Fire shows the way

It is odd what life throws at you and how things change in the most bizarre fashion. I was a 25 year old man called Sam working my butt off in London to pay my share of the rent, bills and food, then Covid hit.

Thankfully I was able to work from home, but it also meant I had to spend "quality" time with my flat mate, Colin. If anyone could leave a red sock in the washing machine before you did a whites wash, Colin could. If anyone could buy me a Birthday present of Nutella, knowing that I had a nut allergy, Colin could. I had repeatedly been told to give him a chance as he had been to university and wasn't stupid. I thought he was more dense than semolina, and my judgement turned out to be correct.

After one particularly tough day of me working online, while Colin attempted to play his electric guitar at near full volume ALL F***ING DAY, I decided to get out and go for a walk and get some fresh air. The peace and quiet was amazing. Walking round the deserted streets, strangely devoid of litter as all the takeaways were closed, it was a lovely evening.

As I neared home, I could smell something odd. Turning into our road, it was blocked off by fire engines, a police car and an ambulance. It was only when I got close that I realised it was our building.

Colin was sitting on the front wall, looking to be honest rather singed. Even his mask was blackened. He was being spoken to by a police officer and fire man. All the while firemen were running in and out of the building. Residents on other floors had been evacuated as well, for safety.

It was then that I found out our flat had been completely gutted, nothing survived, apart from his bloody guitar that he was clutching on to. As I chatted to the Police, Colin let slip that he hadn't paid for the insurance. We had agreed I would cover the electric and gas and he would sort the insurance. I just lost my rag with him. He was a total moron and now I had lost literally everything.

While I was out, Colin had decided to light about twenty candles in his room to give him "the right atmosphere" to compose music. While he played he had knocked half a dozen candles over and the fire shot up. We were just lucky nobody got hurt. For some time after though, I thought it would be justice if Colin had been hurt.

Once the fire had been put out the sun was coming up. I had given my details to the Police. I was allowed to get a drink and then I sat on a bench wondering what to do and where to stay. My parents had died a few years before and I didn't have aunties or uncles, brothers or sisters. So I looked down my phone contacts and it was then that I realised, I had spent far too long working and zero time socialising.

The only name that came up was my mums best friend that I hadn't seen since Mums funeral. We called her Aunty Jacky, but we were not blood related. She was living in the West Country now, but used to live in London.

I had no other options, so at nine in the morning I gave her a call. She quickly answered and was as nice as pie. Yes I could go and stay with her for as long as I needed. It was just a matter of getting there.

After chatting to the police officer who was still outside the flat, I told him of the situation and he said there were trains, but very, very few. So luckily within the hour I was on a train from London heading west.

Hour after hour went by, me wearing my mask on the deserted train. No food or drink available anywhere. Once I got off at the right station, it was in the middle of nowhere. Lucky I still had a little charge on my phone and one bar of signal to look at a map. Before me was a two mile walk to Aunty Jacky's in a small seaside town.

It was late and dark when I eventually got to the strange little town. Everything was stuck in the 1950s like a film set. A very odd place in the street lit evening.

With what felt like my last effort, I found the caravan site and Jacky's caravan, number 16. Most of the caravans were in complete darkness and empty, only a few had signs of life. I knocked on the door and then I heard a voice from within.

It was Jacky asking me to step away from the door a few feet. Once I had done that this lady in her fifties opened the door and stood on the little metal steps. She had a look of someone happy, in her fifties, slim and of about five foot. She wore long dark robes as if she had come straight from filming a Hammer House of Horror film.

She was all masked up as well and was carrying a detergent spray and wore bright yellow rubber gloves. She was not taking any chances.

"Hello luv" she said, "how are you doing?"

For the moment she didn't want me to come any nearer, so we chatted in the dim light about life and our respective situations.

Jacky then said "Look I have been chatting with my friend Margaret who really knows about Covid and how to protect from it. So before you come in you have to follow these instructions to keep us both safe."

