Amity 5 CataclysmChapter 22 Outposts
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Stepping Out free porn video
Stepping out.
It was a Friday. I was doing some shopping in a supermarket when I found
it. A sports bra. Reasonably priced and in a soft coral pink. As a
crossdresser, I owned lots of bras, but I had never owned or had even
worn a sport bra before. Well, not unless you counted a leopard skin
sports bra that I had 'borrowed' from an ex-girlfriend many years
earlier. And that wasn't a true sports bra in the sense of the word.
I picked it up and checked it out. It wasn't in my size, so I picked
through the boxes and found one in a large size in a light blue. Then in
the next section of the display I found Yoga leggings. I found a pair in
my size and in a tie-dye pattern. Why not I thought. I placed them in my
shopping basket along with the other essentials I was buying. I did a bit
more shopping and then headed to the checkout. Since I had so much stuff
in the basket, and my back pack was full, I had to buy a carrier bag. It
added five pence to the total cost, but five pence is a cheap price for
something that I end up using as a bin liner.
As, the cashier rang up my purchases, I struggled to open the carrier
bag. The man behind me in the queue stepped forward. He was broad, bald
and solidly built. He looked like bar knuckle fighter if the truth is to
be told. He had tattoos on the back of his hands and on his knuckles.
"Here let me hold that open for you."
"Oh, thank you," I said.
I filled the bag as the cashier took my money and handed me my change.
The man started chuckling as I packed the leggings.
"Them leggings, are they for you?"
"Ooh no," I lied, "I'm picking them up for my girlfriend."
Then, this interaction over, I thanked the man for his assistance and
left the store. I couldn't help but wonder though. If I had admitted that
the leggings were for me, would he have minded? Would he have even cared?
I honestly cannot remember when I started crossdressing. I just seemed to
grow up doing it. It started with my younger sisters clothes and grew
from there. Of course, as I grew up in the late 80's there was a good
deal of misunderstanding and prejudice and most of the books and
magazines I read on the subject seemed to treat it as a fetish, a
perversion even. Some saw it as a mental illness that required treatment.
My parents decided that this was some sign of mental disorder and I was
seen by a psychiatrist who told them that this was not a major problem
and that I might even grow out of it. My parents saw it otherwise. My
sister took it very badly. If there was something of hers that I had
worn, she found she couldn't wear it again. Luckily, I got away with it
most of the time but I was found of course and even found dressed on a
couple of occasions. My Mum coined a term for it. She called it playing
silly seasons.
As I grew up, I found that this little hobby was no more than that. It
didn't mean I was gay, which was another misconception and it didn't mean
I wanted to become a women. Though there were persons of both sexes that
felt they had been born in the wrong body, an issue that was corrected by
hormonal treatment and corrective surgery.
And though there were many reasons for dressing up as a woman, I saw it
as having a feminine side to my persona that needed physical expression,
nothing more than that. This feminine side to myself was called Nikki,
which was close to my real name. I was a heterosexual male whose feminine
persona begged for physical expression.
With the millennium came the the internet and I learned more about this
peculiar pastime of mine. I was relieved to find that attitudes towards
Transvestism, or crossdressing as it was also called, were beginning to
shift towards the positive and even acceptance. Though even I doubted
that crossdressing would ever be understood. They were many crossdressers
who didn't understand it themselves.
In later years, I had come out to many others about my crossdressing. My
partner didn't mind. She didn't care for it exactly, but she tolerated
it. The relationship broke up around ten years ago but it was for other
reasons and not because I borrowed her underwear occasionally or once
stretched out a swimsuit after wearing to work it all day, beneath my
male clothes.
When my daughters found out about it, I was mortified, but they were
totally cool about it. My youngest daughter even gave me make up tips and
helped me find and establish a fashion style for myself. And of course,
their friends found out. And they were even cooler about it. My best
friend, a man I had known since our twenties totally accepted my
crossdressing. Largely because he too was a crossdresser in his early
years, though he had grown out of it. There were others who knew of my
hobby and they didn't really care. Of course, I didn't shout it out from
the rooftops, but the ones who did know generally didn't mind.
