Chapter 138: Working for the Woman

As I drove home from my birthday party I saw dad had a very valid point on my needing a piece of shit car to drive around, or at least one that appeared to be one. The Lotus was way too flashy and would cause people to want to mess with it just because. Plus, the old Honda had seriously been upgraded. I really opened it up when I got on a stretch of road with no worry about cops, or animals. While not quite as fast as the Lotus, it still had a lot of torque from the electric motors. When I pushed in as much energy as the motors could take, without blowing their over current fuses, I got it from zero to sixty in somewhere around three and a half seconds.

Like I am going to sleep tonight anyway. I have a mound of very personal gifts to which I need to write thank you notes to by hand. At least there is that machine at the post office that sells the one-hundred stamp rolls. Well that is unless a postage meter is magically built into the color laser printer that mysteriously showed up in my room.

My handwriting is never going to win any awards. It has gotten worse now that almost all our work at school is done on computers, except tests and the occasional essay question on a pop-quiz. I went through the crates one-by-one, gift by gift. I first hand addressed the envelope and then wrote them a personalized message. Finding something personal about each of them wasn’t even that hard. As I addressed their envelopes I started remembering things about them that weren’t the normal run-of-the-mill stuff people remembered about kids at school. My computer pulling up various pictures of them when we were in school together really helped if I wasn’t quite able to remember them at first. It was very hard not to get emotional whenever the computer was able to find an old picture showing us with the small memento they had given me as a gift.

I should print the photo to put with my thank you note.

I got yet another surprise when I told the computer to print the photo. First it perfectly fixed the photos to look as good as possible. Then I found out that I now also had a professional dye sublimation photo printer. I didn’t even realize it had been here for a while. I just assumed it had something to do with the charging docks on top of it for the gloves and 3D goggles.

That is a shock. This thing is super-fast and I can’t even tell these aren’t regular photos from film developed at the drug store.

Each time I found pictures of us with the gift they gave me, as well as any that were just cute as hell from when we were little kids, I printed them out and put them in with the thank you note. There was even some where I had obviously been comforting them.

Who cares if I have to go re-address a bigger envelope so I can send the pictures without them getting bent in the mail.

The best of all the pictures was of the girl that had fed me at the party. Someone had taken pictures of her casts, covered in signatures, at the doctor’s office. Then there were ones of her getting the first and then second casts cut off. When I told the computer to print them all I had a stack of 4 x 6s. Then a message popped on the computer to go open the door to the storage room next to the garage.

Why would I need to go in there? It is full of all the kid riding toys and other junk I haven’t played with since I got into video games. Still, the computer wouldn’t send me there just for kicks, would it?

When I opened the door to the storage closet I found that all my old toys were gone. The closet had been turned into a network closet. I saw that Ethernet cables were all plugged into a big network switch. Beside it were lots of orange cables coming up through a hole in the floor to connect to ports on the big network switch. That wasn’t the surprise the computer sent me to find. On one side of the closet was a big printer. Waiting in a special place at the front of it was a poster sized picture. When I pulled it out, I almost burst into tears.

That is fucking amazing! When did someone take it? I don’t remember seeing any cameras that day.

The poster was made from a picture of the girl sitting in my lap with both of her arms in the makeshift splints I had put on. Even though I knew she had been in a lot of pain, whoever took the picture had taken it right as she kissed my cheek before the first responders took her from my lap. It had to be the cutest thing I have seen in a very long time. It was for sure the cutest picture I had ever been in.

Screw you kitten videos! This picture has you beaten hands down.

I very carefully rolled it up and slid it into one of the photo tubes beside the printer. I was going to ask mom to send that one via something other than the USPS. The poster sized print was too precious to leave in their hands for them to deliver, provided they didn’t lose it somewhere along the way.

By the time I stopped to shower I had worked through the fullest of the totes. While showering I guessed that I must have averaged about five minutes a note. I knew I was nowhere close to being done since I still had plenty of stamps left on the first roll. I really wanted them to just be done, but I had to get to work. Mom looked at the pile of notes I was taking with me to drop off at the post office and gave me a big hug as she told me how proud of was of me. Then she told me to get my ass on the road so I wasn’t late. She promised to go out later to send off the tube with the poster in it.

