Caution: This Mystery Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Romantic, Lesbian, Humor, Transformation, .
Desc: Mystery Sex Story: Chapter 1 - On the third odd Thursday of the month, the Devil is said to walk the earth, granting wishes...
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.
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.
"By the end of tomorrow Denis Robson," he said with a deep, hollow voice. "You will have all you wanted. Oh yes, - ALL!"
But we all know what happens when the Devil grants wishes, don't we?
The next morning was the first morning in a long time that he had woken after a whole night's sleep. He felt refreshed and was reminded of his escapades the night before when he looked into the bathroom mirror.
Gone was the drawn and gaunt face that usually looked back at him, replaced with a much more relaxed person. He lifted his arm and a hairless pit looked back at him.
He touched it.
"Oh my G..." he started. "What have I done?"
Cleaning his teeth before dressing, he became more accustomed to his new look. The smooth skin looked good, which surprised him. It felt good too and he was filled with an anxious excitement, not sure that he'd made the right decision; less sure that he wanted that mat of fuzz back, but comfortable that it would always grow back anyway.
It looked and felt a lot more feminine and Denis was momentarily paralysed with the fear of someone finding out.
"You plonker!" he admonished. "Who's going to find out?"
His walk into work was odd to say the least. He could almost feel every thread in his trousers; every seam in his shirt and his crotch had never been so sensitive, yet was strangely non responsive, almost passive.
He too was subtly different. He found himself loose and happy to bimble along gently. He even found that by the time he reached the side door of Fellows Department Store, he was humming away to himself.
Today was to be a different day in a lot of respects. Fellows were launching "Fellows Online", an internet-based ordering system. They prided themselves on their service and wanted to extend that service to providing home deliveries and an on-line ordering system.
They realised that there was no substitute for being able to see and try, but incidentals such as everyday underwear, tights, stockings and makeup products would be very popular. No doubt there would be others, but they were sure they had enough to start with.
Denis had more to think about than ever, but he was happy. He didn't know why exactly, but he was.
He was printing another order from the PC when an idea struck him. He could add a few things of his own to a "new" order after the girls had gone home. No-one would know and he could pay by credit card, which meant not having to worry about the cash register. It was so simple, what could possibly go wrong?
This new regime required to staff to make up orders as they came in, ready for shipping at close of business. Posters to this effect had been all over every floor of the store for weeks, and the advertising paid off, with more orders waiting by opening time than they ever hoped for.
It meant more work for all of them, so when they weren't dealing directly with the customers, they were assembling orders for the post and by mid morning, the girls were looking at one another wondering whether this onslaught was going to continue at the same pace, or once the novelty of it all wore off, things would return to normal.
When lunch finally arrived, they were all glad of a short rest. Denis came up in the conversation.
"I can't say I'm too sure about this. He's not himself." said Cynthia.
"What? The man's just having a good day." said Natalie.
"Oh come on. He's always been a stickler for the rules. Do this; don't do that. No outbreaks of good humour. This just isn't like him."
"Well don't shout too loud. I like him just as he is. He hasn't bothered me once today and it's been fine. Even the customer's have noticed the difference." said Lisa defensively.
"You're not wrong Lisa, I've been left to my own devices all day and I have to say, I've got more done than any other time." said Natalie, nodding enthusiastically.
Not wishing to upset the applecart, the colleagues left him well alone for the most of the day and it turned out to be one of the best they'd had, aside from when he was on holiday that is.
It got to near closing time and the three women were on tender-hooks.
There had been no indication that there was anything 'wrong' as far as Denis was concerned and yet each of them was itching to know what it was that was going on.
"You go, Cyn." said Lisa.
"No fear. This could all just be a ruse. Something's bound to be wrong. I'm not going anywhere near him or his office."
"I'll go." said Nat. "I can't stand this any longer and I'm buggered if I'm going home with this on my mind. I won't be able to concentrate on the soaps if I do. There's got to be a reason why he's been so happy today and did you smell him as he went past? If that's what I think it is, it's bloody expensive, that new aromatherapy stuff."
"Never!" said Cynthia.
