Decisions, Decisions 01

Decisions, decisions 01

Hi, I'm Bobby and I'm almost totally innocent with a few recent events, which started out with what I call junk mail. I live in an apartment and there were obviously previous tenants in my apartment and they occasionally still receive junk mail. Nothing important, just things like ads for medical insurance or vehicle insurance, a few catalogs and things like that.

I actually think of Fred, Tammy and James as long-lost friends, with Tammy being my favorite because she was apparently very active with certain social events. Now, don't go telling Fred, Tammy and James that I just toss their old junk mail out with the trash, but say "hey" to them for me, alright?

Now, moving on to the real shocker of my story, other than me, of course. Of the four apartment doors located in my building's interior hallway, there is me, Ron, Mr. Doesn't Socialize and Missy or Miss Missy as I affectionately call her. I do model some of my fashion from Miss Missy, but my freaky little habit of wearing the other genders clothes is secondary to my story (today), I think.

Today is all about a mistake by the mail carrier and Ron, Ron the Flower Guy. Ron might be described as unassuming and somewhat of a loner, but Ron works and waters the flower pots in front of the building entrance and the flowers in the back of the building. He likes to do that and management doesn't seem to care, so Ron is the flower guy. The unassuming flower guy who works part time at the big overnight delivery company's sorting facility.

Well, well, well, along came a spider in the form of a misplaced piece of mail that was a small catalog, which I assumed was an old circulation meant for Fred, Tammy or James and boy, was I wrong! Once I had caught my breath after opening the unassuming catalog envelope, well, well, well, I flipped the catalog over and there was Ron's name! I mean, holy shit Ron! Believe me, it was not a catalog filled with novelty items for the living room. It was a catalog of movies that I assumed were best viewed in the living room under a blanket!

Now, I wasn't judging or anything and I even gave Ron the benefit of the doubt because we're all on someone's mailing address list somewhere and I increased my benefit of the doubt when I noticed that the "Apt #" on the mailing address was a little messed up, but still, right? I mean, there was Ron's full name, right on the label.

Anyways, seriously, are all male-on-male movie actors body builders? I mean, none of the movie teaser photos had any young adult males on a sissy nor did any of them have any married men on a fem boy sissy, it was page after page of Butch on Butch and it took me an hour to catch to my breath! I mean, Ron??????

Also, huh, I would have thought there would have been more than one page of toys, right?

Before I go any further with my story, let me just say that I didn't like what the catalog had to offer. If I ever go down on a guy or lay down for a guy, I'm going to be the girl with the hair, the makeup and the appropriate clothes. I don't have a large selection of clothes, but I'm half way decent with the makeup and I shave everywhere, LOL, a lot. So, maybe someday, Bobbi will re-enact one of the movie title scenes, but I'm never going to be the Bobby who says "Hey Butch, I just changed the oil in your truck, so check out my work with your dipstick" or anything manly like that. I might be Bobbi who says "welcome honey, let me relief your work day stress" as I stand there in a crop top and a pair of unbuttoned shorts, but don't hold your breath for that, just yet. I mean, catching me in a skimpy manner of dress is easy enough, but if you pull your dick out, LOL, I'll be busy searching on Chang for what to do next and by the time I figure anything out, well, you'll be gone, LOL.

So, what to do with my "unconfirmed" knowledge, right? I mean, it's none of my business, so throw the catalog away and do nothing seemed like the right thing to do, so I tossed the catalog. But seriously, even if my knowledge was "unconfirmed", how was I supposed to not see Ron in a different light, right?

Decisions, decisions, right? And to my credit, I really didn't do anything for the rest of the summer and it was "hey, Ron" as usual each time we passed each other anywhere in or around the apartment complex. But seriously, you can understand how I looked him at differently, right?

Well, let me tell you what I seen. LOL, I did not see the freaking bronzed studs named Butch with the body builder bodies with all the right ripples in all the right places like each and every actor (ama's???) in the dirty movie catalog. I seen skinny Ron, in his afternoon sports short and his (gawd awful) tank top.

But everyone is different and Ron was Ron and I was me and it was none of my business. Well, the wandering human mind, right? I don't know everything that goes on in the apartment complex, but I did know that Ron didn't have many visitors and he never seem to go out much after work, so in my mind, I could see him sitting alone in front of his DVD player and well, doing something with Butch, I guess, under his blanket.

