Goldilocks

This chapter focusses on male humiliation, if that's of no interest to you, the next chapter will return to Tanya and her next ordeal

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Mitchell recoiled in horror, as he lifted the costume up and revealed it to be a bright yellow and pink Goldilocks costume. The ruffled short skirt, white stockings, pair of high heels with light pink satin ties, and printed corset top were about as girly as you could possibly get, and Mitchell didn't even have to read the note to know who'd be modelling this particular gift. Reaching back into the box, he found that the note was attached to a small brown teddy bear, and he gingerly placed the costume on the table as he tried to focus long enough to read the message from their tormentor.

"Dear Mitchell, when I was at your place, I noticed there was some DIY that needed doing around the house. Time to go to Tom's Hardware Supplies and get all the gear you'll need. And to help out, I've sent you all the clothing you'll need. ;) I'm sure Tanya can drive you to the store, and drop you off at the furthest car park available... No cheating, I have a friend who works there who'll be expecting you!"

That was this morning. It had taken a few hours for Mitchell to summon up the courage to slip his clothes off and try on the sexy Goldilocks outfit. Needless to say that the outfit had been very snug, and had the stupid frilly skirt had barely covered his ass or crotch. He'd needed Tanya's help to struggle into the white stockings, and even the small walk to the car in the high heels had been fraught with danger and difficulty.

And now here he was. Outside the store, with a list of supplies Rachel had demanded he buy, and fast running out of time.

As the hours had ticked by at home, Tanya had switched from bitter silence to semi-supportive nagging, as she continually tried to remind him that he may well like the consequences of not doing the task even less than actually following through.

And Rachel had a friend expecting to see him, Tanya had gently chided as he continued to procrastinate.

He signed deeply, and looked at his girlfriend one more time, who could only manage a small weak smile in reply.

"Go on," Tanya said, with a hint of regret and concern, "sooner you start, the sooner you finish."

Mitchell didn't reply. He just looked back at her, closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and then threw the passenger side door open.

He stepped out.

Exiting the car threw him into an entirely different world. Inside the car, he'd just been a guy in a stupid outfit who was fearing what was to come. Outside the car though, he was a little sissy boy dressed as a fantasy girl character, in clothes that completely and utterly robbed him of any sense of masculinity whatsoever. And now he'd have to walk into one of the bastions of masculinity - the hardware store - and humiliate himself in this sissy girl outfit.

Not for the first time this month, Mitchell could feel his cheeks begin to burn again.

He tried to pull the silky yellow and pink dress down slightly, so that it actually covered at least some of his hairy white legs, but it instead threatened to pull down beneath his crotch so that his penis popped out. Frantically pulling it back up again, Mitchell realized that this was simply as good as it was going to get.

The Mecca of Manhood stared him in the face, as he stood out in broad daylight in the kind of outfit most teenage girls would think was overdoing the femininity.

He groaned, and then took a hesitant step forward. Distracted as he was by the absurdity of his appearance, he almost rolled his ankle in the awkwardly high heels, and just stopped himself from falling flat on his face. This was not going to end well.

He took a couple of more steps, and then froze in panic as he saw a pickup truck pull up into a space only a dozen or so meters away. Closing his eyes in the insane belief that if he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him, he nonetheless could hear the doors of the pickup truck open, and the heavy footfalls of three or four large-set men getting out.

There was a pause, a moment of pure silence, when Mitchell fantasized that they hadn't seen him, and that they'd turn and simply walk into the store.

Then he heard the first comment.

"What. The. Hell. Are you dressed as, boy?"

"Dunno Carl, but either that's the hairiest woman I've ever seen, or that little boy has got some serious issues!"

There was a round of loud barking laughter, and Mitchell clenched his fists in dread as he peeped through half-closed eye lids, and saw three men all pointing at him with incredulous looks plastered on their faces.

Mitchell wished the ground would swallow him up, but there was no such look.

He **** one foot forward, stumbled again, and had to endure yet more laughter as his skirt bounced up and down. Rachel had not permitted him the luxury of underwear, so every little bounce risked exposing his cock for the whole world to see.

"Looks like he needs more practice in heels!" one of the men called out.

"Either that or he's got something shoved up his ass!"

Mitchell shook his head to try and ignore them, thankful at least that they seemed happy enough just mocking him from a distance. Cutting a wide path, Mitchell soldiered on, feeling the heat of the sun beat down on the top of his semi-exposed chest.

There was a light breeze playfully dancing through the car park, and every time the wind picked up Mitchell felt the material caress his skin. It was not the kind of sensation you wanted when you were walking into a den of manliness.

If the walk to the store was agonizing though, standing at the large doors waiting to summon the courage to enter was even worse. Business was beginning to pick up in the midday sun. Already a couple had walked out of the store, carrying their purchases and animatedly discussing what they were going to do with them, only to almost drop them in shock at seeing Mitchell dressed like a very naughty Goldilocks at the entrance.

Mitchell knew he should just walk in and get the shopping over with, but somehow his legs refused to carry him over the threshold. He'd been here before, quite a few times in fact. Only then, he'd been dressed in jeans and a shirt, with solid practical black flat shoes. Dressed like a man. Not dressed like a stupid sissy girl.

Another couple stopped in their tracks behind him, and he could hear the woman gasp and point.

"What..." she began to whisper, before turning to say something in private to her partner. Whatever it was, caused him to laugh out loud. It burned Mitchell's ears to hear that laughter, and to make matters worse, the woman was amazingly hot. Petite, but extremely fit, with clothes that hugged her body in all the right places. And now, here she was, seeing Mitchell in his Goldilocks outfit, while his manhood was stripped from him.