Upon arrival home, I found myself with the afternoon off since it was
only a half day at work. I unpacked my new purchases and tried them on.
And that's when I realised what a mistake I had made. The bra was too
tight and the leggings were too loose. Oh well. Lesson learned. I spent
the afternoon working on my writing and cataloguing the digital photos I
had taken over the week. And then I accepted in invite from a friend to
go round and help with some DIY. She was an elderly lady who had
arthritis and it was only half an hours walk so I had to set off at five
to be there for half past five She didn't know about Nikki and I had no
intention of telling her. She was a nice lady, very kind and caring, but
she was a little old fashioned and I did not know if she would accept
this aspect of my character.
As I sat working on the PC, I had a sudden thought. I had been out
dressed as a woman on many occasions. What crossdresser hasn't? But I had
only ever worn a skirt and blouse, or a dress. I wasn't confident about
wearing legging or pants. I was not overly endowed, but it was still a
problem. However, I had recently purchased two pairs of gaffes. And
though I preferred skirts and dresses to wearing pants, I had often
wondered if I could pull off a pair of leggings. It was a gorgeous
feminine style that I admired on genuine woman and with the gaffes I had
purchased, could I pull off that look? Well, not with a a bra that was
too small and a pair of yoga pants that was too large.
So if I set off early and caught a bus to the retail, park I could get to
the supermarket, buy the sports bra and yoga pants in the right sizes, go
and visit my friend and then... then what? Walk home in such feminine
attire? Well why not?
I laid my plans accordingly. That afternoon at just turned four o'clock,
I showered, shaving my body free of any stray hairs and then I shaved my
face very closely. I put on my new gaffe, which hid my junk away and
presented a smooth feminine front. I then dressed in a pair of high cut
style panties which covered the gaffe. Finally I put on my Normal
clothes. Jeans, a t-shirt and a jumper. I put on a light grey bomber
jacket that would suit both a man and a woman and put on my trainers. I
shovelled a small selection of tools into my rucksack, along with a
handbag and two C -cup breasts in their plastic bag and I set off.
The bus ride was uneventful and I got off just outside the retail. I went
in and headed for the special buy aisle. I found a sport's bra in a large
size and managed to find a proper sized pair of yoga pants, both in
charcoal grey. I purchased my items without any curious looks or
impertinent questions. Again, I wondered about this. Do these people know
these items are for me? And if they do, do they even care? I set off
walking the short distance to my friends house. About half way, I found a
small alley where I unpacked the bra and the leggings and stuffed them
into my rucksack. I continued on, finding a bin to throw the bulky
cardboard in as I walked.
I got to my friends house at just before half five. The job was easy.
Helen had bought a small shelf for her bedroom and she wanted me to put
it up for her. It was a simple job. Drill holes for the screws, attach
the brackets to the walls and fix the shelves to the brackets. It was an
undemanding task that took me about half an hour. Afterwards we sat in
the living room and had a cup of tea and caught up with each others lives
and our collected gossip. I left at about half past six with the sun low
on the horizon and dusk settling onto the world..
And then, my adventure began.
My plan had been to change into the yoga pants and bra in Helen's back
garden, but her kitchen and the dining room looked out onto it. Helen had
not drawn he curtains so there was a hefty chance that she could look out
and see me getting changed. Instead, I set off down her drive and down
the path to the main road. Of course, I kept my eyes peeled for small
alleys and niches where I could change but there were no such
possibilities. With eyes darting from left to right as I walked around, I
saw no space that was secluded enough for me to actually change in
relative privacy, even if I was out on the street. I began to fear that I
would have to walk home without being able to change.
