"One small step for a man."

Well, high heels aren’t for boys.

An AP-500 story

“Honey chile, if’n you don’ take little teeny weeny steps yo gonna fall flat splat on that fancy new ass of yours.” The accent was as fake as I was.

I was tottering up the stairs in my new dress. New bra and sleek panties slinking my skin. Garter-belt and stockings exciting my legs. The mid-blue jersey dress clinging like nothing I’d ever worn before. And I was trying to escape in case that woman saw me.

I was sure that everyone could see that I had VPL (visible-panty-line) VB (visible-bra) VC (visible crotch) VE (visible everything). I wasn’t feeling comfortable or confident.

And the shoes. I’d never worn shoes like this before. They had at least four-inch heels, a tiny strap round my ankles (and that had been so hard to fit together). And my poor toes were almost weeping with pain after twenty minutes. We were still in the shop but the gorgeous girl helping me choose new footwear was insisting that I keep these ‘cruel and unusual punishments’ on and walk around in order to ‘get used to them’.

She made me go up stairs and down. She made me twirl when I put on a selection of dresses and outfits.

This was such an expensive day. But I was enjoying it. I felt relaxed and released as never before.

And why? Because a girl, young woman really, was helping me look better, as a woman, than I had ever looked before. It’s not to hard to make an improvement on a bloke in his thirties who wants to wear a dress. And all the underpinnings and accessories. Even if he’s just on 6 foot tall and kind-of solid.

The assistant was a glorious coffee-coloured Brazilian import. We’d done quite a lot of talking during our session – now approaching two hours. She knew my name. She knew what I said I wanted. And she knew what I really wanted but could not speak about.

I panicked when I saw Jewel come into the shop. Jewel was a catty, sly, sometime-friend. Seeing me all dressed up would be just awful. Golia noticed instantly, And that’s when she made her comment about me falling over if I wasn’t careful.

So I was pretty obvious – and not pretty. And in those heels, I towered above everyone like Gulliver in Lilliput – unless the ladies Basketball team dropped in. If Jewel clocked me as a ‘man in a dress’- I had to escape.

After Golia’s rebuke, I stumbled onwards. Probably drawing more attention to me than if I had stalked confidently out of the room. But with smaller steps I felt much safer.

Was I in more trouble? I hadn’t realized where I was going - back in the lingerie department. And falling face first into a rack of panties and bras. Under normal circumstances, I might have found something kinda fun or even kinky in being drowned in a pile of sexy, sleek, silky, sensuous frillies.

What a mess – but Jewel had gone.