Alicia Grows a Pair

Alicia giggled to herself as she left, the look on his face was priceless. Then she realised that she had just indulged him with some of her secret fantasies that had been hidden at the back of her brain. What would it be like for real? It had a certain frisson, the thought of being with another woman with lube and some ropes.

The man had told her to go and change out of her uniform before going to the next appointment; he wouldn't write down the address or give her a map, she had to memorise it. So she went back to her apartment and in her standard off-duty track-suit she made her way to what turned out to be a car dealership on an industrial estate. She was approached by a sharp-suited salesman who told her that she would look like a super-model if she bought a soft-top Mercedes with the roof down, but when she looked baffled he pointed at an unmarked door on a grey building next door and turned away. Clearly he'd come across this before.

The door had no windows but had a bell-push attached to a tiny camera. The door swung open when she peered at the lens, then once inside a security guard took her details and asked her to wait. Soon she was joined by a man who she recognised as one of those who had met her in the inspector's office and he led her up some stairs to a room with tired furniture where his friend waiting.

The first man introduced himself at last. He was a Detective Sergeant, a 'DS' called Anthony. The other was a 'DI', a Detective Inspector called Phil. They outlined the job that she was being asked to do, it was about meeting a man, getting to know him, quietly gathering information. There was no pressure; she could go back to her station if she wanted, she wouldn't hear anything more.

The job sounded interesting but she wasn't sure that she was competent or qualified. More than that, she wasn't sure if she had the character. They were certain that she was everything they were looking for and eventually she agreed to have a go. She was told that she would be issued with a car, everything was supplied and even better; all expenses. The first thing she had to do was spend a week on a training course and that would commence next week.

Anthony took her down into the basement, which turned out to be a huge underground parking garage and gave her the keys to a grey Ford with directions to the training centre. The car was almost new and a top of the range model with every toy and gadget she could think of; it was gorgeous. She carefully drove up the exit ramp and a roller door rose automatically to allow her to proceed, the route was through the dealership and she realised that it appeared to the casual observer that she was leaving the service department. It was all very James Bond.

The car looked impressive outside her apartment but she had been told not to wash it regularly. It looked average from the outside and it must be kept averagely dirty. But it had the biggest engine that she'd ever driven and it went like a rocket.

She changed into her running gear, noted the time on her wristwatch and set off. The time she set herself wasn't a challenge, but a guide. Fast enough to be tough but not so that she had to risk the traffic. A mile to the park, a fast lap of the path that followed the border and back again. Later, in private once more and breathing heavily she undressed and picked up her weights. They were improvised; a couple of heavy water bottles and a foot-stool that her feet hooked under so that she could do sit-ups. She didn't have the money to spend on expensive gear and there was nobody to witness, so there was no need to be clothed. She enjoyed the freedom of nakedness, stretching and moving unrestricted as the perspiration ran down her body.

She pulled out a drawer from the unit that the TV stood on and squatted down. Holding the drawer over her head, she stood up and felt the strain in her thighs and shoulders. There were books inside the drawer and over time she had added more and more volumes so that now it was quite heavy, but she had no idea of the actual weight. There was a mirror behind the door and she could watch her reflection, admire her triceps and biceps and they were coming along nicely. She knelt down and flexed her legs high behind her, it was a good job that nobody could see her checking her glutes and quads; the view was positively indecent.

She really needed a shave; it was a long time since she'd had a boyfriend and she'd let things slip. Tomorrow maybe, or perhaps a guy might like the 'natural' look. Or was it 'retro'? She didn't have much hair there anyway so it wasn't worth a great deal of worry. She'd never grown a full bush of pubes. The only one of the class without a thick dark mat, she eventually had wisps of blonde hair down below that didn't conceal her slit at all.

Afterwards she settled down as usual in a T shirt to watch TV. She kept those embarrassing non-tits covered but damn she had a good ass and legs. Below the waist she looked fine, even her pussy was attractive with little crinkly labia just about visible. Men could check out and compare other men's bits, didn't they? Well she was just as entitled, and whilst her chest might be below-par she regarded her clam as well above average. Quite likeable (or was it lick-able).

