Cleaning Up is a Drag

What is it with me and drag?

I can remember being a little kid (8 or 9 years old?) and running around the front yard in a wet t-shirt with water balloons tucked underneath for boobs, loving how they bounced around like the real thing!
Then I remember my dad telling me to stop.
I also remember crouching down and often wrapping my t-shirt over my knees so it looked like I had big breasts. Did other kids do this?
Or maybe it was every Halloween when my procrastination led me to the last-minute-necessity of wearing my mom's clothes (and modest heels!) out for the night. I mean, it was Halloween, right? I was allowed!

But I never dressed up like that because I felt like a woman inside, I just liked pretending I was a girl. And really, isn't there something inherently sexy about girls? Something sexy about stereotypical femininity and softness? (Not that all girls are feminine by any means!)
Maybe for most gay guys it's not a sexual thing, but for bisexuals, trannie chasers and straight men, there's certainly an allure!
And truth be told, as written about in previous posts, the men that one can attract by dressing this way can be outstanding. And for whatever oddball reason, the more I dress like this, the more I become attracted to the same: femininity in others. Be it in a biological woman or a drag queen.
I've seen/heard of it happening to other trannies: they were gay men who transitioned into women and became lesbians! Fascinating.
So my situation is certainly not unique.

With all that in mind (and perhaps the part that is unique) was when the young-guy piss party was coming to a close and everyone was tired and not looking forward to the thorough cleanup that was about to unfold. Myself included.
So to mix things up and create some fun, I ran upstairs to my private chambers and changed into drag to clean up the mess!

The first outfit was a leopard print nightgown with slits up the front of both legs -- all the way to the navel; incredibly revealing, especially without underwear! I also wore the giant dark brown/magenta five-wig combo (worn by the Israeli Giraffe) and had scandals on for practical purposes -- with the hosing down of the entire space my feet were sure to get wet.
But alas as I bent over to pick up trash and empty out beverage bottles for recycling, my negligee kept falling onto the wet floor; I can only hope it was the wet area already hosed down. After getting wet, the garment would stick to my body. Cold and wet = really unpleasant. And who knows what that wetness really was! A change was called for.

I went back upstairs and put on something more practical: my high-heeled black patent leather platform boots, a short hot pink dress with black trim, matching hot pink full length gloves, my white flip wig and makeup (black lips and mascara).
The other cleanup boys approved -- and it only took me five minutes to transform so it's not like I was trying to get out of work!

So there I was, kneeling down in my high-heeled platform boots, picking up the sometimes-slightly-browned condoms that were stuck to the floor. Only this time, I had put latex gloves over the full length opera gloves, so as not to get cum, lube, piss, shit stains or stank on my gloriously textiled fingers...
Because I'm a girl with class!

To continue in that classy tradition on that sunny Sunday morning at 5:30am, I was out on the streets of Brooklyn, sticking out that hot pink opera gloved thumb as if hitchhiking for a ride to nowhere. There were no takers. And as the cleanup crew drove away in the promoter's SUV, I started bending over to show them my ass and lifting up the dress to show anyone looking that underneath the elaborate facade, I wasn't really a girl.

As if there was any doubt.