The House of Fabulous

Terry nodded dumbly as she continued. "We could give you enough curves to stop traffic, and most Fabulous Girls want just that, but I don't think that would be very practical for you. And to be honest, you've got one of the nicest bodies I've ever had to work with. You look to be a perfect size 12, maybe a 14, so we'll have no trouble finding clothes that will make you look like a career woman without putting you through contortions. Agreed?"

"Yes, Madam," he said.

"Good girl. Let's get you dressed." With that, she handed Terry an A-line dress, black with silver sequins on it, and helped him drape it around his body. "This is the most conservative thing I have on hand," she sighed, "but we're running way ahead of schedule, so there should be no problem putting a nice trousseau together for you tonight. To tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to it. There," she said after she zipped him up, "take a look at yourself, Terry." She led her customer over to a full length mirror and waited for his reaction.

He must have been in a state of shock, because she finally had to prompt him. "Well, aren't you going to say something?" In fact, Terry was at a complete loss for words. He was dressed from head to toe as a woman, and for the first time in his life, he actually liked what he saw in the mirror. As a guy, Terry had always been scrawny and plain-looking, but as a girl, he was a knockout. The pounding in his panties intensified as he turned this way and that, fascinated by the woman that he had become.

His reverie was broken by a deep voice. "Are you ready for me, Madam Fabulous?"

Terry turned to face the Mistress of Poise. No question about this one. Even in women's clothes and makeup, at six feet three inches the Mistress of Poise was too masculine-looking to be an Amazon, yet he moved with remarkable grace. Terry soon became exhausted as his drill instructor in a dress took him through basic training in moving and behaving like a lady. By the time they were finished, his feet were killing him, and his feelings of arousal were long gone.

Madam Fabulous, who watched the whole thing, had a look of approval on her face. "My Mistress of Style was right. You are a natural," she beamed.

"You say that to all the girls," Terry said with a rueful smile.

"Well, we do try to reinforce a girl's self-image, but in your case that's hardly necessary. In three hours, you've made more progress than some Fabulous Girls make in an entire weekend, and most of them never end up looking as lovely. I'm very, very proud of you, Terry." He stood awkwardly as she gave him a little hug. "Now, here's a purse you can use until we get you one of your own. I've put your wallet in it. We're going to have to hurry, but if we leave right now, we can make it to Macy's and get in an hour or so of shopping. That should be plenty of time to find you a couple of outfits to get you started. Sissy will accompany us to pick out the rest of your essentials."

At the thought of going outside, Terry suddenly experienced a panic attack. Madam Fabulous had evidently seen this look in her clients' faces before, and she tried to calm him down. "There's a word which describes the ability to go out in public and pass for a woman. It's called 'passing.' We always take Fabulous Girls out in public to give them a chance to try out their femininity, because they have to learn how to deal with getting 'read' as a man. I'll be very surprised if you get read tonight, unless you give yourself away by calling attention to yourself."

With that, they left the studio and walked a few blocks to a taxi stand, Sissy having changed out of her maid's costume into a smart pants suit. The cool night air swirled around Terry's legs as he tried to get accustomed to walking in a dress, and Madam Fabulous had to remind him to stand up straight when he hunched self-consciously while they waited for a cab. One came along in a few minutes, and Terry tried to remember what he'd learned as he slid onto the seat and tugged his dress down over his knees.

They pulled up at Macy's on Union Square at half past seven. Madam Fabulous had given Terry's measurements to Sissy, who split off from them to purchase lingerie, stockings and accessories while Madam Fabulous and Terry made a beeline for Career Essentials. In no time, Madam Fabulous selected two suits, one blue and one gray, each with a short jacket and a slim knee-length skirt. She handed them to Terry and pointed him towards the dressing room. Terry panicked when a sales associate intercepted him, stammering when she asked him if he wanted her to set up a room for him. She seemed not to notice his embarrassment, and Terry heaved a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind him.