Well, I didn't have any "mind" erasing pills, so I kept running through the list of possibilities. You know, like did Ron watch his movies in the nude? Or did he receive the catalog because of that mailing list thing and he had no interest in Butch? Or did he prance around in his apartment in lingerie while he watched his dirty Butch movies from the catalog that had his name on it and a customer ID number?

Well, "mind" erasing pills should be available over the counter because I couldn't let it go. And they should make "stop making a plan, idiot" pills too because I just had to know which way Ron walked on the sidewalk of life, even though the catalog of Butch sucking off Butch didn't say anything about Ron caring anything about a small framed boy who has a certain appeal with the proper makeup and outfit. And without the proper pills readily available, except for the "stupid" pill I managed to find, I made a plan, LOL, the worse plan ever.

Given that Ron's job had him coming home on a pretty regular schedule, I put my plan into motion to at least confirm that he had no interest in a CD. I mean, he had to walk right past my apartment door just as soon as he came to the top of the stairway, which gave me the ambush edge, I mean the opportunity to find out if he would react to me in drag or just spit on the carpeted floor and keep going towards his apartment door. I mean, that sounds legit, right? I mean, I just cracked my door open enough so only my face was visible and all.

"Ron! Hey, Ron."

"Oh, hey Bobby, um, what's up?"

"Um, the grocery store had a buy one, get one free sale and I'll never drink two full bottles of milk, so I want you to have one of the bottles, OK?"

"Oh, OK, so hand it me, I guess, Bobby."

"Well, here's the thing about that, um, I can't open the door any further right now, so go down to your apartment and when you hear a gentle knock in a minute, well, open your door and the cold bottle of milk will be right there at your door step, but don't open your door too quickly when you hear my gentle knock, OK, Ron? And stop trying to peek through my door right now."

"And I thought I was weird, Bobby."

"Oh, I'm weird alright and I have no problem admitting that, Ron, but I'm under dressed right now, so."

"So, does under dressed mean wearing some funny fishnet gloves then, Bobby? And does weird mean that you're going to scurry down the hallway in two minutes under dressed and with a bottle of milk in your hands?"

Shoot, I forgot about the sleeve gloves and hell yeah, I was going to scurry down the hallway dressed in only fishnet pantyhose! I mean, I don't get out much as Bobbie, so.

"Fine Ron, I have a few secrets and I might be Bobbi from time to time, but do you want the free bottle of milk or not?"

Well, for being such a skinny and scrawny 30 something (???) guy, he gently pushed my apartment door open easily enough. I mean, I didn't put up much resistance and all.

"Is this how you dress around your apartment, Bobby? In just fishnets, panties and a little shirt?"

"Well, I put a lot of effort into my hair and makeup too, but if that's not what you notice, well, whatever, Ron."

Well, I guess skinny and scrawny or not, he closed my apartment door behind easily enough.

"Do you have a name, Bobby?"

"OMG, of course I have a name and the clues are that I'm Bobby most of the time and I'm never going to be Butch, so????"

"Smartass, so, Bobbi, then?"

"Ding, ding, ding. Your milk, Ron."

I mean, it was a full bottle of milk and I had been holding it for almost 12 minutes and all, so. Also, he stayed inside of my apartment after he caught me under dressed and he didn't run the hallway to his apartment, so that's a point in my favor as a casual CD, right?

"Bobbi, I'm at a great loss for words and emotions right now, so."

Well, that's because all of his energy was being transferred to his eyes and all, so.

"We should even up the score, Ron. You found out my secret, so?????"

"Um, um, ooh, secrets, um, wow, um, I'm not much of a lady's man and I'm probably not considered much of a catch, so, um, wow, that's probably not much of a secret, is it Bobbi?"

(Ah, NO) Well Ron, that doesn't exactly make things a tie, so what else do you have to share with me? Like, um, what kind of porn do you like? Do you wear anything special behind your closed apartment door? I mean, do you want to drop to your knees right now and chew on my fishnets or do you want to day dream about some random delivery guy bringing you a package and the all of a sudden, LOL, you have his package in your mouth?"

"Damn, do I mumble as I walk down the hallway? I mean, what?"

"I mean, are you interested in bending me over my couch right now and making out with my ass cheeks through my fishnets and undies, Ron?"

"Wow, is that a thing? I mean, what?"

"You know, do you watch movies in something that looks like a jock strap, Ron?"

"Oh, is that a thing too? I mean, what?"

"Well, it's not my fault that I'm not built like a Butch up front, Ron."

