Welcome To Saturn Beta - Part 3 free porn video

Hours later, after Saturn's moon had drifted away from the window, Tyler was woken up by footsteps near his bed. He rolled over to try to see what was happening. "Sorry, darlin'," Amber whispered as she padded around the dark dorm room in her bare feet. "I was tryin' to be quiet for you." "What's going on?" Tyler said groggily. "Got a job to do. It just came over on my tablet. Really good money. You go on back to sleep, now. Don't mind me." And she was out the door and into the hallway, just like that, carrying a purse in one hand, a tablet computer in the other, and still wearing her powder blue baby doll. The door slowly closed behind her as she tip-toed into the hallway, the hem of her baby doll fluttering above her waist as she went, exposing her panties to view. He wondered what job could be so important that it called her out of bed this late at night... And then he remembered, the way space stations work, there really was no such thing as late at night or early in the morning. There were clocks around the station - Tyler rolled over now to look at a digital readout on the wall that said 02:18 - but none of them had anything to do with planetary rotation. Day and night were artificial constructs out here on Saturn Beta. The place operated on a 24/7 schedule. And certainly Amber's line of work operated on the same schedule, too. There was always a pulsing need out there, somewhere and in some capacity, to get your rocks off. Tyler tucked himself tighter into his sheets and comforter. He wondered if Amber actually liked the work she did. She said she liked it, earlier this evening, but she couldn't have meant it. Right? How could anyone enjoy being a prostitute, unless they were completely depraved or a nymphomaniac? It was a demeaning job, something only the truly desperate would ever engage in. And the side effects of the life were never good... Tyler remembered some of the whores he'd run into back in Miami. Tweaked out of their minds, most of the time, addicted to whatever trendy street drug was making the rounds that month. Amber didn't seem like a drug addict. She didn't seem depraved, either, and definitely didn't seem like a nympho. She didn't seem like a hooker at all. She was just a nice, attractive young woman, living here at the Ringed Amusements dormitory and showing Tyler the ropes. The idea that she was a sex worker wouldn't have ever entered Tyler's mind if it wasn't for Lola showing up unannounced while he and Amber we having tea. Tyler rolled around for a while, trying to fall back asleep. After the digital clock on the wall hit 02:30, he decided to give up and move around for a bit. He lifted the sheets up and swung his shapely, smooth legs out of bed, standing in his bee-colored cami and tap pants and fumbling around the room for a light switch. Eventually he crossed the room and patted along Amber's bed, remembering that she had turned the room's lights off from a switch near her headboard. Tyler's hands found the headboard, then found a switch, then pressed it... No lights went on. Instead, there was a loud buzzing and an even louder rattling. The thing Tyler turned on started rolling, and a second later it rolled completely out of its recessed shelf inside Amber's headboard. Tyler reached down and grasped the buzzing thing, wrapping his fingers around its long, slender shape in an attempt to find the button he'd accidentally pushed. Finding it, he pressed, and the thing stopped. He placed it on the bed and brought his hands to the top of the headboard where he finally found the light switch. The dorm room filled with LED light, and Tyler exhaled, relieved that he didn't break something. Now that he could see better, he looked down at the thing on the bed. It was a long gray cylinder, covered in grippable rubber and shaped to be held by a person's hand. At the end of the cylinder was a bulb coated in shiny, pink plastic. The switch Tyler had pushed was at the other end of the cylinder. He chuckled when he put two and two together and realized what he was looking at. This was a vibrator. The gray cylinder was meant to be held, and the pink bulb was meant to be... applied. Tyler picked the vibrator up and placed it gently back inside Amber's headboard. Then he stood there, staring at the vibrator, placing his hands on his hips. He looked over at the front door. Still shut. He looked back at the vibrator. He crossed his arms under his D-cup breasts, feeling the slippery satin cami under his wrists. An idea began to form in his head, and his new pussy began to warm at the thought of it... Was he really considering doing this? He had stopped himself earlier, in the shower, when his fingers had become a bit too mischievous while examining his new equipment. The curiosity had never left his head, though. He wondered what it would feel like. He was averse to the seedier sides of his employment at Ringed Amusements, of course, and he sure as hell was never going to have any traditional sexual encounter while trapped in this body Jackson gave him. Surely it wouldn't hurt to get used to his new equipment, seeing as how he had no idea how long he'd have it. Surely Amber wouldn't mind him borrowing the vibrator, just for a few minutes. She let him borrow her clothes, after all. He reached into Amber's headboard storage, looking back at the door one more time, then grasping the vibrator. He tested the weight of it before returning to his bed on the other side of the room. Once there, he slipped under the covers again, covered his female body up to the neck, and held the vibrator with both hands. He took a determined breath in, held it for a few seconds, and exhaled. "Here we go," he whispered to the empty room. He pressed the switch and instantly felt the throbbing hum of the vibrator lurching to life. He held it there on his tummy for a while, not quite ready to move it to somewhere more intimate. After a moment, he slowly tilted it along his lingerie until the vibrating bulb drifted past his belly button, over his pubic hair, and atop his labia. He shuddered slightly at the sensation of the vibrator against his sensitive new equipment. It felt good, like a pleasurable massage, and he could feel the stirrings of arousal coursing through his body. Tyler spread his legs in order to accommodate the bulb as it descended further down his satin tap shorts. He settled its position once it covered his vaginal lips, just above the perenium. He rubbed the vibrator against his labia, moaning as the massage continued. As if by instinct, his free hand rose along the length of his cami until it touched a stain-covered nipple. Tyler gripped his breast through the filmy material as the vibrator kept working on his lower lips. He could feel himself becoming more aroused, more aware of his new body. His pulse rapidly increased as a tingling began in his vagina, his inner thighs, and his breasts - not too