Get a grip girl, he told himself as he tried to get out of his dress. He struggled desperately, twisting and turning until he was able to grasp the zipper and yank it down. Finally he had the dress over his head, messing up his new hairdo in the process. He paused to take a few deep breaths, looking forlornly at his reflection in the dressing room mirror. Standing there in his bra, panties, stockings and high heels, he felt overwhelmed by the predicament he'd gotten himself into. What was I thinking, he asked himself as he fumbled in his purse for a hairbrush. Being a woman was like trying to talk in a foreign language while walking on stilts.

One thing was for sure. He was way too far into this to turn back now. With a sigh of resignation, he started brushing his hair, consoling himself with thoughts of the fat settlement check he was sure to get after he finished shaking down Tyrex Industries. He removed the blue skirt from its hanger and gingerly stepped into it. After he zipped it up, he removed the matching jacket from its hanger and pulled it on. When it was buttoned, he surveyed himself in the mirror. Once again, he felt a strange stirring below the waist as he admired the smartly dressed young woman staring back at him.

"How are we doing in there," he heard Madam Fabulous ask from the next dressing room. She had evidently entered the dressing area under the pretense of trying on an outfit for herself.

"Fine," Terry said, trying out the new voice drilled into him by the Mistress of Poise. "The blue suit fits."

"Then there's no need to try on the gray one. Here, try on this dress," Madam Fabulous said as she handed it over the transom. Terry looked up and reached for a white dress with blue polka dots. After he put the skirt and jacket back on the hanger, he stepped into the dress and pulled it over his shoulders. He heard a tap on his door, and he opened it to admit Madam Fabulous, who quickly straightened out the shoulder pads and zipped him up.

"Oh my, that looks precious on you!" Madam Fabulous said. Terry turned to look at himself in the mirror, and the glow in his panties heated up as his dress swirled around his knees.

"I love it," he heard himself say in his new voice.

"Why don't you wear it home?" Before he could respond, Madam Fabulous opened the door and handed the suits to the startled attendant. "My niece wants both suits and the dress, and she'd like to keep the dress on to pick out shoes and accessories."

"Of course," the girl replied. "Let me cut off the tags for you, and ring her up at the register. I'll put her old dress in a shopping bag."

While Terry was paying with the cash from his wallet, he heard Madam Fabulous call Sissy on her cell phone. "Meet us in the shoe department in five minutes. If you get there first, we need pumps with 2" heels in black, blue and white, size 9 wide. See you there."

It was almost closing time when they met up with Sissy. She had three pairs of high heels lined up for Terry to try on, and all fit him perfectly. As he was paying for the shoes, Madam Fabulous examined Sissy's other purchases, nodding in approval. "How much in total?" she asked. Terry overheard them, and he reimbursed her without being prompted. "Almost done," Madam Fabulous said as she sprinted for the escalator. Terry's feet were on fire but he managed to keep up with them.

He caught up with Madam Fabulous in the handbag department. He was about to tell her that he probably would only need one day's worth of clothing when he caught himself, and he grimaced as he handed over another fistful of bills to pay for three new purses. At least Madam Fabulous found them on sale.

"Only one more thing," Madam Fabulous said as they struggled with their shopping bags. She led Terry to the fashion jewelry department and found a salesgirl who was just closing up for the night. "Is it too late for my niece to get her ears pierced?"

The girl looked over the counter, expecting to find a ten year old, and she was startled when she came face to face with a bewildered Terry. "About ten seconds," she said, and before Terry could protest, he was cringing in a chair as the needle went into his ears.

"That was on me," Madam Fabulous said as they headed for the door.

By the time he got back to his apartment, laden down with shopping bags, Terry was utterly exhausted. Madam Fabulous had made him promise to hang up his new outfits so they wouldn't wrinkle, and she barked a few final instructions to him before their taxi dropped him off. "There's enough makeup in this bag to last you for at least a month," she said, handing him a cosmetics kit. "Sissy got you all the lingerie, jewelry and accessories you'll need for your first few days. Next time you go shopping, you'll be on your own, but if you have any questions, promise that you'll call me, any time. You have my number," she said, tucking a lavender business card into his purse.

He was almost too shell-shocked to speak when the cab pulled up to his apartment building. "Thank you for everything," he managed to say.

"It's been a marvelous evening. And remember, you are a Fabulous Girl now!"

* * *

Terrence Poindexter used to get up at five o'clock every morning to jog ten kilometers before breakfast. That was how he managed to maintain the slim physique so admired by Madam Fabulous.

