Hello there girls. I have an update for you today to the non-caption story that I have been writing. I have all six chapters finished, but it takes some time to proof read and edit them together into a cohesive whole. Still, I am not going to take too much time getting to the end, and you might see chapter four soon.
I've also got new captions in the works, and they'll come later this month (most likely.) I'll have to see how many captions it will be, but I promise you that they will come and you'll likely find them as exciting and salacious as ever.
If you want to read the previous two chapters of this story, you can click the 'Non-Caption Story' tag on the left.
‘Becoming Bea’
Chapter three
I don't know how it happens, but that man, Frederick, seems to run past my window each morning the exact same time as I sit down to drink my coffee. Even this day, a weekday like any other, he gets out there and starts his jog. It is a miserable day, it is cold outside and there is some light rain, but he keeps on jogging. At some level, I have to admire his dedication. Here I am, nearly asleep and about to go to a workplace that I loathe and all I want is to lay down and do nothing. But he’s already on the move. I suppose that is what makes him a real man.
Maybe if you asked him about it, and told him that I watched him every morning, he’d tell you that I was the one that timed my morning coffee drinking with his morning forest jogging. It is just a matter of perspective, I suppose. But it can just be a coincidence, not everything happens because it was willed by some greater force of destiny. Frederick just liked jogging, and I liked drinking my morning coffee.
Today was a Thursday, and it may not have been such a special Thursday if it weren’t for the fact that today I would get my breasts. Well, my false silicone breasts that cost me a small fortune. To some extent it was a heat of the moment impulse buy, but on the other hand... I would be lying if I wasn’t greatly excited to see what they would look like on me.
I hoped that the package would be plain enough so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed when going to pick it up at the post office. It is one thing if a middle-aged man goes to pick up a package containing make-up. Everyone can assume that he is picking it up for his wife or even his daughter. Picking up a package labelled as being from the ‘Female Impersonation Company’ isn’t quite as easy to explain. But I’ll probably blush no matter what. I’m going to need that sanitary napkin in my panties all day.
Sadly it wasn’t the weekend already. Meaning that I had two days before I could have my fun dressing up. But I could handle it. I am a big boy. Work is boring, but I can spend the time fantasising about having breasts and not having to stuff my bras with socks. I can think girly thoughts, while presenting as a boring man. In fact, all my fantasies involves dressing up now. I haven’t once thought about Mary in weeks. The rare times that I have thought about her was only to compare myself to her. Often I favoured my own femininity over hers when making those comparisons.
