My afternoon is all spent in a salon, an hour driving away, that handles all new personnel for my new employer “Up”, as they're called. My wig is replaced by hair extensions and makeup is applied that will last for three months. Part of the uniform, they say. My waist is considered too excessive, and a rubbery corset is wrapped around it, with no option to be removed or loosened, as it can only be tightened more, until I have reached the ideal waist-hip ratio.
It takes them about three minutes to remove my cock cage, without damaging it. Then they freeze my manhood to its smallest proportion as they pull it between my legs, stretching it thin and gluing it to my own skin. Then, a piece of artificial skin gets glued over it, covering my scrotum as well, and all I'm left with is a pee hole pretty much where you'd expect it on a woman, and a pussy shape in the right spot. As long as nobody tries to penetrate it you can't tell it's not real.
With a few more “strips” they give my buttocks a bit more volume. Until I grow my own, they say.
Then seven different dresses are fitted on me, all in some stretchy material that follows my new curves, and will keep doing so, even as my waist will get narrower over time. I have to say that I look very professional in these “uniforms”. My new shoes match with all of them, so I can indeed keep wearing them.
As I drive home I wonder what Grace will say. I've texted her a few updates, about finding a job, and being in a salon. But I will have some explaining to do about all these other things in my contract. As I still have an hour and change I go to the court to start the procedure of legally changing my name and gender. I will have to gather some documents and pay a fee, and they warn me the whole process can take a few months, if not more.
By the time I get home, what a lovely thing to say that, Grace is working on dinner already, and she's shocked indeed about my new looks. But I see a desire in her eyes for the new me, so I think I'm good on that part. I show her the contract and tell her everything that happened, and she nods and she understands. When I tell her about Ms Vanderbilt and that we're invited to a party she wonders if this could be the same person as Veronica Vanderbilt, an eccentric woman with a net worth of at least three hundred million. I guess we'll find out soon.
Sex is even better, now that there is no longer a cage dangling between my legs, and Grace suggests I see the doctor that had guided her into womanhood. Hormones and surgery are my future and I look forward to it. In the morning I take my fill as I wake up Grace, and I realize my sex life is perfect.
I have almost forgotten about my shoes that now simply seem a part of me, but the first time in the shower it does feel a bit awkward. But I can tell that no water is seeping through and by the time I get out the shoes look completely dry.
I put on my Tuesday dress after I manage one “click” tighter on my corset. Grace is in awe of the material and she asks if I can buy one for her. I promise I see what I can do, as her hands are all over me, and I have to pull away or I'm going to be late on my first day on the job.
In the shop I now realize the power of the uniform as Linda looks magnificent and so does a coworker named Zara. They both compliment me on my own looks as my training starts. With clothes not having any tags or identification it all comes down to the computer that has pictures of all the stock and in what section each piece is. I gasp as I see the prices now, and I realize there is millions worth of stock here. I have to be able to identify every piece on the floor in the next few weeks, it's like studying plants in school, but now with dresses and suits.
My first client is a young girl, not older than twenty perhaps, and I have a feeling she won't be able to pay for the cheapest item in the shop. But, business rule number one states that every person who enters the shop gets treated the same with perfect professionalism. That's why Linda took me seriously when I entered for the first time as a man.
I explain to the girl that I'm new here, still learning where everything is, and if she's okay with exploring together. We have a fun hour together, during which I learn just as much as she, and in the end she leaves wearing the perfect summer dress, her old clothes in a shopping bag that seems like it costs fifty dollars by itself. She had paid with a card that had a man's name on it while saying that she didn't want to know the price, but her dad was good for it. I'm happy with my first “official” sale, worth fifteen hundred, but more importantly, the girl had said she would be back, but only if I were there to help her.
Somewhere around lunch time an old lady enters the shop. At least I think she's old the way she moves slowly around, pushing around a supermarket cart that is loaded with plastic bags, with who knows what in it. I realize she must be homeless, and her face and clothes are rather dirty.
Before I can tell her that this shop is not for her, Linda comes to her and welcomes her into our shop. The woman asks if she can use our washroom, and Linda says “Of course”. Our washroom is in the back, and the lady parks her cart in such a way that she can still see it through a crack in the door, making sure I guess that we don't steal it.
As I look at Linda I see her working with the snacks and sandwiches we offer our guests, and she's wrapping some of it and loading it in one of our bags, together with a bottle of smartwater. As she sees me looking she says, “Remember. We treat every client, every guest, with dignity and respect. No matter if they buy anything or not.”
And when the lady comes from the washroom, her face clean now, which makes her look probably twenty years younger, Linda offers her a chair and hands her the bag with food, which is put in the cart. That's when Linda gets the makeup bag we can use on customers, and starts working on the lady's face, taking another ten years off her age.
