Chapter 1

Denis

Denis Robson was the floor manager of Fellows department store and ever since his promotion eighteen months ago, had been wrestling with a problem.

The problem was that his responsibility was for the men's and ladies wear floor and every day he went to work, he was forced to walk through the ladies section, past the dresses, skirts and blouses that sparkled and shimmered in the carefully placed lights.

He'd walk on past the shoes in pretty, bright shades, past the upturned 'legs' with toes pointed, covered in glossy stockings, their lace tops in intricately woven patterns beckoning to him as he made his way towards the men's section.

The worst (or best) part was still to come - the lingerie. Panties, suspender-belts, corsets, basques and bras with their delicate detailing and silkiness were just crying out to be worn and as much as he tried, he just could not get the idea of seeing himself encased in silk or nylon or lace out of his head.

There it was. For a year and a half, Denis had managed to suppress the urge to touch the delicate gossamer nightwear, brush against the silk slips and other under-things. How he had managed to keep his desires from his assistants, Lisa, Natalie and Cynthia, was a minor miracle. They seemed to notice everything else.

He was tired; his sleep constantly troubled with visions of himself in the guise of a woman, rolling sheer stockings up smooth legs; fastening a suspender belt around his waist and attaching the straps to the lace tops of the stockings before sliding the almost transparent thong up nylon-covered thighs...

Oh how he dreamed of that day...

"Sir? Sir?" said the tall lady and Denis's jolt back into reality was like being hit by an express train.

"Er, yes, yes. How can I help madam?"

"Miss." she corrected.

"Sorry. How may I help, Miss?"

"I'd like to try this on." she said, handing him a diaphanous ivory coloured night-gown.

"I'll see if there's someone available to help."

"But they're all busy and I really am in a hurry. Can't you help?" she asked, thrusting the night-gown at him.

Sparks seemed to shoot up his arm as he took the garment, feeling how fine the fabric was and the definite effect it was having. He led the woman to an empty changing room, hoping he had shrugged off the feeling without her noticing and handed back the night-gown.

"If you would like any further assistance Miss, I shall be just here."

"Thank you." she said and pulled the curtain across, leaving it just short of closed. Denis averted his eyes as he noticed the reflection in the changing room mirror and could see her dress starting to fall away, exposing a cup of her delicately embroidered bra.

He had barely turned when he heard the woman call for help.

"There's no room in here, can you hold this?"

"Certainly Miss." he said automatically and reached out to take her dress. It was expensive, light and silky to the touch, even nicer than the gown had been. The smell of her perfume — expensive and heady drifted to his nostrils.

"That's what I would wear if I were a woman too." he thought, blinking anxiously for thinking such a thing.

More sparks.

Then came the bra.

"Er, Miss I..." he said turning a rather fetching crimson.

"Thanks." she said absently and poor Denis didn't know where to look or what to think. He could feel the temperature rising and desperately wanted to drop her clothing and run, but Denis was the consummate professional.

The cubicle curtain had been left open about a third of the way and the woman was just in the process of pulling the night-gown over her head, her curvaceous body in perfect view.

She seemed totally oblivious to the fact that Denis could see everything. He turned away, his face deepening in shades of crimson as his eyes met with a perfect vision of her firm breasts, jutting from her chest, each surmounted by a dark pink nipple.

Her arms dropped as the garment slid silently over her shoulders and she turned this way and that to see in the mirror, her body clearly visible through the filmy fabric.

"I think this is too big. Do you have one in a smaller size?" she asked and less than a heartbeat later she had pulled the night-gown over her head and thrust it at Denis, standing before him in nothing but a smile.

"I-I-I..." he stammered then coughed. "I'll see." he said handing back her clothes before taking the night-gown away.

En route, he saw Cynthia.

"Cynthia, would you mind finding this in a smaller size please and attend the lady in the changing cubical over there?" he said motioning in the direction of the naked woman, the memory of her totally hairless body still smouldering in his mind.

"Certainly Mr. Denis." she answered, wondering what could possibly have happened to get Mr. Denis into such a state.

