Wednesday evening there was a pounding on my door.  When I went to answer it, Janis was there, a small black box in her hand.  It had a light on the tip and it was pointing past me at the larger black box sitting on the living room table, where I’d set it after changing myself for the evening.  “Found you!” she cried.

“I’m impressed, you said it would take two weeks, and here you are three days later.  Bra time?”

Janis pulled a rolling suitcase into my apartment, and the door fell closed behind her.  “Right now, please.  For at least a week.”

“As my pretty new bra wishes.”

I scooped up the box from the living room table, then glanced from it to the box in Janis’ hand.  The design looked similar, both had a light-tipped antenna but hers only had one button, under a protective cover.  “Is that the retrieval box?”

Janis nodded and thrust it into my hands.  “Don’t use it, please.  Not unless it’s really important.”

I studied her curiously, noting how she was wringing her hands together.  I set it on the table and she relaxed.  “Of course not.  Now...”  I turned the bigger box toward her and locked it in.  “I believe it was bra 3, yes?”

Her earlier nervousness was replaced by an even more frantic eagerness.  “Oh please...”

Her expression as she crumpled into fabric melted my heart.  “At least a week,” I promised.  “Starting now.”

I wriggled out of my cozy nightgown and into my favourite red bra.  Then I turned the box on my nightgown and soon it was wiggling into a familiar female shape.  “Hey, Katya.  Your sweetie is home.”

Katya’s pout at being restored turned into a lovely grin.  “And you’re already wearing her!”

“She was very insistent.”

Katya’s grin grew wider.  “So why am I human instead of being worn over her?”

“So I can do this,” I said, before pulling her into a breathlessly tight hug.  I made sure to wriggle my breasts against hers to give my bra a good time too.

Katya pulled me toward the couch.  “Want to give your bra her... I mean its favourite fantasy?”

“Which would be?” I asked, fairly sure of the answer.

“Being worn while its owner makes love.”

I leaned in for a kiss, then whispered to Katya, “and is it what you want, too?”

Katya bit her lip and then nodded.  “As long as I get the other side too.  The past few days with you, being your clothes all the time?  I’ve had such a lovely time.  You’re the best Owner a dress shirt and nightie could ask for.”

I pulled her toward the bedroom instead of the couch.  “Then let’s do this right.”

*** *** ***

I woke in the morning with Katya still snuggled against me.  She made a soft mewling noise when I slipped out of the bed, then sighed.  “Do you have to go?”

“Work starts soon.  It’s only a block away, but I still need to shower, change back to male, turn you into a shirt, and otherwise get ready to go.  Do you still want to be a shirt, or would you rather be my tie?”

“We haven’t scanned one of your ties.  Shirt, please.”

“I could fix that.  Imagine being snuggled around my neck...”  I mimed tying a tie, ending on my usual flourish of pretending it’s a hangman’s noose.

Katya giggled.  “You hate wearing ties.  I don’t want to be something you hate.”

“Underwear?”

“I’ve seen your underwear.  If you get something sexy, maybe.  But that stuff?  No.  Why are you taking so long at this?”

“Because you’re damned sexy like this and I’m stalling.”

Katya tried to pout, but her grin won.  “You think I’m sexy?”

“Hell yes.  Though in my heart of hearts, I’ll admit that some of that is because you like me turning you into clothes.  That’s the cherry on top.”

Katya grinned at me slyly.  “And not because I might be persuaded to wear you from time to time?”

“That too,” I admitted with a matching grin.  “So... shirt?”

“Breakfast first.  I haven’t eaten in days.”

I blinked.  “Now you’re stalling?”

“I like being told I’m sexy.  I should scan an apron so I can wear you while I’m making breakfast for you.”

I gnawed on my lip for a moment, then adjusted the dials on the box and locked it on myself.  The world shimmied away from me for a moment, and then I felt myself settling delicately to the bed.  Katya squealed and slipped on the pair of panties I’d become.  “This works too.”

I let my sense of self slide away into existence as a bit of satin clinging to shapely hips, and was content.

When the world reformed around me, there was a naked woman sitting at the kitchen table, with breakfast for two laid out.  “Lovely,” I purred.

Katya grinned and thanked me before digging in.  She took her first few bites in a rush, then slowed down.  After I had finished, she was still picking at it.  “Not as hungry as you thought?”

“Not for food.  Do you have to rush off?”

“Pretty soon.”  I glanced at the clock.  “Longer if I jog.  It’s not far to work.”

She grinned and dragged me off to bed.  I laughed all the way.

I did have to rush once we were done.  As I was jogging to work I realized I’d left Katya human.  I hoped she wouldn’t mind too much.

