Dolly Part 4
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Dolly - Part 6 free porn video
Monday morning I nearly overslept. I had gone to bed with my boobies still
attached, so now it was a bit of a rush to remove them before having my
shower. I dried my hair, but no matter how I brushed it, the style still
looked rather feminine. I used the eyebrow pencil to create what I hoped
looked like realistic eyebrows. Then I realised that I didn't have any
nail varnish remover. Fortunately the varnish was pink, not bright red.
Hopefully no-one will notice. As I was in a hurry, I didn't put my
suspender-belt and stockings on. Just teen bra and knickers under my male
clothes.
Everything seemed to be normal at work. Nothing was said about my
appearance. Well, not until Wednesday.
The office manager came over to my desk. She was (I guessed) about ten
years older than me. She had a good figure. Always neatly dressed, with
her tailored blouse emphasising her trim waist and shapely bust. She
pulled up a chair and sat down on the other side of my desk. She began to
speak. "You know, girls notice things. They don't necessarily say
anything, except of course between themselves. We saw your hair eyebrows
and nail polish on Monday. And we know you often wear a bra - as you are
today again. Sometimes you wear women's blouses and sometimes your ankles
are in nylons. Now, as you know, it's 'Dress Down Friday' at the end of
this week. That means that you can wear what you like. So why don't you
wear what you would really like?" She handed me a new pack of black
stockings. "If we see that you're wearing these to work tomorrow, we'll
all know that you'll be coming to work in a skirt on Friday. OK?" She
looked at me queryingly, with her eyebrows raised and a smile playing
round her lips. She stood up. "Until tomorrow, then," she said, "Didi."
So she knew my sissy name. I wondered how much detail Helen had provided.
But no-one else spoke about anything other than work-related matters. On
the way home I called in at the supermarket again. It was the same girl at
the checkout. She gave me a somewhat puzzled look at first, but then she
smiled in a friendly way. Perhaps she noticed my hair and nails. Or maybe
she too had noticed I was wearing a bra.
On Thursday morning I sat in front of my dressing-table mirror in my teen
bra, knickers, suspender-belt and black stockings while I carefully used
the eyebrow pencil. I tried to make my eyebrows a little less masculine
than earlier in the week. I also used a little lipstick. Pink, not bright
red. Not enough to notice. Unless you had a good look. Then I put on my
male clothes. Well, actually my silky blouse wasn't exactly male. As I was
stepping into my trousers I had the feeling that there was something
special about black stockings. A bit naughty. I made a mental note to buy
some more pairs.
In the office I made sure my ankles showed. But no-one said anything until
the end of the day, when Helen said, "See you tomorrow, Didi."
On Friday I got up a little earlier than usual to put my boobies on and
make myself look pretty. I chose a tailored blouse to show off my bust. I
selected a skirt which had a hem about 3 inches above the knee. I wanted
to show my nice legs but not to appear too tarty. I wanted to blend in
with the other girls in the office. I put my raincoat on, even though it
was shorter than my skirt. I wasn't ready to flaunt my bust in public. I
made sure I had what I needed in my hand bag and stepped outside. Locking
the front door seemed like the start of an adventure. I felt a little
nervous walking the fairly short distance to the office, but tried to look
unconcerned. It was quite a relief to step into the building. But once I
entered the office I realised that I was not going to blend in as I had
hoped.
I found I was the only person wearing a skirt. The women all wore
trousers. And there's something about women's trousers - they are usually
sufficiently snug-fitting to confirm that there is no bulge in the crotch
area. It's almost as if there is a notice hanging from the waist-band
saying "Look! No cock!". It seemed that the implicit message was: "You can
tell we don't have cocks. But we know you've got one. You may be wearing a
skirt, and showing off your pretty legs in nylon stockings. But we know
you're a sissy boy with falsie boobs and a cock in your knickers." And to
be honest, I found this imagined message rather arousing. And on more than
one occasion I had to stay sitting at my desk desperately waiting for my
erection to subside before I dared stand up and walk across the office.
A few of us went out to the shopping mall at lunchtime. "You need a longer
raincoat," explained one of my colleagues. They helped me choose a
suitable one. But it still felt strange being the only one of the group in
a skirt. I felt that more people were looking at me than at my colleagues.