It was as I walking down a small narrow alley that I saw my chance. A gap
in the fence enabled me to gain entry to a car park. A wide open apron of
concrete flanked on the either side by weathered garages. A small brick
building hid me from the path and though there windows in the buildings
around that looked out over the car park, there were no prying eyes. Or
so I hoped. I placed my backpack on the floor and took my coat off. I
unlaced my shoes and took them off. I was able to stand on the plain
concrete in my bare feet.
After glancing around I pulled my jumped off over my head. I then
unbuckled my belt and pulled my jeans off, revealing the panties that lay
beneath. I reached for my backpack and opened it up. I decided to put the
sports bra on first, pulling it over my head and settling it around my
chest. It fit like a glove, I pulled the breast forms out and pulled from
their bag. I inserted them into the padded bra . First the right one and
then the left one. I was just settling them into the cups when the sound
of voices along the path made me freeze. I could not see them but I could
hear them. Two young women who were passing right by.
I pressed myself against the cool brick all and waited as they passed me
by. They were talking loudly, and loudly enough to hear. They were
talking about college and boys and one of them was complaining about the
latest mobile phone she had taken on a twelve month contract. Something
about the battery. I was just thankful that they were not talking about
me. Eventually, as the sound of their voices receded into the distance, I
recovered and reached into the backpack to retrieve the leggings. I had
just pulled the right leg into the garment, when I heard a car engine. I
looked up to see the bonnet of a car swinging into the car park. It's
nose swinging to face me directly.
I panicked. With the yoga pants halfway up my left leg and the right leg
bare, I managed to make it to the end of the row of garages, putting
space and a barrier between me and the driver. Safe, for the moment at
least, I pressed myself again the cold brick wall. Then I remembered I
only had one leg in the leggings. I quickly pulled up the right leg and
pulled them into place. The car was swinging around and the headlights
swept across the outbuilding where I had recently stood. A stab of panic
pierced my gut. I had left my back pack, jeans, coat and shoes, in full
view. What if...
What if the driver spotted my discarded clothes and the backpack and
decided to stop and investigate? What if the driver picked them up and
collected them? What if the driver then drove off with them? My back pack
had my identification in it, my coat had my wallet in it, my cash, my
debit card, my house keys. What if they figured out where I lived, and
robbed me of all my goods. And that was the best outcome. All manner of
scary thoughts and worst-case scenarios played out in my head Then the
glare of the headlights faded, the sound of the engine fell into into the
distance. I realised that the driver was just turning around, had
probably not even noticed the pile of clothes that I had ran way from. I
relaxed, sagging against the wall.
Eventually, I stood up straight and took a few deep breaths. Then, I
realised that the yoga pants, which I had pulled up against my waist were
not properly fitted. I walked back in my bare feet to the outbuilding
where my clothes were placed. Though the light wasn't good, I could see
that the yoga pants were not fitting as good as they could have been. I
pulled them down to my knees, and then drew them back up again, adjusting
them here, pulling on them there, drawing them up around my crotch and
waist. They were a perfect fit. I glanced about. There was no one around.
I then carefully inspected my appearance. My legs looked long and
shapely. My waist looked trim and snug my groin looked flat and feminine.
I guessed I was good to go. I put on my shoes. There were non descript
trainers that looked unisex. I put my coat on but left it open. This
showed my torso, flat, toned and feminine. There was no way to apply even
the barest layer of make and I felt naked and strange without it, but
need must when the devil drives. Whatever that means. I folded my jeans
up and stuffed them into the back pack and my jumper followed. I took out
the handbag and placed it over my left shoulder, pulling my stuff out of
the jacket and into the black handbag. I finally pulled my long mane of
black hair free from it's ponytail and using a brush, I shaped into a
feminine style that hung around my face in a soft bouncy style.
And then, my heart beating in chest like a runaway piston, I set for the
walk home which should take me no more then forty minutes, However, my
gait had changed. Instead of the straight lumbering long legged stride
that normally got me about, I was talking shorter steps, one foot in
front of the other, heel to toe. This put a sway in my hips that was not
normally there.
