to figure out what was "real" and what wasn't.
After dinner, I excused myself and quickly went to my room. I was feeling
extremely tired because that day my brain had to deal with more than it
was capable of. I took off my heels and my skirt, and I fell asleep in my
t-shirt and panties the moment I touched my bed.
----------------------
When I woke up the next morning I felt like I had had a long nightmare. I
showered, slipped on a pair of clean black panties, a soft skirt, a
Metallica t-shirt and I met Angela in the kitchen.
"Peter! Good morning! Are you feeling better today?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you! I don't know what came over me yesterday. It was like an
out-of-body experience where nothing was familiar! Sorry if I scared
you!" I told her.
"That's alright big bro! I wonder what you did on holiday to end up like
that!" she said, with a grin on her face. "I told you to stay away from
Tequila!" And she laughed.
I got to work with some time to spare and I made myself a black coffee in
the kitchen. Grabbing cups from the top of the cupboards was a lot easier
than the previous day thanks to the five inches heels I was wearing.
"Someone's back with a bang!" Terence said. "That skirt of yours is hot
as fuck! I wouldn't tell you if you were a chick but it's a men's world
in the kitchen today!" He laughed.
I was wearing a dark red mini pencil skirt with a hint of snakeskin
pattern. It made my legs look extremely long and I was very proud of
them.
"What's a men's world?" Sonny walked in with his two assistants. "I see
you are out of your crossdressing phase! It was about time!" He joked.
"You are lucky you are not a girl!" said one of the two women. "Or I
would be damn jealous of those pins! Where did you even buy those shoes?
They are pure fire! I have to learn how to walk in stilettos that high!"
"Good news!" added Sonny. "After I saw you yesterday I called corporate
and told them that we needed a preview of the new collection in the
flesh, so next week we'll get a shipment of those great new pink
stilettos, pantyhose, and mini skirts you saw on the catalog. One for
each of you!" He said, pointing at me and the two girls. "Maybe we'll
need some close-ups for the website, I hope you are available!"
"Of course I am!" As I was sipping my coffee I leaned with my back to the
wall and I crossed my legs in front of me. I looked down and, once again,
I realized how lucky I was to be born with such a beautiful pair of
women's legs.
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