I could tell she was worried and I wanted to do anything that would help. After all, she was offering me somewhere to stay, when I had nowhere. She then instructed me to take my clothes off and put them in a pile as they could have Covid on them.

I thought she was mad, but she was insistent. So I stripped down to my boxers and stood there.

She said "no everything!"

I turned my back and slipped off the boxers and put them on the pile.

Standing there she sprayed me with the detergent spray, up and down my body and then got me to wash with a bucket of warm water and soap. This was bloody absurd, but she was adamant.

Once I had been cleaned, Jacky threw me a towel and I was allowed in to the caravan. On the table was a big bowl of hot soup and a mug of tea ready for me.

I didn't need a second invitation, and even in my state of undress, I sat and warmed up with the soup.

Once I had finished Jacky hadn't returned, so I went to the door to see what she was up to. Outside Jacky was managing a little bonfire......of my clothes.

She heard me whimper, so she turned to me very matter of factly "Margaret my neighbour told me you can catch Covid on clothes, so we don't want to take any chances."

It was then that I realised, my phone and my wallet were in that fire as well. I literally had nothing now, nothing!

Once the fire was out and we were both back inside, Jacky showed me the room I was to sleep in. It had been her daughters, but she was away in the far east and had been there for years.

The bed was tiny, but at least the caravan was warm and dry. Jacky then said there were plenty of clothes in the drawers and wardrobe and I could just help myself. As Jacky left the room, she suggested everything should fit me as her daughter was a similar size!!!!

Before panicking as I still only had the towel, I thought best to see what there was on offer. The top drawer had bras, knickers and socks. Flicking through the knickers they were all ok shape wise, just bright colours and made of lace or satin. Not a single cotton pair there.

In the second drawer down were a few t shirts. I went through, rejecting half as too pink, or too flowery, or too girlie. But at least I now had a few acceptable t shirts. OK that's a start I thought.

In the third drawer was night wear. I screwed my face up as it was all satin strappy nighties. Nothing cotton or remotely masculine. I then spotted a deep purple satin dressing gown on the back of the bedroom door.

I then looked in the wardrobe next and found it was chock full of clothes. Mostly though it was skirts, dresses and a few blouses. Importantly thought, there were two pairs of jeans and some pairs of shorts. The jeans looked ok and a couple of pairs of shorts looked fine. All was not lost and in the bottom of the wardrobe were a couple of pairs of acceptable trainers.

I must have spent a good thirty minutes assessing what there was. Jacky came by with a mug of tea and suggested I get ready for bed. Not sure how we got onto the subject but Jacky then warned me to wear proper nightwear, just in case there was a fire. Not bloody two fires I hoped. Dejectedly, I picked out a satin nightie and slipped it on.

We sat in the living room watching rubbish on TV, but I couldn't take my mind of the nightie. The feeling of the satin material on my skin, I started to get an erection. I don't know if Jacky spotted it, but I did what I could to hide the offending item.

As we sat there I found out that Jacky ran the little shop in town and I would be helping her. We needed to be up at seven to open the shop at eight.

At bed time, Jacky suggested I cut my hair before we leave for work in the morning. I looked at her curiously. She said that people down here were funny and men don't have long hair. Mum always used to have a go about my long hair when I was younger, but I liked it. It was a part of me and had been for years.

I slept like a baby that night so when the alarm went off, initially I was annoyed, but then I realised I was bright and ready for the day.

After toast and a coffee, I had a nice shower and then went to get dressed. It maybe had been the light last night having a positive mindset to the clothing situation, but this morning it really came home to roost.

I tried to pick the most masculine pair of knickers out, but there were none. So I just thought sod it, as nobody would be seeing them I grabbed a pair and put them on. They were a bright red, with a satin panel at the front and lace everywhere else. They fitted fine, but once I tried on the best pair of jeans, I realised my cock would be bulging out absurdly. I pulled the knickers down, flipped my cock back between my legs and pulled up the knickers hard. With the jeans on, it looked fine. The jeans though were a problem. They were quite stretchy and had pockets at the back, but no pockets at the front. I was beyond caring now and just did them up.

