Chase hummed to himself as he strolled down the street. It was a beautiful spring day and the flowers were just starting to bloom along the sidewalk. The rain he had seen falling while sorting through legal papers had left the ground moist with only a few smears of darkness to indicate drying puddles. The smell, fresh and clean, swirled around him as he headed down a hill toward his apartment in an unremarkable twelve-unit.
The apartment building still felt new to him, even after four months of living there. His most recent job, an intern for an intellectual property firm, was simple another job on a long trail of employment and embarrassing mistakes. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but in the four years since he graduated college, he knew many jobs that he had never the talent or the desire to continue.
For now, he was content to enjoy pushing papers around and listening to the cut-throat conversations of his bosses. It was a job, something to pass the days and get money for his other interests. Well, interest.
His heartbeat quickened when he saw a package inside the door. Holding his breath, he opened the door and peered down at the label. When he saw the sender, “Glorious Lace Forever,” he let his breath out in a rush. It was for him. Bending over, he picked it up.
A second box, a narrow one, thumped on the ground from where it was braced against the wall. Chase almost lost his grip as he picked up the second box and flipped it over. It was from a crafter on Esty that made custom lingerie. He could still picture the image on the computer screen, a thong that looked like a storm trooper. He grinned before he realized he was tenting his pants.
Shoving the two boxes together against his hips, he looked around nervously to see if anyone noticed. Seeing no one, he fumbled with his mailbox and grabbed his mail before locking it and hurrying up the stairs to his apartment.
The minute it took for him to enter his apartment and lock his door felt like forever. Tossing mail aside, he carried the two boxes into the kitchen and tossed them on the counter. A pair of empty Styrofoam ramen bowls rolled off, but he ignored them in favor of the two boxes.
He started with the thong. With a steak knife, he sliced open the box and tugged them out. The soft material, smelling of perfume, clung to his soft fingers. He let out a moan before running them along his palm, stretching his fingers to look at the black-eyed face in the front.
His cock throbbed in his pants, caught by the strict confines of a law firm’s dress code. Without taking his hands off his new panties, he fumbled with his belt. The buckle blunted his fingers, but he managed to pull the well-worn leather tongue out of place and yank it open. His cock tented the fabric of his black suit pants and he had to carefully ease the zipper down over the hard ridge.
Finally, he tore his eyes away to concentrate on stripping. His manhood, a reasonable seven inches, strained at his plain white boxer briefs. The tip had soaked through the fabric and he ached to wrap his hands around it. Moving frantically, he yanked open his pants and pushed them down along with his underwear.
At work, he couldn’t risk anything that would lose his job. Even if that meant wearing plain underwear in the off-chance that someone looked over the wall that divided the urinals. But, that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it.
Soon, he stood his kitchen wearing nothing but his button-down shirt. The two flaps parted around his cock which bobbed with his rapid heartbeats. He picked up the panties with trembling hands and imagined them sliding up his thighs.
A thick line of pre-cum oozed out and dribbled down his length. It tickled his balls before running down his thighs. He knew that it could ruin the thong, but he couldn’t wait anymore. Lifting one foot, he stepped in and drew it up his shaved legs.
The sensation of satin against his skin ripped a moan out of his throat. He clutched the thin strands and pulled them over his hips, twisting his body to slid his smooth balls past the elastic strap. While he brought his fingers together over his aching hardness, the lace tickled the bottom of his shaft and gathered up a thick dollop of clear liquid.
When Chase finally stretched it over his hardness, there was a soaked circle at the tip. Breathing heavily, he brought it back over his cock and trapped his length against his body. He released it just to feel the final snap of the elastic holding him tight.
His cock jerked from the pleasure. The tip was centered on the trooper’s forehead and his balls were positioned at the cheeks. It looked like some perverted unicorn chipmunk, but he didn’t care. It felt good.
Fresh rivers of pre-cum soaked the fabric. He ran his hands along it, drinking in the sensations of satin and silk, enjoying how it stretched and clung to his body. The back of the thong nestled comfortably along the crevice of his ass; he could feel a few curls of lace tickling his hole.
Chase moaned and rocked his hips, imagining he was on a stage in front of hundreds of men. The confines of an intern washed away as he imagined dancing for hordes of horny men, all wanting to fuck him. He wondered what it would feel like to have strangers stroking him through a dress and grabbing his cock.
With the thoughts of the dress, he gasped and focused on the other box. His cock pulsed in the tight confines of his thong, but he only avoided hitting it against the counter as he opened up the second present to himself.
It was a black mini dress to his exact measurements. The tight fabric would cling to his hips and sides. He had breast forms to fill out the cleavage and a corset—dozens of corsets actually—to handle the waist. He pulled the fabric out and held it up his body to imagine it draped over his body. The lace over the cleavage would hide the lines of his breast forms and give him the image of being a sexy woman.
He smiled. Dropping one hand to his crotch, he stroked his hardness through the fabric a few times before pulling away. He had to wipe his hand on a towel before holding the dress up again. It was going to look beautiful on him.
With a grin, he carried the dress to the living room. It was the largest room of his one bedroom apartment and contained most of his clothes in wardrobe boxes from various moving companies. The smell of fabric and perfume drifted through the air as he circled the room. He never bothered unpacking from when he moved in, there simply wasn’t enough room anywhere else for so many clothes.
He picked up a low-rise corset from one box and dug through a pair of smaller boxes until he found his favorite pair of black pantyhose. He skipped the breast forms at first, but then circled back to grab a pair. If he was going to dress up, he was going to go for the gold.
Stripping off his shirt, he tossed it aside. He started with the pantyhose, pulling them up his legs. He didn’t bother removing the storm trooper panties, they felt too good to take off. With practiced movements, he pulled the hose up over his firm ass and smoothed it into place. The stretchy fabric pressed the satin panties harder against his cock, bringing a fresh surge of excitement to soak through.
The corset came next. He knew the buckles and straps intimately, he had worn it ever since he started cross-dressing in high school. The stays settled into place as he held it down before drawing it tight. Just as he had done a thousand times before, he tightened it down until it gave him a narrow waist and accented his hips.
Chase paused to admire himself in the mirror. Wearing a black corset and hose, with the thong peeking out of the fabric, was a sight of absurdity but it also stole his breath away. He loved his body normally, but to see have just a hint of femininity made it hard for him to do anything besides stare in a mirror.
For a long time, he stood in the mirror and stroked his cock. The watch patch soaked through his panties and hose, staining the fabric, but he didn’t care. He panted softly to himself, watching as he imagined himself as a “real” woman.
A pounding at his front door tore him from his day dreams.
“3B, I know you are in there!” It was the thick Slovak accent of his landlord. The deep base rumbled through the door, punctuated by the meaty sound of a fist slamming on the wood. “I know you be in there. Time to be paying rent!”