Public at Last Ch. 01

I stepped into the black dress and pulled it up. It briefly resisted going past my hips, but I wiggled and pulled until the waist settled into place. Then I did up the back zipper and slipped the hook through the eye at the base of my neck. Immediately I felt a sort of entrapment that often accompanies women's clothes. It was like women had to wear what men expected of them, and that was the trap. Whether it was a girdle, pantyhose, bra, back-zippers or back-buttons, once on, things were hard to remove in a hurry. And I liked that. I don't know why I liked that, but I did and still do.

I knew I shouldn't, but I gulped some more wine, because the next part was truly risky and exciting. I wrapped a fine metal chain around my waist, made sure it was snug, and then locked it there with a small luggage lock. This made it impossible to take any of my clothing off without a key to the lock.

No matter what happened.

I smiled at myself in the mirror. Foolproof. I would leave the key behind in the house, and once outside, I would be forced to wear the clothing; there would be no choice. I would leave as a woman, and I would have to return as a woman. Nothing out there, not even discovery, would permit me to change my feminine apparel. Once out, that was it. To me, that was the ultimate excitement, and it forced me to look and act as much like a woman as possible, as the consequences of being caught outside in drag were unthinkable.

I glanced outside. It was getting dark.

I did the final touches on my makeup and then put my special boots on. I had bought them from a transgender site on the Internet. They didn't fit that well, but that suited me today, as a little bit of discomfort was to be expected and even desired in order to fulfil my peculiar kinky tastes. I stepped into them and pulled the zippers up to my knees. For the coup de grace I wrapped a short fine chain around each of my ankles, wound them under the stiletto heels and back up to the ankles where each was locked in place.

My feminization and bondage was complete. Now I could not remove my high heeled boots or any of my clothing until I returned home. In my state at the time, it was pure genius.

The final piece was a women's double breasted beige trench coat with a cinchable belt at the waist. And the purse. What woman wouldn't have a purse? I put my cell phone in it, my lipstick, and the keys to the car. That's all I needed.

I drank some more wine and waited, while darkness awaited me.

Feeling emboldened by the impending darkness and the wine, I stepped outside into the twilight on my deck to test the degree of blackness. As always, the darkness observed from inside was not matched visually outside, so I waited impatiently for another twenty minutes, sipping wine and drinking in the fresh air.

"Enough!" I said to myself. It was time.

I grabbed my purse and walked to the garage without any further hesitation. I wanted this to begin so desperately. Reaching for the doorknob at the garage, I froze in last minute fear. What was I forgetting? This had to be right. The luggage locks were in the house on the bed. They didn't matter right now. They were only to force me to stay dressed as a woman no matter what happened. I went back to the kitchen and drank some more wine direct from the bottle. My head felt light, so the wine was probably a mistake. I didn't care.

Sitting on the cold leather seat of my car, I sucked in my breath at the coolness of it on my panties and nylons. The world opened with the garage door, and I backed out, feverishly searching for neighbors out for a stroll. My heart was racing and my hands shook. Not only that, but I hadn't thought through the part about driving with stilettos on my feet. The car jumped in spurts and stopped in jolts. Once free of the driveway I relaxed somewhat and just drove. I mentally pictured the padlock keys on the bed and shivered with excitement as their usefulness diminished with distance.

The red lights were exhilarating. People glanced at me from adjacent cars and I constantly made movements to obscure my face. Eventually I noticed that they were glances only, like any other innocent glance at anyone, anywhere, and I knew that my tinted windows would help as well. I relaxed and held my head high, on the edge of orgasm as my penis slipped and moved under the two girdles compressing, restricting, and reducing it past androgyny, and in my mind to total femininity.

I had staked out a park about five miles from the condo. It was well lit, in a good neighborhood, and I felt it was relatively safe. It took fifteen minutes to get there, passing through shopping areas packed with people and when I arrived, there was no trace of daylight left and the parking lot was only illuminated by the street lights. One car was parked there and I parked as far away from it as possible. I put the shifter in Park and shut off the engine. This was it and my heart raced.

I had often gone out in public with female underwear on, but I had never before gone out in public completely dressed as a woman, and I checked the lot, every part of it, for signs of life. My corset started to pinch and bother me as I sat in the bucket seat so I decided to fix my lipstick and just go. Putting my lipstick back into my purse, I opened the door and quickly got out, making sure the lock button was pressed so that the door locked behind me quickly to extinguish the dome light. Darkness was my cloak.

I breathed the fresh air as Paula for the first time and started walking, almost reaching orgasm as I moved forward. I had a plan. There were public washrooms at this end of the park, and also at the parking lot at the other end of the park about a quarter of a mile away. That was where I walked now, briskly at first to escape the glare of the parking lot lights, and then slowing down to revel in the delight of being a woman once I was on the pathway. The park pathway actually wasn't far from the street and its own sidewalk. The difference was that the park's path meandered around large cottonwood trees and flower beds and ponds and it felt safe. If a threat emerged from the street I would run and hide in the woods. If a threat came from the park I would risk exposure and run to the street. Nonetheless I was terrified and excited at the same time, and I was always aware of movement or sounds ahead or behind. I reminded myself that this was a very safe city.

As I got farther and farther away from the car however, I became increasingly aware of my vulnerability. There really was no serious place to hide or run to; I was a woman in public, at night, in a park, alone. I didn't know which was worse, being a helpless woman in the park, or a helpless and stupid man dressed as a woman in the park. The doubts set in. I was a freaking idiot.

