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Beautiline
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters
My aunt's house was bigger than I remembered, but still nowhere near big
enough. Her internet home delivery business, Beautiline, had been a huge
success, and even with the old barn building full of stock, I found that
we were only able to live in a few rooms.
My mother had received a cry for help from Aunt Gabby and as I was out of
a job she had volunteered me. It meant moving to Gainsboro and living and
working in the big old homestead just out of town. Initially I was just
boxing up product for dispatch but it became clear where my aunt was
really short.
The house was almost completely surrounded by parkland and woods. It had
been a rural area but Gainsboro had expanded and outside the shelter of
the trees a large industrial estate had been established. This was useful
for the business as product, packaging and transportation were near at
hand. In reality the business ought to have been located in that
industrial estate, with a warehouse allowing easy processing and packing
of orders. But my aunt had resisted the suggestions of others in that
direction.
For her the relationship with the consumer had to be personal. Her
business depended on direct contact with her customers, some of it by
email live chat, but also by voice. Her easy style and complete knowledge
of her beauty and ladies' products was what made the sales, and the return
business. Her reputation had grown by word of mouth, and she now had a
total inability to service her existing clientele, without even
considering new customers.
"If only I had a niece that my sister could have sent me," she teased.
The products were exclusively for women. But I wanted to help.
She started by suggesting that I handle some of the live chat. With all
my gaming experience I was handy with a keyboard ? faster than her ? and
she could bring me up to speed with the products and the patter. I worked
a few text only chats as "Jo, Product consultant". I made some sales and
my aunt paid me commission on top of the rather meagre wage she was paying
me for general work. It was clear to see that if wanted to make some real
money I would need to make more sales.
But the limitation with chat is that when the customer asks to speak to
Jo, I have to type in that my microphone is down, or I have laryngitis, or
anything to avoid a voice conversation. My aunt did most of her large
sales, and developed most of her long-term customers, over the phone.
And my aunt also pointed out that in a phone conversation I needed to have
a much greater knowledge of the product. I needed to be able to speak
from experience. Typing in product features and a little sales patter
would not cut it in a conversation. They would ask, and you had to
answer, and be believed.
But I was willing to give it a try. If only I could develop a woman?s
voice? So, I did. I googled "how to speak like a woman" and I got
results mainly from transgender support sites, with YouTube training
videos. I worked on it in the evenings. My aunt could hear me trilling
to get higher notes, and she was encouraging.
"However," she said, "you still need to develop some feminine experience
to speak from." She knew that knowledge of the product was not enough.
She suggested that I try some of the soaps and soap substitutes, the
moisturising creams, eye creams and other face treatments, the acid peel,
body lotions, and something called "depilation treatment". I tried
everything, some stuff without even checking with her. She even had a
line of "skin conditioning tablets" which were expensive, so a big
commission earner. I took a course of those too ? just so I could endorse
them from first-hand experience, and hopefully make a sale. It seems a
little crazy now that I did all of this without much thought. I just
wanted to be a good sales person. I wanted to help my aunt, keep the
business together for her, and make money.
I also trialled the hair products. My hair was not in good condition. It
was longish when I arrived, and I never bothered to get it cut, so it was
perfect to trial the products. When I used the straightening formula, the
volumizers and the special shampoos my hair began to look completely
different. It was soft and shiny and there just seemed to be so much more
of it.
I took my product assessment seriously. I made notes. I spent hours in
my room at night rehearsing sales routines in my girl?s voice. It was not
before I was ready to take the phone.
I started to receive calls and to talk about the marvellous positive
effects of our products. I picked up a lot of phrases and mannerisms from
my aunt. Then I picked up even more from my customers, especially those
around my age. None of my customers had any idea they were talking to a
man.
I had plenty of customers after only a few weeks. Once I had satisfied
myself that I sounded totally like a girl I just could not stay off the
phone. I liked to talk. The trick is to sound chatty but put a limit on
the time you spend ? sometimes that means finding an excuse to end the
call. But never put the phone down without closing a sale or having a
basis to close it later.
My desk got busier and busier. I had order forms piling up. But it was
exhilarating.
Aunt Gabby said, "You need to try the ?Miracle Bun Builder? to keep that
hair out of the way." She had bought the rights too it so there was good
money in the sales. So I tried it ? followed the simple instructions. It
worked really well and kept my hair out of the way while I worked. I
ended up recommending it many of my phone customers.
After those first weeks Aunt Gabby said that we would need to hire
somebody to do the parcels freeing me to be in sales full time. She would
still pay me base wages, but I was making heaps in commissions so that
barely counted.