He shook his head, and took one more step. He was in the store now. The place seemed cruelly busier than usual, although truth by told even one customer in the store would have been too many for Mitchell's tastes.

He at least knew where he had to go. The tools section. As his presence was noticed by more and more people nearby, and several of the staff tried to avoid openly laughing at him, Mitchell pressed forward and tried to march confidently towards the tools section in the back right corner.

Marching confidently in high heels though - especially when you've never worn them before - was an art form lost on Mitchell. He managed to take three steps before he misjudged a foot landing, and his ankle twisted underneath him. At that point he stumbled forward to try and catch his balance, but overcompensated completely. Throwing his arms out to save him, Mitchell toppled forward into an undignified mess onto the floor.

Worse still, as he fell, the doors behind him opened again as a gaggle of older teenagers - barely nineteen years old - came in from the car park. The breeze from the door opening lifted his skirt up, and for several seconds the skirt was trapped up around his tummy as his own body pinned it to the ground. With no underwear permitted, he lay flat on his face, dressed in a woman's sexy outfit, with his cock on full display to the assembled masses.

One of the teenage girls in the group broke out into a laugh. As he staggered to his feet, doubly difficult in heels, he heard one of the boys call out "what a freakin' loser!"

Mitchell closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the hurtful words and shaming laughter. It was hard to do when surrounded by so many people, and when you're so painfully aware of what you're wearing.

He pushed on, having patted himself down a little and making sure that the dress was still providing what little coverage it could of his crotch.

He walked these aisles before, many times, but now they seemed two or three times longer. Each uncertain step in the heels brought new danger, and the sheer absurdity of his yellow girly outfit brought fresh shame with every person he had to walk past.

After an agonizing few minutes of being mocked and pointed at, Mitchell arrived at the tools section. It was staffed by a large muscular man, probably in his fifties, and with a weather-beaten face that suggested he'd been a builder in a past life.

He looked at Mitchell with an expression of mild disdain.

"Yeah?" he said.

Mitchell blushed again, standing in front of this stereotypical man's man, covered as he was in the clothes of a silly little girl.

He had to say it though, he couldn't risk this being the person that Rachel knew, and that would report back to her if he didn't follow through on the instructions.

With a higher-pitched voice than intended, Mitchell was able to squeak out "Excuse me sir, I'm a silly little sissy boy who needs a man's tool because I don't have any of my own."

With seething embarrassment, he then curtsied as instructed, and continued.

"Can I please buy these?" he handed the list over to the man, "And do you have any of them in pink, or with ponies on?"

"Pink? Ponies...?!" the old man asked incredulously, slowly taking the list off Mitchell.

"Oh yes, I love pink ponies!" Mitchell replied, through gritted teeth.

The man just stared at him for a full minute, and then looked around the rest of the section. He seemed to be under the impression someone was pulling a prank on him.

"Yes sir, I love pink ponies!" Mitchell repeated, **** to get this over and done with.

"Well son," the man said, very slowly, and with a slightly shake of his head, "unfortunately we don't have... anything... in 'Pink Ponies'..."

Leaning closer to the yellow clad, frilly dressed Mitchell, and raising an eyebrow as he checked out Mitchell's pink ribbons, he added "Not much call for those kinds of things from... you know... men."

"Well," Mitchell squeaked, forcing the words out, "as long as the tools aren't too big and aren't too small, and are just right!"

Mitchell just wished the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole.

Still, the old man seemed to consider the list for a moment and shrugged. After another moments thoughtful contemplation of the strange Goldilocks-like boy standing before him, he finally turned and began to fetch the necessary tools from the shelves.

While he did that, Mitchell just had to stand and take the stares. He'd never noticed that the store had been cold before, but now that he was standing in it in just a short frilly dress, and with no underwear, he was conscious of a cold breeze that seemed to nip at his balls.

A sixty-year old woman approached him as he waited nervously. She had a long scowl on her face, and waved her walking stick at the embarrassed Mitchell.

"Shame on you, pervert!" she said, her face a portrait of contempt and derision.

Mitchell shrank from the glare, and was genuinely overjoyed when the store man mercifully returned.

"Here you go," the man said, roughly handing over a basket full of tools.

"Sorry, nothing in... well... 'pink'" He didn't even bother to mention the lack of ponies.

Mitchell nevertheless curtsied politely, and thanked the man.

"Thank you, sir. I'll ask my mummy how to use these when I get home."

The store man just looked at him with his mouth hanging open, as Mitchell grasped the basket like it was a lifeline and turned to scurry off to the pay counters.

*******

Tanya waited outside in the car, her fingers tapping away on the driving wheel as the minutes ticked by. She was getting increasingly nervous, as she thought about what Mitchell must be going through at the moment. The look of fear and embarrassment that she'd seen on his face had made her felt the first pangs of compassion for his predicament.

Sure, he was pretty much entirely to blame for this current situation, but even if he was a complete and utter idiot, he was at least her complete and utter idiot.

Then, she spotted him again. He was hurrying out of the store as fast as a man wearing heels for the first time could manage. She watched him approach, red face contrasting sharply with the yellow dress and pink bows.

She leaned over and pushed open the passenger door as he came close, and he climbed into the car out of breath and with a huge wide-eyed stare on his face.

"Drive" he said, simply. "Just drive."

Without replying, Tanya started the ignition, and pulled them out of the car park, and away from the site of the most humiliating experience of Mitchell's life. So far at least.

Still, all said and done, Mitchell now had one point in their contest...