It wasn’t the worst blind date I had ever been on, but it was definitely in the running for the second worst.  I’d gotten turned around trying to find the meeting spot, and ended up following texted directions from my date to walk to the right place.  The bit where we had to walk through an old bazaar-like mall to find the restaurant itself was fun.

The restaurant itself was beautifully rustic.  It also appeared to be the favourite restaurant of the local populace, and I looked very much the outsider.  Everyone turned to look at us when we entered, and all conversation stopped for a moment, then resumed even more loudly.

The staff were superficially polite.  The smiles they offered when apologizing for ‘losing’ my date’s reservation appeared quite sincere.  A brief argument in German followed, after which we were seated promptly with a much less sincere smile.

“Sorry about that.  I wasn’t expecting you to look so... American.”

I winced.  “I get that a lot.  You’d think I’d be used to it by now.  Worse, I’m not even American.  Canadian born and bred.”

“Oh!  I’ll... see what I can do to soothe them.”

Before she could catch the waiter’s eye, a couple of the locals crowded up to our table, and said in thickly accented English that we were in their spot.  My date spoke in placating tones, but the argument grew heated.  Before it turned into a brawl I stood up and stepped away from the table.  “This isn’t worth it.  We can go somewhere else.”

That won me no friends, of course.  They seemed to have suddenly become offended that their place was not good enough for me, and to prevent mayhem the two of us ran for it.  It was only once we were outside that I realized we must have used a different exit.  I didn’t recognize this part of town at all.  “Crap.  I have no idea where my car is from here.”

“Follow me,” laughed my date, and she darted back into the restaurant.

I did the best I could.  There were a few yells, but mostly just looks of disapproval from the clientele, and the staff stayed out of our way.  Once we were back in the bazaar, I soon lost sight of my swift-footed quarry.  I burst out into the evening air in a more familiar cobblestoned street, and looked both ways.  No sign of her.  I sighed and shook my head.  At least it wasn’t an expensive night.

As I strolled back to my car, I passed through a tunnel where some of the local buildings had been built over the street.  Just as I emerged into the light a couple of objects on the ground caught my eye.  There was an odd-looking black box, and about a foot in front of it a small pile of colourful fabric.  I picked up the box to examine it first.  It was blocky, about the size of a thick paperback book.  It had an antenna centered on the short end, with a glowing green light on the tip.  There were two buttons and a very cramped two-stage dial on the surface.  The dial seemed like an odd design choice, as there was more than enough real estate for two or more separate ones.

While I was examining the device, a flicker of light from the tip caught my eye.  After a bit of waving about, it seemed the brightness correlated to the orientation of the box - it was brightest when pointing forward.  A burgeoning sense of curiosity had me sidestep and the glowing tip continued to point to the bundle of fabric.

I frowned down at the dial.  The inner ring was currently set to “dress 7”, and the outer to “all”.  At least, I think that was what it said, the dials were hand-lettered and a little tricky to read.  I wasn’t quite sure what to do next, so I turned the box over in my hand to see if there was any writing on it to explain how to use it.

I found another button on the back, under a clear protective cover.  This one had “restore” clearly printed on it in several languages.  I carefully pointed the device at the bundle of fabric, and hit the button.  The box hummed and vibrated in my hands, and the dress did likewise, vibrating and shifting until there was a woman in its place, slowly sitting up.

“Hey.  Are you okay?”  I asked.

The woman glanced down at herself.  “Looks like it.”  She stood up and gave me a hug.  “Thanks for rescuing me.”

I sighed happily into the hug.  My night was looking distinctly better, if much weirder than I’d had any reason to hope for.

Once she released me from the hug, she kept hold of my hand and tugged me into walking beside her.  We chatted about inconsequential things as I tried to process what had just happened.  A dress had become this delightful woman beside me, and the box in my other hand seemed to be the reason.

She caught me stealing glances at the box instead of her, but other than a mysterious smile made no comment about it.  When we paused at a little park she turned her attention to her purse, claiming she had a bag of birdseed she wanted to use.  While she was preoccupied, I fiddled with the dial on the device, then pressed the red button.