That was when things started to get a bit weird. The first applicant for
my old job came to the door and I greeted him. I was wearing jeans and a
tee shirt. Ok, so the tee shirt was one of my aunt?s range, so it had a
floral pattern. But I was otherwise dressed as a guy. But stupidly I had
my hair up clipped with the ?Miracle Bun Builder?. And more stupidly I
had been talking as Jo all day and when I reached out my hand I said "Hi
there, I?m Joe" but it came out as Jo, not Joe.
The applicant (Jeff) smiled at me and said, "Well I hope we?ll be working
together." There was no mistake in what he was thinking. It was all over
his face. He was thinking I was a girl.
Worse still, I know I blushed. What I should have done was to lower my
voice and explain that I was not a girl and he should stop flirting with a
guy. But I didn?t do that. I didn?t lower my voice. I just told him to
wait while I got my aunt. Stupid me. I was just confused I guess. Maybe
a little surprised, or even shocked, or flattered?
The truth is that I had been so tied up with selling that I had not set
foot off the property in weeks. My work clothes were out of stock, and my
face was a virtual advertisement for what beauty products can do, even to
a male.
If I hoped my aunt would clear up Jeff?s confusion, but I would be
disappointed. She told me that Jeff was perfect for the job. He had
assumed that I was her daughter, and she had corrected him. "That?s my
niece," she told me she had said.
"Why, Aunt Gabby? Why would you say that?"
"If you want to explain why my best salesperson to women, is a boy
pretending to be a girl, then I leave that up to you. You are here
because you are family, but I don?t like deceit and the less people that
know about it, the better." Clearly my aunt was suggesting that I should
keep it a secret that I wasn?t a girl.
What a crazy idea! While I thought I did a great job pretending to be a
girl over the phone, it never dawned on me that I could be mistaken for a
girl in person. But as my aunt pointed out, it was the skin and the hair.
The products really were that good. My skin was soft, hairless and
without blemish. The colour was pale as could be expected from a guy who
spent too much time in front of his computer, but had an almost luminous
quality. I really like the way it looked and felt. My hair was abundant
and with the various treatments had acquired a light color and a sheen,
not to mention the floral perfume from roots to tips. I liked my hair
too. With the "Miracle Bun Builder" I kept it up while I worked, but in
the evening I let it down and brushed it using another of our products,
"The Glossing Brush".
So she offered Jeff the job. What was I going to do now? I had to share
the workplace with somebody who thought I was a girl, without me even
trying to look like one.
My aunt suggested that if I was going to spend more time "on the female
side". As it happened she had been approached by a cosmetics company to
distribute a whole range of new products. She had been confined to skin
and hair, but now that my work in sales had relieved her of time on the
phones, she was looking at taking more on. The new products included
foundation, blushers, highlighters, mascara, eyeliners, shadow tones, and
lipsticks.
This was a whole new range to sell, and something that I had never dreamed
of trialling. Using them and talking to my customers from experience, it
seemed that makeup just crossed the line somehow. It was just too
girlish. But hadn?t I already crossed that line?
As it happened when Jeff started the following Monday I was full on
selling makeup over the phone: "No, no. Our mascara is different. It
really has fibres in that physically lengthen and strengthen your lashes.
It?s so easy. I?m applying some right now while I?m talking." And I was.
I batted my eyelashes at Jeff to show him. I motioned to him that I would
be free in a few minutes, and just kept on talking: "you?ll try some?
Great. I will add it to your consignment..."
I took that order over to Jeff to show him how things worked. We had a
system ? orders converted to invoices and packing lists, goods packaged up
before payment was confirmed, then dispatch on payment. He followed my
every gesture like a puppy on training day.
When he had gone home I decided that my aunt and I needed to talk about
things were going. I had learned that selling is about not just knowing
the product but experiencing it. I had sold skin and hair products that
worked for me. Now that I was using makeup I was making sales. What else
could I sell? We were developing a good clientele, but could we grow
products as well.
Aunt Gabby felt that we needed to stick with our Health and Beauty theme.
Then she had an idea and rummaged through her card folder for a card:
"This guy came to see me a few days before you got here. He has a line of
?ladies intimate apparel?. Some lingerie but also support garments.
Perhaps you should follow this up?"
His name was Ben Hamlin. I called him the following day and he offered to
come up from the city on Friday to meet me. He gave me a bit of
background. It was a family business and he was just helping out while
finishing his studies. He had helped with a website but what was needed
was to secure access to an existing database of female customers who
bought online. In other words, us.
Honestly to that point I still wore jeans and tee shirts almost every day.
Since Jeff had started I had taken to wearing ?Daisy Duke? shorts that I
had fashioned myself out of older jeans. I have no idea why I wore them.