dissimilar from the tingling he felt earlier in the day, when the nanobots first began their life-altering surgery. The vibrator hummed away, and Tyler felt compelled to spread his legs even further apart as he felt a new sensation from his feminine depths - a moistening, a lubrication of the interior walls of his vagina, the natural, primal reaction of a woman who is excited about the prospect of... mating. Tyler put that thought out of his head as the pleasure continued mounting all over his body. His nipples hardened, and his hips began to thrust into the vibrating bulb as if inviting it to keep going, to penetrate Tyler's outer lips and invade the most sacred part of himself. Tyler rolled the bulb around and around his sensitive new flesh, alternately stimulating his labia, his quivering clitoris, his labia again. It felt as though his entire pussy was swelling, inside and out. He gasped every time the bulb hummed across his clit and moaned with pleasure as his other hand continued plying his large, pillowy left breast. Eventually he pinched an engorged nipple between his thumb and index finger, gently rolling the protrusion between his digits, amazed at how much pleasure he received from his ministrations. He felt his pleasure increasing, flowing, taking over every inch of his body. He felt his panties becoming damp with his feminine juices. Orgasm had to be near. He tried to induce climax by fantasizing about something... anything... he thought of Amber, with her flowing blonde hair and sexy southern accent, wearing her powder blue baby doll... he thought of Lola and her enormous breasts, her tanned skin, her tight and revealing clothing... he thought about the two of them making out, undressing each other, exploring each other's bodies... he thought of Lola's tongue lapping the folds of Amber's clean-shaven pubic mound, Amber rolling her head back in ecstasy as Lola nibbled the engorged clit before her... The sensations in Tyler's body finally crested and gave way for his first orgasm as a woman, one so intense that every muscle in his body shook with erotic surprise. His toes curled, his mouth opened in shock, his hips bucked against the vibrating bulb. Waves of pleasure coursed through his body, peaking in his breasts and vagina. He squealed girlishly as the climax overtook his body, staying present much longer than his male orgasms ever did. The seconds ticked by, but the pleasure remained, and Tyler found himself fixating on it, reveling in it, hoping it would never end... It did end, though, a moment later, and Tyler felt the unmistakable drip of sweat streaking down his brow, into his auburn locks and onto his pillow. When the pleasure had subsided and he was finally able to move again, he pressed the switch to turn the vibrator off. He peeled himself out of bed again and struggled to walk across the dorm room floor to the kitchenette, where he dipped the vibrator's bulb under the faucet and rinsed it off. The dampness in his borrowed panties filled him with shame and embarrassment. As he dried the vibrator on a tea towel hanging by the sink, he chastised himself for letting his curiosity lead into a moment of weakness. Masturbation wasn't a sin in his mind, but this time it felt different - and not just in a physical way. He was normally such a disciplined guy who focused on the task at hand, not allowing himself to get distracted... yet he had just borrowed a stranger's vibrator in order to test out his new pussy, knowing full well that the stranger could be returning to the room any moment now, catching Tyler in the act. That would have been a tough explanation to sell. As understanding and open as Amber was, Tyler was sure she wouldn't appreciate the innocent new girl using her most intimate appliance. Well, he'd certainly never let that happen again. He replaced the vibrator in Amber's headboard, turned off the lights, and got himself back into bed. He ignored his sopping panties for now, trying to get the memory of what he just did out of his mind, trying not to think of what horrible diseases were swarming around on the bulb of Amber's vibrator... the vibrator of a prostitute, who had slept with countless men and been infected with God knows what over the course of her career at Ringed Amusements. He rolled over in the bed, angry at himself for being so careless. He fell asleep with the anger subsiding, the afterglow of female orgasm taking over his emotions and making him feel more at peace with what he had just done. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he was proud of himself. Proud for trying something new, taking a risk after being so careful for most of his life... and he was proud in the knowledge that his male mind and male libido were still in tact. He had orgasmed to the thought of a lesbian encounter between two attractive women, after all. Jackson may have changed his body into that of a nubile strumpet looking for male attention, but his sex drive was still pointed at girls exclusively. The thought comforted him and he drifted off to sleep, just as his thin fingers drifted down inside the waistband of his yellow satin tap pants, instinctively searching for a penis that was no longer there. ***** Tyler awoke later to the smell of bacon sizzling in the kitchenette. He lifted himself up on the mattress by his elbows, his breasts hanging heavy in the thin cups of his cami. He yawned and squinted at the figure at the stove. It was Amber, wearing her powder blue baby doll and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, an apron tied around her thin waist. Tyler looked over at the digital clock on the wall - 07:49, it said. His session with Amber's vibrator had rendered him out cold for a solid five hours. "Mornin', Violet," Amber sang. "Sorry to wake you up, but I'm starvin' over here, if we're bein' honest. You should probably be up, anyway. Big day comin' up. And I know you wanted to talk to Jackson again, and she's usually more pleasant to be around in the mornin' rather than later in the afternoon." Tyler moaned and blew some long auburn hair out of his eyes. "Yeah. Good idea," he said. He swung his legs out of bed, surreptitiously checked the status of his tap pants - they had dried as he slept - and got to his feet. In addition to the bacon, Tyler caught the whiff of coffee brewing. "Okay if I turn on the rest of the lights?" Amber asked, scraping a wooden spoon across her frying pan. "Yeah, no problem." "You good with bacon 'n' eggs? Got some tortillas in the fridge, too, if you wanna stick some in the microwave." Tyler wandered over to the refrigerator and squatted, digging out the tortillas from the bottom shelf. The chilly air inside the fridge wafted over him and made him shiver. The cami and the tap pants didn't cover much skin, and they were so thin that they did little to keep out the cold. His new body seemed more sensitive to the temperature, as well - now he knew why women were