Her arms melted away into fabric sleeves, causing the bag of birdseed to fall to the ground and spill.  While the sparrows bravely hopped closer, she giggled.  “Quite the disarming fellow, you are.”

I blinked at her in confusion.  “It really works?”

She favoured me with that mysterious smile again, then moved to a nearby bench and sat down.  I sat beside her, though my attention was more on the box than on her.  Another dial twist, another press... and where her legs had been dangling a moment before was the skirt of a familiar floral dress.  I brushed a hand over the fabric, and she cooed.

“You weren’t accidentally turned into a dress, were you?” I asked, mildly, watching her expression to see her reaction.

She smiled broadly this time.  “Clever, too.”

“So what am I supposed to do with you?  It’s not like I could wear you out dancing.  You wouldn’t fit.”

She bobbed her head toward the box, so I looked at it in more detail.  Two of the entries were the symbols for male and female, respectively.  “Ah.  But it’s locked on you.”

“That’s what the blue button is for.  Point it at the target you want to change and hold it down until the antenna blinks.”

I pointed the box at myself, thought the better of it after a moment, then pointed it back at her.  I set the dials up as she’d suggested, and pressed the button.  Her arms and legs reappeared.

“Aww, why’d you have to go and do that?” she asked, with a grin that belied her disappointed tone.

“Because these dials are fiddly and hard to read.  If I got it wrong, I’d prefer that at least one of us still has hands to put things right.”

She giggled at that.  “Oh, if I had hands and you did not, putting things right would not be the plan.”

I aimed the box at myself and held the blue button down.  Sure enough, after a couple seconds the antenna light blinked three times.  Moving it about, it did indeed appear to be locked on to me.  I studied the dials, debating...  “What would you do if you were the one with the hands?”

“Oooh, I’d definitely wear you dancing at Club Phoenix.”

I glanced around, and saw the club in question across the street.  “What about afterward?”

She shrugged.  “Snuggle up in bed still wearing you.  Maybe with company but... more likely not.”

“Huh.”  I pressed the button.  Everything went wibbly for a time, and when the world made sense again I could feel that my body wasn’t quite the same shape as before.  “Testing...”  My voice was distinctly higher than before.

She giggled brightly. “Testing?  Really?”

“I have a new voice,” I replied, testing it out further.  “I had to start somewhere.  I sound pretty.  Do I look pretty?”

“Not in those clothes.  They don’t fit very well on a girl.”

I pointed the box at her.  “I guess I need a dress, then.”  I turned the dial to ‘dress 7’ again, and was about to press the button when I noticed her huge grin.  “Oops.  This is still locked on to me, isn’t it?”

She giggled and nodded.  Soon it was locked on to her, and moments later she was nothing but a dress.  Oddly, while my clothes had not changed with me, hers had.  I made a mental note to ask about that later.  For now, there was dancing to be done...

I inquired at the club entrance about a private place to change into “more appropriate” clothing.  The bouncer eyed the dress, then grunted and pointed toward the washrooms.  There were a few women already in there, who eyed me curiously in my obviously masculine clothing.  I held up the dress and they smiled knowingly, as if in on some secret.

When I emerged from the cubicle, one of the women was still waiting for me.  “You need makeup,” she said peremptorily.  “Close your eyes.”

I did so, turning this way and that as she requested, trying not to flinch at the feel of brushing against cheeks, eyelids, lips...  When I was allowed to look once more, I gasped.  The woman in the mirror was remarkably pretty.  “Oh wow.  Thank you.”

She winked at me.  “Come dance.”

I learned many new things that night.  Dancing as a girl is so very different from dancing as a guy.  I learned Martina’s name, and forgot the names of her friends.  She didn’t ask mine, as I found I did not mind being called her “lost puppy” and being treated as such.

We danced much, indulged in numerous sweet and watered-down drinks (her suggestion), and ended up in a private booth talking about very little and kissing quite a lot.

That was fun, too.

