The next day you get out of bed with a resolve to revisit the strange puddles, thankful that your roommate has gone to visit his parents for a week, you laugh remembering complaining that you should be with friends over the winter brake. With that said you go to the bathroom, not wanting to go into the shower with the current condition your lower half is in, you settle for washing your upper body at the sink. Looking over at the toilet you realize that somehow you have no need to go, you look down in dismay while you dry yourself of as the water just rolls of the black latex skirt.
While sitting at the couch eating your cereal and watching an early morning christmas special (odd since boxing day was last week), your huge platform boots propped up on the table, you begin to smell something. It's a faint flowery smell, leaning down you sniff your armpits and find out it's you!. You're giving of a distinct perfumey scent, and as you sit there the smell gets stronger, soon the air is thick with a feminine sickly sweet smell of flowers. It was going to be a long day.
It had been impossible to concentrate on anything that day, you were constantly reminded of your problem no matter what you were doing. Whenever you walked around your latex legging would rub together, sending shivers of pleasure through your body, the petticoats held your skirt up so much so that you constantly felt like there was a giant, silky smooth latex cloud around your waist; And those wretched boots! They were so tall and uncomfortable, forced to walk nearly on your tip toes you found that the only way you could walk without eliciting some form of discomfort was to place one foot in front of the other like you were on a tightrope, causing your hips to sway back and forth in an incredibly girlish manner. The horrible perfume didn't ever go away either, you're positive now that the smell is actually coming from you, that you're sweating out that putrid, feminine scent.
But now you stare out at the darkening sky and smile, now that it's dark you can go out without being recognized or caught as some little girly boy. You fiddle with the piece of paper in your hand, the address of where the puddles were.