Once I got to the mall I had to go around until I found the door the power walkers used to get into the mall before the stores open. At the panty store I knocked and was told to move my car to a specific part of the parking lot. I needed come knock on their door by the dumpsters. The security guard, who made sure no one was dumpster diving, would let me in to the service area.

The old woman that ran the underwear store told me, “You move boxes from back of store to red square at front of store. Open boxes, put out right place where size the same. Put all trash in trash bag, sweep all of store, and go put boxes in box crushing machine. When done, you go to bathing suit store.”

It seemed like I wasn’t doing much of anything until I finally figured out their system of where to put panties and bras. Not that I had much choice. Anytime I put something in the wrong place the women working there would throw them back into the box I was unloading. They never told me anything. Picking up the trash and sweeping weren’t any problem at all. I made a sort of grid between various posts so I didn’t redo the same places repeatedly. With their huge dust mop, I was done by ten.

I expected the same thing at the bathing suit store. Of course, I found out that their system was completely different. Girl’s suits were in one area, women in the other. That made logical sense. What had me confused is that when they had a bunch of the same suit in different colors and sizes, versus one or two. These bathing suits were put into a whole different part of the store. Even then I had to sort them by girls and women’s sizes without having any reference to use to know which were which. It didn’t stop the women from throwing the suits I put on the wrong rack back into the box behind me. When I finally got all the boxes of suits put out I was sent into the big changing room to put the suits that had been tried on and left in the changing room back on the correct racks. Before I could take them out to re-shelve them I had to remove the liner and hand the suit over to one of the girls who put the new liners in.

Some of these are way past being disgusting. Who goes trying on bathing suits when they are on the rag, has a yeast infection or look like they don’t have a clue about how to wipe their butt?

Their store was as lot bigger than the panty shop so it took right up to when the store was to open at noon for me to finish taking the boxes to the compactor. The boss told me to go have lunch and be back in thirty minutes.

When I got up to one of the fast food places I saw why dad said to make sure I always had a little cash on me, make sure to leave my credit cards at home and if I needed some cash to hit an ATM near the house. Of the three ATMs in the food court, the two most prominent ones looked like the ones owned by the big banks. Whenever someone went to use either of them they would either get a message about a communication error or that they didn’t have enough money in their account to withdraw. The remaining one was working fine, except that it charged a ten-dollar transaction fee. Whoever owned it was raking in a ton of money in fees alone. I found that Dad was right on about these ATMs when a woman got loud after calling a number on one of the big bank ATMs. Each time she tried to get cash, it took the money out of her account and charged her a twelve-dollar transaction fee even though that was her bank. She only found out because she got a text alert from her bank that her account was overdrawn and they had charged her a thirty-five dollar overdraft fee to cover it.

Yeah, not about to touch those ATMs no matter what.

When I was waiting to pay for my sub I noticed the guy at the register handed that woman a hand-held credit card machine. Her kids were bugging her to hurry up because they were starving. She swiped her card through, put in her pin, and got back a message that there was a communications error. The guy gave a fake apology about it being a new machine before swiping her card in the side of his register and having her put her pin into the keypad hooked to the register. It went through instantly and she was off.

How do these guys get away with something that blatantly obvious?

I didn’t like any of it, but also didn’t know who, or even what country, may be behind all of it. After the ambassador and his little shit daughter almost got my family killed I didn’t want to take any risks. I texted Paula to see if she knows anyone that might want to be the hero this time, I didn’t want to have someone come shooting up the mall looking for me.

When I got back from lunch the boss told me I already had a woman waiting for me to help her find her the right bathing suit. She wasn’t having any luck on her own.

Wasn’t I working here to help the girls from school find suits? I thought they only had a small women’s section since they were primarily a girl’s bathing suit store. Well at least women must get naked for me to make sure the suits have the best fit. Makes the grunt work worth it, right?

No such luck.