For the first ten minutes, I walked along the dimly lit streets alone,
seeing no one and being seen by no one. But that was about to change. I
turned and walked onto the main high street of the area. A row of shops,
that were shut due to the late hour, a couple of takeaway shop that were
open and doing brisk trade and two public house, one on each end. And it
was a typical Friday night. So the street wasn't crowded, but it was
busy. I suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable. And scared. I could have
simply crossed the street and taken the back streets where I would have
largely unobserved and unseen. But my confidence was high and I decided
to take the risk. So, I took a deep breath and headed along the high
street.
I passed a group of young women, about six or seven of them, who were
obviously out for the night with the specific goal of getting totally
shit faced. And they were well on the way to achieving that goal. They
were singing loudly and staggering around. They paid little attention to
me as I gave them a wide berth. A car passed me by, the driver honking
his horn. That gave me a start, and I wasn't sure if it was me they were
honking at. Then I was sure.
"Nice arse darling!" someone shouted. I ignored the shout and carried on.
I saw a dress shop and wandered over to the window. I stood for a moment
admiring a red dress that was displayed on a mannequin in the bay window.
It also gave a me a chance to check out my reflection. I was stood in a
feminine stance, my legs crossed at the ankles almost in a t shape. I was
wearing yoga pants and a sports bra in charcoal grey. I was wearing
trainers that looked good on my feet. I was wearing a light grey bomber
jacket that looked perfect. I was showing my stomach, flat and toned. I
looked good. I looked really good. The only thing missing was a layer of
make up. But I was still passable. At least I hoped so.
I continued on. My path took me along the high street which took me
amongst a crowd of people. As it was early, there were not many people
about, but the high street wasn't empty either. I was subject to intense
scrutiny by the people who passed me by. The looks were varied. The woman
looked at me in envy, possibly jealous that I looked as good as I did.
The men were leering, undressing me with their eyes and ogling my body.
Don't get me wrong. I find that sort of attention from men towards women
as inappropriate at best and downright sexist at worst. But when I'm
dressed as a woman and I get this attention from a man, I feel...honoured
in a strange sort of way. I feel pleased that a man can find me
attractive as a woman, even though I'm not. Not that I'm out to trick
anyone. I'm losing the thread here. Let me get back to the story.
I continued along the high street towards the road that would lead me
home. And I passed a couple, a man and a woman they glanced at me but
didn't see me as a man in women's clothing, they saw me as a woman. At
least I hoped so. The man was holding a cigarette as they approached me
and was patting his pockets. He made a sudden beeline towards me.
"Excuse me, miss?"
I'll admit it, this simple act scared me. I almost frozen with fear, but
not so frozen that I couldn't turn towards him.
"Yes?" I said in my feminine tone. The man looked embarrassed slightly
which eased my nerves somewhat. He held up his cigarette.
"Do you have a lighter? I think I left mine in the pub."
Now as it happened, I do smoke and I did have my lighter with me.
"Yeah sure," I replied. I dug around in my handbag. I found it along with
my keys and a packet of tissues. I fished it out and held it out to him,
"Here you go," He took the offered lighter, held it up to the cigarette
he had placed between his lips and lit the tip. He then took a deep draw
on the cigarette and passed the lighter back.
"Thank Miss." He turned back to his companion. They joined hands and
started walking away. His girlfriend looked back at me, with a big smile
on her face.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," I called back. Then I turned and continued walking. The
incident had given me an enormous boost of confidence. I had been
accepted as what I appeared to be, as a young woman out for an evening
stroll. I walked with a spring in my step and my head held high.