"But with an ass that is made for making out with and all, I mean, I should go before the milk warms and all, Bobbi."

"Well, I suppose so, Ron, but here, take this other little gift I bought for you."

"What the hell?"

"Standard issue jock strap, Ron. It should fit given the limited choices of sizes at the sporting goods store and all, so. Butch would like you in it."

"Um, somehow things no longer feel like a tie, Bobbi."

"It's a tie, Ron, it's a tie. So???"

"Um, anything else feels like a tie breaker that would only lead to leveling up the score again and before you know, I'm admitting stuff that I shouldn't admit and I should go, Bobbi."

"Well, now that I said it, I want someone to make out with my booty, so? I mean, I work hard at keeping its shape and all, so???"

Huh, right? For one, I couldn't believe that I actually said that and for two, huh, that SOB chewed the hell out of my fishnets as I bent over the couch for him. I mean, huh, right? Some things are a thing, I guess.

"Oh, we're tied again, Ron, unless we're using the straight up faggot scale, then you have the lead."

"Hmmm, you calling me out, Bobbi?"

Oh, that was a sure sign that said it was time to good, right?

"We're leaving the score as a tie and never playing the game again, Ron, so have fun and whatever you do, push the jock strap down just before. The lesser the mess, the easier it will be to clean, so."

Luckily, Ron just left without a bunch of back and forth about any future tie breakers and I searched around for a "do over" pill because I was positive that my stupid "out me" plan would come back to slap me in the face over and over and over again.

But even luckier, the next few weeks went by without any crazy or awkward moments.

"Hey, Ron, watering the flowers today?"

"Hey, Bobbi, oops, Bobby, all I know is to water the flowers and I know nothing else."

"No one can hear us out here at the rear of the building flowers, Ron."

"OMG, I want to get on my hands and knees while wearing my jock strap and let Mr. Fat Cock ruin my mouth while you run around my apartment extremely under dressed and capturing it all on video!"

"Wow, let's hope no one can hear us then. Um, wow, um, SOB, listen Ron, I would be uncomfortable being in your apartment while Mr. Fat Cock wrecked your mouth and all, um, wow, but I might be willing to help you set up your phone or your hand-held video recorder to capture all that, um, but seriously, you don't really know a Mr. Fat Cock anyways, right Ron?"

"Hah, I logged onto Chang and there are thousands of Mr. Fat Cocks, I mean, there's always someone, right Bobbi? I mean, you'd be way under dressed as you showed me where to set up a video recorder, right Bobbi?"

"Now Ron, I like wearing the clothes and the makeup and I even liked it when my neighbor made out with my booty through my fishnets and over my undies, but that's just about the extent of my sexual experience, so."

"Well, you seem to know everyone's walk as they creak along the floor and all, so how about a little surprise opening of your apartment door at just the right moment then?"

"Ugh, that still drags into your affairs and I swear Ron, that's not where my attitude is, but thanks for thinking of me, so here, I figured you trashed the jock strap that I told you not to trash, so I picked up another for you, so."

"Well, the first time I laid a huge wet spot right in the middle of it and all, I mean."

"Hush Ron and go (ewe) make arrangements with Mr. Fat Cock, just be careful. I mean, you may not be able to get rid of Mr. Fat Cock after he sees you drooling and swallowing and all, so."

I mean, I did the right thing about putting the warnings out there for him to consider and all, so. But I did like the "open the door at just the moment" thing, but nope, not me. I mean, how would that work anyways? Just open the door, pose for a shocked moment and then retreat back inside? I mean, yeah that's how it would work, but nope, not me.

Luckily for me, Ron did knock on my door for any follow questions or answers about if I was going to listen for unfamiliar footsteps in hallway later that night.

"Knock, knock, knock."

"Oh, Miss Missy, what a pleasant surprise, um, do you need to borrow a cup of sugar or something?"

"Hello Bobby or should I say Bobbi and what I need is to tell you that when the freaky guy waters the flowers in the rear of the building, well, my bedroom window is right there and all, so."

"Oh, so you want me to borrow your gun so I can get out of this then?"

"Oh no, you're not taking the easy way out, but what I do want to know is if you can dress and look like me, Bobbi?"

"Um, I'm really going to need that gun that's strapped to your ankle, Miss Missy."

"And I'm really going to need you to be dressed and gently knocking on my apartment door tonight at 7pm sharp, Bobbi!"

"But Miss Missy, I can only do you in capri jeans and a logo t-shirt and all, so?"

