A Wet Grey Suit


It had been one hell of a week. As Friday lunchtime approached Colin Grey sighed and switched off his computer. "Thank goodness that's it for the week", he thought. (Colin's firm worked on a flexitime basis and, so long as they worked a minimum number of hours, staff we pretty much free to set their own schedules and Colin had certainly well exceeded his minimum.) "What I need now is a stress-buster weekend", he mused, knowing exactly what was required.

Tidying his desk, Colin left the office, collected his car, and set off for home. 'Home' was a small cottage he rented in a village outside Bristol. He valued the contrast between the busy city and the quiet of the countryside (particularly as the latter facilitated him partaking of one of his favourite pastimes.) Colin was a 'splosher', and more than that, a 'cross-dressing' one as well. Tonight he had every intention of glamming-up and getting trashed.

Colin decided he would need a new outfit for the evening. Very few of his clothes survived more than one sploshing session. Taking a detour from his route home, Colin drove to a charity shop he had used before, where he knew there was a good chance of him finding an outfit he liked. This particular charity shop was more up-market than many, looking more like a regular retail store than the over-sized jumble sale image most presented.

Having parked, Colin walked into the shop and made directly for the racks of women's clothing. He had long ago decided there was little point in pretending he was looking at other things. After all, if he found a dress he liked the staff would know as soon as he went to pay.

Colin's eye was immediately drawn to a grey suit. It was rather old-fashioned in style, having a nipped waist and high collar. What he liked about it, however, was the slim-fitting skirt and dark colour. Slim-fitting because Colin loved having his stride restricted by a tight skirt, and the dark colour because he intended taking a walk that evening wearing it, and this shade would be less likely to show up in fading light.

Eagerly he took the suit off the rack; size 14; it would fit him! He was about to make the purchase when a second garment caught his attention. This was a pretty, long-sleeved, floral dress in a red pattern. He took it down. "It would look better if worn with a full petticoat", he thought, and there was one on the lingerie stand! His luck was in; Colin decided to buy the suit, dress and petticoat.

As one person's money is as good as the next, the sales assistant didn't bat an eyelid when Colin handed the garments over. (Maybe a slightly raised eyebrow, but nothing more!)

Colin was now in a hurry to get home and try on his new purchases. It was nearly 4:00pm when he reached his cottage, where, to his delight, he found that both outfits fitted perfectly.

Although his house was right at the edge of the village, Colin was scrupulously careful about how and when he ventured forth dressed in his feminine finery. He knew he had at least 3 hours before he dared to set forth. However, as he liked to take his time getting dressed, he knew the time would soon pass. First off he ran a foamy bath and carefully shaved his legs, armpits and chest. Then, wearing just his dressing gown, he retrieved a battered suitcase from the back of a cupboard. This contained his small but precious stash of feminine clothing and accessories.

He carefully chose what he would need and laid the things out on his bed. Picking up his makeup bag, he sat in front of a mirror and began to 'put on her face'. Although it was going to be dark and, hopefully, Colin would not be seen by anyone else, part of his routine was to transform himself into as realistic a woman as was possible. To this end he first applied foundation and power, followed by brown eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner. He also darkened his naturally fair eyebrows in a feminine arch before applying a dark red-brown lipstick. Next Colin brushed out his mid-brown wig. It was only a cheap one as wigs tended not to survive many sploshing sessions. Once in place upon his head, Colin admired his reflection. Whilst he would never pass as a woman close-up, from the neck up he now looked respectably feminine. Finally he carefully applied red varnish to his fingernails.

It was now time to dress. First he pulled on a padded panty-brief, which gave him the hips and derriere to fill out a skirt; then a black bra with inbuilt silicon padding. Once he had tugged his chest-flesh about a bit, it did look as though he had real breasts. The final foundation garment was a firm, high-waisted girdle that pulled in his tummy sufficiently to provide him with a respectable female shape. Next Colin opened a new packet of black stockings and shivered at the sensuous feel as he rolled them up his newly shaved lags and fastened them to his suspender clips. (Stockings were something Colin always kept a small supply of. They never survived a messy session, always ending up laddered and torn.)

Now fully set up in the undies department, Colin stepped into his new grey skirt and zipped it up the back (having decided to keep the floral dress and petticoat for another occasion). As he had hoped it was a snug fit, forcing him to take small, mincing steps. He slipped his arms into the suit jacket and did up the five front buttons. Admiring himself in the mirror, he liked the way the under-bust darts emphasised his bosom.

Clipping a pair of cheap costume earrings to his lobes, and strapping a ladies watch to his wrist, Colin slid his feet into a pair of low-heeled black shoes and fastened their straps around his ankles.

The shoes were quite badly scuffed as they had been worn on several previous outings. However, they were ideal for walking over rough ground in the dark in a way that prettier, more fashionable shoes would not have been. He put his phone into a waterproof pack and slipped it into his black shoulder bag. Although he had no intention of using his phone, Colin sensibly had decided long ago that, as there was always a risk of him having an accident out walking in heels on rough ground in the dark, it was best to have his phone with him as a precaution.

Colin sighed; "At last', he thought, " I'm ready to release all that built up stress." He looked out through the window. Dusk was well advanced and he deemed it safe to venture forth. The route he was planning to follow was not one people used after dark.