so often stereotyped as being cold all the time. Tyler really could have gone for a big, fluffy bathrobe, or a pair of sweatpants. He pulled out the bag, closed the fridge door, and put a couple tortillas in the microwave. Amber hummed a directionless tune as she poked at the bacon in the frying pan. "Sleep okay?" she said, turning to Tyler and smiling. "Yeah. You?" Amber laughed at this. "No, darlin', didn't sleep too much. That's not what the clients pay me for, after all." "Oh," Tyler said, embarrassed at the question he'd asked. "Sorry. I wasn't... you don't need to... I didn't mean..." Amber rested the spoon against the rim of the frying pan and looked sternly at Tyler, though her version of stern wasn't at all threatening. "Listen, Violet, I do what I do. And I'm pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself, and if my customer reviews are truthful. You got nothin' to be weird about when talkin' about my job, okay?" Tyler nodded. "Okay. Sure." "I ain't ashamed of it. We can talk about it, if you want. Or we can just not talk about it, if you'd rather. Up to you. You ever got questions, feel free to ask." Tyler couldn't imagine why he'd ever feel compelled to talk to Amber about her work as a prostitute, especially since he was never going to engage in that side of the business himself. He nodded again and took the tortillas out of the microwave as Amber finished cooking the eggs and bacon. The two of them filled up their plates with food and sat down at the table with mugs of coffee to go with their breakfast. Amber removed her apron, showing off her fabulous figure in the powder blue baby doll she wore. "So," Amber said, twirling her fork in her fingers, "big things happenin' today. I know you're probably still wantin' to talk to Jackson, and she should be in her office by the time we're done eatin', so that's probably your first order of business. Make sure she gives you a tablet before you're done talkin' with her. You're not gonna be much use to anyone around here if you don't have any way of knowin' when there's work comin' up." "Okay," Tyler said, chewing. Amber sipped some coffee. "Second thing, Violet. We need to get you some of your own clothes. You can keep everything I gave you yesterday. We have sort of a... liberal approach to clothes around here. You'll see what I mean when I show you the wardrobe. Which, turns out, I might have time for today, assumin' your meetin' with Jackson doesn't go too long. But then I gotta start prettyin' myself up for the shindig this afternoon. Got that first batch of convention scouts showin' up today. Basically, we're just gonna be servin' drinks and handin' out business cards, so not really a big deal, but I always like to leave a positive first impression. Tends to benefit me financially in the long run, if you know what I mean." Tyler giggled girlishly at Amber's remark, and he felt his face go flush. He couldn't get over the concept of such a sweet, traditional-styled girl like Amber being the type to sell her body for money, while at the same time being completely unashamed of what she was doing... almost proud of it, it seemed. Maybe the prostitution business out here in Saturn's orbit didn't carry the same stigma it did back in Miami. "So when that whole thing starts," Amber continued, noting Tyler's slight discomfort with the topic of conversation, "I'll be off with a bunch of the other girls. A lot of us are workin' that job today, or other jobs, so I'm thinkin' there aren't gonna be too many folks around to keep you company. Might be a good time to get out there and take a look at the rest of the station. If you don't mind walkin' around a strange new place by yourself, that is." "No, I don't mind," Tyler said. He liked the idea of checking out more of Saturn Beta, even if it meant he'd have to walk around in this new body of his. He was confident he could handle whatever this wild west had to throw at him whether he was a man or a woman. Just so long as he could change into something other than the revealing yellow satin lingerie he currently had on over his sexy female body... The rest of breakfast proceeded quietly. Amber was obviously still tired from the morning's work, and Tyler was mostly lost in his own thoughts. His eyes drifted back and forth between Amber's amazing body and his own. He still scarcely believed that he was in this situation at all, despite everything that happened over the last day. This wasn't a dream. Everything had really happened - his transformation into a nubile young woman, his experience checking himself out and feeling himself up in the shower room, his donning two feminine outfits over the course of the night, his exploration of his new anatomy in bed, his mindblowing orgasm while using Amber's vibrator... god, a lot had happened yesterday! It was enough to make his head swim. And he also had to mentally prepare for his confrontation with Jackson. He focused intensely on what he planned to say to her. She was such a cold, bottom-line type of woman, seemingly uninterested in the trauma she had put Tyler through since he first arrived at Ringed Amusements yesterday. But she was still hiding him - and hiding him extremely well, Tyler had to admit - so he didn't want to get on her bad side. Before long, he and Amber had finished their breakfasts and taken their dirty plates into the kitchenette, where Tyler offered to load the dishwasher. "I have to earn my keep somehow," he said. The subtle joke caused Amber to smirk. Tyler finished with the dishes before long, then returned to his bedside to get dressed for the day ahead. He slipped out of his cami and refastened the red silk bra around his chest, a process that took much less time today that yesterday - he was already becoming better at dressing as a woman, and he felt a mite of pride at this. Once his breasts were appropriately covered, he slipped off tap pants, still stained from his session with Amber's vibrator earlier this morning. The panties under the tap pants were likewise stained, but Amber gave Tyler a replacement pair - another thong, this time in black silk. Tyler put his old panties in a hamper next to Amber's bed, hoping she wouldn't notice the remains of his vaginal juices on them. He then pulled yesterday's red tank top over his head, settling it over his breasts and smooth tummy, then shimmied into the flared black skirt and zipped it up behind him. He fixed his feet into the sandals and took inventory of himself in a full-length mirror near the rear window of the dorm room. There stood the now familiar, early-twentysomething girl, showing off her arms, the tops of her breasts, her midriff, and her shapely legs. Tyler looked just as attractive this morning as he did last night, although his hair had somehow become even frizzier since going to bed. He ran his fingers through the long auburn locks, wondering how to calm it down. Women's clothing was easy enough to put on - and perhaps become accustomed to! - but the mop of reddish-brown hair on his head was a different challenge altogether. "Here, Violet," Amber said, placing a green elastic band in his dainty hand. "Tie it up. We'll do somethin' about your hair later, but a ponytail's good enough for the mornin'." Tyler looked at the elastic band. He'd seen women do up their hair like this in the past, but had never needed to do it himself. After a few brief struggles with the process, Tyler eventually corralled his hair by wrapping the band around his wrist, pulling the hair tight into a single bunch, and then rolling the band down and over the whole lot. He checked himself in the mirror one more time and was pleased at the result. His hair was finally under control. Satisfied with the way he looked in preparation for his confrontation with Jackson, he turned away from the mirror and gathered his smartphone. Then, because it felt like the appropriate thing to do, he gave Amber a little hug. "Don't forget to ask for a tablet," Amber said, hugging him back. "Otherwise you'll..." "I'll never get any work. Yeah. Thanks," Tyler interrupted. "Thanks for everything. You've been a really big help." Smiling, Amber said, "Aww, you're welcome, darlin'. I'm happy to do it. Go on, now. Before she starts runnin' around like a headless chicken, tryin' to get this convention stuff sorted out." Tyler returned the smile and went for the door on the other end of the room. He gave one last wave to Amber, who stood there in her powder blue baby doll nursing a cup of coffee, looking very much like a housewife who was happy to see her children off to school for the day. Tyler shut the door behind him and went to the staircase, feeling his skirt flutter slightly as he descended each step. The halls and stairs of the dormitory were quiet this morning... no other Ringed Amusements employees making any noise anywhere. Tyler assumed they were all away from home, working. He frowned at the thought and steeled his resolve to never engage in that side of the business. Never in a million years. Tyler walked down the hallway toward Jackson's office door, as confidently as he could while wearing a midriff-baring tank top, a flouncy skirt, and a pair of sandals. He reached the door and considered barging right in, just to make his point clearer, but he settled for knocking loudly instead. After a short moment he heard the click-click of high heels on hard flooring. The door opened and there stood Jackson, bespectacled as always and wearing a charcoal grey skirt suit. She placed a hand on her hip and looked at Tyler with an annoyed expression on her face. "This had better be unbelievably quick, Mr. Hillman," Jackson said, backing away from the door so Tyler could enter the office. She looked Tyler up and down. "That said, you're looking quite lovely today. Might want to do something about that hair, though." "This can be over as quickly as you want it to be," Tyler said, ignoring the mocking compliment and walking into the office. "I just need to clarify a few things before I start working here." "By all means," Jackson said. Offering one of the chairs in front of her desk to Tyler, she went around the back of the desk and sat in her own. She looked imposing in front of the backdrop of deep, black space displayed in the window behind the desk. "How are you settling in?" "I... fine, I guess," Tyler said, sitting down across the desk from Jackson, holding the back of his skirt as he descended. He then crossed one leg over the other, protecting his modesty and showing no hint of his panties. Jackson saw this and raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Well. Fine indeed. You're already an expert at handling yourself in a short skirt, I see. You should be proud of that." "Jackson, look," Tyler said, desperate to get back to the subject at hand. "Amber and I were talking about things, last night and this morning. She told me about the rules." "Mmm," Jackson said. "And what would those be?" "Rule number one is, I don't have to do anything I don't want to do." Jackson fiddled with her thin glasses and looked down at a tablet on her desk. "Correct. How about the second rule?" "Not to bug you when you're not in your office." "Very good. Third rule?" Tyler considered this for a moment. "We never got that far. Amber did mention something about being classy, though. High-class. That's not why I came in here, though. I want to..." Suddenly, Jackson brought her hand up to her cheek and groaned at whatever she was reading on her tablet. Unsure of what to do, Tyler sat in his chair, legs crossed and hands folded over his skirt, waiting for Jackson to acknowledge him again. He wanted to press harder, to be as aggressive as possible during this brief meeting, but he also knew Jackson was in the position of power right now. She had him in her debt, and she had her nanobots in his body. His career as an info broker taught him over and over again that you can't win against the powerful by trying to be powerful. You had to be more strategic, subtle, nuanced. So he sat demurely and obediently in his chair, boiling over with the urge to speak. Jackson flicked through the text on her tablet. "I'll be honest with you, Mr. Hillman," she said, looking up from her desk at Tyler, "we've hit a snag with today's event. I promised I'd deliver six of my girls to serve drinks at a cocktail hour on the 5th floor. As it stands, I'm at four girls who have volunteered for the job. Everyone else is booked up with... other things." "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Tyler said, sensing an opening. "The other things. I met Lola yesterday, too." Jackson folded her hands. "Ah. And I suppose she wasn't particularly reserved in telling you how she makes most of her money." "No. You need to know something right now, Jackson. As thankful as I am for your help, and however deep into your debt as I am, I want to make something clear: I'll never do that. Never. You can sign me up for whatever other jobs you want, but I'm absolutely not ever going to..." "Deal," Jackson said, rising from her desk and coming around it to shake Tyler's hand. Tyler remained seated and tentatively reached his own hand out to clasp Jackson's. She took it and shook, firmly, three times. "Yeah, deal," Tyler said, surprised at how easy that was but waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jackson didn't strike him as the type of woman to agree so quickly to something - even her own list of rules - unless she wanted something in return. "Okay, then," Jackson said. "I'm signing you up for whatever other jobs I want, just like you said. Follow me." ***** The two of them stood in a private service elevator, side by side, alone except for each other's silent company. Jackson stood taller than Tyler, thanks in part to her dark grey heels. Tyler shifted uncomfortably as the cool air of the elevator wafted over the tops of his breasts, his