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Tick-Tock — Description
Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock.

Come on you shits, won't one of you give me a lift? I have to get to the Eiffel Tower, it's a matter of extreme urgency! I admit no super villain is about to steal the monument and I don't have to stop a criminal mastermind from trading decrypted files of undercover agents, no it's much worse than that.

If I don't get to the top of the tower in the next ten minutes he's going to press 'send' on those photos and I'll be all over social media in my femme state! The very day I arrived in Paris, while I was out sampling some wine at a local bar, my laptop was stolen from my hotel room along with all my secret flashdrives, but strangely not my phone or any of my luggage. When I got back, before I could even complain to the manager or contact the police I received a phone call from the bastard thief.

Before I could chew him out he mocked me for my easily cracked password and had seen all the files on my flashdrives..... all of them. With me dressed as my alter ego of Samantha in various outfits, I was in shock as he asked me which ones I had brought with me and as I spluttered out some meek answers he said I was to meet him wearing this particular outfit at Notre Dame. There he would return my laptop and all my files.

What could I do? I begged, I pleaded with this thieving, blackmailing shit but he wasn't listening to any cash offers I threw his way and hung up. What choice did I have but to unzip my luggage and find my feminine clothes I was going to use for an evenings secret dressing in my room, I won't bore you with the details of tucking, squeaking and glossing but with a pounding heart and wobbling heel I walked out the hotel getting many smirks and whistles as I went.

I got to Notre Dame and felt hundreds of eyes scanning my rear in this tight rubber skirt and the fake breasts swelling under this glossy latex top, I felt so humiliated being stared at like a piece of meat. But after an hour of walking around dressed like this I got a text and this guy had decided to change the meet to the Arc De Triomphe. As I squeaked across the city, my feet aching in these heels, my face burning with shame, my man parts crying out to be released from these ultra tight matching rubber panties but I finally got there.

With my hair slicked back and this long ponytail wig somehow still stuck in place I wobbled down the street, the winks and whistles didn't help as these heels really exaggerated my wiggle in the squeaking, creaking latex outfit.

It was another hour of people staring at me in my shiny rubber outfit before I got another text telling me I had to meet him in five minutes at the top of the Eiffel Tower. I don't know why he kept changing the meeting point but I knew I could never walk there in that little time.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. In four minutes I would either be exposed all over the internet as a latex loving, crossdressing sissy slut or I would meet this man and.....who knows what he would want to me to do dressed like this.

So I got desperate and stepped out in the middle of the street with my thumb out. Oh come on, one of you pull over!

Les bastards!