Here's another chapter. Chapter 5 is wear it starts to get a bit steamy.
Chapter Three
A Morning Cup of Coffee
As I walked out the front door, I paused for a moment. I was about to enter the world as a woman. I had been planning this day for months, but now that I was actually going to do, I was feeling a little uncertain. Will everybody know I’m not a woman? Will they care? Will my mannerisms be womanly? Will somebody confront me?
I had waited too long for this, though. I took a deep breath. I looked down the sidewalk to make sure that I didn’t see anybody I knew, and I started walking.
I walked with much more movement in my hips than my usual walk. I kept my upper body straight and focused on keeping my head high and not looking down. I’ve learned two things through the years that helped me. First, people see what they expect to see. Unless you give them reason to doubt the obvious, they won’t look passed it. Second, acting confident and sure goes a long way towards making the first point true.
As I headed down the street to the local Starbucks, I saw a reflection of me in a store window. I just had to stop and look. As I admired myself in the window, I was overcome with a feeling of giddiness. A beautiful woman was looking back at me—cute yellow blouse with perky breasts, long, curly hair, tight jeans shorts over shapely hips and, last, bright white Keds. I was overwhelmed. I stopped, just to savor the moment.
I pulled myself away from the window and continued down the street.
My first stop was perhaps my most daring. I walked up to my favorite coffee shop, wondering if anybody would recognize me. The thought of being identified was terrifying. This transformation was a jumble of freedom, anxiety, shame, release, sexual tension and power. My emotional state was too fragile to predict if somebody confronted me before my confidence had been built up.
I paused for a moment outside the shop, my palms starting to sweat. I had waited to long to stop now, but it was not without trepidation that I grabbed the handle of the door.
I entered the store and looked around. Besides the two workers behind the counter, there were about 6 others in the store—a couple holding hands and talking quietly; a mother with her young boy; a darling blonde in light blue jeans, a white tank top with a blue flower pattern, a white and new white Keds. This cutie in Keds was definitely a turn-on, but given my circumstances, I would just have to put her in my memory for another day’s fantasy.
I slowly walked up to the counter, trying to maintain my composure, knowing that this was my first test as a woman.
“A mocha grande, please”, I said, talking in a higher, whispier, pitch than my usual voice. I tried to keep it even and not mix high and low pitches. The boy behind the counter didn’t even look up as he took a cup from the stock.
With a bored tone, he said, “name?”
I froze. I hadn’t thought about this. What name should I use? I can’t sue my own name, of course. What to do? How to decide? My brain was racing feverishly. All the while, I was standing there silently.
Now he looked up. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Your name, please”, he said annoyingly.
“Tracie”, I said, relieved that I generated a though.
“With an “I””, I added when I saw that he spelled it with a “Y”.
As I stepped aside to wait for my drink, I noticed that one of the men kept glancing over his newspaper at me. At first this made me self conscious. But, then I decided to play with him a bit.
First, I turned around to look at the items on the display. The display was backed by a mirror, so I could watch him surreptitiously. I stood on my tip toes to reach for something high on the shelf. I gave him a good look at my legs and the blue labels on my Keds. Then I bent down to reach for something low. I could feel the tightness of my butt in my shorts. This play acting was arousing. I then bent down to time the laces of one of my Keds. I gently slide my finger along the side of my shoe as I reached for the laces.
“Keds do feel nice, don’t they”.
I was quickly tossed out of my reverie as I realized that the beautiful young blonde had just spoken to me.
“I noticed your Keds”, she continued. “I don’t see women wearing them as much any more and I think it’s a shame”, she added. “I find them very comfortable”
I stood up, and felt a bit out of place, since I was 3-4 inches taller and a good 30 pounds heavier than she was. However, she didn’t seem to notice.
“I like them a lot, too”, I said, trying my best to not say anything too stupid. “I bought these just the other day”.
“I could tell”, she said. “There is nothing nicer than the clean feel of new sneakers on your feet”.
At that, the boy behind the counter yelled out, “Christie”.
“That’s me”, she giggled.
With that she grabbed her drink and walked out the door. I couldn’t help but watch her as she left, staring at her white Keds dancing across the floor, the blue label staring back at me.
Suddenly, I realized that somebody was calling for “Tracie”. The boy behind the counter was looking at me and calling my new name. He probably had called it multiple times, but I wasn’t used to hearing it and was in a cloud watching Christie leave. I could feel the blood flowing to my cheeks, embarrassed at missing his call. With slightly downcast eyes I took the drink, thanked him and headed for the door.
