In The Booth

* This is my first submission. While I write my little stories strictly for my own amusement, and all comments are welcome.*

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The door clicked closed behind him as he entered the dimly lit booth. He threw the small bolt on the inside of the door, securing it behind him. Safety first, after all.

The video screen on the wall was dark, and he knew to drop a token into the slot and start a video before too long. The clerks at the adult bookstore were well aware of what went on inside and between the booths and gave people time, but a business needs to make money, and tokens in the machine equalled profits. He put the roll of tokens he had purchased on the way in on top of the video machine and slid one into the slot. He chose a video to watch, not really paying too much attention to his choice. After all, watching videos wasn't what he was there for.

With the machine fed and the video started, he took stock of the booth around him. This was his first visit to this particular store, but the booths were all pretty much identical. Small room, maybe 3 foot across and 5 deep. Painted black plywood walls. Small bench on the wall next to the door. His eyes moved to the side walls and found what he was there for. On each wall dividing each booth from its neighbor was hole. Sometimes it looked as if the hole had been chiseled with a blunt instrument, and he hated those. Splinters had been known to happen, and that was NOT fun. Here though, he was glad to see the owners of the bookstore had not tried to hide the booth's true purpose. On each wall, waist high, was a simple thin plywood door on tracks, so the door could slide open or closed. They had even attached a small bolt on the door, seeming so that if whoever were on this side could lock their side, ensuring a private and very boring viewing experience. After a moments thought, he decided to leave the door closed, at least for the time being.

He put the knapsack he was carrying down on the floor and sat down on the little bench. Time to get ready. First things first however. He took a folded beach towel from the bottom of the knapsack and spread it across the hard concrete floor. It seemed that the booth had been cleaned recently, but he knew all too well exactly what had splashed over and over on the floor, and for now he wanted to stay squeaky clean.

He kicked off his shoes and slid the plain white sweat socks from his feet, tucking the socks into his shoes and putting them under the bench. He took just a moment to look down at his feet with a critical eye, wanting to make sure he had prepared well. His feet were, in his estimation, his most feminine feature. Small, a size 8 in male shoes, they were very pale and delicate. He guessed he should say a prayer of thanks to some ancestor or another for his particular genetics. He had the more delicate bone structure of a woman when it came to his feet and ankles. His toes were long and straight, nails pedicured weekly, cuticles healthy and nails clipped cleanly and straight. As he curled and uncurled his toes, he giggled. His toenails were probably the ONLY straight thing about him.

Knowing what his plans for the day were, he had chosen a deep burgundy color polish, and as his toes curled and uncurled on the floor, he was pleased with how the shine he had strived for glinted in the reflected light from the video screen. Straightening out his knees he lifted his feet into the air for a final look. A single silver toe ring was on the second toe of his right foot, with two others on the second and middle toes of his left.

Inspection passed, he lowered his feet to the floor and lifted the knapsack from the floor, standing and putting it on the bench in the corner. He undid his belt and the button of his blue jeans, unzipped the fly and slid them down his legs. As the denim slid down his smooth legs, he was amazed, as he aways was, at how different the air felt on his legs now that he had had the hair removed professionally. It had been a little white lie, telling the woman at the laser hair removal clinic that he was a competitive swimmer and wanted a smooth body to better slide through the water at matches. She would have probably not batted an eye to that explanation, but when he insisted that she remove every hair fro his body from his nose to his toes, she more than likely guessed his true motivation. No worried though, he had travelled halfway across the state for that little adventure, so no one locally was any the wiser. He had always known his legs and feet were feminine, but now that he had committed to making them his ultimate femme feature, he had long since given up going outdoors without pants and socks.

Hooking his pants with one pretty foot, he lifted them up to his hands, folded them and set them on the bench. He let his hands slip down to trace his smooth tanned thighs. It had been expensive, but the tanning bed he had bought last year at a going out of business sale had been worth every penny. For years he had yearned for a rich dark tan on his legs and body, even dreaming about possibly branding himself with tan lines in the shape of a bikini, but the reality of laying out in his back yard for hours in his skimp bikini in full view of his nosy neighbors had stopped him from indulging in this little fantasy. Now, with the tanning bed installed in his spare bedroom, he had been able to spend hours under the light until now his skin bore a deep, dark tan. He looked down to his hips, and even in the dim light of the booth was able to see the thin tan lines where the string bikini bottom arched high over his slightly protruding hip bone.

