Frank was job hunting.

He was a freelance web design and marketing consultant, and he was ‘cold emailing’ a company list that he had bought online.

Mostly, he heard nothing; Spam filters either blocked his emails, or the people just deleted them, not bothering to reply.

He’d sent out almost a thousand emails that week, and only got four replies, all of them saying ‘No Thanks’.

Suddenly he got a weird reply from one of the firms;

Your proposal is of interest.

However, we have a strict 'in person' policy when discussing contracts, as well as a strict dress policy at our offices.

Please forward your dress size, as well as confirming whether you have any allergies to exotic fabrics or problems with tight spaces, and we will organise your interview.

Regards,

Admin.

What the hell…?

Intrigued, Frank tried to find out more about the firm that had replied. Problem was, the more he read, the less he found out. It was like the firm was going out of its way to obscure what it actually did.

However, things were starting to get desperate. The bills were mounting up, and his jobseekers allowance only covered half of them each month.

Before he knew it, he had applied…

The email came back later that afternoon.

Many thanks for your confirmation, however we are unable to proceed without your dress size. We have attached a size chart for your reference.

Weird. They call it dress size, but the chart says ‘Unisex styling’…? Oh well…

Frank quickly measured himself in the appropriate places, using the guide on the size chart, then replied to the email with the size number.

He received an acknowledgement back, confirming his interview for the following Monday afternoon.

Now feeling a bit more buoyant, he got on with his life…

On Monday morning, a parcel arrived for him.

He undid it, then gasped in shock…

A full-length PVC dress was enclosed, with silver buttons down the front. The dress had built in hood, gloves and boots. If he was a woman, he might have found it quite attractive, but no way was he putting it on! Then he saw a note in the parcel…

Please note; this dress must be returned to the company. If you do not intend to attend the interview, it must be returned before your interview time. If not, you will be charged for it, at a cost of £250.00 (it is designer, after all).

Penny, our fitter, will be along to help you dress. Just tell her that you are not willing to go, and she can return it for you at a cost of £50.

Otherwise, just wait for Penny.

Regards.

As he put the note down, there was a knock at the door…

The diminutive blonde giggled as she walked in.

“Hi! I’m Penny, your personal assistant. I come with the job, by the way.”

“But… It’s a dress…!”, Frank said, weakly.

“Yes, I know”, said Penny. We’re an all-female firm, well, almost; some of our best employees are shemales, and they are held in very high regard.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ve been willing to make the extra effort to work with us”, Penny said. “After all, not everyone is willing to go through a sex change to get a job, it requires real dedication.”

Frank was gobsmacked. Men actually were willing to wear dresses to work at this firm?

“Come on, love, let’s get you ready”, said Penny.

Frank hesitated. Then he felt Penny’s lips on his cheek…

“I don’t care what sex you are”, she said. “I fancy you.”

Under Penny’s expert ministrations, Frank gave in. Soon, He was fully dressed in the suit dress. Penny had pressed on a tiny fitting as she was dressing him, and the breasts had inflated to a ‘C’ cup.

“Don’t want to be too over the top, do we?”, she giggled. “Come and have a look at yourself.”

Penny showed Frank the results in the bathroom mirror. He looked amazing! The heels had lifted him just enough, as well as tilted his hips and chest just right. The breasts were exactly right, just as Penny had predicted.

Penny then pulled him down and kissed him.

“You’ll do”, she said.

Penny and Frank then left the flat…

A few weeks later, Francine returned to the flat. She was already a shemale; her breasts were real ‘D’ cup ones now. She still kept her male parts down below, tucked away properly in her special knickers. She only kept them because they were treated like a badge of honour at the firm, giving her quite a few ‘extras’. Her wife, Penny, was waiting outside in the car.

Francine put a few small things into a bag, then left, locking the door.

She never returned…