Martina made it clear she was willing to take her “lost puppy” home with her.  Or anywhere.  I was sober enough to argue for my hotel room instead, though I left my car behind and we took a cab instead.

*** *** ***

I woke the next day with far less of a hangover than I usually had after a night out drinking.  I sat up in bed and noticed several things in short succession.  I wasn’t wearing the dress from last night.  I wasn’t female.  For that matter, I distinctly recalled crashing onto the bed rather than into it – someone had pulled the covers over me.

As I got up and contemplated breakfast, I wondered if I had dreamed the whole scenario last night.  The box, the girl-dress...  I looked around for the box.  I thought I’d set it on the side table after Martina left, but it wasn’t there.

The dream theory was looking more and more likely until I headed into the bathroom.  There on the mirror was a lipstick kiss, a phone number, and “Call me – Martina”.  So if Martina was real, then the memories of things I’d done with her as a girl were real...  Where was the dress?

I showered very quickly, toweled off and dressed in similar haste.  I had the hotel room for another day, so I did not need to worry about checking out.  Instead I headed out into the day in hopes of learning... I knew not what.  By the time I reached the hotel lobby, I realized that I had no plan, no way to contact anyone... except Martina.  But the person I really wanted to know about was the dress.

With that thought in my mind I strode into the day.  The notion of looking for a nice local bakery to get something to eat was quickly dismissed when I spotted a familiar looking dress across the street.  The woman wearing it caught my glance, waved, then darted up the road.

I jogged after her, not wanting to look too much like I was actually chasing her.  Two turns later we were alone in a dead end alley and she was pointing a familiar looking box at me.  By the way the tip glowed, I knew she’d already targeted me.

“Hey.  Is...”  I hesitated.  Had the dress ever given me her name?  Thinking back, she seemed to have deliberately avoided doing so.  “Is the dress okay?”

“Oh, now you’re worried about her?  After planning to leave her as a dress?”

I shook my head indignantly.  “That wasn’t the plan at all!  I’d hoped to have breakfast with her.  She put the idea of sleeping in the dress into my head in the first place.”

“For your crimes against my favourite dress, you are doomed to revisit your own actions from the other side.”

“What crimes?  Also... how is that a threat?  Being worn out dancing sounds fun.  I tried to take good care of her.”

“Taking a stranger to your hotel room was your way of taking care of her?”

I blushed.  “That... may have gotten a little out of hand.  Being a girl is intoxicating.  She said... that she might do the same if our positions were reversed.  I’d not complain.”

“Damn the luck,” she growled, glaring down at her dress.  “I can’t believe I lost that bet.”

“Bet?” I asked, confused at her change in tone.

“That this whole insane gamble was in any way a good idea.  Leaving her in the road for you to find...  I swore it would end in tears, but she was determined.  When I heard you were Canadian, I started to wonder...”

I finally tore my gaze from the dress and looked at her face.  “Oh!  You were my blind date last night.  This was all a setup?”

She cackled madly.  “You didn’t even realize?  Mein Gott, you do have it bad for her.  C’mon, let’s go somewhere warmer so I can pay my debt.”

“I have a hotel room nearby...”

That earned me a narrow-eyed appraising look.  “Normally I would not do this... but given the terms, why not.”

As we headed back to my hotel, I mulled two questions, and asked the less obvious one.  “How did you get into the room, anyway?”

“Retrieval unit.  It locates the box and has an ‘undo all’ button.  K... I mean your dress opened the door from the inside, and left with me.  Then told me a bright-eyed story I did not believe.  Until I saw how you keep staring at her, not me.”

I tore my gaze from the dress to look at her instead.  “Sorry.  It’s just the idea that that’s a person... and that she’s having fun.  She is having fun, right?  She seemed really keen on it.”

The woman chuckled warmly, and stroked a hand down her side.  “Oh yeah.  She tries to get me to wear her all the time.”

“Why do I hear wistfulness in your voice?  Do you let her wear you sometimes, too?”

“Let her?  Hah!  I wish she would, but she’s just so...  Well, you saw, last night.”

“She’s pretty persuasive. But she said she’d wear me if I accidentally turned myself into a dress.”