Quietly slipping out of the back door of his cottage, Colin closed it, having first checked that a key was still safely hidden under a stone in the garden. Crossing the lawn, Colin went through a small gate and onto the old railway track. The line having long since closed, the track-bed was now a walking and cycling path. He turned left and walked down the track, enjoying he crunching sound his heels made on the gravel. After a couple of hundred yards, the path crossed the River Avon via an old rusty bridge. On the other side of the bridge a stile gave access to a flight of steps descending the embankment. Colin went to climb over it. His tight skirt proved to be a serious impediment. Giggling, he sat on the top rail and carefully swung his legs over and climbed gingerly down. This was exactly why he loved tight skirts; they stopped him behaving like a man and forced him into feminine movements.

The wooden steps were wet and slippery from recent rain. Colin walked down them with extreme care. This was exactly the sort of situation that could give rise to an accident. Having safely negotiated the steps, Colin found himself standing in the middle of a rutted track. To his right the track passed through an arch under the railway, allowing the farmer access to his land. To the left there was a gate giving entry into a newly ploughed field. Colin took this route.

Coming down the steps and brushing through wet vegetation had soaked Colin's skirt and legs from the knee down. Now the wet muddy earth stuck to his shoes and frequent puddles ensured that his stockings and shoes were quickly bespattered with mud. Fortunately the path through the field was quite short and before long Colin arrived at his planned destination.

The area of the field he now entered was low-lying and didn't drain well. The farmer who owned the land was in the process of digging a new ditch to improve the situation. However, recent heavy rain had forced him to pause, as his digger kept getting bogged down. Colin therefore looked at a landscape comprising an area of churned up mud where the digger had been working; a bank of slimy clay taken from the new ditch; beyond which lay the ditch itself.

With a shiver of anticipation Colin took his first steps into the quagmire. He immediately sank to mid-calf and had difficulty pulling his foot free from the clinging mud. "Just as well my shoes have the ankle strap", he thought, "I'd never keep ordinary pumps on, and I don't fancy paddling through this in stocking feet especially as I don't know what might be underneath the mud. Taking small steps he plodded on, slashing mud up his skirt as he went. It wasn't long before the inevitable happened and he lost his balance. Unable to recover, Colin fell to his knees and his arms sank into the mud up to the elbow. "Urgh, that's done it", he grinned to himself. Already he was feeling more relaxed as the stresses of the week fell away into the slime.

Colin struggled to his feet and wiped his filthy hands down the front of his jacket. Whilst he couldn't see the muddy stains in the dark, he was fully aware that his beautiful new suit was rapidly become soiled. He plodded on. Finally reaching the bank he considered how best to climb it. The bank wasn't that high, maybe four feet or so, but it was slippery, slimy clay. In the end he had to crawl up it on his hands and knees getting even filthier in the process. He could see the yellow stains left by the clay on his jacket and skirt and was pleased by the way his pristine presentation was slowly being ruined.

Reaching the top of the bank he looked down into the ditch. As the drainage wasn't yet complete the water collecting in the ditch had nowhere to go and Colin could see it was full of dirty water. What he didn't know, of course, was how deep the water was. Sitting down he gently slid down towards the ditch, enjoying the sensation of damp cold seeping through the seat of his skirt and underclothes. With a splash his feet hit the water. Overcoming a momentary panic, "It can't be that deep!" he thought, he slid down the last part of the bank and found himself standing waist deep in water. The sudden chill caused Colin to catch his breath. Then a sense of euphoria overwhelmed him. "Here I am, dressed as a woman, soaking wet and covered in mud. What could be better?" "It's been far too long since I last enjoyed a session like this", he thought ruefully.

Colin started to wade up the ditch. The floor was uneven and he tripped and disappeared under the water. Managing to keep his mouth shut (he didn't want to swallow any of this water!) he pushed himself upright and back onto his feet. Water was streaming of his wig and down his face. "I must look and absolute fright", he mused happily. His bag had slipped off his shoulder during his immersion and he had to duck under again and fumble around to find it. He reflected that it was fortunate he had remembered to seal his phone in a watertight bag.

Continuing along the ditch, Colin reached the point where the farmer had ceased work. Much to his delight he faced having to climb up yet another slimy slope. By the time he reached the top, the front of his suit, shoes, stockings and hands were filthy. "Marvellous", he shivered. There was still time for one last pleasure before he returned home. Walking back into the quagmire, he threw himself forward and skidded on his tummy through the slush. He then rolled onto his back and made 'angel wings' in the mud until there wasn't a square inch of his body that wasn't soaked and thoroughly muddy.

Finally, and reluctantly, Colin got back onto his feet and waded back to the path. Taking one last look at the scene of his trashing, he turned and plodded towards home. His wet skirt flapped against his legs and his clothes weighed heavy owing to all the mud they were carrying. The squelch, squelch of his shoes gave Colin another 'high'. It had been a wonderful session.

Retracing his steps, Colin arrived back at his cottage. There was no way he could go inside being as filthy as he was, but Colin was an experienced splosher and had made arrangements accordingly. An outside shed was fitted up with a rudimentary shower. It was only cold water, but this in itself was another turn-on. Having removed most of the accessible mud, he stripped and bundled his soiled clothes into a plastic sack. There they could wait until morning and then he would discover what could be salvaged and what was irredeemably ruined. On previous occasion he had been surprised just how much could be recovered and used again.

Naked he slipped indoors and headed for his bathroom and a hot shower. It took a long time before he was sure he had dealt with all the mud and debris that seemed to find its way into the most intimate crevices!

Eventually, deeming himself clean, Colin slipped into a nightdress and panties and climbed into bed. He wanted to keep his feminine persona and feelings going for a little longer. As he drifted off to sleep, Colin felt totally relaxed and at peace with the world and himself.