She sighed, there wasn't much chance of finding a boyfriend when she spent her evenings at home watching soaps.

* * *

The training course was boring. It was mostly about the legalities of surveillance, data classification and protection. Holy crap, what a waste of time worrying about the difference between 'Most Secret' and 'Top Secret'. If it was classified it had to be looked after, that's what it all boiled down to. The other candidates were serious and looked undistinguished, most seemed older than her. The females all looked drab but every single one of them had bigger chests than her. No change there then.

The guys were more interesting in their smart suits with ties and polished shoes, one or two were reasonably good looking but they weren't paying her much attention.

She decided that this was another day when she would pass on the 'great shave'.

At the end of the week there was a little party arranged at a local bar. Alicia wore well-fitting jeans which always looked good on her, and a new top which she decided was smart yet discreet enough for an office get-together. When she got there she recognised everyone except for one lady who was a mystery. She was looking spectacular, with a jacket that barely covered her bum and shoes that were merely soles with laces criss-crossing over her feet and up around her calves as far as her knees. Alicia wondered how she could sit down without flashing her panties.

Her hair was styled high and she wore sparkly make-up, and Alicia wondered who the hell she was. From the expressions on the faces around the room, most of the others had not much of an idea either.

Then she spoke and recognition flashed around the group. The woman was the frumpiest member of the course, totally transformed. She wasn't even showing off her cleavage, the jacket was buttoned up to the neck But every eye in the room was checking her out.

The question of her modesty was answered by her crossing her legs even before trying to sit, and then making sure that she was close to the table so anyone sitting opposite could see nothing. Alicia noticed that several of the men were peering across as she sat down. One of them sat quickly next to the woman, commandeering the seat.

Alicia had a familiar feeling; pure envy of anyone who had such confidence that they could go out in public looking like that without a thought and later she watched as the woman left, shortly followed by the guy who had been talking with her for most of the evening.

* * *

It was her first day in her new role and it started with Anthony giving her the grand tour of the building.

Alongside the parking garage in the basement was a small gym, which she liked the look of. It was free to use and had proper equipment. It wasn't huge but there were rowing and running machines and a set of proper weights rather than water bottles and drawers full of books. There were stairs and an elevator to the top floor where there was a cafeteria but what struck her about the whole place was that the windows were tiny and covered with a metallic reflective coating, then musty net curtains as well. It all produced a rather claustrophobic atmosphere.

The office where her desk was situated was much the same; all computers and tiny windows. Someone had taped a poster of a mountain scene onto the wall but it didn't help much. She was shown her allocated workstation and introduced to the rest of the team; she recognised one woman as the dowdy one on the course who had transformed herself at the party. She was a detective called Marie and without make-up she really was dowdy with long lank hair and ears trying to peek through. Nevertheless she seemed fun with a sense of humour. The day passed with further introductions to more specialised departments and some instruction on her daily tasks, making sure that she had access to the required proper email boxes and suchlike boring bureaucracy.

The next day Alicia arrived early, intending to try out the gym. She was the only one there, indeed at that time the whole building was empty but for the security guard on the front door. So in new gym-kit that she had purchased she tried a running machine, dumbbells, then a rowing and a cross-fit machine. For some variety she ran up all the stairs to the top floor and back down, then she did it again bounding up two steps at a time then hopping on one leg half the way down before changing to the other leg, which gave her a pleasant burn in her thighs.

When she looked in the wall mirror her quads and calves bulged, so in a moment of vanity she pulled down her shorts to check the effect. She had a good definition on her legs right up to her tight butt, they were her best feature. Her stomach was firm and flat; she was starting to get a six-pack. Only her chest let her down; what she had there was just pectorals pretending to be boobs but at least she could flex them. She spent a few minutes making her nipples jump, together and individually. With some concentration she made them dance in the mirror.

