Only On Sundays

five

The rest of the week was nothing but ordinary. On Tuesday morning Chris had brought me home. On Tuesday night it was Mr. Fronzak bringing me home. It's not that I was necessarily okay with bending over for my boss, but he was basically begging for me and ten thousand dollars had a nice ring to it.

Now it was Saturday afternoon and I was treating myself to a shopping spree. I had to drive over an hour to find a decent mall but it was worth it. I had gotten several bags of makeup and more than a few pairs of shoes, my arms aching with the weight I lugged around. Guys had approached me and offered to help with carry some of the shit, but I didn't want them thinking I was interested or - god forbid - a female. I strutted into Victoria's Secret, a lady immediately approaching me.

"Would you like us to hold your bags behind the counter?" She asked. I gratefully off loaded them on her as I began to shop. Everything I liked was either too big for my fake boobs or obviously too small for my cock to fit in. After a while of searching, I accumulated a pile of under garments that I could mentally picture Chris ripping off of me.

Another lady assigned me a dressing room and left me to myself. I stripped from my tight clothing, looking at my form in the mirror. Trying to keep myself from spiralling into a hole of dysphoria, I slipped on the first combination. It was a bit too tight in the lower half, but cute. This process continued until I was sick of seeing my male body in clothes meant for a female. I quickly redressed myself and brought out the stack of lacy fabric. I purchased the things I looked good in and picked up my bags, making my way to the parking garage and dropping everything in the trunk of my car. I listened to my normal car ride music as I sped home, making it back to my haven in a bit under an hour.

"Fuck it." I swore as I stepped out into the freezing weather. Nights like these are when I especially wish that Angelo would be waiting inside for me. I wish he didn't leave. If I was just a better friend to him when he needed me, then we would be planning our spring gardening. We'd be fighting about if we wanted flowers or vegetables and herbs. Typically we chose both. It was a week long process of planting all the seeds, but in the end we would bring each other bouquets and weird salads.

I wiped the tears from my face as my phone rang, pulling it from my pocket. It was a call from Justin, so I quickly hung up and shot him a text. He was wondering if I was going to be 'working' tonight, so I informed him that I wasn't feel well. He was sympathetic, but obviously didn't care much.

I peeled my clothes off and tossed them in a heap, stepping into my bathroom and staring at the mirror. My skin looked translucent as it clung to my bones and fat, showing every lump and vein. I slipped into the shower and turned on the tap, barely flinching when I was soaked in the freezing water. After a minute I began to shiver, but kept my head down. I could feel my ribs and spine quivering in my meat suit. No less than 20 minutes later I stepped out into my slightly steamy bathroom. I was quick to grab a towel and dry myself off so that I wouldn't get water all over the floor. I twisted my hair up into a bun on the top of my head and made my way to my bed, not even bothering to tuck myself in. My eyes would snap open with every attempt I took to close them, so I gave up. I laid there for hours, my only movement being my blinking and occasional shiver.

At roughly three in the morning, I regained my ability to function. First it was slow but I took it upon myself to put on a robe. Then I found the strength to steal a cookie from my cabinet. Next I was making oatmeal and checking my dozens of emails. At last I retrieved my bags from my car. I hesitated to look at my purchases, but also couldn't help myself. Once I was inside, I settle down in my living room. Like a child on Christmas, I began to scavenge through all the packages. I encircled myself with all the pretty things, admiring the lace on my panties, to the sparkle of highlighters, to the gleam of the leather stilettos.