long legs, and his bare midriff. "You really do look lovely, by the way," Jackson said, tapping a few times on her tablet. She turned to Tyler and scanned his feminized body once again, head to toe. "I wasn't just saying that. The surgery went perfectly, and Amber - I'm guessing Amber picked that outfit for you - really knows how to play dress-up." "Yeah," Tyler said, still feeling plenty awkward in his girlish new attire, no matter how much it suited the sexy female body underneath it. He tugged at the hem of his skirt, trying to pull it even half an inch lower down his legs. Jackson opened her purse and placed the tablet inside it, then slung it over her shoulder. "Okay. So. The rules." "Yes. The rules," Tyler said as the elevator hummed along. Jackson had used a keycard to access the elevator once the two of them had left her office, walked into a back-alley section of spindle #7, and stayed near the wall. Tyler didn't even know it was an elevator until Jackson ushered him inside and pushed the "5" button. There were very few buttons on the panel. Another express elevator, albeit a private one. "You've got the first two rules memorized, so that's good. I take those rules very seriously and I need you to do the same. It's for everyone's protection. I get some privacy and time to myself, you get to choose what you are and aren't comfortable with. Seems reasonable to me." "Sure," Tyler said, nodding. He wondered what was waiting for them on the 5th floor. "Rule number three," Jackson said, "is that you have your tablet with you at all times. I mean it. This is an on-call business, even if you're not doing the prostitution part of it. I expect all of my employees to take a look at new potential jobs when they become available, because I'm often working within a timetable with my clients. I need to be able to tell them yes or no as quickly as possible. This is critical. It helps me keep a schedule, and just as important, it helps my girls keep a schedule. You'll notice that all of these rules don't just benefit myself, Mr. Hillman. They benefit you, as well. Keep that in mind if you ever find yourself thinking I'm too... controlling." Tyler shook his head no and looked blankly at the elevator door. "Not at all. You don't strike me as controlling. A controlling person would take an unsuspecting, desperate man and do unwanted surgery on him to turn him into a woman ten years younger, then put him to work in a glorified whorehouse." Jackson laughed, briefly. "I'll let that insult slide, just this once." "It's not an insult, Jackson. It's the gospel truth. It's literally what you did to me." "I did this FOR you," Jackson said, taking her tablet out of her purse again as she spoke, "not TO you. There's a difference. We're partners in this relationship, Mr. Hillman. Do your damnedest not to forget that." She tapped a few buttons on the tablet as Tyler impotently stewed, crossing his arms under his heavy breasts. He wished that jab had worked more in his favor, either by guilting Jackson into apologizing or making her angry, but... she let it slide, indeed. It didn't seem to bother her at all that Tyler would question her methods or try to get under her skin. He had hoped to make some progress on swinging the power dynamic in this working relationship towards himself and away from Jackson by coaxing some emotion out of her. So much for that. "You probably think you're special," Jackson continued, tapping a final button on her tablet and watching the display, which said NOW PROCESSING - PLEASE WAIT. "Like you're the only one who's come through Saturn Beta, needing a place to hide out and needing someone to hide him. You're not. This whole station is a hiding spot. My entire business runs on that fact. Many of my girls are refugees from their own personal hells back home, Mr. Hillman. Most of my clients are on vacation from their difficult jobs, or at a conference in order to avoid their families, or otherwise far removed from their normal work-a-day lives." "Yeah, well..." "And another thing, in regards to how un-special you are. My girls all have the same mindset as you do when they first step foot into spindle #7. How horrible it is that I'm in this situation! Woe is me! That attitude disappears quickly if you allow for it. It's not a bad job at all. If you stop seeing yourself as a victim of bad circumstance, if you try to make the most of it, chances are you'll end up enjoying it." "You sound like Lola," Tyler said. He looked sideways, over Jackson's hands, trying to get a peek at whatever the tablet was doing. "Which is why," Jackson continued, completely ignoring what Tyler had just said, "we have so many girls in the dorm who have been here for years and years, long after they've paid off whatever debt they owe me, or had other job offers in other stations orbiting other planets, which leads into rule number four: conduct yourself with professionalism at all times. Now, professionalism naturally means different things in different situations. Mostly it boils down to being enthusiastic about your current job, representing yourself well, representing the company well, and giving the customer what they want. Put on an appropriate attitude for the occasion at hand. You'll figure it out. And maybe Ringed Amusements is just a glorified whorehouse, to pilfer your own words, but it's also the classiest, cleanest, most respected establishment on the station and I aim to keep it that way. Here's your tablet." Jackson handed it to Tyler. So that's what she'd been working on - configuring the tablet for his use, setting up his user profile, and all the other techno-geek stuff that needed to be done. He studied the tablet, acclimatizing himself to its weight and size. He had seen this make and model before, though it had always been smaller. Tyler realized seconds later that it wasn't that the tablet was bigger then he remembered - it was that his hands were smaller. Tyler sighed, knowing full well that he'd lost this round of verbal sparring with Jackson. Maybe he'd be able to soften her up a bit next time. Patience was a virtue he prided himself on, and a necessary virtue in his line of work. He pecked around the surface of the tablet, activating the screen, which displayed a passcode entry and a user name in all capital letters: VIOLET TAYLOR. "It's close to your real name," Jackson said as the elevator slowed its descent. "Taylor, Tyler... should be easy to remember. You'll want a purse to carry it around in, of course. We'll see about printing a nice one up for you. Your passcode on the tablet is 1-2-3-4, and obviously I recommend changing it as soon as..." "Printing?" Tyler said, looking away from his new name. "Sure. How else would anything get made way out here in the black?" The elevator dinged, stopped, and opened. Jackson stepped out of the car and walked away, clearly expecting Tyler to obediently follow her without having to be asked. He took