"I think she's right." said Lisa. "I smelt it too and what about the humming?"
"This just ain't right." said Cynthia shaking her head.
The girls seemed a lot more attentive by the time closing-time arrived. Denis was a little curious as to why.
"You sure you're alright?" asked Natalie, trying to look nonchalant.
"I'm fine thank you. I just have some last minute orders to prepare. You just run along and I'll see you tomorrow."
Three jaws dropped open simultaneously.
"What?" asked Denis, seeing the three stunned women standing before him, mouths open catching flies.
"Er, nothing. Well if you're sure you're okay, we'll be off, won't we girls?" said Natalie not wishing to look a gift horse in the mouth and grabbing the other two by the forearms she led them forcibly out of the immediate vicinity towards the stairs and away.
"'Night girls. See you in the morning." called Denis cheerfully, going back to humming gently.
This was going to be easy.
In fact it was all going swimmingly.
As per his statement to the girls, Denis had some orders to fill and began walking round the various aisles and shelves with a cart, his clipboard and a biro behind his ear.
He assembled all five orders, none of which were particularly big and went and sat in his office to fill out the paperwork and enter it onto the system.
The butterflies were getting restless again as Denis realised that this was it. This was the time he'd been waiting for all day or longer and he went out onto the shop floor once again to gather the items he wanted.
The lingerie was simple as most of the garments were fairly obvious if one knew the conversion (approximate of course) as he did, between men's sizes and women's or vice-versa. He knew his own vital statistics so was able to pull underwear from the various racks, shelves and tables with no problem.
The difference was though, these were for him and as he reached for the first item — a pack of sheer 20 denier black stockings with a lace top — he could see his hands shaking and the closer his fingers got to that packet, the more they shook.
"This is stupid! Just pick them up!" he muttered and grabbed at the packet. "See? That's not so bad is it?"
He had had his eye on a thong too; nearly transparent, just like in his fantasy. It hung on a rack on a tiny hanger and as soon as his fingers touched the sheer material, it nearly sent him over the edge.
This was something he was unlikely to get used to and yet filling orders, no matter what the contents, was not a bother for him. Why was that?
A suspender belt next and the temperature was definitely rising. Beads of perspiration stood from his forehead and his breathing was becoming laboured, but he got the one he wanted. Finally there was the bra. A sheer number to match the thong and with trebling hands, legs, well everything really, he made his way back to the office.
Putting the garments on the desk, he studied them carefully, still wrapped, hung or generally packeted.
He was having second thoughts.
This was bad.
The sweat was now running down his face and although he had every intention to pay for the items and any further items he felt appropriate, it still felt wrong. Something inside him was telling him that this wasn't a good idea, but the rest was telling him to give it a go; to get it out of his system.
He looked at the bra, along with the thong, the only items not wrapped or in packets. He could see the cups standing proud of the rest of the garment and suddenly he realised that although it would go around him, he had nothing to speak of to put inside it!
He knew just the things and almost sprinted across the floor to the counter, picking up a packet with two transparent blobs inside and smiled, repeating the sprint process back to the office.
Breathless, he looked again at his inventory.
Form the corner of his eye, he could see his reflection in a glass panel and his short hair, flattened down over his head seemed particularly inappropriate.
Back out of the office he headed at a dead run. Up the stairs he went to the next floor, staying only long enough to yank something off of a shelf, complete with the polystyrene 'thing' it rested on and leaping down stairs several at a time, hurtled back to the office.
Now he had something to sweat about.
Indeed he did. He even found he was enjoying himself. Perhaps it was the 'hunt-the-thimble' aspect of it all, but he was definitely enjoying it.
His pile on the table was now considerably larger now than it had been. The items he had retrieved from the various shelves and racks around the ladies section were small compared to the last and he hadn't even thought about shoes.
Back he went to the ladies section.
There was a pair of stilettos in black that had always appealed and in two shakes of a lamb's tail, he was there with his shoes off, trying to force his foot into the high-heeled footwear he had taken from the shelf.
The socks weren't helping, but one doesn't try shoes on with bare feet.