It meant that I needed to keep my legs hairless and tanned which was not
so natural for me. I guess I just liked to watch Jeff?s face when I
walked up to him in my shorts.
My aunt told me that for a business meeting I would need something
corporate to wear, so she took me shopping. She decided that a dress was
appropriate. But I would need underwear to give me a shape, and shoes
with a heel as well. I was fully prepared by Friday.
Ben called at the house late on Friday morning. I went down to the door
in my new outfit. When we saw one another, I swear that there was ?a
moment?. He was young, maybe only a year or two older than me, and very
good looking. Now, I am no queer, but there was something in him that I
connected with. It was not the way he looked, but the way he looked at
me. I think anybody could be affected by a look like that, regardless of
their sexual orientation.
There was a clumsy exchange while I invited him in and showed him the
operation. We sat and talked for a while about more than just the
business and then he asked me to go to lunch with him. Lunch? I checked
the clock and we had been talking for almost 2 hours. I had a lot on and
was going to call time on the meeting, but he gave me a pleading look and
I agreed. We spent another 2 hours talking over a great meal in town.
"I suppose you think that it is a bit strange for a guy to be involved in
women?s intimate apparel," said Ben. I could only smile at the irony.
"It is the family business. So I guess I was brought up in a house full
of clothes and fashion magazines."
"To be honest I have never been that interested in fashion," I said. "I
was sort of a tomboy, I guess. I still am. I wear jeans almost every
day. I just put a dress on for you."
"You have the ideal shape for a dress," he said, in a manner that made the
compliment sound like fact. If you don?t mind me saying so, you would
look even better with something cut a little differently."
"I will listen to the expert," I said with a warm smile. The moment I
said the words and delivered the look I knew that I was flirting. I can
say that there was no intention to do it, but that would not be true. On
some level I wanted him to be interested in me, to be attracted to me, to
desire me.
I told my aunt that I had agreed to trial a line of products. Ben was to
send samples for us to try and have some stock packaged ?on approval? for
selling. They were like a bustier in nude material, strong to hold shape
but perforated to breathe easily. Edges were padded but in a way that
they would not be visible under any but the tightest dress.
My aunt and I decided to wear them straight away, but as I took my top off
my aunt took notice of my chest: "It seems that you are growing breasts,
my dear," she observed.
I checked myself in the mirror and saw to my horror that she was right. I
had noticed irritation in my nipples for weeks, but now I had two definite
lumps. "How is this possible?" I exclaimed.
"I?m afraid is must be the skin conditioning tablets," she said. "If you
read the label you will see that the active ingredient is a synthetic
estrogen. It is just to improve skin condition, but I guess it could
promote breast growth. It?s just that it is intended to be for women
only."
"So, will these go if I stop taking the pills?" I asked.
"I am not sure," she said. "It might be hard to make flesh disappear. It
may need surgery. I am sorry sweetheart. Not a welcome side effect for a
boy, but on the positive side, your skin condition is beautiful."
She was right. I looked at myself in the mirror. We both put on the new
garments. With them came some gel pads for added shape. With two pads in
each cup the extra flesh on my chest could be pushed into a real cleavage.
I looked again. The new shape was stunning ? a real womanly figure with
breasts!
At this point any normal man would have recoiled in horror, but I did not.
I liked this shape. When I put a sundress over the top and put my hair
up, I liked the look. The pudgy, spotty, whiskered boy was no more. The
person looking back at me was Jo ? pretty, confident, successful sales
person, management material on the rise, admired by men, respected by
women for knowledge in health and beauty matters, ... happy.
I doubled down. I contacted the supplier of the pills and picked up a
supply of drugs that would enhance breast growth by suppressing all male
hormones and flooding my body with only the female kind. The effects were
rapid and amazing.
At about this time I had some "glamor shots" taken and my image went on
the site alongside my aunt. Her clientele was predominantly middle aged,
but the caption with the image read "My niece Josephine started her skin
and hair care routine while young ? the secret to lasting beauty". Almost
overnight our market grew dramatically. I became the youthful face of the
brand.
Ben was thrilled with the rapid growth and started to look for more
clothing products to suit the new market ? things like training and sports
bras and support garments targeted at young women. Then there was the
potential for outer garments.
Following Ben?s advice, and with his support, I started to learn more
about clothes and "styling" for a complete look. The fact became
apparent, that beauty is not just about skin and hair, and a little
makeup, it comes from presentation. That means the whole package. And
every woman is their own package.
I found myself talking to my customers online and giving style advice, not
just hair and skin routines. I would always say: "I?m no expert but ...",
but my hints seemed to work, and I was always thanked.
