Jbdl
Est. Contributor
- Messages
- 306
- Role
- Diaper Lover
- Sissy
- Other
Okay. So let me set up the scene. Im working in a costume building shop for a show and the fancypants designer from across the pond is here. Im roughly the size of the one dude for which this costume is for.... so the designer asks me to try on this armour piece so he can send a pic off to the execs. I say sure. Then he asks me to try on the bottoms. I say sure again. Then I remember im wearing some sneaky cute girly undies and hoping to heck theres a change room situation. There is not. Just a slightly obscured mezzanine.
Im waiting in dread for him to bring me the pants to try on. Hoping that he'll hand them off and avert his gaze as I detrouser myself... but that wouldnt matter. Those guys hands are everywhere already. Fiddling with inseams and adjusting elastics. Im hosed, Davey. I'm sweating bullets. Im getting dizzy. He converses with the seamstress and then tells me that its not ready. He'll come grab me in an hr.
I book it out the front door. Its getting late amd im in a pretty bunk end of town but im determined to find boxers for sale. One boutique shop a dozen blocks away. I drive like the trunk is on fire. I sprint through traffic and fly in the door, panting. Deep in a tunnel of shelves and custom screened shirts theres a woman glowing like the messiah. The savior of my knickered arse. I ask, almost begging, if she has boxers. She does. I fumble for my card. The flopsweat, MYGOD THE FLOPSWEAT.
She says "didnt have time to shower after work but you got a hot date"? I say "you're good!" Then thank her and burn asphalt back to my car. I change right there. Nbd Theres enough steam on the windows I could have been having an orgy and all youd see was a flesh coloured haze. I make it back and eventually the designer gets me to try on the pants. As im confidently dropping trow, this designer makes zero attempt to avert his gaze. Hes literally staring at my crotch the whole time. Even when I go to change back. (What a perv!)
Moral of the story.....i...uuh... dunno. Im still feeling the stress mustard oozing out of my system. Anyone else have this exact thing happen or am I unique?
Im waiting in dread for him to bring me the pants to try on. Hoping that he'll hand them off and avert his gaze as I detrouser myself... but that wouldnt matter. Those guys hands are everywhere already. Fiddling with inseams and adjusting elastics. Im hosed, Davey. I'm sweating bullets. Im getting dizzy. He converses with the seamstress and then tells me that its not ready. He'll come grab me in an hr.
I book it out the front door. Its getting late amd im in a pretty bunk end of town but im determined to find boxers for sale. One boutique shop a dozen blocks away. I drive like the trunk is on fire. I sprint through traffic and fly in the door, panting. Deep in a tunnel of shelves and custom screened shirts theres a woman glowing like the messiah. The savior of my knickered arse. I ask, almost begging, if she has boxers. She does. I fumble for my card. The flopsweat, MYGOD THE FLOPSWEAT.
She says "didnt have time to shower after work but you got a hot date"? I say "you're good!" Then thank her and burn asphalt back to my car. I change right there. Nbd Theres enough steam on the windows I could have been having an orgy and all youd see was a flesh coloured haze. I make it back and eventually the designer gets me to try on the pants. As im confidently dropping trow, this designer makes zero attempt to avert his gaze. Hes literally staring at my crotch the whole time. Even when I go to change back. (What a perv!)
Moral of the story.....i...uuh... dunno. Im still feeling the stress mustard oozing out of my system. Anyone else have this exact thing happen or am I unique?