a few tentative steps out into the 5th floor and looked around. It was a large, concrete-lined room, big enough to hold a couple of jumbo luxury yachts. The room hummed with industrial noise - grinding, pressing, the blowing of fans and the churn of rolling gears. A few wheeled robots rolled through the facility, holding heavy-looking items, making pinpoint 90-degree turns as they went along. Several sweat- stained men walked purposefully through the room, monitoring the machines and pushing buttons. Many of them turned to watch the two knockout women who had honored them with their presence. Tyler felt more exposed and more helpless than ever. All the men in the room were taller than him by at least a couple inches, bigger by at least thirty pounds. He used to be about their size, give or take an inch and a few pounds, but now... he was so much smaller, feeling like everyone else in the room towered over him. And while they all wore heavy denim pants and long-sleeved work shirts, Tyler was parading himself around in a low-cut, midriff-baring top with a short, fluttering skirt. He saw the workmen's eyes as they lingered too long on his breasts, his tummy, his ass, his legs... he caught one man licking his lips as he walked past. Another stuck his hand in his pants pocket, moving the hand up and down, and Tyler knew all too well what that gesture was about - the man was adjusting his growing erection. Tyler shuddered in disgust and quickened his pace. "Gentlemen," Jackson said to the admiring crowd of men, confidently but teasing, with a manner that let them know that she was well aware of how sexy she was and how out-of-place her type was in a room like this. Tyler almost envied her, how she was able to project such a forceful, self- assured air while wearing a skirt and heels and traversing a room full of pervy guys who, quite obviously, wanted to rip her charcoal suit in half and fuck her brains out. Tyler followed Jackson as she moved past both man and machine on her way to a door on the other side of the room. "This is the wardrobe," Jackson said, placing her keycard on a scanner, then holding the door open for Tyler after it unlocked. He walked through the door quickly, glad to get away from all the hungry eyes in the machinery room. Jackson pulled the door closed behind them and Tyler exhaled. What a nightmare that had been. Now he was in a much different room. Quieter, smaller, and jam-packed with clothing racks. Each rack had countless hangers on it, each hanger with an article of clothing or an outfit beneath the protection of a thin plastic bag. From where Tyler stood now, he could only see the details of a few of the outfits. The ones that caught his eye were several "Sexy Santa" outfits, gleaming short red dresses with puffy white fringe. Christmas was still half a year away. "Now," Jackson said, matter-of-factly, completely unfazed by the ogling she'd just gotten in the machinery room, "this is where we keep our things. Most of them. When a client requests a specific style of outfit for the occasion, we can usually find it here. Everything in the wardrobe is cataloged on your tablet, and every outfit is tagged so we can keep track of what's being used and what's still in the inventory." Jackson wandered down the length of one of the racks, fingering the hangers as she went. Looking for something specific, Tyler assumed. He followed along behind her, not sure what else to do. "That other room was my printing press," Jackson continued. "We print all kinds of things. Electronics, construction materials, furniture... like I said, I have my hand in many different businesses here on the station. We can also print textiles, fabrics, or entire customized outfits, if we need them. And we do. Often. Here we are..." Jackson lifted a hanger from the held it away from her body, inspecting it. It looked similar to what she had on now - a black pinstriped jacket with a matching skirt. She seemed satisfied with the selection and continued walking down the racks toward another door, another hallway. Tyler followed along. He wondered what was going on, where she was taking him. They turned out of the hall into a new room. This one had bright lighting, several benches, chairs positioned in front of vanity mirrors, closets, chests of drawers, makeup kits strewn everywhere. Several curtained-off dressing stalls lined the back wall. Four ravishing young women were primping themselves in the mirrors. Each of them had on a different, fetish-styled outfit, and every outfit was meant to show off the girl's assets to the fullest. One girl was wearing a short, tight cheerleader costume, complete with bows in her hair and a pleated short skirt. Another girl had on a naughty nurse costume made of white vinyl. The third girl wore the traditional "bunny" outfit, with a strapless pink teddy and fishnet stockings. The fourth girl... was Amber. "Violet!" she said, rocketing up from her seat. "Hey, darlin'! Did Jackson convince you to start workin' already?" "Uh," Tyler said, rubbing his elbow, becoming more uncomfortable by the second. Amber was wearing a silky robe, similar to the one Tyler had worn out of the exam room yesterday after his transformation had completed. "Yeah. We were just talking about that..." "And Violet has agreed to help out today," Jackson interrupted. "Which is helpful to say the least. Listen up, ladies." The nurse, the cheerleader, and the bunnygirl turned and faced Jackson. Amber put on a big smile and tuned her head to the front of the room. Tyler stepped sideways, away from Jackson, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into. "I estimated this as a six-person job," Jackson said. "And I promised the client six of my best and brightest. Unfortunately, I misread the schedule for the day and allowed some of the girls to freelance on other parts of the station when I originally thought they'd be working with the rest of you, and... well, long story short, here we are. Fortunately, to our great benefit, our new girl showed up yesterday and insisted I put her right to work. I want the rest of you to meet Miss Violet Taylor." Tyler's heart jumped. He had expected Jackson to refer to him as "Mr. Hillman," like she usually did, and was immensely relieved when she announced his stage name instead. He waved weakly at the three girls he'd never met before. They introduced themselves in turn - the bunny was Tanya (who spoke with a breathy Russian accent), the nurse was Renee (dark- skinned, tall, and leggy), and the cheerleader was Zoe (a stunning redhead with freckles to match). Tyler nodded hello at them all. "Violet's going to be helping us out today as best she can, since we're short-staffed," Jackson resumed. "She's a good sport about all this. Probably hasn't even gotten over her hypersleep lag yet. Anyway. She'd never admit this out loud, but she's nervous as hell about all this. Be nice to her, help her out, give her some advice, be brutally honest if necessary. She's a big girl. She can take it." The other girls chuckled at this. Tyler desperately wanted to run away and renege on the deal he had made in Jackson's office mere minutes ago. All of the high-stakes info brokering he had done in his past life seemed so much less intimidating than this... this costume party, whatever it was. