The CollectorChapter 3 Shopgirl
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The New Shopgirl free porn video
*The New Shopgirl*
By Kathy Core
Stephen and Paul had both been offered positions as retail assitants at
Brannigan's Department store, which they gladly accepted. Employment was
low in their area, and although they were only 'shop' jobs, they were in one
of the area's finest and most respected stores. Success there meant the
difference between a career and the dole.
Of course, Paul did get pissed off at the time when he didn't get the highly
prized computer job, selling overpriced PC's to people who didn't know
better. Stephen had had that honor, and was no doubt going to make a
fortune in bonuses. No, for some reason Paul had been assigned to fashion.
Clothes.
How boring, thought Paul, but a job was a job and he couldn't complain. He
returned his contract and waited for his first day.
*
They spent the first few minutes of the first day chattering nervously in the
staff room. The other members of staff ignored them, which was typical of
places with large workforces. Eventually, Stephen's new manager arrived,
and introduced himself.
"You're Steve right? Nice to meet you. Do you want to follow me so
we can sort your uniform out?", he said. And so on. Paul was gutted. The
worst thing was that neither of them had ever had a job before in their lives,
and so he couldn't see why Stephen got the cool PC retail job over him. He
sat sulking until his own manager arrived, or should I say manageress...
"Excuse me... I'm looking for a Paula Jones?", she said.
"Well, if you're looking for a new starter, I'm Paul Jones... never
been called Paula before though!", he laughed. The manageress looked down
in disdain.
"Oh... there's been some kind of mistake I think. Would you mind
waiting there... If you're Paula then there's going to be a problem..."
'Oh my god', thought Paul, 'I never got the job in the first place!'.
They'd obviously mixed names up, and sent the job offer out to him by
mistake! No wonder he'd been assigned to fashion...they'd offered the job
to the wrong candidate - Paul Jones instead of Paula Jones. He slumped in
his chair in embarrassment. Soon they'd ask him to leave the building, and
he'd be back without a job. What else could go wrong?
Soon the Manageress, Eleanor Pleasance, returned with a slightly less
stern look on her face.
"It's okay," she started "You're Paula, if you see what I mean. I've
had a word with personnel, and they've told me about your special conditions
of employment, and looking at you I see what they mean. Did you bring a
bag?"
Special conditions? What conditions, he thought. "No...I thought I
could put anything I got in a locker."
"No, I mean, did you bring... oh well, it doesn't matter. You won't
be able to go out onto the shop floor today, in that case. Come, let's get you
signed up for your uniform!"
*
Eleanor took him off to the stock cupboard, where she started searching
through some big boxes. She'd given him a form to sign to say that he'd
recieved the various items. He looked at it puzzled.. there were various
boxes with different items of clothes that could be issued - trousers, shirts,
ties and also women's uniforms such as skirts, blouses and dresses. The
thing was, the manageress had put on the form that he was to recieve 2 skirts,
2 blouses and 2 dresses... surely there was some mistake? He hesitated
signing for a moment, and waited with a certain degree of panic for the first
item to be handed to him. When it came it was wrapped in clear plastic. It
was a dark blue cotton-like material, but he couldn't be sure if it was his
trousers or not. Same went for the next packages, would could easily have
been either a shirt or a blouse without opening it. Paul tried to reconcile
himself to the fact that he was being a little paranoid.. as if they'd make him
wear a skirt! Then, horror struck - the final two packages were
unmistakable, wrapped up or not - it was the Brannigans standard issue
dress. He recognised the print on it straight away, as the manageress herself
was wearing it. Sure enough, he was also handed the thin lightweight jacket
that all the female members of staff wore, not the thick heavy version for the
men.
Paul stood in disbelief... was this some kind of joke? A test? Part of
the interview?
'er...where do you want to put these?', he said.
'In your locker of course, where else?', she replied.
'But..er...is this *my* uniform? I thought...'
'What does it say on your form? 2 skirts, 2 blouses, 2 dresses..
that's what you've got. Have you signed the form?'
'But...why do I have to wear a skirt? I...'
'All the female members of staff have to wear either the dress or a
skirt and blouse. It's company policy, I'm afraid.'
'But...'
'There's no "buts". If we let you wear trousers, we'd have to let all
the girls wear trousers, and then where would we be?'
'I understand that, but I am actually male you know? I can't wear a
dress! What will people say!?'
'Look, Paul - I *know* that deep down you're really a man, but I
must say we very nearly didn't give you this job - with that face and body of
yours, we knew that our customers and staff would think that we'd let a
woman wear trousers, and we can't have that.'
'What!?!? Are you saying I look like a girl?!'
'Are you saying you don't? Look, if you don't want the job, that's
fine. But if you do want the job, we only want Paula Jones. We'll make
sure that you adapt easily.. all you need is a bit of makeup, some false breasts
and your already long hair getting cut nicely.
