As you probably know in my work as a busy crossdressing advertising account executive I lead a busy life. In the company I work for there I several boards and committees, with a lot of new faces recently. And I have to say I have been asked to sit on many of them. I like to avoid any of the contentious ones of course. This week however I did chair a couple of meetings to decide who we would award company scholarships to. The committee met at my house and we went over the details of the candidates.
I must say, I am probably not making myself popular but I tend to favor the under-achievers. I am a firm believer that the way schools measure performance is meaningless. Besides, over achievers always make it. It’s those of us that don’t come first in the class that need the help, don’t you think? Rewarding excellence is alright, as far as it goes, but it’s not a bad idea to celebrate those of us who didn’t come home to a wall full of trophies, too.
After the meeting and my guests left I decided to cycle over to Sylvester’s place, where I found him in his garage pulling out bits of old equipment. He has all sorts of things in there. Old parts of motorcycles, a theodolite (whatever that is), and other items picked up in estate sales and auctions. He seems to gather these things in the hopes that one day they will once more be useful. Quite what anyone would do with four Eight Track cassettes of Captain and Tennille I really don’t know. All the same, he always seems happy out here rummaging about in the junk.
“Isn’t this beautiful,” said Sylvester, a piece of electrical equipment in his hand. “It’s a brass light switch. It just needs a good polish.”
As Sylvester put some brass polish on a cloth and started polishing his nob I cast my eyes over the piles of assorted junk in the garage. I supposed it brought Sylvester some joy, and as one who does like to invent things from time to time I supposed there was some practical purpose to it all. He seemed quite content playing with his equipment. A very male trait, I supposed.
I poked about in a couple of the boxes, eventually finding a lovely old motorcycle headlamp, wires sprouting from it like colorful vines looking for something to creep up, a little like some of the junior execs at the advertising agency. I idly decided to polish the metal surround of the lamp, as Sylvester retreated into the house to make us both a coffee.
As I polished the metal, and I know this seems surprising but then such things happen to me all the time, a strange pink mist seemed to form before me. At first I thought I’d open the garage door to let the mist dissipate, clearly an environmental hazard. As I rose to my feet to open the door a form appeared and emerged from the clouds of pink mist, a beautiful woman wearing a sparkling dress and carrying a rainbow colored wand.
“Can I help you?” I asked, taking in the long dress and tiara worn by the beautiful figure before me.
“No, Fiona. I’m here to help you,” replied the beautiful woman before me. “I am the Lady of The Lamp – your fairy god milf, and I am here to grant you three wishes.”
“Well, that seems a little random,” I replied, surprised at her appearance in Sylvester’s garage. I mean, you sort of expect these things to happen in sacred places, not in a hoarder’s garage.
“You summoned me,” came the reply as she waved her hand in front of her face and gave a little cough. “Sorry about the mist. It’s always like this. Ozone. Something like that.”
“Well, it’s a good job I found you. Poor old Sylvester is out here polishing his knob and things all the time, and he’s never said he found a Lady Of The Lamp,” I replied.
The lady looked a little embarrassed and said, “You should tell him to take it easy on that. He could go blind.”
“That’s exactly what I told him, but what can you do,” I replied. “Boys will be boys. So what are you doing hanging out in an old motorcycle lamp?”
“What sort of question’s that? Old oil lamps, that’s what everyone seems to expect but we haven’t been doing that in years. I’ve got a sister who’s just moved into a Tesla’s LED system. I’ve been stuck in this thing for the last eighty years, but here I am. So, three wishes. Let’s do it so I can be free once more.”
“Well, I suppose I should go with ‘world peace, personal health and wealth.’” I replied.
“Oh, come on, Fiona. You know that’s like the ‘lunch box A’ of wish making. You can do better than that,” she responded.
“Well, it would be nice if Rainbow wasn’t so lonely up there in the light house. Something to make her life better might be nice,” I said.
The lady closed her eyes and snapped her fingers.
“Oh, and someone stole my boobs last fall. They took a bag from my car and it had a pair of 44 DD’s in it. I’d like those back,” I said and a moment later I felt my sweater tighten and a wonderful pair of breasts emerged.
“There you are,” said the lady of the lamp. “Fresh from Glamour Boutique – https://www.glamourboutique.com/buy/breast-forms/affordable-crossdresser-breast-plate – you can’t go wrong. Now, what’s your final wish?”
I’m not going to share that with you, I’m afraid. It’s a little personal. With that the lady gave me a final smile and vanished to roam free.
By the time Sylvester returned with the coffees I did find that I was feeling much more at peace with the world. And so to the moral of the story… These are not easy times, but with a little creativity we can find ways to move forward with a smile, great make up and a pair of 44 DD’s on our chest.
Have a lovely week.
Fiona
Should have gone for an eight track player and make Sylvester’s day