The Comic Book

Jonathan sat stock-still in his car, his eyes staring blankly ahead into the distant crowd that populated the end of the street where he'd been parked for the last ten minutes.

His hands gripped the fake leather of the steering wheel, and he let out a long ragged breath that betrayed the conflict of emotions that were churning away inside him.

Outside the sun beat down on the mid-morning shoppers who — heads down except for the occasional glance at a passing shop window — walked with a consumerist zeal between stores, bags in hand.

It was busier than Jonathan had expected, and certainly busier than he'd hoped.

The street was of the kind found in any city in the world, one lane in each direction with some space for on-street parking next to a narrow sidewalk that was home to a seemingly never-ending series of store fronts. His eyes moved from staring blankly into the middle-distance, and started to settle on his target: Titan Comics. As he stared, a large man in a hoodie walked into the store, oblivious to Jonathan's attentions.

Jonathan's hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel. Did he wait longer then? Maybe the man was only walking in to pick something up and would soon reappear, to once again disappear into safe anonymity. He shivered, and he shifted in his seat. The car was hot, acting like a greenhouse with the sun beating through the windscreen, and the heavy coat he wore was certainly at odds with the needs of the season. The coat satisfied a completely different need though, and as he pushed himself down in his seat, Jonathan could feel the soft material of his clothes under the coat slide against his skin. Unbidden, his body tingled at that sensation, and when three women walked innocently past where he was parked, he blushed and gave an embarrassed cough as if his secret was already somehow obvious to anyone who cared to glance through his driver's side window.

The bustle and popularity of the shopping precinct had meant that the closest park Jonathan had been able to find was some six or seven stores down from the Comic shop, rather than directly outside as he'd originally planned. Even then he'd had to circle the block several times to be able to score this parking spot, and with each circuit Jonathan's blood pressure had spiked as thoughts of having to park a couple of blocks away and make the long walk to the shop dominated his imagination.

He'd have to face up to it at some point of course, and the worst bit about all of this was that he knew — there was absolutely no doubt or room for confusion on this front — he knew that this had really been his idea.

Sure, he'd "fought" the idea of being made to do this, protested his innocence that he could possibly want to do this, sent a few emails to her to try and persuade her to show mercy, whatever that meant.

And yet a dispassionate and neutral observer would question that —if all that was true — why the bet had been his idea in the first place. He'd been in a playful mood at the time, just having an innocent online conversation with a woman he'd met in a chat room. They'd had a shared interest in erotic stories, no harm in that of course. The nature of their conversations often led to some playful teasing, and in a humorous way he'd made a suggestion... no, he'd dared her to a bet. An embarrassing bet. No harm in that at all, nothing more than happened in any fraternity or sorority house across the country, and if he thought clearly back to his own days studying he was probably party to a few crazy stunts and dares. Well, he was witness to them anyway. If he was forced to testify under oath, he couldn't truthfully say he'd done any of them himself...

And now here he was. He'd lost the bet of course. He thought the bet had been a 50/50 chance, who knew whether he'd truely undermined his own chances. Either way, he'd lost and oh, how he had groaned and complained at that! Life was so unfair he'd agonised, while asking if there was anything he could do to bargain away the consequences of the bet. Naturally, there hadn't been. He'd grumbled at that, although deep down he wondered how much he'd have been disappointed if she'd said yes.

So here he was, in his car, with a simple task to complete. He was to get out of his car, take his coat off — it was warm outside so that would be the most natural thing to do in the world — and then walk over to Titan Comics and buy a comic book for his online friend. A simple, inexpensive comic book, hardly the kind of thing to stomp his feet about. Of course there was the catch.

The catch was the real focus of the bet. Underneath his coat, Jonathan wasn't wearing his usual, standard, run-on-the-mill clothes. There were no jeans, no polo shirt or anything in a plain, simple, respectable blue, black or grey. Underneath his coat, Jonathan was wearing something altogether different — something that agonising enough could now be traced back to his own fevered imagination — something that was pink, frilly and very, very feminine.

