This choice: As you pack in preparation for the taxi to the clinic, you make a discovery. • Go Back...Chapter #6As you pack in preparation for the taxi to the ... by: Mr. George   Getting dressed is an adventure, as you slip on your jogging bottoms. They cling to your fuller thighs, making your femininity undeniable. But they're the only things that will accommodate your wider hips and full rear end. The girls jiggle and dance, as you slip on a thick winter jumper. It too, is loose to fit over other clothes, and while the sleeves are long and look oversized, your bust causes it stretch to fit the girls.
Even that simple action has made them stiffen in protest at the friction of the plain fabric. The tightness ensuring that your ripe strawberry sized and coloured nipples distort it, making you look rather ... excitable. Packing a small bag, with the essentials, you make sure you have your wallet for ID, and head for the bathroom. You'll need to tidy your hair, and if you decide to stay your toothbrush and other essentials.
Your bathroom is stylish, and minimalist. A mix of dark, oaken brown, and muted earth tones. But there's a scar of pink, new and unsettling. Your visitor has scrawled a message on the mirror in shocking pink, barbie pink lipstick.
Enjoy the experience, Bitch!!!
You feel your chest heave, your breath catch. You hadn't considered this might be personal, this might be deliberate. Suddenly the world feels more dangerous, you feel more vulnerable and powerless. Your imagination exaggerates every creak, crack and squeak of the house as announcing an intruder.
The phone chimes confirming your appointment, and you stiffle the mousy squeak of surprise. At the clinic you'll be Robin-241, to ensure your anonymity, your privacy.
It chimes again, telling you of the imminent arrival of your taxi. A winter great-coat hangs heavily on your shoulders, almost reaching to sweep the floor. You look like a child dressing in her father's clothes. Or a tramp preparing for winter.
Leaving your home is terrifying, it feels like abandoning your only safe haven. But for a cure, you need to, you steel yourself against your fears.
There's a snort of amusement from the driver, as you get in the back of the taxi. Rather as he reads the destination, an address he recognises.
"Morning... ma'am."
Just enough of a pause, to invite an explanation, to question, without sounding too rude, too inquisitive.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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