When I went into my “private” fitting room I found myself face to face with the fattest naked women I had ever seen. I don’t mean fat as in having a few extra pounds. I mean hog going to the slaughter house fat. One of her legs was as big around as my whole body and I was sure I could climb through one leg hole of her pants like it was a cloth tunnel. She looked like a mix between a rhino and manatee with huge tits that rested on her rolls of flab. Since the woman seemed to be engrossed with someone on her phone I made myself relax so I wouldn’t be a dick.

“Miss,” I said to get her attention. “How may I help?”

She actually pushed her phone between her watermelon sized naked breasts and said, “I’m not having any success finding a bathing suit that isn’t too tight or makes look like I am wearing a circus tent. I was told that for a special fitting fee you would help me find a suit that would be perfect for me, if there was one anywhere here at the store.”

Can I even find a size smaller than the circus tent in one of the boxes? Maybe there is a tent company that can work with spandex?

I was glad I had multiple lengths of measuring tapes. The biggest was one hundred and twenty inches. I did my best to get around the rolls of fat to get good measurements. I just didn’t believe what I got. She had a bust measurement of one hundred thirteen inches, a waist of one-ten and her hips measures out to be one hundred and twenty one.

Well I guessed at her hips since the tape only went to one hundred twenty inches.

I looked a size chart on the wall that said she needed a size eighteen X. Not wanting to have to touch her sweaty boobs again, after I had already used hand sanitizer on them three times and they still felt nasty, I went ahead to find her “band size” as well. I looked to see if she had a bra I could use to get the right cup size, but it didn’t look like she wore one. It didn’t really matter though because the chart I had only went to J and she needed a cup size bigger than that.

Won’t a bathing suit in her size be made to deal with her huge tits anyway?

After double checking the size chart, I told her, “It is my first day on the job, so I’m not sure what sizes we have, colors or styles yet for any of the bathing suits here. I need to go ask my boss where I should go look. It may take a few minutes, but I will try to hurry. I know I never liked sitting around in a changing room in my underwear when my mom was out finding me clothes to try on. I bet it is even worse for women, especially when they are naked.”

No. Please, not that. I really don’t want to have your huge nipple trying to push into my head through my ear.

Once she let me go of the hug I went off to find the owner.

“Do we have anything anywhere close to a size eighteen X? When I was putting things out I didn’t see anything even larger than a double-X,” I told her.

She pointed to a bunch of boxes off under a sign saying fourteen to twenty-two X.

Man, I could use the size twenty-two X as a car cover.

More surprising than the monstrous sizes of the bathing suits themselves was finding seven different bikini tops and fifteen bottoms between seventeen X and twenty X. Then there were five one-piece suits in eighteen X. As I dug through some more I got a disturbing image in my head. If the woman only wore a tube top no one would really be able to tell if she had bottoms on or not. She had flab rolls that completely hid her pubic afro between her legs in both the front and back.

I’m not even sure if the dumb joke about rolling a fat girl in flower and looking for the wet spot would even let anyone find this woman’s pussy. Not that I’m about to try. No way will I ever consider thinking about becoming a gynecologist since I would have to go find her pussy and put my fingers inside it to boot.

I went into the big changing room, causing plenty of shrieks and screams from various girls and women, to get liners put in the tops and bottoms. The girl that did it for me gave me a very surprised look. Before the suits were done I had to deal with a woman who decided she was the changing room police.

“Ma’am, my name is David and I work here. Not a single female in here has anything I haven’t seen before and that includes transgender people still transitioning. Unless you want me to tell you how you need to wear a completely different style of one-piece, because the one you have on makes you look like a you have had a dozen kids just last week, I need to get back to the current woman I’m helping right now. Until I’m shown how to figure out the right liners to use and how to get them put in correctly, I must come in here for help,” I told her as I held my ground. “I wouldn’t be working here if the owner didn’t think I could handle viewing the beautiful naked bodies of the girls and women shopping here without being a pervert.”

I took the suits back to the fat woman without waiting for the woman to respond.

