It was 2 am. He put down his pen with a yawn and got up. For a while he stood
at the window, looking out over the sleeping city. Then he sat down again on
his gilded chair at the vanity table and as he crossed his legs, a fur-edged
mule with a spiked, 5-inch heel dangled seductively from his left foot. He
looked at his image in the mirror and ran his hands through his rich mane of
thick, auburn hair. The movement made his pink, diaphanous night-gown rub slightly
against his sensitive nipples and as the exciting feeling made him close his
eyes, he cupped one of his luscious breasts and briefly played with its nipple.
“Oh, I do hope Nikky will be here next time; such a wonderful playmate!” he
sighed.
Then he noticed the diary he had started today and, frowning at his image in
the mirror, he said, “No gurl; this is not the way to describe things; not the
way to explain how you came to be a lingerie shop-assistant. Better start at
the beginning…”
Oh yes, the
beginning! When he had opened the door to the forbidden territory of the stockroom.
How the overhead lights had flickered on and how his breath had been taken away
by an erotic version of Ali Baba’s cave!
How he had wandered around the place in a trance, looking mesmerized at
the wealth of extremely erotic garments and toys!
And how he never had suspected that he was walking into a trap that would slowly
close on him; a nylon, satin, and lace lined
trap, from which there would be no escape. A trap from which he would be led down
the road to irrevocable feminization and his transformation into a shemale
lingerie shop assistant.