Not much later the lady gets up, thanks Linda and pushes her cart to the exit, nodding at me. Seeing her close up now, I estimate her in her thirties. As I wish her a good afternoon, I go to the washroom, as one of my tasks is to clean it after each use. Linda showed me earlier today where the cleaning supplies are, and more or less what to do, which is not that easy in the tight dress I'm wearing.
Both the toilet and the sink show clearly signs of being used by someone with dirty hands and face. As does the floor, as she apparently patted her clothes down, to clear the dirt. I sigh, but then I think about what Linda said a few minutes ago, and I put all my effort in to make everything shine again. That's when I see the money.
Two bills, each one hundred dollars, are stuck under the box with tissues, and I know for a fact they were not there before. When the room is back to normal I put the cleaning supplies away and find Linda, showing her the money. She nods, saying “Yes. She comes here once a week during lunch time and we give her lunch and snacks and a chance to clean herself up. Sometimes I do her makeup, sometimes I give her some clothes, in the winter I may give her a sweater or a coat. She always leaves some money, which we put in a special fund to help others like her.”
Later I help Zara, by taking the two whining children from her client, and keeping them busy in a little corner we have for kids to draw or play some games. Jack and Janet are around six or seven, and they're happy to get some playtime after being dragged shop to shop by their mom. Drawing works for about five minutes, but then I see Jack stare at my shoes. Eventually he dares to ask the question, “How can you walk in those?” And he laughs at my answer, “Just like you, by putting one foot in front of the other and keep on going.”
I guess the shyness is over now, and Janet tells me she loves my dress and how the material is so smooth, as she brushes her hand over it. It's a nice compliment, as I fully agree, and I suggest that maybe she can convince her mom to buy a similar one for her. Jack however wants to know what my shoes are made of, and when I say snakeskin, his eyes open wide. “Is it still alive?”, he asks, “it looks like it's your own skin.” But as he softly touches it he says, “This can't be snakeskin because snakes are cold-blooded and this feels warm.”
I'm impressed by his smarts at this age, as I have wondered myself why my shoes feel warm on the outside, indeed like my own skin would. Then I remember something, and I say, “Let's find out!” Next to the register I had seen thin leather hair ties, which could well be snakeskin leather, so supple they are. I grab two, twenty-five dollars each, and give one to each child. Janet ties up her hair in a ponytail right away, but I tell Jack to put it around his wrist. It's a perfect bracelet for him and he stares at it in wonder. After two minutes or so he touches it with his other hand and it feels warm, he says. Together we hypothesize that once snakeskin is “dead” it takes on the heat from the person wearing it.
I guess the kids are too quiet, as their mom comes by to check on them. And right away both start telling what they just learned, and if they can keep the ties. And oh, if mom can buy a dress like Ms Uniqua, and snakeskin shoes. I just laugh, holding up my hands. But later I find out that she did exactly that, and Zara will share half of her commission with me. Both kids hug me goodbye, Jack still wearing the bracelet. “We'll come back soon”, he says. And his mom looks now in wonder at me.
At the end of the day I find out about the unwritten rule that any commission over a thousand dollars goes for a part in the same special fund for needy customers, and the rest goes into stocks in the company, assigned to my name. I won't get my paycheck until the last day of my week, as I work only five out of seven days, and that includes the one day I'm at Ms Vanderbilt. So, if I make a thousand every day, assuming I sell more than ten thousand per day, like I easily did today, I will make six thousand per week before taxes thanks to the extra money from Ms Vanderbilt, roughly three hundred thousand per year. And that doesn't include any dividend I receive from the stocks I'm building up in the company. I never thought I could make that much in my life!
After closing Linda takes me aside, and she wants me to fit a dress for dinner the next day, as Ms Vanderbilt had requested. I thought it would be a short cocktail dress, but this one is sleek black and full length. As she helps me to put it on she pulls my corset two clicks tighter, and although I have trouble breathing I slid right into the dress. She zips up the back and now I stare in wonder at myself. It's impossible that someone who was still a man less than a week ago can look so sexy as a woman now, but I'm the living proof.
Linda says, “When I saw this dress in the new stock today I knew right away it was for you. Isn't it funny how quickly your female persona took over your life? Already I don't see the little things anymore that gave you away yesterday. Enjoy this dress honey, it's yours.”
“But I'm not sure I can afford this”, I worry. “This feels like it comes from the ten-thousand rack. Shouldn't I start with something simpler?”
Linda laughs. “Just see it as an investment in the future. Just like your seven work-dresses, or your shoes. It will pay back over time, and we have plenty of time. Think about the hair ties you gave away today. No one paid for them. But that woman will come back, her kids probably demanding she does. Five years from now the boy will still wear that bracelet. He will make his future wife shops here. I think you have that instinct, you just have to apply it to yourself.”