But when Terry awoke at his usual time, it took him several seconds to realize that things were going to be different this morning. For starters, he was wearing a blue satin nightgown and panties, which he found in one of the shopping bags given to him by Sissy the night before. At first he wasn't going to bother with them, but for some reason he put them on before he went to bed.

So when he woke up, he found himself with a raging hard-on. Why is this turning me on, he asked himself as he looked down at his new body, so sleek and smooth in its silky lingerie. If I were a guy, I'd want to fuck this body, he said to himself. Wait a minute. I am a guy, aren't I?

One thing was for sure. There was no way Terry would be able to get his gaff back on if he remained in this condition. He tugged his panties down, and his erect penis sprang to attention. He grasped it in his manicured fingers, and after a few swift strokes, a rope of semen shot clear over his head, narrowly missing his new hairdo.

It was the most pleasurable orgasm of Terry's life. In fact, most of his sexual experiences had been self-administered, his successes with women sadly lacking over his twenty-eight years. As he lay there now, reveling in ecstasy, he was torn by feelings of lust and loathing. Although he loved the way he looked and felt, he was ashamed of himself for feeling that way.

Finally his gratification subsided, and Terry got out of bed. Think like a lawyer, he told himself, mentally organizing the tasks at hand. Remember your training, and think of the payoff. You know what you have to do. A glance at the clock told him it was time to get moving.

Terry brushed his teeth and gave himself a close shave while drawing a hot bath. After pinning up his hair, he lowered himself carefully into the tub and luxuriated for a few minutes in the hot suds, which he'd salted with bubble beads found in the cosmetics kit from the House of Fabulous. Then he picked up a new bic razor and carefully went over his arms and legs, removing the traces of stubble which had begun to grow back. With his manhood submerged below the bubbles, Terry could have been a girl as he shaved his legs.

After he finished scrubbing himself off with a loofa, he patted down his tender skin and applied a soothing coat of moisturizing crème to his arms and legs. Women know how to pamper themselves, he thought idly as he stood before his mirror and began applying his makeup. It almost makes up for the hassles they have to deal with, like trying to put on eyeliner. He took his time, remembering his lessons from the Mistress of Style, and after a few false starts and some trial and error, his face looked almost as good as it did the night before. He finished with a spritz of cologne behind each ear, finding his scent strangely intoxicating.

He felt his penis stirring, so once again he took decisive action, stroking himself while he gazed at his pretty face in the bathroom mirror. He reached up with his other hand and loosened his hair, which fell sexily down around his neck as he pulled and jerked on himself. Once again, he came in a rush, spewing jism onto the vanity as his knees buckled from the pleasure of his release, although it was tinged with feelings of shame.

With his penis limp at last, he tucked himself up into the gaff and headed back into the bedroom. "What to wear today?" he said out loud in his new voice, knowing that he needed all the practice he could get. "I'll think I'll wear my gray suit with black stockings." He opened up one of his drawers, and found the pile of lingerie which he'd stuffed there. Selecting a black bra and panties, he strapped on the bra, inserted his breast forms into the cups, and watched them jiggle as he shimmied into his panties. Then he opened a new pair of sheer black pantyhose and sat down on the edge of his bed to put them on. As he eased the delicate nylon up his legs, he thought he could feel the beginnings of another erection being stifled by his gaff. Terry was aware of a dull ache in his groin when he did a deep knee bend to pull his stockings up to his waist.

He lingered for a moment in front of his closet, relishing the caress of nylon against his freshly shaved legs. He wondered if it felt this good for real girls? After a moment's indecision, he took a thin black sweater off its hanger and tugged it over his head. Then he stepped into his gray skirt and zipped it up behind his back. It was fully lined, Madam Fabulous told him, so a slip would not be required. He lifted it up and smoothed his sweater before lowering it again, watching in fascination as his skirt settled a few inches above his knees. Then he remembered the fashion jewelry that Sissy had picked out for him, and he took a few moments selecting a simple gold necklace and a matching bracelet that looked good with the gold studs on his ears. After he buttoned up his jacket, he rummaged around the closet floor for his new black pumps. They were a bit tight, but his stockinged feet slid right into them, and he spent a few minutes practicing the deportment lessons that the Mistress of Poise had drilled into him.