'Is there no other way? Surely I can't look that girly, can I?'
But the truth was, he did. Paul had big eyes, high cheekbones and
soft, delicate features. He was quite small and underbuilt, and had a gentle
voice. He usually dressed in extremely manly clothes to disguise it, but it
rarely worked. He often got called 'miss' or refered to as 'she' or 'her' by
accident.
'I'm afraid you do. If we let you on the shop floor in the men's
uniform, you'll cause a riot! The staff may well know you're really male, but
the customers won't - and the other girls will resent you because you're
getting away with it! I know it sounds stupid, but seriously... we've got
over 200 girls and women working here, and they all wear these clothes day
in, day out, and it doesn't seem to hurt them does it? It wouldn't really be so
bad, would it?'
Paul considered this, and then decided to accept the offer - he decided
that if he got his 'foot in the door' he could worry about getting out of
wearing a dress later - right now he needed a job badly, and he thought that
once she actually saw him trying to dress as a woman she'd forget the whole
thing - it couldn't possibly work could it?
*
The first week came and went - and Paul had yet to even look at the uniform
they'd given him. All he'd done so far was 'extra' training, which
constituted having his hair cut, and learning how to apply makeup, all in the
guise of learning how to sell the hair and beauty products the store offered.
Soon came the 'home leg waxing' kits, which he had to use on himself, and
onto more extravagant items such as false eyelashes, false nails, hair
decorations, and the amazing world of hosiery. By the end of the week Paul
though himself fulled versed on these feminine products. He could put
makeup on, do his hair, and basically anything a normal woman could. The
first time he'd put the makeup on, he'd done a doubletake. He was genuinely
shocked at the sight. The manageress had taken a disposible camera, taken
some snaps, and put the film through the 1 hour processing the store had.
He was then presented with a photograph of himself - or herself.
There was no doubt - that had to be girl! Surely no man could look that good?
In fact, it was so good, it looked as though they'd stuck 'her' head onto a
mans body... and the only reason you could tell it was a man's body was
because of the clothes and the lack of tits.
He'd tried to avoid Stephen at lunch times - and was yet to tell him of
his plight. Well, what could he say? He'd already lost his body hair, had his
eyebrows plucked, had his beard electroysised, and had an insanely feminine
haircut - curls with highlights. Stephen didn't seem to notice really, which
just confirmed how much of a sissy he must have looked even without the
beauty regieme.
Now, all that remained before the start of his life as a female
employee of branigans was a weekend to buy a pair of 3 inch heels, and
practice walking in them.
*
Buying the shoes was a little traumatic for Paul, as you can imagine! When
he arrived the assistant looked puzzled - here was what looked to her like a
woman dressed up in men's clothes.. or was it a boy? She hesitated then
asked...
"Can I help you...er... Miss?"
Paul blushed.. it must have been his new hair.
"Yes...er... I need a pair of shoes for work.. they must be fairly
fashionable because I'm working at Brannigans."
The assistant paused...the customer hadn't corrected the 'Miss', so
female shoes it is!
"Oh! How nice! Well, at the moment, 3 inch heels are in.. do you
want to try these on? What shoe size are you?"
"I think I'm a size 6, the last time I checked". Paul was both
embarrassed and relieved about his small shoe size. He removed his trainers
to try on the shoes which the assistant was busily preparing. Sitting down,
she slipped the first shoe on his left foot. Immediately, he noticed how tight
and small they felt in comparision to his normal shoes. They made his foot
look tiny. The assistant quickly slid on the matching shoe, much to Paul's
embarrassment.
"What do you think? Why don't you have a walk around?" she
asked.
"Er.. no, that's okay! I'll take them.. they're really nice."
"are you sure? There's lot of other pairs you could try."
"no, that's fine. How much?"
And so Paul bought his shoes. Next he had to buy his underwear - his
*new* underwear. Without thinking, he dived into a shop and hurriedly tried
to pick something... first he found a wonderbra, sized 36 C and matching
panties. They looked small, uncomforable and pointless, but he didn't care -
he bought 5 sets of each along with a suspender belt and nude stockings.
The reality of actually having to wear these things on a daily basis hadn't
quite sunk in yet, but he did know that his masculine pride was taking a
severe beating. He'd had a humiliating week surrounded by femininity and
now all he had to look forward to was a weekend of high heels, then years of
skirts and dresses.
The thought had occured to him that so long as he stayed working in
Brannigans he'd have to be Paula instead of Paul - even if he got to
management. If it ever got out that he was really a man, he'd be ruined. It
also occured to him that because 'Paula' was working for them, when he left
his reference would also say Paula - it would look like Paul had never had a
job, and so he would be forced to be Paula in every job he ever went to!