I texted her an apology once I was at my desk.  She replied a few hours later saying not to worry, and asking if I’d promised my special bra a week as that specific bra or would a different one be okay?  I figured it would be happier being worn, especially by her, and texted as much.

When I got home, Katya met me wearing only a bra.  There were no transformations that night, despite much playful talk of it.

In the morning, Katya made breakfast for one, and set the box beside my plate.  “Shirt time please.”

“May I change you back when I get home?  Or would you prefer straight to the dress and out dancing?”

“Oooh, the dress and dancing one, pretty please.”

I picked up the box, noting that it was already set to turn Katya into a shirt.  “As my pretty dress wishes.”

Katya squealed happily as her body melted away into fabric.

*** *** ***

I was almost ready to go out dancing.  I’d turned the bra Katya had been wearing into my favourite red bra, and was wearing both it and my favorite red dress.  Looking at myself in the mirror I realized I’d missed something crucial.  Makeup.

I wondered idly if I would find another Martina if I went to a bar looking suitably hopeless.  Then I realized the person who I most wanted to do that for me was right there.  I shimmied out of my dress and restored Katya.  “Sorry, I know you are looking forward to dress and dancing time.  That’s still the plan... but I desperately need help with my makeup, first.”

Katya nodded and set to work. Without saying a word she transformed me from an ugly duckling to a beauty.  When she was done I tried to thank her but she put a finger to my lips and pointed at the box.  In moments, I was wearing my dress again.  As I walked to the nearest club I kept replaying the happy sigh it had made as it changed.  I knew by that sound I was doing the right thing.

An hour later I was far less sure of myself.  Getting crudely hit on by an endless stream of guys was wearing on me.  The bartender sympathized as I moped at the bar.  I asked if there were any places where I'd get less of that.  I took a taxi to his first suggestion and discovered a club that was more lively and more brightly lit.  I realized after a moment that many of the couples on the dance floor were the same gender.  I chuckled to myself and approached the bar.  When a woman sidled up to me at the bar and asked to dance, I agreed.

We danced for a half dozen songs, then she led me to one of the cozy little booths away from the worst of the noise.  She ordered drinks for both of us, and put a hand on mine to stop me when I tried to pay.  I admitted I was a little out of my depth and asked what the usual etiquette was.

She shrugged and said there wasn’t anything formal.  Ask nicely, accept any answer.  Buying a drink wasn’t a commitment, but it was an offer of sorts.  Not a proposition, as such.  More of an expression of interest.  She said I was fun to dance with.

I asked her name and she shook her head.  That, I was told, was a breach of etiquette.  No names in the club.  Everyone is who they wish to be.  I thought that sounded lovely.

We danced more.  I bought the next round of drinks and we found another booth to “negotiate” in.  This involved little talking but quite a few cuddles and kisses.

She offered to leave the club with me, and the way she put it made the offer sound significant.  I accepted, heedless of whatever new etiquette I was running into.  At the door she took off the cameo necklace she’d been wearing, exchanging it for a coat.  As it left her fingers, her hair abruptly went from blonde to brunette.  When she turned shyly to look at me I saw her blue eyes had become dark as the night sky, and both her features and complexion had shifted more subtly.  If I hadn’t seen it happen, I would have assumed she was a completely different woman.

“Hi.  This is me.”

I handed over a coat check chit and her eyes went wide.  “You’re not wearing a greater glamer?”

I shrugged into the coat I’d purchased earlier in the week.  “What does that do?”

As we walked away from the club she explained that the greater glamers could completely change one’s appearance, and seemed real to the touch.

I chuckled.  “Masked balls must be wild!”

“Oh yeah.  I just... I could have sworn you were a guy under all that.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.  “How did you know?”

She grinned victoriously.  “I spend a lot of time at Apparitions.  You get used to it.  But if you weren’t using a glamer...”

“I have another way,” I admitted.  “I found someone with a box that can change people.  Full disclosure, I’m currently wearing her as my dress.”

“Oooh.  Making love to two transformed women at once?  That would be so cool.”

I laughed.  “It is.  They love it.  And it would be two transformed women and one transformed guy.  My bra is my dress’ friend.”

“Even better.”

To retain our tattered anonymity, we rented a hotel room nearby in the sort of place that takes cash and doesn’t ask questions.  After frenzied lovemaking with clothes on then off, she sighed and started getting dressed.

“Will I see you again?  Finding you at that club will be a challenge.”

“Show up like that on a Friday night and I’ll find you.”

After she left I took a taxi home.  I considered restoring Katya, but I really didn’t feel like explaining myself.  She wanted dress time, but wearing her again that weekend would require explaining the stains.  I wondered if there was a dry cleaner nearby I could trust with her.  A bit of online searching left me determined to clean her myself.  I figured if I messed up the hand-washing too badly, the box could restore her.