"Excuse me, sissy?"

"Ugh."

"The shortest Denim skirt that you have and the garter straps on your stockings had better be visible! But I'm not a monster and I know that you probably struggle with your hair, so I'll take a split ponytail, but as soon as you knock on my, you just stand there until I open the door, got it fem boy?"

Well, I didn't think the conversation was over, but apparently, it was, not that there anything wrong with watching Miss Missy storm walk down the hallway towards her apartment. And what do you know, right? I had just enough time to shower, shave and dig out Miss Missy outfit number three, I guess. I also had just enough time to take an "obey" pill too.

And I obeyed my part.

Knock, knock, knock.

And then I heard the unfamiliar footsteps making their way up the steps at my end of the hallway as I leaned against the window on Miss Missy's end of the hallway, shyly looking around.

Huff, puff, creak, creak, huff, puff.

"Stupid fucking second floor apartments! Whoa, whoa, but I must have the right place! Are you the welcoming committee, sweetie?"

"Sorry, but I am not your welcoming committee. I mean, if you're Mr. Fat Cock, then you want the apartment just to your back, Mr. Shaw."

"Well, I'm Mr. Huge Cock, but how do you know my real name, sweetie? And when did we fuck?"

"Sorry, Mr. Shaw, but we never fucked, but I suspect that you whacked off a few times when I would blow your tree leaves off of your front lawn with your leaf blower, Mr. Shaw."

"Bobby? Bobby with the girl's ass and legs? Bobby the pussy boy?"

"It's Bobbi and I'll have you know that I put in the work to have this ass, but still, your faggot sex in a jock strap is just on the other side of the door just to your back and all, so."

"Oh, that faggot will wait for me, so just why are you standing in the hallway dressed like this then, Bobbi?"

"I'm waiting to serve my neighbor and her boyfriend a bottle of wine and then I'm free to go home."

"Hah, nothing is free, Bobbi, but which apartment is yours then?"

"Oh, I live in another building, Mr. Shaw. Knock on Ron's door and we'll all go on our way, right?"

"Well, I would like to have my way with you alright, but I guess I have a fag date and all, so."

LOL, and I thought it only happens in the movies that someone quickly opens the door behind you and horse collars you into the room and then slams the door shut and poof, just like that, you're no longer standing in the hallway.

"Hmmm, I picked a bad day to not have a dick, Bobbi. And don't worry babe, this won't go any further than you getting his motor started. He likes your type and I have an open mind and all, so. His name is Marty."

"Um, um."

"Speak, Bobbi."

"Um, I don't need the garter snaps snapped to keep my nylon stockings up and all."

"Tongue me bitch, dangle your garter straps and put a little premium in my Marty's tank."

Well, it's just that no matter how slender my legs are, they are still a little thicker than a girl's leg of my size and all, so.

Oh, one bottle of wine service my ass, right? It was more like one pour and one handful of my ass by Mr. Marty and a few of them were the hard way (wow, way up under my Denim skirt), but the evening seemed somewhat controlled and it never crossed my mind that I would lose any virginities at or after Miss Missy's dinner date, so. I mean, people have been grabbing my ass for like ever, so that wasn't all that new.

"Mr. Marty, I believe your dinner is about to start soon and Miss Missy wanted me to let you know that my time is about up and I wanted to say that this wasn't the worse thing to happen to me and if I may ask, were my services acceptable?"

"Oh, well, Bobbi, I thought my answer that I'm pushing up in between your buns as you sit on my lap and ask me that would answer that question and all, so?"

"Well, my experiences as Bobbi are very limited, Mr. Marty, but I like the sound of your voice and I suppose I should thank you or maybe Miss Missy, for having me drop my Denim skirt after the first bottle of wine or it's thickness may not have allowed me to feel what I have been so afraid of over the years."

"Ah, Missy?"

"Sorry babe, Bobbi will remain as he is for tonight. Dinners on its way, Marty. Say something nice about Bobbi's split pigtails as he pulls his mini back up and get ready to dig in."

"Hmmm, I could pull on those pigtails some night, but Missy is the boss, Bobbi, so, I mean, whoa, whoa, don't be so quick about pulling that skirt on, Bobbi."

"Well, Denim skirts just slip up and zip up, so they're kind of quick no matter what. Um, Mr. Marty, are you going to fuck Miss Missy hard tonight?"

"Well, you just rest assured that I'll give it my best shot, Bobbi."