Picking out a t shirt, it was only when I put it on that I could feel the differences to men's t shirts. This sandy yellow t shirt was tighter, the material thinner, was shorter in the body and the neck was quite large. Jacky was calling saying we had to go. I put it on and a pair of white trainers and was ready.

Jacky questioned me again about the length of hair and strongly suggested I cut it short, but I waved her away as I put on my face mask and we headed to the shop.

It was a lovely shop selling a range of food for locals and holiday trinkets for the tourists. With Covid though, there wouldn't be any tourists for some time. Before we got down to work, Jacky put on a blue check tabard and handed me one as well. Working in a shop gets very messy apparently, so to protect the clothes, best to wear a tabard. Once I had slipped it over my head and buttoned the sides, we got to work.

It was fun work in the shop. Hardly taxing but interesting and different. Jacky introduced me to her regulars and they were all very nice people. Although it was difficult chatting from a distance and everyone wearing masks.

Jacky then said, some weeks are busier with tourists, but this week would just be locals. And with Covid, it would be some time before tourists returned in force.

The day went so fast, that 6pm came and as Jacky cashed up the till, I got everything in, shutters down. We turned the lights off and locked up, heading home. For the first time in ages, I really felt calm and relaxed.

That evening Jacky made a really good spaghetti bolognese. Then after washing up, we vegged out in front of the TV with a mug of tea each.

At bed time Jacky told me to remember to put the clothes in the washing basket. I thought the jeans could be worn another day, but she was insistent.

A second night wearing a satin nighty, I actually had some weird dreams, a few I remembered the next day.

After breakfast and shower, I was back looking for something fresh to wear. That day I wore yellow knickers, some jean style long shorts and a linen grey and white stripe shirt.

Another day at the shop was great, meeting more of the locals. In the afternoon Jacky got me to make a few deliveries on foot to old people who couldn't get out. Everything was fitting into place, it felt so idyllic in this seaside town.

I thought there would be problems wearing girls clothes, but I was doing well at covering up the feminine side and still looked like a bloke. That night we had a nice pizza and salad and did the usual TV evening.

The next morning, again I was in the hunt for clothes to wear. I could feel it was just starting to get a little difficult. That day I picked out some black linen shorts, black lace knickers and a t shirt that was red. The material wasn't normal t shirt, but a bit lighter and more smooth.

As we walked to the shop, Jacky was still carping on about me cutting off the hair, but it just made me put my foot down more. So she dropped the subject for now.

The day like previous went all too fast and although I was knackered, it was a happy knackered. Much of the time had been restocked, stock rotation, cleaning shelves, but the best bit was chatting to the customers.

Waking up on day four, I knew I was going to have bigger problems with the clothes. I asked Jackie when we did a wash and she said Margaret had a washing machine and she kindly does it weekly for us. I asked when the next washing day was and Jackie said tomorrow. That gave me a target to work to, to find appropriate clothes for just two more days.

This day, I selected a pink pair of knickers that were all satin. Annoyingly, my cock was starting to really enjoy this material, so I had a fight on my hands to get it back between my legs before it got too hard. Next I got the other pair of jeans out. They were quite skinny in the leg, so I had to pull them up quite hard. I found the waist band came quite high as well. I probably fooled myself into thinking, they still looked like normal jeans and got on with it. On top I picked a check shirt. It was a bit fitted in style and the buttons didn't go all the way to the collar, but it looked ok.

Jacky again spoke to me about the hair, but my mind had been made up long ago on that subject and the day passed so fast, it was great. We got home to find the washing basket had been emptied and I was relieved.

The next morning searching for something to wear, I was now getting worried again. I ended up having to pick a pair of tailored shorts, that had a zip at the side. Thankfully though the zip was well hidden. Some blue lace knickers and a striped t shirt.

What I was noticing though wearing the knickers was that with the lace, the hairs on my body would get caught up in the lace and every so often, a hair would be pulled out. Couldn't think how to resolve this as most of the knickers had lace panels or more.