Denis could feel the wave of relief wash over him as she took the gown from him and he made a bee-line for his office.

"Was there a smaller size? Oh." said the woman as instead of Denis, Cynthia was stood proffering the garment. She snatched the night-gown from Cynthia and nearly pulled the curtain off its hooks as she dragged it across its track, grimacing and muttering.

"Ah." said Cynthia, realising what had happened.

Denis felt that the bigger embarrassment was the way they laughed over his reactions once the lady had gone.

"I think she had the hots for you." said Cynthia and Denis blushed to the roots of his hair, unable to stop the women from poking fun at him.

"It's not right." he said, trying to loosen his collar. "Not right at all."

"Why?" asked Lisa, trying to goad him into more blushing.

"It's not the way a woman should behave."

"Don't men do things to attract the attentions of women then?" asked Natalie.

"Not like that." he said, puffing himself up. "We would buy flowers or take her to dinner or to the theatre. I certainly would not parade around naked for a woman I didn't even know."

"Spoilsport!" said Lisa.

He called a halt to the conversation at that point, knowing that he had lost the battle and that the women knew it too.

At home that night, he thought about his encounter with the brazen lady.

The more he thought, the more he figured that she had done it on purpose; that she knew he could see her and that that was precisely what she wanted. It was odd, but although he found her attractive, at the time that it was happening, he was more envious of her body than attracted to it, although he was most definitely attracted to it, er, her.

The fact was that his keenly analytical mind was trying to adjust to the fact that his main focus was how he would feel in a body such as that.

"How strange..." he thought.

"Good morning Ladies." said Denis brightly, giving the lingerie-draped shelves as wide a berth as was possible. "Don't let them see you looking at those." he thought.

"Morning Mr. Denis." intoned the others as they fussed about their stations.

Denis went into his 'office', which was really nothing more than a cubby-hole at the back of the men's section. He felt safe in there, especially after the event of the previous day. The wool worsted suits, sensible Y-fronts and button-down shirts making a welcome buffer between him and that area.

He switched on the PC, placed his brief-case on the small desk, took off his jacket and sat on the chair to wait for the computer to boot up, sighing as he looked across the floor to the brightly-coloured tops, skirts, shoes — oh those shoes with their tall, slender heels...

Despite his close encounter of the female kind, he found that the feelings he had been fighting so hard, were now stronger than ever and the memory of that woman and her body still fresh in his mind, just gave him something more to focus on. Now, he wasn't thinking of him in women's clothes, but him with a body like hers and woman's clothes.

It was getting worse. Oh dear.

He jumped up, quietly closed the door and then went back to his desk.

Within minutes, he was answering phone calls and entering numbers into the company database, quietly grateful for his mind to be elsewhere other than on the clothing that almost called to him from the other side of the shop.

Later that evening, Denis considered his position. His proximity to the ladies accoutrements was doing nothing for his state of mind. Every day it worsened, every day he wanted more and more to indulge his desire, his fantasy — no, his need. Perhaps he ought to apply for a transfer or even find another job elsewhere.

He ran himself a bath and undressed as the tub filled, the sound of the water splashing receding further into the background as he studied himself, naked in the mirror.

Who was he trying to kid? He loved working at Fellows. There was no way he wanted to work anywhere else

His eyes ran up and down his reflection in the glass, the thoughts of the lingerie department in the forefront of his mind as he mentally superimposed the woman's body over his own, but the dark hair that sprouted from his chest, spreading across his belly and continuing down beyond his crotch, down his legs to his ankles, saddened him. It was impossible to imagine himself as anything other than a short, skinny, man.

It struck him that perhaps he could do something about that and with trembling hand (never a good way to start), he reached for his razor.

He placed the head of the razor against his chest and was about to draw it across.

What was he doing?

"What! Are you some kind of a pervert or something?" he said aloud and he replaced the razor into its holder behind the taps on the sink.

He sank into the bath, numb.

Why was this happening to him? Why was he having these thoughts?

He had no idea. It wasn't something he had always had to deal with, not some out of control fantasy. Although it did feel as though it was heading that way.