The woman stopped walking and turned to stare at me.  “Seriously?  She’d just met you.  She hasn’t worn me in weeks.  Lucky...”  She grumbled in that vein until I opened the door to my room and gestured for her to go ahead.

I closed the door behind us and latched it, then turned to see the woman was no longer wearing the dress.  She was still wearing a sports bra and shorts that exposed a lot of skin and a simple stainless steel navel piercing, but left her decent enough to go outside.

After boggling for a moment, I found my wits.  “You came prepared.”

“If I’d won, I was going to wear you out dancing with her as a woman for once.”

“And now that you’ve lost?”

She pointed the box at the dress, and it vibrated its way back into a familiar looking woman.  “Awww, you turned me back.”

“You get to do what you want with the box, K...”

“Sssh, no names,” the ex-dress interjected.  “Objects don’t get names.”

“Of course they do,” I protested.  “I name my cars, and I bet you’ve named a few favourite things...”

“Miss Violet was my teddy,” said the ex-dress with a giggle.

“Naming plushies is normal...” I said, then noticed the pinkened cheeks on my blind date.

“Not that kind of teddy.”  She handed over the box.  “I wouldn’t mind being that again...”

K – or whatever her name was – studied the box for a moment, then handed it to me with a big grin.  “What I want to do with the box is let him use it as he sees fit.”

“Katya!” shouted the other woman.  “What are you doing?”

“Hoping we’ll both get worn.”

“But...”

“And you’ve ruined the whole nameless object thing I had going.”

“But the recall unit is back at our apartment.  If he changes both of us, who will...”

“Nobody, I hope.”

“I suppose my uncle would come looking after a week or two.”

“Stop spoiling it!”

“Panties or bra?” I asked, pointing the glowing tip of the box at the other woman.

She stared at the light, and sidestepped.  I kept the box aimed at her, and the tip’s glow was steady.  “Seriously?”

“You want to be worn.  I promise you’ll get plenty of that.”

“This is crazy.  I don’t know you.”  Concern warred with desire in her voice.  “Are you going to wear me?”

I grinned at her lazily.  “Do I look like I can wear a bra?”

“You looked like you needed one last night.  And said something about finding it intoxicating...”

“Yes.”

She smiled then, blooming suddenly.  “Do it.”

“Say please.”

Katya giggled at her friend’s expression.  “Make it pretty.”

“Pretty?  You want me to beg?”

I shook my head.  “You don’t seem the type.  Just tell me what you really want.”

She turned to Katya for a long beat, face a mask of uncertainty.  “I haven’t told you.  You always wanted to be my dress, and...”

“I wore you some...  Not as much, less after you stopped asking.  I thought you were okay with that.  You said...”

“I do like wearing you.  But I like being worn better.”

“That’ll do”, I said as I pressed the button.  My blind date shuddered and smiled at me before she crumpled to the floor as a pretty green bra.

“You did it!” Katya cheered.  “Are you going to wear us?”

“Tonight.  But right now, what I want to do is to get to know you.  So I’ll wear her, and... hm.  I’ll need something to wear over her.”

Katya wave her arms excitedly.  “Me, me, pick meeee!”

I chuckled and shook my head as I aimed the box at myself and locked the target.  “Tonight.  Not before.”

I held the box over the bed as I hit the button.  After the world steadied down I stripped off my shirt and picked up the new bra.  I held it up to my chest and laughed.  “She’s not going to fit me, is she?”

“Nope,” replied Katya with a big grin.  “That’s a copy of one of mine.  We need to buy you a pretty bra and scan it in.  I can wear it until then.”

I handed the bra over, and blushed as she pulled her top off.  She giggled at my reaction, “It’s just us girls here.  Same rules apply in the changerooms...”

“Oooh!  I’ve never looked forward to clothes shopping as much as I do right now.”

I dressed quickly in my ill-fitting shirt, and Katya more reluctantly pulled her blouse back on – it had reappeared with her.  We headed out into the day once more, with Katya squinting into the bright sunlight until her eyes adjusted.