That evening I was hoping the washing would have been returned, but it hadn't. I would need to go another day before getting the jeans back.

Waking up on day six, I felt a little odd and my arm was had a red patch like a large insect had bitten me. I put that out of my mind and got on with the hunt for masculine clothes. After pulling on a pair of shockingly bright pink knickers, I put on what looked like black cycle shorts, but without the padding between the legs. To finish off I put on a grey t shirt. It was the most masculine there, but was a little short.

With what I was wearing, you would have thought I would be freaking out, but the way everyone was in the town, it didn't matter and nobody took any notice. Wearing cycle shorts, boy were they comfortable. A couple of times though Jacky made me aware that the back of the shorts had slipped down, revealing a little bit of the pink knickers.

When we got home that night, I was thankful the washing was neatly laid out in two piles on the sofa. I grabbed my one and headed to my bedroom. I let out a scream though. Neither of the jeans were there and nor were the shorts!!!! Jacky suggested I hadn't put them in the laundry for washing, but I tried to say that I had definitely done it.

That evening I noticed my arm was worse, so Jacky suggested I see the doctor in the morning. She offered to introduce me to her.

On day seven I had real problems, there were no more jeans, no trousers, no leggings, not even any shorts. I asked Jacky to help for inspiration. All she could say was that we couldn't be late for the doc and had to leave shortly.

I put on a pair of deep red knickers and got a clean t shirt from the pile. That just left my lower half. Jacky was shouting from the living room as we needed to go.

It was at that moment, I just said "f*** it" and grabbed a black denim short skirt and put it on. MY thought process was that from a distance they would look like shorts. Jacky didn't even think anything odd about what I wore and we headed to the doctors.

It was odd wearing a skirt for the first time, but all was calm with the world and I just went with the flow. The doctor was as Jacky had described and all very friendly. Her and Jacky really got on well. For some reason I felt I had met her before, but that was just silly.

The doctor checked me out and suggested it could have been an insect bite. Rather than give me a cream, she decided to give me a little injection. As she did that, she looked into my eyes and started asking other questions about my lifestyle.

The Doc then got me to lay on the bed and she felt the top half of my body. She got me to remove the t shirt so she could have a closer look.

As I lay there she came out with all this Latin jargon and said I had nothing to worry about, but I needed to have a couple of injections in my chest. She went on to say that even men have glands behind the nipples and mine were inflamed. The syringes were fairly small and she was very efficient. She then said I needed to have a series of injections and I was to come each week for six weeks. After dressing we headed to the shop for another days graft.

As we walked home, I realised not a single customer had mentioned me wearing a skirt. It seemed to give me fresh hope.

The next day, my arm felt better as I looked again for something to wear. Jacky was laughing at me and even suggested I wear a dress. We joked for a few minutes, so long in fact I needed to get a move on.

Just then Jacky said "go on, I dare you to wear a dress!"

I didn't look back and was flipping through the dresses in the wardrobe. I put a floral summer dress up to my body to show Jacky and she nodded approval. So that day, I wore some red knickers and the floral summer dress. It had little puffed sleeves, nipped in just under the chest and flared out, with a hem probably a little short.

Walking to the shop was so weird. It was as if I had been completely freed. The customers were lovely as ever. A couple of the old guys said I looked nice and summery.

Jacky then said to me "Don't you realise? Your name is Sam, you have long hair and nobody has seen your face behind that mask. Everyone thought you were a girl anyway!"

From then on I didn't look back and just had fun. All the dresses and skirts were rather short, but I didn't care, as I was free.

I continued the weekly trips to the doctor and as my glands were causing more problems, she gave me bigger chest injections, as well as further arm injections. After a few weeks, I clearly had a chest and it was at one of the visits that the doctor suggested I wear a bra as it would help localise the issue. At first I was reticent, but once my chest got to a certain size, it was actually more comfortable wearing a bra.

With the summer days and deserted beaches, I loved sitting on a bench, watching the sea with the breeze flicking at the hem of whatever dress I was wearing. It was as if I had found myself and I was reborn.