“I was inspired by you”, I say humbly, “the way you treated that homeless woman.”
“That's nice of you to say. But next week you will be at headquarters for a week, and all this stuff will be discussed. We're a high end clothing shop, and we have to build long-term relationships in order to survive. Why else do you think our minimum contract term is a year? Seeing the same sales people build trust. That young lady this morning will come back to you. Those two kids will want to see you again. Their mom will want to see them in your care, while she shops here.”
The way Linda explains it makes so much sense. So I'm not going to worry about this dress. I will wow Grace and tomorrow Ms Vanderbilt and anyone seeing me there. And on Saturday both Grace and I will find the perfect dress for the party. Paid from my first paycheck.
I thank Linda for her help, and a wonderful first day, as she gives me the last details on my day with Ms Vanderbilt. I won't see Linda until Friday as she is off on Thursday. But she gives me her cell number telling me to call or text her any time when needed.
Grace is once again wowed by my elaborate new style, which translates into great sex. She can't believe the amount of money I can make, but she's cautious. She probably won't believe it until she sees my first paycheck. She's not thrilled to hear that I'll be gone all of next week, but she's happy I get the right training.
On Wednesday I'm on time at the Vanderbilt residence and I'm not sure if the word mansion is fitting for the castle-like structure that has at least a hundred bedrooms. This could have been a hotel if it wasn't for the fact that not one room is the same. Art and extravagance is probably the best way to describe it, or maybe just money?
Having said that, Ms Vanderbilt is indeed Ms Veronica Vanderbilt. Her wealth is old money triplicated by her business sense. She asks me to call her Miss Vee. I meet her spouse, or maybe it is her current girlfriend, but the love is clearly visible. Penelope Whitewater, or Penny as she wants to be called, is a woman by her own means, with a dressing style that makes my mouth water. A gorgeous leather dress that drapes down like water would probably have been on our 20K rack, if we had one. Yet she compliments me on my shoes.
Over coffee and tea Miss Vee asks how my first day was, and after I tell animatedly about my experiences, she asks if I'm glad I chose to become a woman. I don't know what to say, how does she even know? She explains that my boldness with the yellow jacket was part of it, but the way I helped her put it on had given it away. A woman would have done it differently, and that's how she started paying attention to my mannerisms.
She doesn't want me to worry, already she can tell how much I embrace being a woman, and in her mind that is how the whole world should be. She is interested in Grace as well, and how she deals with her boyfriend turning into a woman, and in her way to get the truth out I have soon explained my relationship. Both women can't wait to meet Grace.
It takes only five minutes more before she finds out I have filed papers at the court for my name and gender change, and how it can take months, if not longer to be approved. That's when Miss Vee makes one phone call and she tells the person on the other side, a judge apparently, to speed up the process. Apparently she will come with me this afternoon at three to pick up my new paperwork, and she'll help me process my driver's license and bank accounts before five. I am stunned, not believing it, until she says that having money, lots of it, opens all doors.
When they show me their wardrobe, I'm shocked. At least five complete rooms, all connected, with racks like our shop, but probably twice as much space. The rooms sort of separate the evening gowns from the business suits and nightwear and summer dresses. A smaller room only has shoes. And I can't believe the lingerie section.
There's one room away from the rest and that is Penny's section. I take a deep breath as I take in the leather smell, and a smile appears on my face. Only Penny is with me now and she sees my reaction. “If you want to try something out, be my guest.” It's not a question but more of a dare, and I look around, wondering how any of this will feel.
I skip the section with pants and browse through a series of dresses. Just touching the leather gives me shivers. I particularly like one dress that seems like it will wrap around your body, with no zipper or even a button. Just a strap to tie around the waist. “Good choice”, Penny says.
As I carefully take it off the rack I see in the corner of my eye a rack against the wall, much higher than the rest, with full length dresses on it. And one dress particularly calls my name. I hang the wrap dress back and touch the new dress. As I thought, it is snakeskin leather, black like my shoes.
“Interesting”, says Penny, "I wore that dress once and it never worked for me.” I know however, without a doubt, that this dress will work for me. Right in front of Penny I take my dress off. She looks with approval at my one-way corset, and pulls it one click tighter. Then she feels the breast in my bra and she shakes her head. “That will need some fixing.”
I'm pulling the new dress down over my head already. It has no zipper or buttons either, but it simply slides down my curves. It is sleeveless and soon my arms are through the holes, the smooth leather over my shoulders, all the way down to my feet. A smooth fit I think, until I see myself in the mirror. It is a perfect fit, like a second skin, a snakeskin.
Penny's mouth is hanging open, stunned, I guess it never fitted like this on her. Already I can feel the dress mold against my body, like it knows it has found a new home. As I twirl slowly around I see the material moving like in slow-motion. The long skirt is a narrow tube without any slits, but I find I can move easily in it, like it stretches where and when I need it.
