The New Job

It is awful looking for a new job. I was a 25 year old guy named Sam and working in the care sector. Although I was well qualified, I had found myself in a dead end job paying almost minimum wage. I needed a change.

That's when I bumped into Jan, a friend who I used to work with a couple of years ago. She had done well and worked for the Forbes Agency, the preeminent agency caring for mature clients. We chatted over a coffee about the time we worked together and what we had done since. While I was on £12/hour she was on £20/hour and had lots of perks, but the work was tough.

She then suggested to introduce me to her boss, see if there were any opportunities. As I said before I had been looking for a new job, maybe this would be perfect.

A week later I was in the office of Mrs Forbes herself. It was one of those offices that looked like it hadn't changed in sixty years, with box files everywhere and not a computer in sight.

Mrs Forbes "Look we have our ways and our clients like it and pay us well for good service. Jan has told me you are a good worker and I can see your qualifications are right up there. We will need you to do a refresh on a few sections, but we can get that crammed into a week."

I was really keen, especially if the wages were that much better and Jan had said they really look after their staff.

Mrs Forbes went on "There is one issue though. Now all our lady clients insist on female carers and I am sure you understand that. But all our gentlemen clients prefer female carers. So we sit outside the sex discrimination act and can pick just female staff."

I was instantly downhearted.

Mrs Forbes carried on "I can see you are disappointed, but there is an answer. Look, it all depends on your outlook. If you identify yourself as a man, thank you very much and I appreciate your time. If on the other hand you identify as female, we are obliged to accept that and a position may be available."

The wind had completely been knocked out of me.

Mrs Forbes finished with "Look, have a think about it. Here is my card and call me in a day or two."

Over the next two days, I really was against it, but my credit card debt was going up, my savings were nil, all my bills were going up, yet my wages were going nowhere. I had to make a change whether I liked it or not. So I was forced to call Mrs Forbes to say yes please. After all, I thought, when they say identify as female, what does that mean in reality?

A week later I was back in the old office signing forms. My salary would be £20/hour and I would get guaranteed hours, as there was one muster of clients that needed a new carer. One thing that concerned me was the refresher courses would cost me nothing, so long as I stayed with the agency for twelve months, but that was pretty standard. At the end, my measurements were taken and noted down for the uniform.

The following Monday I was back in class. It was a posh lecturing centre, but you could tell the lecturers were top drawer. As all arranged I finished the courses Friday lunchtime and headed back to the Forbes Agency in the afternoon to get the final bits sorted.

In the office a very attractive young lady went through everything with me. Gave me three odd boxes of uniform, plus instructions on how often to wash the uniform and a big folder with 'The Forbes Way' written on the front. The devil was in the detail for the Forbes Agency.

The young lady then told me "Now as you know Jan, you will shadow her this coming week. That way she can show you the Forbes way of doing things. Plus as there are new things for you, Jan has agreed to come round to your home, a couple of hours early to help you out."

It was difficult carrying everything home and I was puffed out when I got there. I didn't think anything of it that Friday evening.

Saturday morning I was more inquisitive. Opening the first box, it was two pairs of black comfortable shoes. Not bad for starters I thought. Then the second box was opened to reveal the navy dresses with white piping and white writing of Forbes Agency on the chest. I screwed my eyes up, now having massive regrets over signing up for this. OK, so my body was, well skinny and I towered over everyone.....NOT at five foot six. But would I get away with dressing as a woman?

I hung up the five dresses they had given me, to help get the creases out, and then went to the third and final box. Inside was bras, knickers and black tights. The bras and knickers were in white and even had the Forbes logo on them. After finding drawer space for everything, I then remembered I needed to do this job for a year, or I would have to repay the refresher courses fees.

Looking through the big fat folder, it had everything I needed to know. Including that those refresher courses cost five thousand pounds. No chance of me affording to repay that. I had to stick with the job regardless.

Monday morning came around and within a few minutes of me waking, Jan called round with a great big bag. We had a coffee and then got to work.

Jan had seen me naked before at some party so nothing new now as my body was dehaired. Once completely clean, Jan said she had something that would help a great deal. She got me to lay down on the bed then squirted something on my chest. Once that stuff was spread out, she pulled out a fake breast. Without even a glance at me, she positioned it on my chest, quickly followed by the other.

After allowing ten minutes for the glue to set, lotions and potions covered the rest of my skin. To help keep the breasts in place, Jan fitted me with one of the company bras and then slipped on a pair of knickers in the same white. Without even asking my permission, Jan slipped her hand down the front of the knickers and forced my dick back between my legs. I didn't have time to be shocked or complain. She then set about my nails. Nothing racy, but she manicured my nails and the gave them an almost clear varnish. I am sure there was a hint of pink in it though.

The tights were next and oh my god they were a pain in the backside to put on. With the breasts, the dress once I did the zip and popper up, fitted perfectly. Just a little tight around the bust and hips, but really quite fetching. It came to exactly knee level, so probably a bit short for regular nurses, but it was the regulation length for the Forbes Agency.

I was then sat in front of a mirror and shown how to do the makeup. If I had done it myself, I am sure I would have looked like a clown. So really appreciated Jan's work on that.

Jan had suggested a brown short bob style for me and it did seem to suit my face.