Eyeing himself like that was having its usual effect as he felt his cock starting to twitch in his panties. He wore nothing but panties now under his outwardly male clothes. For today, he had chosen a particularly sexy set of black panties, cut very high on the hips (but not quite as high as his tan lines), thong in the back, and a very sheer front panel in front. As he did with all his panties, he had added a small fabric flap to the very bottom of the panel. He had learned quickly that a skimpy little thong stretching from under his balls between his cheeks make it almost impossible to tuck his cock back and get the feminine look he loved to begin with. He spread his legs just a little, reaching into his panties and pushing his balls up into his body and pressing his cock back between his ass cheeks, the added fabric flap doing its intended job holding his manhood back. Panties tugged up into place seated his cock between his cheeks firmly, and as long as he stayed reasonably soft, he wouldn't have to worry about it popping out. At least not until he wanted it to.

He slid his shirt up and off, again folding it and adding it to the growing stack of his male attire on the bench. As it always did, removing each item of male clothing seemed to strip him of his masculinity (or what was left of it at any rate), leaving him feeling more and more feminine. He again took just a moment to look down at his body, as always pleasantly surprised at the changes his hard work and attention to diet had had. His torso was long and lean, not overly muscular but nicely defined. If he flexed he could boast a set of nice flat six pack abs. His hips were flared and his lower stomach was sculpted by countless sit-ups and crunches. His fingers traced down his ribs and flicked across the silver belly button ring that he had done last summer. A simple ring with a small heart hanging from it, he loved how it sparkled even in the dim light. He let his fingers trace up his smooth tanned stomach to his flat chest, pectoral muscles hard under his skin but not overly large. A female trainer had told him years ago that high reps with very low weights would give him the sculpted but not muscular look he had asked about. He groaned just a little bit, deep in his throat, as his fingers found the nipple rings that hung from each off his nipples. Silver again, like the belly button ring, but these were of a thicker gauge, heavier, pulling constantly on his nipples. When he was a boy, having such thick and full nipples had been a constant embarrassment, but now he again had to say thank you for such a genetic trait. His nipple were the size and shape, and even color, of pencil erasers. The nipple rings kept them perpetually engorged, always pressing out against his shirts, reminding him they were there. He had started years ago with a much thinner set of rings, but found that the thicker gauge was heavier and tugged on his nipples harder. He set out to see just how far he could go, and had worked up progressively to thicker and thicker rings, until he found a pair that were just a little TOO painful for constant wear, went down one size, and those were the size he wore to this day. Last summer, on a whim, the idea of making the nipple rings truly permanent had crossed his mind. It had taken months of research and an amazing number of phone calls to find someone he felt comfortable enough to go through with it. He had found a man a few towns over who was willing to help him, so he hopped in his car and headed over to a nondescript metal shop. The owner had been willing, after many MANY promises NOT to sue him if things went sideways, to actually weld the ends of the rings together, forming a sealed ring that was now permanently pierced through the sensitive flesh of his nipples. As he stood there and gently tugged on the rings, savoring the feeling of steel pulling flesh, he thought to himself that it would have been worth the price they had agreed on. That is, IF the welder hand't offered to accept payment of a different kind.

Letting go of the rings, and again groaning as the weight of the heavy rings tugged on his swollen nipples, he got back to his task. Tugging the rings had been a slight mistake as the telltale twitching of his cock in his panties reminded him. He turned and undid the hasp on his knapsack, flipping it open and removing the pile of clothing that he has spend so much time yesterday selecting and packing, then changing his mind and re packing the knapsack over and over. He had to say he was happy with his ultimate selections as he stuffed his male clothes into the now empty knapsack and sat down next to the pile of clothes he felt truly at home in.

From the top of the pile he took the package of new stockings he had purchase online weeks ago. He had wanted to rip the package open the day it came in the mail, but had forced himself to wait for the right time and place, and sitting here in the booth he knew he had been right to deny himself that small instant gratification. Much better to be here, now, unsealing the package for the first time. The company was called Secrets in Lace, and over the years he had purchased a wide assortment of hosiery, always thigh high stockings though, never pantyhose. His current favorite was called the Natalie Diamond Heel. He had chosen the grey shade, as he found that the beige tone blended with his tanned skin too closely. He undid the package and gently pulled the stockings out, laying them across his lap. He took one in both hands, and very carefully began to roll it up, moving slowly so that the seam would remain in line. Having the seam in line when rolling up the hosiery before putting them on made adjusting the seam FAR easier. He had ruined quite a few pair of stockings learning that lesson. Once he had the stockings fully rolled up in his hands, he crossed his left foot over his right knee, and slid the rolled stocking over his toes, making sure the reinforced toe section was aligned correctly, leaving his toes covered in the slightly darker nylon of the reinforced area. Happy that he had his the stocking on his toes correctly, he began the slow process of slipping the hose up and over his foot. Sometimes this was the tricky bit. The darker reinforced foot section of the hose had to align properly at this point, otherwise the seam would come out looking crooked and uneven. He slipped the soft nylon over his foot, making small adjustments as needed, until the soft stocking slid over the smooth heel of his foot. Now he could see the darting where the reinforced section of the heel foot and toe tapered up to become the signature seam that run up the back of stockings. With the dark reinforced section of the foot of the stocking running directly up the back of his achilles tendon, had knew he had the stocking set properly. Now with quicker movements, but still paying close attention to the seam, he slid the stocking up his smooth let until the darker broad band of the stocking top was just a few inches below the panel of his panties. He stood, leaned over to look at the back of his leg, nodded in approval, and began the process all over again with his other leg. Anyone who thinks putting on fine hosiery is just like pulling up a pair of long socks has never actually gone through the process of doing it correctly.