He shifted again in his seat, the heat of the car and the hesitation in his mind combining to create a growing sense of discomfort. He looked down at himself and he could visualise the clothes underneath the respectable buttoned-up coat whose heavy winter material was the only thing currently protecting his dignity.

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard of his car. It was now 10:25am. He took a deep breath in and looked around the car. It was a Tuesday and he'd thought that arriving at 10:00am — when the shop had first opened —would have been a relatively safe option. Instead, he'd struggled to find a car park and had then proceeded to sit here, caught indecisively between getting it over with and the terrifying realisation that what had sounded intriguing in words was now something that actually had to be played out in real life.

In moments of absolute clarity, he knew that he'd set himself up for this on purpose, but it was natural enough that as the days had begun to count down towards _actually_ having to walk the walk, he'd begun to look for ways to minimise the challenges ahead. There was no need to do this at a busy period of the day, and he'd have been more than happy if he could just have parked directly outside the shop, pop in, pop out, and then safely post the book off to the place where his online friend had told him to send it too. He could then boast about how he'd never backed down from a bet, whilst simultaneously reducing the sheer skin-crawling embarrassment that was inevitable given the outfit that had been selected for him.

It had been 10:00am when he'd first arrived in the street, hoping to be the shop's first customer. Now it was 25 minutes later and he'd seen at least four people enter the store and less than that leave. His eyes widened, the pupils dilating as he strained to take in every tiny detail about what lay between him and the store. He had to go now, he knew that. He had to go now, because every second he delayed just meant that it would get busier and busier.

He tried closing his eyes and breathing deeply, but now the slow drip of time was beginning to pound on his skull and he began to feel a rising tide of panic swell from the pits of his stomach.

He'd even given her the idea of trapping him into doing this, which he'd at the time secretly felt was a good idea, and now was bitterly regretting. In normal circumstances, he could have just have gotten out of the car, kept his coat on, walked into the store and bought a comic while only having to put up with some curious stares as to why he'd chosen to wear a heavy coat on a hot day. It would have been a complete wimp out, but it would have given him options and in the cold hard light of day, he was beginning to realise that talking about something and actually doing something were quite different things.

But no! It had been his brilliant idea that whoever lost the bet had to video themselves walking into the store. There was no way of faking that. He'd said at the time — teased her in fact — that it would mean he'd have video proof of her walking down in an outfit of his choice. He teased her about what that would be. Naturally that all rebounded on him when he'd lost the bet and it was she who would be choosing the outfit for him.

He cursed himself under his breath, and then — letting go of the steering wheel only to briefly pound it with his hands in frustration at himself — he fumbled at the door handle. His hands were shaking, something that became even more obvious at his first failure at grasping the door handle. He leaned across and placed one hand on the door frame as if to steady himself against it, while his other hand made a second attempt at opening the door and exposing him to the outside world.

He paused and looked up at the rear view mirror. He stopped breathing for a moment, as he stared at a man in a coat who wearing a long flowing blonde wig, whose fake hair trailed off into a pony tail than snaked over his shoulder. Who was that man, he thought to himself through a haze of confusion and growing embarrassment. He stared up bemused at the man in the mirror. He began to notice small things about the person trapped in that reflection. He was wearing make-up. Bright red lipstick, there no doubt about that whatsoever. There was also some blush on his cheeks that wasn't just from the sheer embarrassment that the man in the mirror must be feeling.

Jonathan suddenly felt his hands stop shaking, as if detached from the reality that was enveloping him. He was entranced instead in this strange sight that was staring back at him in the small reflective surface that hung over his head. The man looked back at him, a subtle yet unmistakeable liner framing his eyes, and his bright red lips giving a comically feminine look to his otherwise masculine features.

Jonathan felt his hand move down, unbidden. Next to him, he could hear the click of the door opening, although in the moment it seemed like a distant and remote thing on the furthest periphery of his senses.