She led the way to a series of little shops, dressing me up in a variety of quirky outfits after picking up a few pairs of basic panties. She ogled me as I changed, which made me blush.  “Do I really look that...”

“Yes!” she interrupted with a giggle, licking her lips playfully.  “I’m so looking forward to being worn tonight.  You’re sexy as hell like this.”

That, of course, made me blush even worse.

A little later we found a flowy red dress that fit me beautifully, so I bought it and wore it out of the store.  I stuffed my male clothes into a bag and determined to ignore them for the rest of the shopping.

Katya practically drooled at how the new dress swirled around my calves.  “Can we scan this one, pretty please?”

I magnanimously agreed, then asked what it entailed.  She promised to show me when we got back to the hotel.

My new legs were starting to protest all the walking, so we made one last stop to find a bra that fit under my new dress.  It took some very intrusive measuring to get started, but once that was out of the way I found the experience fun.  Katya’s very intimate assistance with putting the bras on of course was a major factor in that...

The price at the end punctured my bright mood.  The only item of clothing I owned that cost more than this slip of fabric was my good suit...  Katya saw my hesitation.  “A good bra that fits really well is worth this much, easily.”

“It’s just... will I get to wear it again?”

Katya smiled at me brightly.  “Yes.”

I paid the price, and we ducked back into the changeroom so I could put it on.  It took... rather longer than necessary, and we emerged flushed and out of breath.  The cashier just smirked at us and waved.

Back at the hotel room Katya got me to strip so she could scan the dress and bra separately.  The process seemed simple enough -- lock on to one item, ensure you have the right one, then hold both buttons down.  The hard part was due to the dial already being full of pretty clothes, some of which they didn’t own.

I asked if the box could transform things as well as people.

“Yes, but with limits.  This version can’t turn things into people unless they started out as people.  J... I mean my bra’s uncle said it’s simpler this way.  Or safer.  Though I suppose this isn’t safe at all.”

“Letting a stranger turn you into a dress...  I suppose it isn’t safe, at that.  But that was your plan, so... in it for the thrill?”

She nodded excitedly.  “So much.  We could be stuck forever.”

“Only the box can change you back?” I asked, incredulously.

“Or any of his other boxes.  This one is the Mark IV, I think he’s on number seven now.  Plus a variety of reset devices.”

“Still...  I...  Wow.  So I could just... stay like this?  It won’t run out.”

“Nope.  You are 100% woman.  Until I use this on you, anyway.”  She pointed the box at me, though the dim light on the tip showed it wasn’t locked on.

“I’m tempted to let you.  I would like to  know why you’re addicted to this.”

“Addicted?”  She looked put out by the idea.

“You’re taking big risks to chase... what, exactly?”

She shook her head.  “It’s not like that.  I just...”

“You just told me that the box makes permanent changes.  I could keep you as a dress...”

Katya’s expression was far from one of alarm.  It looked more like longing.  “Would you really?”

“Augh,” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up into the air.  “Is that really what you want?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

Katya shrugged, then flopped onto her back on the bed.  “Being human is exhausting.  Being a dress is all touch, swish, warm and... just right.  I’m happier when I’m a dress.  Is that enough?”

“Is it?” I asked, stepping closer so I could look down into her eyes.  “What about... sunsets.  Kisses.  Making love?”

“I’m inanisexual.”

My brow wrinkled in confusion.  “Is that like pansexual, but with actual pans?”

Katya giggled.  “Not quite.  More like, I’m the pan.  Or a dress.  Last night was... oh my God, so perfect.  Being worn while you were...”

“I didn’t have sex.  Not... not quite.”

“Dancing is sex, when I’m a dress.”

I blushed at that.  “So from your point of view... we made love last night.  On the dancefloor.  Holy crap.  That’s...”

“Kinky as hell?”

I grinned.  “Yeah.  A bit one-sided, though.  Wearing you felt nice, but not like that...”

“Oh.  Dear me, that does seem unfair.  How can I make it up to you?”

My eyes opened wide.  “What exactly are you offering?”

“Anything.  Object 3 is... what?”