Both stockings on now, he was actually almost relieved there was no mirror in the booth with him. It was usually at this point that he started staring at his reflection in the full length mirror in his bedroom, and more times than not, got lost in the image and wound up pleasuring himself far sooner than he had planned. No mirror, he thought, no touching.

Next from the bag he took his garter belt. He had stayed with the overall black theme today, though this garter belt was satin. He had found this particular garter belt online at a fetish site. It was a glossy black satin with small red roses embroidered around the waistline. A total of 8 garters hung from the belt, giving 4 points of support for each stocking. He wrapped the belt around his slender waist, attaching the sides, then slid it around with the fasteners facing the back. Then he began the surprisingly long task of attaching each of the garter tabs to the stocking tops. He had to make sure they were evenly spaced apart to give all around support to the stocking top, so the stocking itself stayed pulled up snug and tight. Each individual garter also had to be adjusted slightly for length, the front ones a bit shorter, the back garters slightly longer to accommodate the swell of his small tight buttocks. After a whole lot of adjusting and re adjusting and then adjusting yet again, he was satisfied that his stockings were as straight and level as he could make them without the help of a mirror.

He sat back down, reaching for the last item to be put on, his heels. As he picked up the first heel, he just had to take a moment to hold it in his hands and gaze at it. A bright red, it was a very strappy sandal. Three small red leather straps came together at the center of the vamp. The thin red ankle strap was attached to the heel itself by two simple straps running down the side to the sole of the heel. And he loved the heel. 6 inches long, slender with just the barest widening as it made contact with the sole of the shoe. To look at it, one would think it was not possible to contort a foot to take the shape of this heel, but he knew from experience that he was more than capable of wearing them, even walking in them, though he knew that for today his plans did not include much movement at all. He slid his toes into the vamp of the heel, working his foot inward, feeling how the straps of the vamp held the top of his foot in pace even as he felt the sole of his heel forcing his foot to arch. With the ankle strap done, he set his foot down, savoring the sensation of the heel making his foot conform to its shape. Quickly donning the other heel, he set both feet on the floor, and reached one last time into the knapsack, this time for a few basic cosmetics.

Doing a proper make up job took a lot of time and effort, good lighting and a strong mirror. He didn't have any of those things, but for this particular event, he had taken to simply doing his face from the nose down.Just a tiny bit of foundation around his jawline and lips. A lipstick tube of dark red and a small makeup brush and he did his lips. He had a small mirror in the bag, and taking it out he completed his lips with a darker liner, making them appear fuller and darker. He smacked his lips, and was pleased with the results.

After the small batch of cosmetics were put away, he reached behind his head and pulled out the elastic band that had been holding his hair in a loose ponytail, and gently tossed his head side to side, feeling the long light brown hair falling across his face. A few practices primps with his fingers, and his hair was back from his face, falling down his bare back to just below his shoulder blades.

All this done, he stood up, again relishing the feeling of his feet encased in the heels, and ran one hand up the side of his thigh, loving the rasp of his fingers across the fine nylon of his stocking. He was very much aware of how he looked, he had spent years perfecting his particular take on crossdressing. He was feminine, that was obvious, but he was also still obviously male, have done nothing to make it appear he had breasts. Dressed like this he felt that his appearance finally matched what he deep down knew he was, a sissy. Far from a man, not quite a woman, something in between. It had taken him years to come to the realization that this is what he was meant to be, a complete sissy.

Teetering on his heels, he moved the rolled up towel from in front of the bench to the floor in front of the glory hole. He undid the latch, and slid his side open. Then he kneeled down in front of the door, mouth open, and waited. After all, this is what sissies do.