A man holding some clothes.

"Hello there," he says.

"Hi," I reply.

"Well, Mr. Forelli told me to give you these things. He hopes that you would look more elegant looking in them."

"Oh, thank you," I say blindly.

"Well, your welcome," he says in a disappointing kind of way.

"Wait," I stop him. "What's your name?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"It's Sonny."

"Okay."

He shrugs his shoulder and walks out the door. I now examine the clothes he brought and laid on the bed. A black silky off-the-shoulder top, suede-feeling pants and a pair of blach, 5-inch, diamond-encrusted, stiletto high heels with an ankle-strap. These high heels have a half-inch platform under the Achilles tendon area which is made of a clear like glass, acrylic material. The heel itself is also made of this material.

Deep inside, I feel I have a desire that I can't wait to put the heels on. In my mind I'm confused but when I ignore my male mind, everything that my body wants to do becomes easier and to a point, much more enjoyable. Continuing, the grungy clothes I have on are dirty and are starting to smell. I immediately strip them off and now see the whole view of my new body. The curves start and end well and my assets compliment the whole package. My hair is unique having a bright golden brown color flowing from the top of my head with a natural color of brunette under it giving my hairstyle a two-toned look. My hair flows down behind my head, past my shoulders, and stops at the middle of my spine, about five inches before hitting my waist. Having the bare back feel the smooth silkiness of my hair makes me feel sexy deep inside.

I start to put on the new clothes. First the blouse. I put it on and everything seems to fit just right, emphasizing the look of the smooth curves of my shoulders. Next the pants. First I look into my bag for a matching undergarment to the blouse and I find a small, almost flimsy g-string bikini. I slide it on and if feels like I'm not even wearing anything. I then slide the pants, which are like expensive sweat pants, to my waistline and heave the long hem of the blouse over it. The softness of the fabric emphasizes my well muscled legs and model ass. Lastly, I put on the high heels and try it out by standing.

The feel of the heels on my feet definite makes me feel taller but also makes me feel more sexy than having socks and Chuck Taylor All Stars on. In my mind I feel awkward, but the more and more I let the guy thinking pass, the more I become joyous about myself. Walking in the heels takes a certain finesse and a certain method to make it works and feel right. Walking like a man in heels doesn't work because I'm prone to twisting my ankle or falling. I try to move as if I'm balancing on a tight rope in a circus act. Walking this way doesn't make me feel like somebody in a circus troupe, but makes me feels the way it emphasizes my waist, hips and butt. It's definitely easier to and when I look in the mirror and the look at the effect my body gives, I feel like I want to scream like crazy. I can't believe that a guy who has done guy stuff for twenty or some years would be able to be a woman and walk in heels in one day. Incredible!

But I feel like my outfit is missing something. I feel like the only diamonds I have on is on my heels. I see a jewelry box in the adjacent bathroom and I open it. I find earrings and a bracelets that match the design of the diamonds on my heels. Fixing my hair into a tidy style, I feel complete wearing the would-be gift of Mr. Forelli.

The door to my room then opens and I find Mr. Forelli himself enter. He sees me walk in from the bathroom and his jaw drops at my stunning appearance. He actually came in the room to tell me something.