Fifteen minutes later, I arrived on the road that led to my estate, and
the safety of my flat. The incident with the young couple had given me a
lot of confidence, but now that confidence was waning. I was back on my
home ground now and though I was not thoroughly well known, I knew enough
people who might recognise me and see through my feminine appearance. The
chances were slim, but they existed. I set off along a long street where
one of the many pubs on the estate was sat, set back from the road by a
low boundary road. My head snapped up as I heard a car approaching No,
two cars The first one passed by with excruciating slowness, like a
tortoise on wheels. The second car indicated a right hand turn just as I
approached the entrance the pub car park. I had to wait as the car, I saw
it was a Ford of some kind, swung into the pub car park. The headlights
bathed me in the full glow of their beams as the car swung round and
past. I lowered and turned my head to one side, masking my face with a
fall of my hair. I glanced at the car and saw three occupants. I couldn't
distinguish if they were make or female but I had the feeling they were
males. The car swung past me and into the car park. There were no cat
calls, no shouting. I had no doubt that they had seen me and the lack of
a reaction showed that they hadn't cared what I was. I carried on
breathing a sigh of relief. Then I saw a couple turn onto the road ahead
of me. A man and a woman. They were holding hands. They were talking in
low tones so I couldn't hear what they were saying. I had a choice to
make. Cross the road and put some distance between them or walk past
them. Crossing the road would take me away from my home and put an extra
few minutes on my journey, but that was a minor inconvenience. And well
worth avoiding the risk of being seen, or worse, recognised. But then, a
strange feeling come over me. That strange sense of confidence that comes
with being passable as a member of the opposite sex. So I stayed on their
side of the road and let them approach me. My head had lowered a little
so I held it high. The girl looked at me briefly and the again, with a
curious expression on her face. I look her right in the eye and nodded
towards her, breaking into a smile. As they passed, she turned and
continue to look at me, still walking with her boyfriend. Then I heard
her say something.
"That's a bloke."
For a moment I froze. I had been read and that could have serious
consequences. I glanced back at them to see that both had stopped and
where looking at me. I turned and walked away. I was expecting the man to
say something nasty, to start shouting at me and calling me names,
possibly even attack me. What he said, shocked me completely.
"Yeah, so what?"
By the time I got to my street, I was shaking. This was the danger point.
There were people here who knew me by sight and though I was dressed as a
woman, in yoga points and sports bra, it had proven by the couple that I
could still be read and could still face prejudice and hatred. There was
no one around to see me but I was still wary. My flat grew closer and
closer and I forced myself to maintain my feminine gait as I passed by
the blocks of flats I approached my block and then almost froze., The
door of my block opened and my next door neighbour came out, her old
shambling Basset Hound on a lead. I put my head down, prepared to be
recognised and outed. Luckily her old dog, sniffing the ground and his
attention caught buy something on the grass. pulled her away from me and
with her attention fixed on her dog, she didn't notice me. I began to
suspect that she was not aware of me. I passed her by and walked to end
of the path. Reaching the end, I paused and looked back. My neighbour and
her Basset Hound had carried on and her attention was on the dog. I
looked around. And apart from my neighbour and her dog, there was no one
else around. I waited fort a moment and then I doubled back on my
footsteps. I reached the entry door to my block, pulling my keys from my
handbag. This was the most serious time. If any of my neighbours came
out, they would see me in my feminine appearance, the would figure out
that I was a crossdresser, they would... well, I didn't want to
contemplate the consequences, I just needed to get into my flat. I walked
deliberately slowly up the stairs and to my front door. I open the Yale
lock first and then turn the key in and upper lock. All this is deigned
to take time and increase the chance of exposure. A silly thing to do,
but it adds to the excitement. I got the door open and stepped over the
threshold. Then I closed the door and sagged against it.
My adventure is finally over.
I spent the remainder of the evening working on my computer, typing up
stories and making notes on lined paper with a fountain pen. I also
relived the experience in my mind.
All I could think of were the risks I had taken. The dangers I had
exposed myself to. The possible shaming and humiliation that could have
occurred. The beating that could have happened if I had been recognised
by those who did not accept or understand what I was doing.
There was also another thought. And that was what an incredible rush my
night time stroll had been.
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