I apologized to the fat woman for it taking so long to go find where they had suits in her size. I did my best to help her stuff herself into the one-piece suits first, then she sat on a stool as we went through each of the tops. Turns out that even though I thought they were way too loose, she ended up liking both twenty-X sized tops. Bottoms it turned out didn’t quite matter as much about size if she could get them up over her fat legs.

“I really don’t even need anything on down there anyway except that I’m very modest. Sometimes it is just too much to get panties on so I will go bare anytime I wear a dress where no one has any chance of finding out,” she explained.

Once she had tried all the suits on, I was only left with four bottoms, three tops and a single one-piece to take back to the changing room to put into the pile to have the liners replaced. As a joke I announced myself when I went in.

There wasn’t as much reaction this time. Some girls turned so I got a full-frontal shot. A few others bent over to give me a look from behind. Mostly any that didn’t want me to see turned their backs to me or moved off to have someone blocking my view. I was just about to head back out when I saw the self-appointed changing room cop come over wearing what looked to be maternity bathing suits even though the place in my head showed me she had her tubes tied. I couldn’t stand seeing her in suit that made her look that dumpy. She had a very firmly toned body with a nice set of breasts that only showed a hint that they sagged the tiniest bit. She even had a very nicely manicured lawn. The suits she had made her just look frumpy.

I borrowed a measuring tape from one of the women doing measurements in here. Once I got the woman to lift her arms slightly I got her measurements as quickly as I could. When I was measuring her waist and hips I got a whiff of her musky sent and her nipples were now rock hard. I told her I would be right back and headed out to get a bunch of latest trends they had here from the ones I had stocked this morning. All of them looked sexy as hell even though they showed less skin than most of the suits here. I walked back into the changing room with four different styles in three different colors.

Once I had liners put in them, since they hadn’t been tried on even once yet, I was there waiting for the woman to strip off yet another horrid suit she had picked out. She was looking down at me staring at her groomed lawn as I held the suit out for her to put her feet through the leg holes. She stayed completely still as I moved her the way I needed to get her suit pulled up her body. A barely audible moan escaped her lips as I reached in to adjust her boobs correctly in the cups for this suit. I had her take a quick look in one of the areas with multiple mirrors that allowed her to see how it fit her butt then I took that suit off her. I did the same for the other three styles to check the fit before we picked which colors looked best on her. Except for an off-white in one style, she liked them all. As I was helping her get the last one off I had to get her to squat down a bit because the suit had been made wrong. It had gotten bunched up tightly between her legs. She had to open her legs wide for us to work it free. Her pussy was already soaked so I blew slowly over her clit. She mostly collapsed back onto the bench as I worked the suit the rest of the way down her legs and off her feet. With her sitting like she was, I could see her glistening vagina wink at me a few more times before I took the off-white suit and the one I had just taken off her to the girls to change out the liners before I put them back on the racks.

Ok. o far I have sold fourteen one-piece suits, four bikini tops, and eleven bikini bottoms to just two customers. I wonder how many I need to sell to meet my quota to start getting the dime commission. All the eighteen X suits were the same or more expensive than the latest style suits. The one-piece suits alone were over three hundred dollars and that was at the discounted prices they had here.

Back in my private fitting area I found the boss.

“You go back work in changing room with tape. Do what you do with annoying bitch. She never happy when she come here. Never buy. Say we only have bad suits no one want anywhere. You make her look stunning in most expensive ones we sell. I know she buy them all but one made wrong and one that look dirty. I see with my own eyes she very ready to ask when you have break. Sweaty beached whale woman says she pay me what you make in day for her thank you properly for do good job for her. I tell her what I tell you. We not massage parlor. You not some boy toy for sale. You are good fitter who happen to be boy,” she told me in badly broken English.

Out of nowhere I found myself replying, in what I knew was her language even though I had no idea what language that was, “Yes ma’am. I thought you played a very mean joke on me with that big woman, so I wanted to show you I will do my best for every customer.”