Terry remembered his new women's wristwatch, and he was alarmed to see that it was after seven o'clock when he put it on. Let's see, what else is there? My purse! He took his black one into the bathroom to fill it up, and realized that he hadn't done anything with his hair. He found his brush and began working on his new shag hairdo, which the Mistress of Style assured him would be a snap to take care of. After a few minutes he had it as good as it was going to get, so he dropped the brush into his new purse, along with a compact and lipstick, and tried to think what else he should put in there. Soon it was bulging with keys, his new women's wallet, tissues, breath mints, a small mirror, cell phone, sunglasses, emery board, and miscellaneous junk. Anything else? He must have forgotten something!

Terry realized that he was prolonging the inevitable. His heart was racing when he slung his purse over his shoulder and headed for the door.

* * *

The receptionist at Tyrex Industries did not come on duty until eight o'clock. A key part of Terry's plan was to arrive before she got there and let himself in with his coded entry pass. Then he could wait behind closed doors in his new private office until his confrontation with Mr. Bigelow.

For that reason, and to spare himself the anxiety of trying to pass on the crowded Muni, he decided to take a taxi to work. He was dismayed to find a man waiting in line ahead of him at the taxi stand. He was about thirty, immaculately dressed in an expensive suit, crisp white shirt and subdued tie, and he smiled as Terry approached. "Morning. Beautiful day," the man said. He was very good-looking, and he had a gleam in his eye as he admired Terry's long legs.

"It sure is," Terry replied with a shy smile.

A cab pulled up to the curb. "Would you like to share it?" he asked.

Terry froze. He needed to get downtown, and there might not be another cab for a long time.

"My office is on Sansome Street," the man added.

Tyrex was on Montgomery Street, a block away. "Sure, that would be nice," Terry said. The man opened the back door of the cab, and it took Terry a moment to realize that he was waiting for him to get in. He climbed awkwardly into the back seat, his skirt riding all the way up to his ass, and tugged it down furiously as he slid across the seat.

His companion sat down next to him and held out his hand. "My name's John Stone."

"I'm Terry," he said, offering a limp wrist.

"What great weather for January," John said. "How long have you lived in the City?"

"Six years," Terry replied. No point in lying to every question.

"Almost as long as me. What do you do, Terry?"

"I'm a paralegal." Best to stay within striking distance of the truth.

"How about that? I'm a lawyer for Earp and Crosby." Terry knew the firm well, in fact they did some work for Tyrex. "Who do you work for?" John asked.

Terry thought fast. "Actually, I'm looking for a job. I have an interview this morning with Tyrex Industries."

"Hey, I know some of the people in the legal department there. Or at least I did. The guys I knew left or got canned, not sure which. So you know they have openings."

"Sounds like a rough place," Terry said, curious to know how the world viewed Tyrex.

"I don't want to discourage you, Terry, but you should look around a bit. Maybe talk to our firm. I'm sure we'd be interested in you."

"Really?"

"On second thought, that might not be such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"We have a firm policy against lawyers dating staff. That would be a real bummer."

Terry felt himself blushing. "I guess I'll have to decide between love or money."

"A girl like you can have it all." Terry was trying to figure out how to respond when the cab pulled up beside his building. He started to reach into his purse for his wallet when he felt John's hand on his knee. "It's on me, Terry. Here's my card. I'd love to see you sometime."

Terry put the card in his purse and opened the door. "Thanks, John. Maybe I'll call you, okay?"

"Any time," he said through the open window as the cab pulled away.

His confidence soaring, Terry smoothed down his skirt, slung his purse back over his shoulder, and walked through the revolving door to his office building. The crowd in the lobby brought him back down to earth. He waited nervously for an elevator, wondering if anybody would recognize him. But only a few people got onto the elevator with him, and he was alone by the time he arrived at Tyrex's floor. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was ten minutes to eight. He had his entry card in his hand, and after he let himself in he turned down the carpeted hall towards the general counsel's office. As he hoped, nobody saw him before he entered the large corner office and closed the door behind him.