So I hand-washed my pretty dress following the best advice I could find, then laid it on a towel to dry.  I contemplated the state of my closet while it was doing so.  I needed more clothes for this version of me.  To do a good job I needed help... but my nearest sources of help were determined to spend time in my closet, rather than helping me add to it.  I suspected they’d even see my goal as against their interests...

I tried putting on some of my male clothes, but knew immediately that it was a hopeless effort.  The original version of the slinky red dress was still tucked away behind my suit, but I wanted to keep that version nice... and it seemed a bit too over the top to go shopping in, to boot.

It occurred to me that the original dress I’d “found” when this adventure started had fit passably well.  I used the box to turn one of my old shirts into “dress 7”, and decided it would do for now.

I had spent enough time female over the past week that I didn’t feel too self-conscious going outside as one.  A pleasant stroll through the pedestrian-only parts of town only reinforced my confidence – nobody seemed to take much notice of me.  I got a few smiles and the occasional appreciative look, but none of the aggressive harassment that had bothered me in the bar the night before.

Stepping into a women’s clothing store without Katya at my side tested my nerves briefly, then one of the clerks smiled at me and asked what I was looking for.  I told her I’d recently changed “situations” and only had a few bits of clothing that suited me.  She clucked sympathetically, didn’t pry, and helped guide me around the store.  I fell into the routine naturally, and eventually had what she declared to be a solid foundation to build a proper wardrobe from.

Paying for the lot was another matter.  I’d withdrawn some cash so I wouldn’t have to explain the name on my credit card, but it wasn’t nearly enough.  The clerk was understanding about it, held my purchases aside, and gave me directions to the nearest banking machine.  I felt flustered for asking, but she handled it so smoothly I could feel the blush fade before I’d even left the shop.

Soon enough I was back and had my purchases in hand.  I thanked her profusely.  She smiled and replied, “The commission on those sales were well worth the effort, my dear.  And it is good to see a pretty young thing like you making the effort to dress well.  Good luck with your new job.”

I smiled and headed out of the store.  I hadn’t exactly said my new situation was moving for a job, but I’d sort of gone along with it when she’d made that assumption.  It was true enough, I supposed.  If I did want to stay like this, I’d need to explain...  My mind lurched at the thought.  I glanced down at the bags in my hand.  A perfect starter wardrobe for a woman working in an office.  I just couldn’t see how I could just walk up to the door on Monday and say, “Hello it’s still me, I’m just a woman now.”  Could I?

I looked around at the people strolling by, busy about their days.  Nobody seemed to be noticing me except for the fact I was sort of blocking their way as I stood there.  I started walking, flowing with the crowd, letting my body go on autopilot while I wondered about it.  As a man, I was above average in height, and my female body wasn’t short by any means... but I found I could not see over the crowd as I was used to.  Flowing along with it I reflected on that, and how I seemed to fit in a little better.

And yet... the idea of going to work like this remained daunting.  The questions I’d have to answer, especially regarding a piece of technology so far beyond anything I’d ever heard of.  Better to stay anonymous, I figured.

I continued around, did my usual shopping at the farmer’s market, and carried on back to my apartment.  I saw the box lying where I’d left it, and shook my head.  The apartments were owned by the same holding company that owned the business I was working for.  Many of the foreigners working there made use of them for the first year, until they had settled in and could find apartments of their own.  The cleaning service came by every Monday and did a basic once around, refreshing the linens and such.  I resolved to keep the box locked up when I wasn’t using it.

I had carried it to the bedroom safe and locked it away before it occurred to me that I was still female.  I shrugged, decided to leave well enough alone, and figured I’d stay as I was until I needed to change back.

I slept very soundly that night.  Perhaps it was giving up on wearing a nightie every night.  Perhaps I’d just gotten used to finding comfortable positions for my boobs.  Whatever the cause, I awoke the next morning feeling chipper and well rested, and wanted to share my energy... so I put on my special bra and dress, and danced around the apartment for an hour.

As I contemplated breakfast, I took my dress off.  I didn’t want to get it dirty again so soon, and the box was safely locked away... so a dress it stayed as I ate my breakfast alone.  I did try talking to it, but the lack of response soon led the conversation to lapse.

I tried on some of my new clothes, asking my dress what it thought of each one.  I settled on the second blouse and some nice navy slacks, and headed out to find a more practical pair of shoes for daily wear.  Another clerk was very kind about finding just the right match, and the new shoes were far more comfortable, so I spent a good bit of the afternoon breaking them in while exploring the nearby castle.

When I returned home, my dress was still waiting for me.  I had a long, soapy shower, waited ages for my hair to dry, then put it on for another hour of dancing, then set it aside and went to bed.