Then he shook his head and the momentary reverie that had gripped him lost its hold over his mind. Reality swam back into focus. The man in the mirror wasn't some stranger, it was him, and as he licked his lips nervously he could taste the bright red lipstick that he'd plastered on his face only an hour before. His body shook again, and the looked to his side where the door was now slowly swinging open. He had to act now.

He stepped out, almost twisting an ankle as he stumbled out in unfamiliar footwear, and he had to steady himself on the door frame as he furtively checked if anyone was about to pass by. There were several groups of people mingling on the street, but just for the moment he had this small section of sidewalk to himself. As he pulled himself to his full height, immediately the bright sunlight made him squint and raise an arm to protect himself against the sudden intrusion of the outside world.

He subconsciously pulled the hem of the coat down, but it was wholly inadequate to his current needs. Back in the car, if anyone had walked past they would have seen just the torso of a man in a coat. An unusually tense looking man perhaps, but just a man. Now, as he stood upright, the coat only reached down to his crotch and couldn't hide the telltale signs of a frilly pink dress that peaked out from underneath. Worse still, whereas before his feet had been hidden in the car safe from prying eyes, now it would be plain to anyone who wandered past that Jonathan — clearly male in body shape if not in sartorial choice — was wearing sparkly pink high heeled shoes.

Jonathan's face was caught now in a manic looked, that alternated between grimace and thrilled. He closed his eyes for a split second and ran through the thoughts he'd been chanting to himself all day. There were still — even in this embarrassing setup — a few things in his favour.

Jonathan had been careful to ensure that this dare would be done in a city that he only occasionally visited. He might secretly have his kinks, but he wasn't an idiot. No-one should really know him around here, no one should really recognise who he truely was. He had also taken the precaution of visiting this city in a rental car so that he could head over here undetected. Should someone take a few unfortunate photos that then received wider circulation, at the very least it wouldn't be quickly connected back to something so recognisably his!

He tried to control his breathing, but now that he was out of the car he knew that speed was of the essence. Even with the coat on he could feel the raw embarrassment of his footwear and the skirt consume him. Even worse, he could feel part of his mind _feed_ off the embarrassment, as if it was some delicious new addictive treat that he knew was bad for him but that some small part of his body was craving for.

Jonathan swore out loud, and then looked up and down the street. His luck at being alone was about to run out, as he now saw a man and a woman walking towards him. He froze and his mouth went dry as the moment of truth approached. Up until now, it had all been some elaborate fantasy. He'd denied it publicly, even occasionally to himself as well, despite that nagging voice in the back of his mind that taunted him about what he really wanted to do.

He had parked outside a small clothing store with a wooden door with only a partial window in it. With the sunlight outside and his eyes still adjusting, he couldn't make out whether there was someone in the store looking back at him. He was able to convince himself that no-one was looking back, and that both disappointed and reassured him at the same time, in a very confusing mix of conflicting emotions.

However in a matter of seconds what was indisputable was that this couple was going to walk past him, and there would be no confusing the conflicting sight of a manly coat contrasting with what was clearly a woman's skirt and shoes.

Jonathan breathed in deeply, lost in the moment. Then they were upon him. His car door was still open, blocking Jonathan's lower half from direct view until they were both on top of him. The blond ponytail wig trailed over his far shoulder, and so might from a distance just look like long hair.

For a split second as they passed they didn't seem to notice him, despite his frozen demeanour coming across as anything but natural. Maybe that was why they initially seemed to keep their attention focussed ahead, not wanting to make eye contact. When they were right next to the rigid, exposed Jonathan though, the man's eyes caught a glimpse of the pink frilly dress and the pink high-heeled shoes out of the corner of his eye. Unable to control his reaction, there was an immediate look of incredulity that spread across his face. He gave Jonathan a startled look, and raised an eyebrow while his face creased into a bemused smirk.