“I always wished for a daughter like you”, Penny whispers, “someone who shares my desires, my fetishes. This dress was never for me, it has always been waiting patiently for you. It's yours my love.”
Emotion suddenly hits me. My mother died last year from cancer, my father soon after from grief. It was one of the reasons I had to leave my home, and start something new. I just didn't know that the new me also had a new gender. As tears start pouring from my eyes, Penny wraps her arms around me, and between my sobs I try to explain why. She hushes me, saying some sweet words like a mother would, and then she says, “Let me be your mother darling. I think I need to be one just as much as you need to have one.”
Through my tears it's like I see my old mother, smiling at me, and she nods her approval. Then, as I wipe my tears, I see Penny, and she nods as well. “Let me be your daughter”, I whisper.
So, after weeks of hopeless job hunting, making no new friends, and almost hating this new city, in just one week I found the perfect girlfriend, the perfect job, the perfect gender, and now the perfect mother. Is there a catch? Or should I simply accept this twist of fate, after it handed me such a bad deal, less than a year ago?
Now, with Penny as my new mother, official or not, I also get Miss Vee, her spouse, also as my mother? I suddenly see her, standing in the door opening, watching us still hugging, her eyes trying to grasp what she sees. Then she says, “Penny darling, did your wish finally come true?” Penny just nods, extending one arm to her, and suddenly the three of us are hugging. I feel love and wonder, but most of all an incredible relief.
Later, over something stronger than tea or coffee, we sit together, and Miss Vee is back in her business mode. She wants to know if the mother/daughter thing is an official decision, or a mental desire. I say that it doesn't matter to me, I am perfectly happy if this is just a thing between Penny, Miss Vee and me, I don't want to infringe on their relationship. But Penny shakes her head. “I want this to be official, Vee. I want the whole world to know.”
Miss Vee nods. “I agree. I know how much this means to you, and therefore it means all to me. She will be my daughter as well. There's an important matter though that we need to resolve. Right now!” And she looks at me. “Dear Uniqua. As we speak, your birth certificate is being updated with your new name and new gender. And I don't want you to lose any memory of your real mother, who you clearly loved very much. But, with her no longer alive, how do you think she would react if her name was not listed on your birth certificate, but Penny was instead? Your dad, who gave you his last name would still be there, but it would make some future decisions much simpler. If you don't want it, then that is fine, the outcome will still be the same in the future. So, what do you say?”
It's an easy decision, my real mom already gave her approval, so I'm honoring her decision. I simply nod. “I would love that, and my birth mother agrees”, and I tap my hand over my heart. And Ms Vee makes another call, which will change my life forever.
Penny, no, Mom makes a call as well. We're seeing doctor Ferguson before we see the judge, she announces, because “Uniqua needs her own breasts”.
So, with a very busy afternoon coming up, it's time I start doing what I'm really here for. My task is both simple and very hard. Miss Vee has four business days plus the weekend coming up before next Wednesday, which is her day off. For multiple meetings, some business, some charity and some personal, she will need a recommendation on what to wear. I am to put her outfits together for every day, every meeting, hang them in order, so she can quickly change between meetings.
I'm overwhelmed, as I see a dozen meetings on her schedule, and I have no clue how to start. But both women grab my hands, pull me to the wardrobe rooms, and start helping me to put it together. There's a lot of dressing, undressing, trying and laughing going on, and before I know it, it is time for us to leave. I change back to my regular dress, although it is much harder to take my leather off than it was to put it on. Penny suggests I save the dress for the party on Saturday, but she makes me promise that I put it on Friday after work and keep it on through Monday, so it can finish the molding process around my curves.
I finally make my own call to Grace, asking if she can be at the dinner tonight for a major announcement.
I'm worried about the doctor's appointment, but there's no need. Oh yes, she removes my falsies, and then with what they call non-invasive she injects a fluid under my nipples that solidifies the moment it warms up under my skin. The swelling stretches my skin but it feels like I have indeed very small breasts. It will take at least three more sessions, one a week, to grow and stretch more. Until then I have to use some padding in my bra, so my dresses keep fitting. Funny thing is, both my new moms have done the procedure as well, when their breasts started sagging a bit.
It is more tight than painful, and in less than an hour we're on the road again to see the judge. He's waiting for us with a stack of papers that we have to sign, but I see my new birth certificate that ends the life of Chester but gives life to Uniqua, daughter of Penelope Whitewater. It is unreal and I'm not even sure if it is legal to rush this through, but I'm grateful and proud.
Afterwards I'm getting a picture taken for my new driver's license and one for my passport application. We visit the bank to change the name on my bank account. Plus we get a new social security card with my old number but my new name. We make it back home just in time for dinner.