He ran back to the office and fairly shredded the packet containing the stockings, dropping his trousers immediately after. Stepping out of them and yanking at one of his socks he bounced around in circles on one foot. The sock came free and flew off, landing who knew where in the small office. He repeated the procedure for the other sock, right down to bouncing around in circles, barely keeping balance.
Carefully, he rolled a stocking up one leg, until he had stretched it as far as it would comfortably go.
"Bugger!" he muttered as he realised that these particular stockings required a suspender belt, just as he had intended. What he hadn't intended, was to have to get all kitted out in the shop and had forgotten too, about trying shoes on.
He pulled off the stocking and folded it neatly along with its twin, pushing it back into its packet and shot off onto the shop floor, shirt tails flapping behind him as his feet 'slap, slap, slapped' on the floor.
He quickly found what he was looking for, thought about it and returned them to the shelf.
"I don't care how few times I might do this; I'm not wearing those knee-highs. They're atrocious — even on women."
He swapped them instead for a pair of hold-ups and bolted back to the shoe section. Once again, he started pulling the stockings on and trembled at the feeling, never mind the look, but he told himself sternly that he had to get past that to try the shoes and that there'd be plenty of time for admiring himself later.
This time the shoes slipped on with comparative ease and he stood up.
"How on earth do women wear these?" he asked as he wobbled and as soon as he tried to take a single step, he regretted it.
Sitting down with an almighty 'thump', he removed the shoes and carefully placed them to one side. Off he went to find an alternative and settled for a similar pair with no more than an inch and a half heel.
He was far less wobbly in those and he looked down at the first pair. They seemed almost mournful that they hadn't been chosen and so, clutching both pairs, he slithered in his stocking covered feet to the office.
Denis was now just one item short on his list — a dress or maybe a skirt and blouse combination, he wasn't sure.
It felt incredible wandering around the shop floor in the shoes and stockings, but he was painfully aware that whilst his lower half may have felt incredible, the top half in jacket, tie and shirt tails, looked ridiculous, but he didn't care. There was no-one there to hinder his little sojourn into faux womanhood and browsing around looking at the plethora of colours, shapes, styles, lengths and everything else, he started to get an appreciation of why women enjoyed shopping so much.
What seemed like eons later, he finally selected a dress. He thought of it as playing it safe, but well, he knew the rule: "You can't go wrong with a little black dress".
He went back to the changing rooms and off came the jacket and shirt.
Slipping the dress over his head, he looked in the mirror. Somehow, the 'safe' bit didn't seem to have worked. It hung on him like a sack. His smile turned to a frown as he plucked at the offending item here and there before he realised that the reason it looked so awful, was because he was short of a couple of important attributes that filled the dress in very specific places. In addition, no self respecting woman would dream of wearing a pair of boxer shorts under a dress.
Before he knew where he was, he was in the thong and bra too, and pulling the LBD over his head. He had stuffed the bra with the clear silicone 'blobs' he'd got earlier, which actually looked incredibly real, filling the bra to look real and not huge.
The one thing missing now was the hair and after he had run from the dressing room to the office and picked the wig off of the polystyrene 'thing' it was sat on, pulled it onto his head and brushed the hair off his face, he looked in the mirror and was truly satisfied — despite the lack of makeup.
He swished this way and that in front of the mirror and was thoroughly pleased with the effect. True, he wasn't exactly going to win any beauty contests because he wasn't going to be going out very often (at all and certainly not in that outfit), but now he felt that he could indulge his fantasies in style.
He went to the till with his jacket over his arm, pulled his wallet out of his inside pocket and removed the credit card. He swiped it through the card reader to make the purchase complete and though it was a small fortune, it was to him money well spent and he knew that this would not be the only time this outfit came out of the closet — even if he didn't.
Outside, a shadowy figure stood in a darkened alley, tail swishing like that of a cat just ready to pounce, looking up at the windows chuckling.
"I think now should do." it said darkly and almost negligently flicked its taloned fingers then moved deeper into the shadows on cloven hoof, a mist of brimstone permeating the late afternoon air and its hollow laughter unheard in the noise of the rush-hour traffic.