I hoped it was because I was showing my pretty legs. And not because they
could tell I had a cock.
I wore my new raincoat to go home. The girl at the supermarket checkout
gave me a big smile as I paid for a few essentials. I got the feeling she
was encouraging me; that she approved of me wearing a skirt. Once back
inside my home I changed out of my demure office attire and put my ultra-
short dress on. I wasn't an efficient office girl any more. I was a sissy
doll with a hard cock in my knickers.
On Saturday I woke with my boobies still attached. This meant that I had
to do my weekend shopping in girl mode. I went out fairly early, hoping to
miss the big crowds. Taking advantage of being in a skirt, I spent time
looking at womenswear and bought several pairs of black stockings, some
with seams (these looked even naughtier than normal black stockings). I
put a pair of the seamed ones on when I got back home. It was then I
realised how much care was required to get one's seams straight! Obviously
these were for special occasions. Perhaps one day there would be someone I
needed to impress...?
I spent more time than usual tidying my home. Looking back now, I wonder
if this was the start of my becoming a little more of a housewife? At the
time though, I guess it was deliberately being less masculine. Not so much
more feminine, just more of a sissy. And dealing with a hard cock at
bedtime and in the morning (and sometimes in between) was definitely the
behaviour of a sissy. Although I felt more feminine afterwards.
Remembering how much of a rush it had been the previous week, I removed my
boobies before going to bed on Sunday night. I had time on Monday morning
to put on my suspender-belt and wore the (washed) black stockings that I
had been given the previous week, along with my teen bra, white knickers
and a discreetly feminine blouse. All the office girls now addressed me as
Didi. As the week progressed there were one or two comments to the effect
of "Pity you're not in a skirt today, you've got nice legs". Also, as the
week progressed I was increasingly missing the sensation of having my
boobies attached. At home in the evenings I put them in my bra, but it
wasn't the same when they weren't glued to my chest - they were just not
part of me. I did use the adhesive one evening, but it did seem a lot of
effort to attach them for such a short while before having to go through
the process of removing them again a few hours later. And such a
disappointment.
So even though 'Dress Down Friday' was only supposed to be the last Friday
of the month, as soon as I got home on Thursday I stuck my lovely boobies
on, and on the Friday went to the office with my boobies on and in a
skirt. This time I blended in with my colleagues who were mostly wearing
skirts. I got a few approving smiles, but there was no discussion about
what I was wearing. I felt comfortable being one of the "office girls" and
as far as I could tell they were comfortable with me. And when it was time
to go home, I felt confident walking home in public. And on the Sunday
night, as I somewhat reluctantly removed my titties, l reflected that
having boobies 3 days a week was much better than having them just 2 days
a week.
By the Thursday of the following week I couldn't resist sticking my
boobies back on, and went to work in a skirt again on the Friday. But as I
entered the office, the HR manager waiting for me. Someone must have said
something, or perhaps she had seen me in the office. She invited me to her
office. "We are an equal opportunities employer," she explained. "We are
not prejudiced about your sexual orientation but would ask you to consider
the feelings of your co-workers. It will be easier for them if you are
consistent with your gender presentation. I suggest you choose whether to
dress male or female all the time." She explained a few practicalities,
like use of the male/female toilets. Then she continued, "You won't stay
in the same office all your working life, will you? Not if you want to
advance your career. At the moment you are in an otherwise all-female
office and I understand that all your colleagues are very supportive. It
might be more difficult for you to keep switching gender in a different
working environment." This was really the first time I had considered my
future career since Mummy had re-entered my life.
"And there's another little detail," continued the HR manager. "Your
electronic security badge has your photo on it. The photo needs to be
recognisably you. We can't issue two identity cards to one person. So
think about it. And if you want to dress in a feminine style all the time,
we will need to take a new photo for your badge." She smiled and indicated
that the interview was over.
Well. It didn't take much thinking about. It was the little extra push
that I needed to have my boobies on full time. I didn't go to the office
in trousers again. My new security badge soon came in useful. A couple of
weeks after it was issued, I got home in the evening to find a card had
been put through my letterbox. A package had come through the mail that
needed to be signed for. As I had not been in to receive the delivery, I
would have to collect it from the local post office. I would need proof of
identity...
Lauryn
- 17.11.2020
- 6
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