It was almost time to start work, so she stripped off and entered the shower room. The shower was typically corporate, not really up to the standard of her own but it was OK. A quick towelling and a brush through of her hair with the help of the hot air hand dryer and she was ready to go.

* * *

Marie was at her desk and Alicia sat at hers nearby.

"I have to say, your transformation for the 'do' at the end of the course was amazing," Alicia turned to her colleague "You made a big stir, you were unrecognisable."

"It was just a bit of fun really, catching people out. And then pulling a guy for some fun at the end." Marie smiled, "My word, he was a big lad. You don't get many of them to the pound." She rolled her eyes lewdly.

Alicia raised her eyebrows.

"I'm alright now, but it was difficult walking the next morning." Marie burst out laughing and Alicia joined her.

"I don't know how you have the confidence to go out dressed like that. I just couldn't."

"Why not? What's the worst thing that could happen. The sky fall in? Someone might make a catty comment?"

"I wouldn't have the nerve. Besides, I don't have the body for it."

"Rubbish. Do what I do. I just decide on the bit I want people to look at, then wear something to emphasise it. It's never failed me." Marie leaned forwards, "Look at you; tall, slim, strikingly good looking. Eyes that Bambi would be envious of, legs like a giraffe and an ass that could crush a walnut. But you were dressed to go to the shops. No offence girl, but you gotta flaunt it."

* * *

Alicia was on the first active part of her assignment, which was to attend a function at an art gallery. She had thought hard about what she should wear to show off her best assets and eventually she had gone shopping with Marie for advice and support. Together they had decided on a sleeveless top that showed off her biceps and shoulders, thickly knitted to hide her chest but contrasting with the almost sheer skin-tight pants that displayed every muscle of her thighs. She had an uncomfortable pair of knee-high boots with extremely high heels to make her legs look even longer and she had to wear a thong because the pants were so revealing, snug between her buttocks. It felt a little weird having the tight material up her ass; it could have been indecent although she checked several times in the mirror that she was okay, there was no actual camel-toe on display.

Her mission was to make the acquaintance of another person there, a man who was inordinately rich but didn't have the level of income needed to support his extravagant lifestyle. He was apparently a cosmetic surgeon with connections to the mob and to film-makers with far too much money compared to the size of his business; that was all they knew so she was tasked that day to see and be seen, chat and be chatted to.

The gallery was located somewhat pretentiously in a disused boiler-house that once served a metal foundry; industrial archaeology in the brutally derelict style, she might had described it if she were writing the brochure. Never mind, there were posh nibbles handed out with real champagne - no Spanish Cava or Itallian Prosecco to be seen. The men were all in carefully pressed casual jeans, the ladies in designer frocks and heels; Alicia stood out from the crowd in her skin-tight clothes and felt a little self-conscious. She spotted her prey easily enough from the photographs that she had memorised, and waited to be approached. His name was Steffan and he had a certain ruggedly manicured charm; about the same age as Phil the DI, he was tall and distinguished.

In due course, he did approach; the painted-on pants were working. Alicia asked him questions, lots of questions. Nothing of substance about his job of course, but rather what sort of paintings he was interested in, whether he could explain the difference between impressionist and post-impressionist styles, that sort of thing.

Eventually he passed her a business card and told her to call him, before moving on to circulate with another group.

* * *

Alicia had amazed herself. She had played the part of someone who expected to be the centre of attention and it had worked. She had bluffed a bit of knowledge about art and hadn't been caught out, the trick was to ask questions and not try to answer any. Normally she would have slunk around in the shadows and crept out halfway through, but she had held the limelight and caught the attention of the mark. She had even managed to enjoy herself, perhaps this business of playing the centre of attention wasn't as alien as she had always thought.

She had strutted her stuff in her boots and pants, feeling all those eyes on her butt when she had finally departed. She must have had the most inspected ass in the room; more people would have been able to draw her rear-view from memory than any of the pictures on the walls.