His gaze swept up and down, clearly taking in the lipstick, the makeup, the edge of the skirt peaking out from underneath the coat, and most damning of all the silly high-heeled pink monstrosities on his feet.

He nudged his companion, and the woman initially tried to ignore him until a third nudge finally got her to look. She turned and looked for a split-second like she was annoyed at her companion, before the sight of Jonathan finally caught up with her. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. They were still walking forward but now their heads swung around as they tried to figure out what this strange man was doing.

Jonathan just stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to move. He stared directly at the store in front of him, feeling the eyes of the man and woman check him out but not daring to make direct eye contact.

"So this is what it really feels like," the secret naughty voice in Jonathan's head said, "do you know what they are thinking?" The voice had a teasing quality to it, and that only caused Jonathan to blush further. "They are thinking what a sissy boy you must be!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man stumble as he walked forward without looking properly where he was going. After almost stumbling into a sidewalk rubbish bin, he cursed and finally focussed on the street ahead. The woman laughed, possibly at her partner, probably at Jonathan, most likely at both of them. He closed his eyes again, and clenched his fists. When he opened his eyes again, he could see the man and the woman walking away still and Jonathan was — momentarily at least — alone again. As a light breeze blew down the sidewalk, playfully lifting his pink skirt a little, he heard more laughter echo down the street. This time he had no doubt who the target of that laughter was, and he went bright red at the thought.

And this, all of this, was with his coat still on! Jonathan clenched his jaw, partly in fear and partly in excitement. How would it feel when he took his coat off!

There was barely a cloud in the sky and the hard sidewalk under his feet felt unforgiving as he shuffled his feet, balancing precariously as he tried to get used to the heels he was being made to wear. There were no trees to provide any shade or cover, although an unbroken row of parked cars at least meant he was only exposed to those coming along the sidewalk and less so to those driving along the street.

He looked down the street towards Titan Comics. He couldn't run, not in these shoes, and so the heels served not only to embarrass him in their pinkness and the way they changed the shape of his legs and ass, they also served to embarrass him by restricting his ability to run and hide. He breathing was short and fast, his pulse racing as every second dragged out now that he was publicly exposed.

Back in the hotel room where he'd been staying during his visit, he'd carefully timed all of this out. He would drive in, park up quickly, hop out of his car, be inside the comic store, find and purchase a comic, and be back out to his car in three minutes. Three minutes of intense, excruciating embarrassment of course, but ultimately only three minutes.

Now he was parked much further away and had at least an additional minute to walk in each direction. If he'd been asked only a week ago how long a minute felt, he would have answered that it was merely the act of an instant whistling by. Now a minute seemed like an eternity. As plans go, his was not surviving contact with the practicalities of the task at hand.

There was no point in delaying the inevitable even more though, and the reactions of the couple had stirred those feelings buried deep inside Jonathan's subconscious. He'd deny it to her when she quizzed him online later, but having two strangers see him in embarrassing clothing and with makeup, feminised and sissified, was stimulating all sorts of kinks. Still, his plan had been for all of this to happen in the safe confines of a single store — one single place where all of his embarrassment could be experienced and then, when it was time to leave, could be left behind as a fantasy shared only by himself and anonymous strangers.

As Jonathan stood on the sidewalk though, the temporary brief thrill of being seen by the couple began to recede and the underlying feelings of fear and panic that had gripped him in the car began to resurface. The shaking returned, and his mind focussed on the task ahead. His imagination began to go in dark directions. What if that couple — strangers who didn't know him and who he would never have to meet again — had been people he did know? His eyes went wide at that thought. He was in a different city of course, but still... there was always that remote chance... that remote, unforeseen coincidence that would change everything.

He shook his head, trying to shake that thought loose. That was crazy talk, he tried to rationalise. What would the odds be? A thousand-to-one? A million-to-one? Still, any of those odds are still non-zero... He surely wouldn't be unlucky enough, but if there was ever a time for fate to play a cruel game it would be now.