There had to be something he could do.

The next day at work was much more subdued. The woman didn't make another appearance (thankfully) and Denis didn't even have time to really pay any attention to his 'nemesis' area.

The evening however wasn't nearly so straightforward.

He had sat and cogitated over his dilemma for hours. He hadn't even changed out of his work clothes or eaten anything. He'd just sat there, elbows on the table, head in hands, his waking nightmare prodding all the right (or wrong) buttons.

"This is no good." he said and looked at the clock. It was half past eleven and he had work the next morning. "Shit!" he mumbled softly.

He dragged himself into the bathroom. Perhaps a nice hot bath and straight to bed would be best for now. He could catch up with something to eat in the morning.

He set the plug into the plughole of the bathtub and started the taps running. A dusty-looking bottle caught his eye from the shelf and he read the label.

Soak away the stress and strain of the day.
Delicately perfumed with minerals and essential oils
to relax tired muscles and calm the mind.

It was something an old girlfriend of his had left behind. Up until this point, he had only ever considered throwing it out, but now it seemed a most welcome sight. He was tense and really did need to unwind. Why not give it a go?

It smelt somewhat flowery; curiously appealing and as the bubbles started to form in the running water, the real smells started to waft around the bathroom and it really did seem to have a relaxing effect.

He started to strip and once again found himself looking in the mirror as he did so.

"Not a bad shape" he thought; perhaps a little short and skinny for a man but certainly not anything that could be described as 'ruggedly masculine'.

He started shave his face imagining again what he would look like in the silky attire of a woman, the body of the woman again superimposed over his own, but once again, his hairy body made that impossible. He finished shaving his face and studied his body critically.

Suddenly he began lathering himself across the chest, under the arms, right down to his navel and reached once again for his razor. He looked at his slender frame in the mirror, his hand starting to tremble and took a deep breath.

"It'll always grow back." he mused and drew the shaving implement across his chest.

A wide strip of bare flesh appeared behind the razor and then another and another.

Carefully, he shaved around his nipples, rinsing the razor often as the course hair clogged in between the blades and finished by shaving under his arms.

It felt weird and looked strange too, but in a way that brought a flush to his cheeks and a strange feeling of satisfaction.

He'd not seen himself devoid of body hair in years. His milk-white skin almost shone in the light and after drying himself, he ran his hand over the normally hairy area, the smoothness intoxicating.

From the waist up, he was now completely hairless — well except for his head anyway and he was on a roll. He turned off the bath taps, lathered around his crotch then down each leg and went back to work, his excitement mounting with each stroke, barely able to contain himself.

It took perhaps ninety minutes and another razor, but by the time he had finished, he stood before the mirror and gasped.

"My God!" he exclaimed, turning this way and that, looking at every inch of his body, smooth, pale and surprisingly soft. "That's amazing."

The image reflected in the mirror was far less masculine without hair than he imagined it would be. Apart from his face, he looked like a teenager in that stage of androgyny that so many go through. With no bulging muscles and his slight frame, his perception of 'man' was being erased and replaced by another, one that closer embodied the soft and flowing lines of a more feminine form.

Were his eyes playing tricks on him or was that what was really there?

"This is fantastic! I never thought..." he said slightly breathless, buzzing from the feelings that seemed to engulf him and were about to get even more intense as he lowered himself into the scented bubble bath.

The softened water caressed while the sensual perfumes relaxed him and allowed him to let the day's stresses just slip away as he lay back and surrendered to the warm waters.

It was well after one in the morning of Thursday 29th of April by the time he got to bed, but there was something different this time — he was relaxed and ready to enjoy a good night's sleep.

He was in for yet another shock as he climbed between the sheets. Bed was something else again. The soft Egyptian cotton sheets seemed different as his hairless body slipped between them and he drifted off to sleep, fervently wishing that these feelings would remain, that this would last forever.

Outside, something chuckled quietly. Something that gave off a vague smell of brimstone and walked on cloven hoof.

Yes the Devil himself was abroad. Today was one of those special days when Old Nick could walk on the face of the earth and grant wishes.