I started to find my own style. It was relaxed, natural, modern and very
feminine. Somehow that was just who I was these days. I had no idea
where it came from. I guess that the products that I was selling were
about natural beauty, and my make up was about showing off my best
features rather than painting some on. My clothes were about showing the
shape that I had developed, and favoured my surroundings ? color, floral
patterns, lace trimmings.
There was no trace of who I had once been anywhere in my look. And I was
glad of it.
Ben was a regular visitor, and it became clear that he was interested in
me ? sexually or romantically or hopefully both. I say that I hoped,
because I did. It never occurred to me that I had become gay. When we
were together nobody would ever have suggested this was a relationship
between two men.
The first time he kissed me I never gave a moment?s thought to the fact
that there was a penis tucked away in my panties. I felt so completely a
woman in his arms that I just shut out that reality.
That kiss was my turning point, and also, in a strange way, the turning
point for the business. Ben?s ?ladies intimate apparel? was a success, in
particular the figure forming items. But more importantly he and his
family decided to invest in Beautiline and he would be moving to Gainboro
to be at the centre of distribution.
Because Ben and I were at the heart of the expansion, we were both offered
direct ownership in the business. Papers were drawn up for a new company
with my aunt and I each owning 25%, and Ben and his family each owning
25%. We were to steer the business.
But on the day of signing Ben was going through the papers and asked the
veru simple question: "Who is Joseph Palliser?"
"That?s me," I said, as if it were nothing at all.
I can remember the look on Ben?s face: Confusion, then realisation, the
pain. It was as if I had just pulled out a giant dagger and plunged it
into his guts. All that desire was now turned to disgust. I just burst
into tears and ran away.
But it was too late to undo things. We were already in possession of the
huge warehouse that we had leased on the nearby industrial estate, and new
stock was on the way in.
We were both hurting but he did his best to avoid me, and I did my best to
show that I did not care. We sent emails to one another, even though we
had adjoining offices. But somehow, I knew that he could not get me out
of his system.
Then a few weeks after the signing, I decided that a confrontation was
called for. I had received a sample of product being pushed to us for
distribution. It was a hair curling kit with solution and tools. With my
aunts help I did my hair in big bouncy curls. It was getting towards
summer so I wore a floral dress with a plunging neckline to show off my
breasts, which were close to my full size by then. Although I did not
usually wear heels around the warehouse, that day I had on wedge sandals
that turned my walk into a sashay, and made my legs look a mile high.
Ben was alone in the testing room. I had glass partitions so he could see
me walking down the hall towards him, legs on display, curls bouncing, a
determined look on my face. I entered the room and I was going to say:
"Ben we need to talk, we need to talk about how to talk."
I only got the first four words out, and then his mouth was on mine, his
tongue almost face-raping me. His hands were in my hair and my hands were
clawing his back, begging for more of what I was getting. It was pure
passion.
Some of the staff were on the office level and could see everything. I
though I heard Jeff cheer, but then again, my mind was only on one thing ?
how were Ben and I going to make love?
I had never been medically diagnosed with any gender identity disorder, so
I had to go to Bangkok to make it happen. Somebody needed to run the
business, so my aunt went over with me and she and Ben traded places on
the day of my surgery. That meant that I was re-introduced to my man as a
woman.
He was with me through recovery, but it would take weeks to be ready for
sex. Just before we came home we had a few days at a resort in Krabi and
Ben proposed. What could be more romantic? On the beach under the
coconut palms with the diamond glinting in the tropical sunset. How can a
girls say no?
The house that housed the business is now a house again. The barn has
been converted into a cottage for my aunt so that she can make room for
Ben and myself and our adopted family to live in the sprawling homestead.
Our warehouse is on the other side of the wood, only a pleasant walk away
for both of us.
Our bed in our house was where we fist had sex. I admit it was before we
married ? neither of us could wait. But by the day of our wedding I was
fully conditioned so that the consummation of our vows was a moment of
pure ecstasy. My sex life as a boy had been largely internet
masturbation. I now was now able to lie back as my lover vigorously
worked me to orgasm. There is simply nothing like it.
My parents and older brother attended the wedding. They found the total
change in me difficult to accept, but Ben charmed them. If they had
wanted a son with everything going for him, their son in law would be that
person. They adore him as much as I do. And now they have our children
to love as well.
My bridesmaid was Jessica, previously Jeff. It was only a matter of time
before he was looking to advance in the business, and that meant moving to
sales. And, as my Aunt Gabby and I agree, selling is about not just
knowing the product but experiencing it. If you want to be successful in
selling women?s health and beauty, you should be a woman.
The End
© Maryanne Peters 2018
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