“I know you will do your best. You still didn’t have to help that dumb bitch who acted all important in the changing room until you stood your ground,” she replied in her language once the shock of me speaking it wore off. “You also paid very good attention to more than your own pleasure. Only few know the proper technique to do what I saw. No male has ever mastered it without decades of practice. She is now very happy, will spend a lot of money, and tell friends come make appointment. You get back to work. I don’t pay you to stand around, that is my job.”

I didn’t have anyone waiting in my fitting area so I got one of my medium sized measuring tapes and headed back into the big changing area. A few girls had come in while I was out with my boss. Two said loudly there was a boy in here as they tried to cover up, but the rest didn’t seem to care anymore. I helped two more women and seven girls find perfect suits with only one being from the expensive racks. I was sitting up on the little raised area when I saw a girl sitting naked on a bench with her arms crossed in anger. Her mom kept trying to get her to put on suits that were only legal because they had the minimal material needed to cover her pink canoe and nipples. Almost all the suits were designed to make it obvious when her nipples were hard as well as making sure she always had a camel toe.

When her mother turned toward me I found she was the epitome of a slutty cunt looking for her next sugar daddy. She was a grade D- gold-digging skank who looks to have only barely managed to no longer be considered white trash. She even had an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Her store-bought chest was complemented by a lot of body sculpting and puffed up lips to catch the eyes of horny old rich guys looking for more than a piece of ass. Her daughter had a scorching hot body that I couldn’t let her mom make the girl try on what looked to be two clear plastic strips held together by a pair of plastic circles glued to rubber bands.

“Why don’t you grab a robe, your clothes and come with me,” I told her. “Looks like you have one of those hard to fit body types that need some extra help finding a suit that fits you correctly. Plus, I’m a guy, so you will get a suit that makes you look great. Well unless you are into women around your mom’s age.”

I couldn’t tell if her rushing to get a robe was because she wanted to get away from her mom or just wanted to be somewhere else. Either way I was cool with it.

Yeah David. You keep telling yourself that! She is hot and you want to keep looking at her naked body! Nothing wrong with that.

I waited for the girl to get on a robe, grab her clothes, grab a few hundred dollar bills from her mom’s purse, and then tell her mom, “I will get a ride home. This may take a while. Wouldn’t want you to miss late brunch at the club. That would cause such a scandal you wouldn’t even be able to show your face at the club again.”

Her mom handed her another two hundred bucks and told her to get some grown-up underwear too. White cotton panties and bras weren’t sexy. She needed something black and lacy without padded cups if she ever wanted to find a man to take care of her.

“You know I can’t stand the crap you wear to turn on the nasty old fart whose house we are crashing at right now,” the girl told her mom as the woman almost set the carpet on fire as she rushed out the door.

I walked her into my fitting area before I closed, and locked, the door before I asked, “Do you really need a bathing suit or did she drag you down here to play dress my daughter like a whore?”

“Both,” she replied as she took the robe off and dropped down naked on the small loveseat making no effort to not give me a great look at her pussy. “She landed some ugly as hell old rich geezer who hands her big rolls of bills every few days as long as she will stick around to get him off when he can actually get hard. It sucks moving around so much, but it is a hell of a lot better than the shelters where we lived after my dad died. The problem right now is that this ugly old shit holds some crazy assed annual birthday party for some other ancient guy he knows. The old guy gropes me whenever I get near him, but I think that is because he is blind as a bat, so he thinks I’m my mom. Otherwise he seems ok. He told mom that everyone will be out around the pool for the party, so if she wanted to keep riding his pony, I had to babysit and play with the little shit kids that would show up. After the problems they had last year he can’t pay anyone enough to do it this year. It seems the little brats cornered one of the staff working in the pool and stripped her naked. That was all they did, but it was enough that no one wants to help him out, not even pedophiles it seems. Mom is trying to make me think that if I dress like a slut the older boys will come hang in the pool with me to see how far I will let them go. She can’t get it through her head that my nipples are so damn sensitive that if I don’t wear something padded they will be hard all day. While I don’t quite have a hair trigger, it doesn’t take all that much either to push me over the edge. Both suits I found that were marginally acceptable to me made me cum a bunch of times when I was trying them on.”