I was shaking my head.  “Let’s go have lunch, and talk.  I want to get to know the girl behind the dress.”

“You realize actual sex was part of that anything, right?”

“Would you enjoy it if you weren’t an object?”

Katya shrugged ineloquently.  “I mean... sex is good, don’t get me wrong.  I do enjoy it.  But it’s just better the other way.”

I nodded.  “Okay.  So we need to figure out how that will work.  Wearing you on dates, and... that feels wrong.  I want to make love to you in a mutually viable way, not some random stranger while wearing you.”

“Object 3 is a sex toy...”

I chuckled.  “I see.  Have you tried it?”

“Yes.  Using it, that is.  Not...”

“Being it?  Would that be fun?”

She clicked the dial of the box.  “One way to find out.”

“Lunch first.”

She nodded.  “Okay.  But you have to wear Janis... oh dang it.  Forget I said her name, okay?”

“I doubt she’ll mind.”

Katya pouted cutely then wriggled out of her dress.  “None of this is going to plan.”

“Improvise.  I’ve been faking it ever since I met you, and I’ve had more fun than I could ever have imagined.  Being female is strange and new and weirdly liberating.  I can’t believe how little push-back I’ve been getting.  People see a woman.  Me.  So wild.”

Katya laughed.  “You sound like you want to stay like this, almost as much as I want to be a dress.”

“Not all the time, though.  I wish I could swap back and forth whenever I liked.”

Katya made an approving little hum, but wouldn’t explain it.  Instead she walked through scanning my new bra and dress into the box as “bra 3” and “dress 3” respectively.  Then a push of the button turned her bra into a copy of my new bra.

As I wriggled into my living bra, I asked if going from one object to another was a problem.  Katya jokingly claimed that “reset” would now turn her into a bra.  At my frown she corrected herself.  “Reset is ridiculously thorough.  I’ve tried to get stuck, but nope.”

I slipped into the flowing red dress to jealous looks from Katya.  I teased her about it, and hugged her tight as an attempt at an apology.  She made me promise to wear her later to make up for it.

We bought a picnic lunch from a restaurant she suggested as many of the local shops were closed on Sunday.  A lovely little park served as a spot for us to eat and talk.  We discovered we had little in common in musical tastes, or in television, but both of us liked live theatre.   I promised to wear her to a show one day.  I also mused about getting involved in local theatre again, and Katya asked eagerly if she could be my costume.  Even if I took a male part...

We went to rescue my car from where I’d left it the night before, but it was gone, towed away.  I was ready to charge out to the impound yard, but Katya reminded me that I didn’t match my paperwork.

I laughed.  “I can’t believe I actually forgot.”

“It’s easy to forget.  When I’m a dress, I soon forget I was ever human.”

“That’s a little terrifying.”

Katya shrugged.  “It makes it much easier.  Dresses don’t get bored of hanging in a closet, they kind of hibernate instead.  It’s very relaxing to just... be.”

When I locked the box on to myself, I contemplated the dial for some time.  Did I want to forget being human?  In the end, I twisted the male icon into place and stabbed the button.

I stared down at what should have been a familiar body for a long time before it started to feel like me.  “Does it always feel so alien becoming yourself again?”

“I got used to it a long time ago.  I’m sure you will, too.”

I did a few jumping jacks, and noticed that Katya was still staring at me.  “Not just girls?”

“You were closer than you knew with the pansexual bit.  Anyone that accepts me as I am... a dress that spends more time than it likes as a human.”

I pondered that then picked up the box.  “So you’d rather hang in the closet than wait around while I rescue my car?”  I aimed the box at her and locked her in as the target.

“Yes!”

The bright grin on her face never wavered until it was replaced by the red satin of my new dress.  I hung her... it up in the closet, making sure to praise it for how pretty it was.

Rescuing my car took longer than I had expected, and it was dinner time when I returned to my room.  Both red dresses were hanging in my closet.  After a brief panic I found both red bras tucked neatly into a drawer.  Housekeeping had been by, and now I had no idea which was the woman, and which the original.