When he got home, Paul put the shoes back on straight away - he was going
to leave the other clothes until the very last minute - ie, Monday morning.
Once again, he was shocked by how small they made his feet look,
but that was not the current problem - the problem was that he just couldn't
walk in them. So he practiced, practiced and practiced until by last thing
sunday night he was happy that he'd be able to make the walk to work
tommorow.
*
The next morning, Paul broke out into a nervous sweat the second he woke -
he knew what he had to do, but couldn't face it yet. He took out one of the
bras, a pair of panties and the stockings. First, he put on the panties.. they
felt soft and tiny and extremely feminine - so different to his sweaty boxers.
Next, for no specific reason, he put on the bra. It was fiddly at first, but he
managed to fasten the straps and fit the soft breast forms. He felt the
pressure squeezing his shoulders and back, and the weight on his chest. the
result was convicing.
Next came the suspender belt and the stockings. He gently rolled the nylon
of the stockings up each leg and fastened them to the little tabs. He knew
straight away that they were uncomfortable, but by god did they make his
legs look feminine. Looking in a full lenght mirror he saw a girl in her
underwear.
Finally, Paul went to his closet to remove the final items of clothing. Already
he felt very strange - there was pressure pushing and pulling all over his
body, making him stand upright with his shoulders back. He dreaded to
think what effect the remaining items would have. First, the blouse. It made
a small swooshing sound as he put his arms through the sleeve. He notices
that it buttoned the wrong way round, and stranger still he had to button
round his breasts. It was clear it was going to take a while to get used to
having these 'things' protruding from his chest all the time.
Then came the skirt - the moment he'd been dreading since he saw the words
on the form - he knew it was the ultimate symbol of female submission - men
are granted easy 'access' to a woman in a skirt. It had been used as a tool to
control and restrict women for thosands of years, and now, he too was to
join the ranks of those who would sacrifice freedom of movement for the
sake of looks. It would change the way he sat, walked, stood, knelt down as
well as offering him no protection or easy means of escape in the event of an
attacker - which as a 'woman' he was now concious of. Men would oggle
him, examining his butt and legs and breast, hoping for sexual favours. He
knew from his own girlfriends that no matter how businesslike a woman
dresses, once she's on the streets wearing a skirt, she's a sex object to every
man that sees her. He'd done it to woman himself. Now it was his turn.
He stepped into it, and carefully pulled it up over his hips. He felt the
silk of the lining brush against the nylon of the stockings, and tease the small
area of bare flesh that made contact. It buttoned at the back, leaving a
faultlessly smooth surface at the front right down to just above the knee.
This was the big one for Paul, and in a way he wasn't disappointed.
Somehow, it seemed to fit with the underwear he was wearing, but he felt
springloaded, as if all his clothes could fly off at any moment. There was no
weight to them at all. He couldn't feel either the skirt or blouse hanging - all
he could feel was the tug and pull of the stockings and the bra.
Finally, he put on his heeled shoes. Immediately his butt stuck out
and his breasts pushed forward. He took a few steps and realised that the
combination of the heels, the stockings and the skirt forced him to take small,
delicate steps whilst swinging his hips.
Without breaking, he went and applied his makeup, which was
difficult because of his shaking hand, and finally, he 'did' his hair into the
beautiful curls that his boss had liked so much.
The final touches were two small stud earring, a few rings and a small
silver necklace.
He looked at himself finally in the full length mirror, and collapsed to
the floor, weak at the knees. He couldn't believe it. He really did look like a
girl - utterly and totally female.
"Oh my god.. I really am Paula Jones... I'm a girl...", and then, in a
kind of strange trance, he began picking up all his male clothes into a pile -a
big pile. He got a black bin bag and put everything in it, and when he was
sure there wasn't a single thread of male clothes anywhere he went out into
his backyard and set fire to the lot. As the clothes finished burning Paul
suddenly realised how stupid it was to have let himself get carried away by a
brief moment of total self-defeatism. And now, with no money and so no
hope of returning to his former male way of life any time soon, he sank
further into his depression.
"I'm stuck as a woman now! I'm going to end up being a woman for
the rest of my life!"
*
So, with virtually all traces of manhood wiped out, Paula stepped out of her
door and began the short walk to work. She felt the looks of the men she
passed, and she felt the breeze between her legs. She felt the nylon stockings
brush against each other as she felt the bobbing of her breasts. She could feel
the sensuality and sexuality of the clothes she was wearing, and without any
more complaints arrived at work.
"Glad to see you've improved your appearance... In fact, Paula, how
would you feel to doing one of our catwalk shoes? There's one dress I know
you'll look *darling* in!", said the manager. Paula just smiled, and agreed.
And during the days work, she picked out a nice casual dress to wear for
when she went home that night.
(the end)
Maris
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