Chapter Three
A Morning Cup of Coffee
As I walked out the front door, I paused for a moment. I was about to enter the world as a woman. I had been planning this day for months, but now that I was actually going to do, I was feeling a little uncertain. Will everybody know I’m not a woman? Will they care? Will my mannerisms be womanly? Will somebody confront me?
I had waited too long for this, though. I took a deep breath. I looked down the sidewalk to make sure that I didn’t see anybody I knew, and I started walking.
I walked with much more movement in my hips than my usual walk. I kept my upper body straight and focused on keeping my head high and not looking down. I’ve learned two things through the years that helped me. First, people see what they expect to see. Unless you give them reason to doubt the obvious, they won’t look passed it. Second, acting confident and sure goes a long way towards making the first point true.
As I headed down the street to the local Starbucks, I saw a reflection of me in a store window. I just had to stop and look. As I admired myself in the window, I was overcome with a feeling of giddiness. A beautiful woman was looking back at me—cute yellow blouse with perky breasts, long, curly hair, tight jeans shorts over shapely hips and, last, bright white Keds. I was overwhelmed. I stopped, just to savor the moment.
I pulled myself away from the window and continued down the street.
My first stop was perhaps my most daring. I walked up to my favorite coffee shop, wondering if anybody would recognize me. The thought of being identified was terrifying. This transformation was a jumble of freedom, anxiety, shame, release, sexual tension and power. My emotional state was too fragile to predict if somebody confronted me before my confidence had been built up.
I paused for a moment outside the shop, my palms starting to sweat. I had waited to long to stop now, but it was not without trepidation that I grabbed the handle of the door.
I entered the store and looked around. Besides the two workers behind the counter, there were about 6 others in the store—a couple holding hands and talking quietly; a mother with her young boy; a darling blonde in light blue jeans, a white tank top with a blue flower pattern, a white and new white Keds. This cutie in Keds was definitely a turn-on, but given my circumstances, I would just have to put her in my memory for another day’s fantasy.
I slowly walked up to the counter, trying to maintain my composure, knowing that this was my first test as a woman.
“A mocha grande, please”, I said, talking in a higher, whispier, pitch than my usual voice. I tried to keep it even and not mix high and low pitches. The boy behind the counter didn’t even look up as he took a cup from the stock.
With a bored tone, he said, “name?”
I froze. I hadn’t thought about this. What name should I use? I can’t sue my own name, of course. What to do? How to decide? My brain was racing feverishly. All the while, I was standing there silently.
Now he looked up. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Your name, please”, he said annoyingly.
“Tracie”, I said, relieved that I generated a though.
“With an “I””, I added when I saw that he spelled it with a “Y”.
As I stepped aside to wait for my drink, I noticed that one of the men kept glancing over his newspaper at me. At first this made me self conscious. But, then I decided to play with him a bit.
First, I turned around to look at the items on the display. The display was backed by a mirror, so I could watch him surreptitiously. I stood on my tip toes to reach for something high on the shelf. I gave him a good look at my legs and the blue labels on my Keds. Then I bent down to reach for something low. I could feel the tightness of my butt in my shorts. This play acting was arousing. I then bent down to time the laces of one of my Keds. I gently slide my finger along the side of my shoe as I reached for the laces.
“Keds do feel nice, don’t they”.
I was quickly tossed out of my reverie as I realized that the beautiful young blonde had just spoken to me.
“I noticed your Keds”, she continued. “I don’t see women wearing them as much any more and I think it’s a shame”, she added. “I find them very comfortable”
I stood up, and felt a bit out of place, since I was 3-4 inches taller and a good 30 pounds heavier than she was. However, she didn’t seem to notice.
“I like them a lot, too”, I said, trying my best to not say anything too stupid. “I bought these just the other day”.
“I could tell”, she said. “There is nothing nicer than the clean feel of new sneakers on your feet”.
At that, the boy behind the counter yelled out, “Christie”.
“That’s me”, she giggled.
With that she grabbed her drink and walked out the door. I couldn’t help but watch her as she left, staring at her white Keds dancing across the floor, the blue label staring back at me.
Suddenly, I realized that somebody was calling for “Tracie”. The boy behind the counter was looking at me and calling my new name. He probably had called it multiple times, but I wasn’t used to hearing it and was in a cloud watching Christie leave. I could feel the blood flowing to my cheeks, embarrassed at missing his call. With slightly downcast eyes I took the drink, thanked him and headed for the door.