Once the shoes were on and tied, it was left to the accoutrements. A few pens, a fob watch and bag with various medical essentials in including some PPE.

Without even the chance of a glance at myself, Jan said we needed to go or be late. It was really odd feeling, walking outside in the navy dress for the first time.

Staff had little company cars, in the company blue with logos on the side. I got in the passenger seat and we were off. Each visit I was introduced to the clients and helped where I could. Most were definitely wealthy, from their properties and the way they acted. Everything was ever so polite. In each property there was a folder with client instructions in, the current medication settings, required care tasks on each day, etc.. Everything was organised to strict guidelines. It was part of why the clients liked the Forbes Agency.

The week shot by far too quickly. Jan and I got on really well and chatted away in the car. By Friday afternoon, Jan dropped me off at the office as Mrs Forbes wanted to see me and to go through some finer points.

As I sat in her office waiting for her to return, I twiddled my thumbs and almost started to bite my nails as I was so nervous. I need not have been, as Mrs Forbes commended me on how I looked and then gave me my rota days. I would be working Monday, Wednesday and Friday doing twelves hours each day and that included the regulation break times. She went on to say I would be working on

client muster thirteen.

Mrs Forbes finished by asking if I was happy with doing the makeup each day and the breasts? She could see the doubt on my face, so she smiled and handed me a card for a beauty salon that gave semi permanent makeup. She was so bold by saying I had an appointment there tomorrow at 3pm and it would be charged to the agency.

It was like a weird dream that Saturday. I had to find a very baggy t shirt to cover the fake breasts. It didn't matter how I walked, they still bounced about, so I had to wear a bra. They still moved, but just not so much.

I was about to leave home, when I realised that I needed to take the bob wig with me. Once I had the makeup on, I would look silly without it. So I put it in a bag and took it with me.

The staff in the beauty salon were great, but once in a private room they told me to take off my t shirt. So weird a bloke standing there in front of strangers, wearing fake boobs and a bra. My face went a deep shade of red.

As they worked on my face, one of them suggested I have proper breasts fitted. I wasn't so sure and I thought they were possibly just touting for extra work. Once they had finished, they gave me stud earrings for free and fitted them. So I left the salon with makeup, earrings and the wig on. It didn't matter now if the boobs bounced around or not. Everyone accepted me as a lady...I hoped.

Just then I bumped into Jan again. She giggled at how good I looked. She grabbed my arm saying that those jeans and t shirt do not compliment my look at all.

Somehow she got me into a charity shop and after trying on a number of dresses, I now sported a pink floral summer dress and a nice pair of shoes. All for under six pounds.

With my jeans and t shirt in a bag, Jan was clearly on a mission as we found ourselves in a restaurant a few doors down having an early evening meal. My heart was pumping like crazy, and I had trouble calming myself down. Jan was just loving everything, from the way I looked to my situation. She just told me to enjoy it. Although when I said I was on muster thirteen, she tried to hide her alarm, but I saw through her smiling face. That made me a bit nervous for the week ahead.

That weekend I decided, because of the sizeable fake breasts and the makeup, I had to basically live the life of a female. I would look utterly stupid if I tried to go anywhere as a man now.

Monday morning came about and I was seriously nervous. It was the first time on my own. I picked up a car and headed to my first client. It was a Mr Rogers an old Judge. He lived in a lovely house tucked away. The gardens were perfectly manicured and weeded.

He was surprisingly active, so I wondered why he needed a carer. I helped him to dress, although he could have easily done it himself. Sorted out his medication and breakfast. As I went through his care folder, there was a note for an "SS" during his lunchtime visits Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I had never come across it before and didn't remember seeing it in the manual. Once I had completed everything, we chatted for a while. His wife had passed away a few years before and he was 73 year old and going strong by the looks of it. Yes, a very friendly old gentleman.

After Mr Rogers, was Mr Woods, an ex police inspector. He lived in a more modest house but again, he didn't need any care. None the less I did everything as required and then spent a good twenty minutes chatting about sports he used to play and a couple he still did. I was really confused now. Looking in his folder, I noticed he also had "SS" noted for lunchtime on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

My third client that day was a Mr Moorehead. My confusion was off the chart now as here was another gentleman that was very active, so why was he paying for care nurses? I did everything required in the folder, checking that he also had "SS" in there for Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We chatted about old cars he used to own, before I had to go to my next client.

My final morning visitor was to a Mr Cummings. Like the other gentlemen, he was remarkably spritely and didn't really need my help. But also like the other gentlemen, he was very friendly. I did what was needed and spotted he also had "SS" in the folder. We chatted about music for a bit and then it was time for my break.

After my break, it was now time to go back to the first client Mr Rogers. As I drove, I used the hands free to call the office and ask about the "SS" as I would soon have to deal with it. There was a pause at the other end when I asked, and then I was put through to Mrs Forbes herself. After asking me how my morning was going, she then went on to talk about a Dr Buchanan and his in depth study of mature men's health. One of the surprising things that came out of his study was that semen gave quite a few early indications to various ailments. Plus mature men seem to fair better if regularly tested. So the "SS" stood for semen sample.

I almost swerved off the road when I realised I would have to obtain a semen sample from each of these guys every Monday, Wednesday AND Friday. No wonder they were so damned friendly!!!