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, though. The jacket and skirt outfit Jackson had picked for him didn't seem too slutty or revealing. He could handle his first day on the job while wearing something like that. No problem. "Amber," Jackson said. Amber stood at attention. "The requested costume list should be on your tablet. Go ahead." "Yes ma'am," Amber said. She picked her tablet up off the vanity and tromped off into the hallway, humming as she went. Zoe, Tanya and Renee returned to their mirrors and makeup. Tyler stood there dumbly, waiting for something to happen. He felt like a worthless, clueless intern who lived and died by his manager's instructions. Normally he'd take initiative, but this situation was still so foreign to him. He looked over at Jackson for a hint on what he should be doing. Taking that clothes hanger from her, probably, then making his way over to the dressing stall... Jackson looked back at him. "Yes, Violet?" "Can I, um..." he said, pointing at the jacket and skirt under the plastic bag. "I need to get dressed, right?" "Right. Not in this, though. This one's mine." "That's yours?!" Zoe said, dropping her jaw. "You're working the event?" Smirking, Jackson said, "I promised six girls. I keep my promises. I get to be the sexy librarian today." The other girls whooped and whistled, clearly quite amused that their boss would be joining them on the front lines for the day's work. Jackson rolled her eyes. "Back to it, ladies. We're not going out there in half- done makeup. And you," she said, turning to Tyler, "might want to catch up with your good friend Amber, before she gets her pick of the costumes and hands you the leftovers. Off you go." Tyler's mood sank even further. "Oh, God..." he said under his breath. He jumped through the door and jogged down the hallway to the wardrobe, skirt aflutter and breasts bouncing with every footfall. When he arrived, Amber already had a clothes hanger in one hand and was riffling through the racks searching for another outfit. Amber turned to him. "Hey, darlin'. Alright, so, we need... there we go. Gotcha!" She pulled another hanger off the rack and brought both plastic- covered outfits over for Tyler to examine. "I'll be sweet and let you have first pick." Tyler looked at the items hanging from Amber's hands. In her left was a tiny dress, black with detailed white lace fringe on the sleeves, hem, and neckline. Her right hand held a mass of see-through red fabric accented with golden embroidery. Whatever was under those plastic bags, Tyler was sure it was completely ridiculous and demeaning. "Your choice, Violet," Amber said, shaking the hangers. "French maid or belly dancer." "French..." Tyler said, unable to get the rest of the words out. Never in a million years did he think he'd have to make a decision this insane. "Jesus. Do we really have to..." "Oh, come on, darlin'. Playin' dress-up is fun sometimes, right? Especially when you get paid to do it. Now, usually I'd say that the bigger behind belongs in the belly dancer getup, and one with the bigger titties should be Fifi the maid here. Just my personal recommendation." "Hurry up, you two!" yelled a voice from down the hallway. Jackson. "Uh," Tyler said. He looked at Amber's chest, which he hadn't really studied until now, not even when she was wearing her revealing powder blue baby doll. Her assets were definitely less... pronounced than Tyler's own. His face went red with embarrassment. His boobs were bigger than Amber's, by a wide margin. Not exactly something he was proud of. "Oh, it's okay, darlin'. I know I'm a little on the smaller side," Amber said, noticing his discomfort. "Doesn't bother me at all. Some guys like that, after all. Means less back problems for me, too. All right. Let's get all the underthings 'n' accessories and then get back into the dressin' room before Jackson comes down here and tans our hides." "Accessories?" Tyler said. "Sure," Amber said. "Can't just go out there wearin' a dress and nothin' else, right?" ***** Over the din of the other girls getting themselves ready, Tyler sat on a wooden bench in his private dressing stall, slumped over and staring at the floor, because he didn't want to acknowledge the outfit he was about to put on. The tank top and skirt he wore currently were already a bit more revealing than he would have preferred for his first time ever wearing women's clothing, but this glorified Halloween costume was on a completely different, objectifying level. Amber had eventually coaxed him into the French maid outfit after he wavered back and forth between it and the belly dancer costume, after trying to decide which would be less humiliating... and after Amber had made mention, once again, that the tiny black dress would look much better on him than it would on her, since Tyler's breasts were so much bigger. He cupped his breasts in his hands now, feeling the weight of them, the size, the appealing reaction to being squeezed. They weren't entirely unpleasant to have, he had to admit, especially during his session with Amber's vibrator... but they were impossible to ignore and definitely drew plenty of attention. He thought back to his short walk through the machinery room en route to the wardrobe, where all the workmen had stopped what they were doing and watched Tyler and his D-cups walk past. His skin shivered at the thought that he was about to put on something even more revealing, something designed specifically to elicit arousal in anyone who happened to be looking. Something that went beyond the realm of mere women's fashion and into pure fetish gear. But he'd made a deal with Jackson. He was her employee. She was doing him a favor. He stood and began removing his clothing - sandals, skirt, panties, tank top, and bra. He placed these things at the end of the bench and reached into a paper bag that Amber prepared for him, which contained his lingerie for the day's event. The first thing he pulled out was a pair of black lace panties, which covered more skin than the thongs he'd been wearing for the past day. This new pair of panties had lace ruffles all around. Tyler pulled them up his legs and settled them over his hips, flicking his fingers through the ruffles once everything was in place. He'd have found these panties to be incredibly sexy, if anyone else had been wearing them... And speaking of incredibly sexy, the next item in the paper bag was a pair of fishnet stockings. Tyler held a stocking in each hand and tried to steel himself for what was about to happen. He sat on the bench again and tried to