But after some time, the fantasy of being that helpless woman outweighed the risk, and I started to relax. There was no one here and to my surprise, I was disappointed that I couldn't test my ability to pass as a woman. It seemed anticlimactic. So, when I arrived at the other parking lot and saw that there were three cars parked there, I challenged my insecurities and walked past them. It was only when I got to the third car that I saw a middle-aged man sitting in the driver's seat with the window open, smoking a cigarette. The man smiled, and so did Paula. I say Paula, because I felt like I had two personalities at this time. Behind Paula's mask of makeup was terror, so I went back to my original plan and went to the washroom, being careful to go into the ladies' side.

My heart was beating wildly with excitement and fear and as I went into one of the cubicles. I shut the door, lifted up my skirt, unhooked the endless row of hook and eye closures at the crotch of my corselet, pulled down my panty girdle, and sat down to pee. I had consumed too much wine, I thought. My head was spinning. I was forgetting things.

My purse dropped suddenly from my shoulder onto the concrete floor and I jumped.

When the pee stopped I looked down at my breasts, and it was like it all crashed over me, the wave of being in this predicament, alone in public, dressed as a woman, with a stunningly tight corset on and high heels. I felt the chain around my waist and knew that I had to return home fully dressed like this. My sphincter muscle clenched the anal plug and my mind went blank when I touched my penis. I reached down to pick up my purse with my other hand and that's when it happened. The anal plug shifted just enough. There was no logic, only the crashing wave of orgasm. I was helpless in the fulfillment of my fantasies and I came within seconds. I stifled a squeal and a scream. I didn't spurt; I flowed in rivers of jetting semen and I fell off the toilet onto my knees with my head resting on the cubicle door until my contractions stopped. It took what seemed like forever.

I opened my eyes. My mouth was dry and I was still out of breath and in shock at the magnitude of my quaking. This was impossible. I hardly touched my penis.

I looked around, dazed and confused. As my breathing became more regular, my thinking did too. At least I thought it did. "What the fuck am I doing here," I screamed in silence. Suddenly the reality of my situation hit me and hit me hard. The bubbles of fantasy burst around me until the bare walls of the cubicle were starkly visible in the women's washroom. I could get arrested for this! What the fuck was I thinking? This was intensely perverted and ill-advised. Stupid!

I had had too much wine. I had to concentrate, not panic. Maybe if I got out of this dress and loosened the corset and took it off, I wouldn't look so bad if I got caught, but then I remembered the chains again. It was deliberate, these chains, I knew, but I had no idea how the fear would grip me, and now I deeply regretted not being able to undress. I'd rather be caught nude than in women's clothes, but now that was impossible.

This would be the test, I thought through my dissipating fog of fantasy.

I decided that haste was best, so I composed himself, listened at the door, and left the washroom, forced to walk past the same car with the same man sitting there, staring at me and smiling. Why was he smiling? Did he know? Paula smiled back but I was sure my eyes were full of terror. Then I saw a woman's face appear in front of his and she stared at me as well. She ducked back down to the blowjob. Maybe they thought I was a prostitute too. I searched my purse, anything for a weapon. To calm myself as I walked away from the car, my purse hand explored the space, felt the phone, the lipstick, and...what was the other thing? It seemed like something else should be there, that it was too empty. Maybe another pocket.

As I entered the pathway back to my car, I went over my plan: drive to the parking lot, lock the car, enjoy the walk to other end of park, return, and drive back... I stopped walking in sudden full blown panic and frantically searched my purse. After several seconds I started whimpering, "No, oh no, oh no, oh no, the fucking keys...where are the fucking keys?" I searched again. Nothing.

I went over what I had done so far. The only place I had set my purse down was in the washroom, and I pictured the scene now in my head, well lit, the purse...right there, no sound of keys hitting the concrete floor, nothing on the floor when I picked up the purse. No. Oh no. Ignition. They were still in the ignition. No, maybe I dropped them outside the door, but I was sure I had locked the door with the switch on the inside of the door. I started walking and even began to run in the high heels, but it proved to be too dangerous on the uneven pavement. I said out loud in a whispering voice, "Please let the keys be by the door, please..."

The lights of the other parking lot got brighter and brighter. Entering it, there were no other cars. Holding my breath I walked up beside the driver's door and closed my eyes briefly for courage. I opened them and saw the keys in the ignition. I tried the door. It was locked. I walked around to the other door. It was locked as well. Then in disbelief, I did it again, raging around the car trying the handles.

Astounded at my critical mistake, I stood there, bewildered, and at a loss for the remedy. There were some options, none of them very good and I went through them now. A cab was out of the question; I didn't bring any credit cards or money and that would require blowing my cover for sure. I could call Heather, but that would be out of the question too, considering my apparel.

"Jesus! Oh Jesus fucking Christ!" I whispered in terror.

I had no choice; I had to walk home, in these heels, in these clothes, on occupied streets, for five miles. I started to map the route in my head. It would take forever, twisting through commercial and some minor residential areas, with a smattering of suburban nightclubs and pubs. It was a warm night and there would be people out, lots of them.

I could phone Heather. I searched my purse one more time. No keys.

What would she think?

I looked down at my breasts bulging out and felt my calves ache with the strain of walking in the high heels. I couldn't phone her. She just could not see me like this.

I started to walk but when I approached a busy intersection opposite a pub, there were dozens of people wandering about, mostly young macho heterosexuals fueled by beer. There was a fight going on in the Walmart parking lot. I stood there looking decidedly gay in my dress and high heels and turned away, back to my car and the park, not wanting to risk exposure like this, and even possible death by beating.

I could phone Heather. I had to phone Heather. There was no choice.