The Taxi

Anonymous · 17th March 2006, 17:20

The cold wind blew around his exposed thighs, turning them blue. The same with his arms and shoulders. The strappy 5" stiletto sandals allowed the cold from the pavement into his feet. The hold-up stockings kept his legs from being blue, but they were still cold. The mini skirt hid very little, but at least the tight and laced corset kept his midrif warm. The camisole top was just for decoration. His curly, blonde wig helped keep his head and the back of his neck warm. He cupped his cigarette in his scarlet tipped fingers, attempting to hold back the bitter March wind.
2.30am and the bloody taxi hadn't come back for him, even though he had paid the return. Someone had knicked his phone and purse, all he had left in his handbag were cosmetics, fags and lighter. The street was deserted, not even a bloody police patrol. He stood there waiting, freezing, contemplating a six mile walk home. With the temperature at -2c and the windchill factor, six miles in 5" heels, or barefoot on frozen ground, seemed like no option at all.
He thought back to how he had gotten himself into this position. Last month, she had caught him on the computer reading about men in high heels. The particular story had been about a man who crashed in an out of the way lane. She had seemed ok with it, and suggested he might like to try on some heels. Of course he would!. She borrowed some of a friend of hers who took his size, and when he wore them, it was obvious it was not his first time. He confessed to having a few pairs of his own, and she encouraged to wear them. Next, it was wear them out, then with undies, building up to full femme within just two weeks. Twice this last week they went out together as girls. With her help, he found it great fun, and their relationship seemed to become stronger. His being able to pass as a girl, and her wanting him to, led to his standing outside shivering now.
" On Saturday, I will help you get ready, leave you alone, then meet you inside Starshine club around 9pm. Go by taxi and book it for 2am return ". " Whyaren't we going together?". " I've a couple of things to do first, and anyway, it's a test. I want you to go out and act your part. Don't worry, it'll be fun".
It wasn't fun, it was nerve-racking. No one seemed to pay him particular attention, and once inside the club, he was able to relax a little and remain unnoticed. Of course, being unable to find her, the lack of response to phone calls and the growing lateness, had started ringing warning bells. A guy ,who seemed a little worse for drink, latched onto him. Wishing to remain undetected, he agreed to a dance, then a few drinks, more dancing, more drinks until her non-appearance was lost in memory. When closing time came, the drunk had got lost somewhere. He went outside to await the taxi. When he lit a cigarette, he found his purse and mobile had gone. Of course, he he didn't know she had cancelled his taxi, or that she had arranged for the purse and phone to be taken. Worse still, she had arranged for photographs to be taken, to add to the ones she took as he got ready.
By 3am, he was so cold, he had to walk in order to stop shaking. He headed home, his feet in agony, but at least he wasn't quite so cold. Funny that in an area where there live so many people, are so many vehicles, that none came along his route home. It was just getting light by the time he hobbled along the street toward his flat. The key had been in his purse, but a neighbour came out as he approached the lobby door. He entered, went to his own door, leaned on it . It opened!. He went in kicking off his shoes as he went to the bedroom. She lay there, a smile upon her lips. He froze, unable to utter the torrent of words running through his mind. She folded back the duvet and beckoned him forward. His cold and tired limbs responded, until he flopped onto the bed. She mounted him, making love to the worn out female form.
He must have slept, for when he awoke, he found his hands fastened to the headboard and his feet shod in ballet boots, hobbled on a short leash. With a start, he realised he could not shout, as his mouth contained a hollow gag. He must have made a sound, because she came in, smilled, and asked how he had slept. His angry retort came out as a garbled mutter. She brought over a short whip and proceeded to thrash him. She was now satisfied he understood who was in charge. She showed him the photographs and asked how he thought they would be recieved on the internet and his companies E-mail. Her point made, she told him he had passed the test, from now on, he would be her shemale slave/lover.
For the next hour, he learnt in graphic detail what would become of him. He knew what would happen if she did as promised with the photos. The rest of the day was spent lovemaking and planning the next week. On Monday, he gave up tennure of the flat, handed in his notice. He now wore what she told him to. the corset had not been released at all, and by friday,the only remaining male clothes he had, he wore to work on his last day, Friday. Once home, these went into a black bag, never to be seen again.
Over the next few weeks, he attended clinics to have electrolysis, breast augumentation and facial surgery. He endured the pain, and worried about the future. That first corset was nothing to the ones he was now wearing. In future, the minimum heel is to be 4" and he would spend at least one hour a day in ballet heels, oh! and walk in them too!!. Latter, this would coincide with the wearing of a mono glove.
His duties are to keep house, attend to her wishes, her sexual needs [ and provide these to her guests if she wished it ]. She would see to his needs, such as clothing and food. He would not need money, in fact, he had ceased to exist. Now he was a shemale, living with and for his mistress. His name?, oh Tanni.

lorriette · 17th March 2006, 17:24

sorry folks, seems i wasn't logged on again

kinheels · 17th March 2006, 23:22

hi loriette, i enjoyed that one thank you.