work out how to put these things on. The tops of the stockings were lined with adhesive strips on the inside, meant to hold up under their own power without the need for garters - a fact that Tyler was grateful for, since the women he'd been with in the past made it look like a real pain in the ass to put them on and fasten them properly. He tried hard to recall the times he'd watched his girlfriends get dressed, how they put on their pantyhose... "Violet!" Jackson said, from beyond the privacy curtain of the dressing stall. "Need you to speed things up, if you don't mind. You need to start in on your hair and makeup ASAP." "Don't remind me," Tyler grumbled in his feminine voice, sitting down on the bench again. He took one of the stockings, rolled it up into a donut shape, and then pointed his toes at the middle. He took a deep breath and began unrolling the stocking up his foot, then over his ankle, then up his calf and over his knee. It was a strange sensation, feeling the netted fabric on his hairless legs. Strange and brand new... and undeniably erotic. By the time he'd unrolled the entire stocking and fixed the adhesive strip at the top of his leg, just an inch below the leg hole of his ruffled panties, he could hardly wait to get the second one on. Which he did, quicker than the first. He stood again and looked at himself in the mirror. The female body in the reflection cut quite a picture - topless, large breasts hanging down, wearing sexy ruffled panties and a pair of stay-up fishnet stockings. Tyler smiled in spite of his inhibitions, and the girl in the mirror smiled back... almost flirtatiously. Reality settled in again and Tyler resolved to finish getting ready as quickly as possible, lest he feel the wrath of Jackson. The next article of clothing was an intimidating one - a petticoat, which he'd never even seen before, let alone worn. These things had fallen out of fashion hundreds of years ago and had only survived because of formality, fantasies and fetishes. Amber insisted he had to wear it, though, or else the maid's dress wouldn't "sit right" on him. The petticoat was a voluminous and flouncy-looking thing, with several layers of netting, and ruffles around the edges that perfectly matched the ruffles on his new panties. He looked curiously at it before finally stepping into it and pulling it above his waist. The elastic band settled over his hips and the netting spread outward and down, almost like a poofy skirt. The petticoat rested high on him, and he could only feel hints of it brushing against his legs, just above his stocking tops. Below the waist, it felt like he was wearing almost nothing at all. Tyler summoned up what remained of his courage and took the French maid's dress off the hanger. After a moment of working out which part was the front and which was the back, he slipped the dress over his arms and head, settling the skirt over his petticoat and guiding his arms through the puffy satin sleeves. He fitted his bulging breasts into two cups in the bodice of the low-cut dress, which covered his nipples and areolae but left the tops exposed to the open air. The elasticized fabric of the bodice fitted snugly around his waist and chest and thankfully didn't need to be zipped up. He adjusted the skirt, sleeves, and neckline of the dress to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Then came the rest of the accessories Amber had selected for him. First, a black satin choker with white lace trim, similar in style to everything else he was wearing. Tyler fastened this around his long neck and fingered it for a moment, once again becoming used to the alien sensation of wearing something he'd never worn before. Then a white lace apron, which he tied into a bow around his waist. Then came the shoes, a pair of black pumps which mercifully didn't have much of a heel to them - only an inch and a half, according to Amber, who thought that would be the perfect height for someone who wasn't used to dressin' up and wearin' heels. To put these on, Tyler had to sit down on the bench again. His pantied bottom touched the wooden bench directly, with no skirt or other material there to separate the two. Apparently the petticoat was holding his dress out more horizontally than he originally assumed. Tyler placed his first shoe on his foot with little trouble. It had a buckling strap in the back, above the heel, which Tyler wrapped over his ankle and buckled. He repeated this process on the other shoe and then stood once more. Amber was right - this wasn't so bad. He took his first steps in the pumps, back and forth down the length of the stall, until he felt confident enough on his feet to rejoin the rest of the girls in the dressing room. But first, he needed one more look at himself in the mirror... The pointed, shiny black leather of the pumps covered his toes, previewing the fishnet stockings which encased his shapely legs. Tyler followed the stockings up his calves, his knees, and his thighs. He could just see the tops of the stockings peeking out from under the white lace edging of the petticoat. His panties were fully covered, thankfully, but bending over more than an inch or two would certainly expose them to view. Tyler made a mental note to keep his nubile body as vertical and rigid as possible for as long as this job lasted. The satin skirt of the dress covered the petticoat with the exception of the white lace edging. The bodice, velvety in texture and form-fitting, hugged his waist and midriff. The milky-white tops of his breasts rose out from the bodice, begging to be ogled. The sleeves of the dress only covered his shoulders, leaving his arms bare. The satin and lace choker made his neck look longer, sexier, and more refined. Tyler had to admit it was a nice touch. Violet Taylor, staring out from the mirror, looked almost unbearably sexy in the outfit Amber had selected. And yes, Violet Taylor looked better as a French maid than Amber would have. Tyler turned left, then right, examining the details of his new look and making sure everything was in its proper place. "Violet!" Jackson called once more. "Hurry!" Amber chimed in too: "C'mon, darlin'! Burnin' daylight, here!" "Coming!" Tyler said, taking a deep breath and a last look at the mirror. He could do this. He could pretend to be a French maid for a few hours, and he could pretend to be a girl. He'd been pretending for years now, back in Miami, acting like a hedge fund manager or a fusion reactor inspector, or whatever else he needed to disguise himself as in order to get himself into people's good graces. And those kinds of things required industry knowledge, too. What knowledge did being a French maid require? How to dust and vacuum? No problem. He caught himself thinking of Lola, and her advice... be confident, act like you belong here, act like you own the place. He kept these words in mind as he opened the privacy curtain and walked into the dressing room.