It was just as amazing how things had progressed afterwards. She called the number, spoke to a secretary and made a date to see Steffan again. They had gone to a restaurant with a chef whom she had seen on television, then a few days later on another date. Now she had been asked to go to a premier of a Hollywood blockbuster and it was a red carpet event. She would be on TV instead of talking about chefs from TV.

Steffan had booked her a make-over, she would be professionally coiffured and dressed by an Italian designer. This was a long way from her track-suited runs around the park. So she found herself at a very exclusive salon being stripped naked, measured and steamed in a wooden cabinet, then waxed of all her body hair. She had already shaved herself, but the two Asian ladies in starched white uniforms led her to a bench where she had to lay flat with her legs wide open. They placed a hot towel on her stomach which was amazingly soothing and applied warm wax methodically to small areas of her crotch before peeling and ripping it away. She realised by the pain that there were areas that the razor had never reached, especially when she was told to kneel on all fours and have the wax applied to her nether regions.

This was most immodest, as the ladies inspected her from angles that that she couldn't even recall any boyfriend seeing her from. The warm soft wax was pleasant between her labia and around her bum-hole but pin-pricks of agony when it was ripped away betrayed the limitations of her own beauty regime. Though the end result was good she had to admit; her beaver had never been so buff.

Then they applied a warm scented oil, spreading it over her tender skin, ensuring that it coated her labia, her clitoris and right up between her buttocks.

Lastly, just as she was becoming desperate for an orgasm she was patted down with talcum powder and asked to stand up. With her arms held out she was sprayed all over with soothing balms and fake tan, then she was manicured, pedicured, coiffured, made-up. It surprised her when the girls carried on down over her body, with foundation and powders dusted and brushed all over. She would never have thought to put cosmetics all over her chest, stomach and even her back.

She was given two fine gold chains, placed over each shoulder like a pair of sashes. They crossed between her nipples emphasising them, then they brought out a pair of shoes. She had expected heels but these were so high that she had to practice walking in them. So still all-but nude, she hobbled and marched around the room until she had mastered the things. Strangely, masked with all-over body-tan and cosmetics, with the strange hair style and gold chains, she felt almost clothed. Her flat chest no longer mattered, not even her still-tender bald pussy.

At last the dress appeared, carried by the designer himself. He fussed and flounced about, calling her 'Darlink' and making Alicia stand still with her hands in the air while he climbed onto a chair and lowered the gown over her. She didn't mind being inspected by this man, obviously he had no interest in the ladies in any romantic sense. It occurred to her that she still hadn't been given any underwear, but these people were in charge so she let them get on with it.

The dress was black and feather-light. There was no back to speak of; it was merely a piece of diaphanous gauze that was draped from her shoulders. It wasn't anything that she would ever have chosen for herself as not only was it semi-transparent but it had sleeves that almost concealed her arm muscles, and it was the sleeves that held it up. Without them gripping her biceps the whole garment would have collapsed onto the floor. It was the opposite of her normal style.

It had been made from the measurements taken earlier and an assistant to the designer made final adjustments with a needle and cotton whilst she was inside it. After a couple of tweaks it fitted her perfectly. Not even a millimetre separated it from her waist -- nor her ribs.

At last she was permitted to see herself in a mirror and she was astonished. There was a pattern of tiny sequins that she had hardly noticed included into the mesh, positioned perfectly to provide some modesty. Her lower anatomy was concealed from view and after the blatant exposure that she had been anticipating it felt just about acceptable. At the back, the dress was cut so low that it didn't quite cover the top of her ass and a couple of inches of builder's bum cleavage was on display but compared to the front that seemed a minor matter.

Her hair was tinted and spiked up in a way that she had never had before, the make-up was almost theatrical with a purple sparkle. The dress had a diagonal hem from just above one knee, slashed up high on the hip on the opposite side and it was clear that she couldn't wear a bra with that much skin showing. However equally clearly she needed something. Her nipples were visible, dark circular shadows pressing bullet points against the sheer material and defined by the glittering chain.