The House of Fabulous
Keywords: of, The, Fabulous, House,
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Terrence decided to skip lunch, and he planned to skip dinner as well, even though his stomach was growling. At 5' 9" tall and 150 pounds, he was slim for a guy, but big for a woman. He began to believe that if the House of Fabulous was as good as their advertisements, he actually had a shot at being presentable. As soon as he walked into Tyrex Industries, he would be an object of scorn, but that didn't mean he had to subject himself to ridicule when he was out on the street.
Before leaving his apartment, Terrence placed a call to Gail Chestnut, who was acting as his executive assistant pending the appointment of a new general counsel. Gail was a knockout, but most of the guys in the office had written her off as a lipstick lesbian after she turned down their advances. Terrence thought she was incredibly hot, but as a company lawyer, he knew better than to mix sex with the workplace, so he hadn't even tried. "Gail, I need to ask you a favor," he said when he got her on the phone.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Poindexter? I hope you don't have the flu."
"I'm feeling much better, thank you. I'll be in tomorrow for sure. Gail, remember how the office manager suggested that I move into the big office until we get a new general counsel?"
"Yes."
"Well, I've changed my mind. I wonder if you could arrange for my stuff be moved in tonight. Not all my files, just my laptop computer, diary, and personal things. "
"I'll get right on it. Mr. Poindexter, have you checked your voice mails?"
"No, I haven't."
"Mr. Bigelow wants to meet with you in his office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
"Please go ahead and confirm it. I'll see you first thing tomorrow."
"What made you change your mind about the office?"
"Let's just say I've decided to go out with a bang."
He caught a taxi to the House of Fabulous, which occupied a gingerbread Victorian townhouse off Castro Street, and presented himself at the lavender door a few minutes before four o'clock. After looking around nervously to see if anyone was watching him, he pressed the buzzer, and an attractive woman opened the door almost immediately. Appearing to be in her late forties, she was conservatively dressed, wearing a knee-length black dress accentuated by a single strand of pearls. Her hair was swept back in an elaborate coif, her makeup was immaculate, and the nails on the hand she extended to Terrence were beautifully manicured.
She showed him into a small foyer which was overwhelmingly feminine in décor. Everything seemed to be done in shades of lavender, from the chintz loveseat to the frilly lace curtains adorned with festoons and jabots. "Are you the person I spoke with on the phone?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes, I am Madam Fabulous," she replied in a pleasant voice. "You must be Terrence." She sat down on the loveseat and patted the cushion beside her. "Sit down next to me. What brings you to the House of Fabulous?"
Terrence weighed his words carefully. After all, Madam Fabulous might wind up as a witness if the company mounted an aggressive defense. "I am a lawyer for a large corporation. Recently the California legislature enacted a law protecting cross dressing in the workplace. I have always dreamed about being a girl, and now I can do it without losing my job." She nodded sympathetically as he pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of his shirt. "I'll have to be careful to comply with the company dress code, so as not to give them grounds to retaliate against me. Here it is."
Terrence knew the Tyrex dress code for female employees by heart, having drafted it with Helen Wallace the year before, and he watched while Madam Fabulous scanned it. "'Skirts or dresses are required except on casual Fridays. Hosiery is mandatory,'" she read out loud. "Sounds like a party, Terrence. Are you sure they're going to be happy with the new you?"
"I'm sure they won't be. That's why I need your help in making myself over."
"Very well. Repeat after me: 'I dedicate myself to the discovery of my inner woman, and I pledge my allegiance to Madam Fabulous and her Mistresses in my quest to become a Fabulous Girl'". After Terrence repeated the pledge, she stood up abruptly and ordered him to take off all of his clothing. Her voice had a new edge to it.
"Right here?" he asked, startled by her sudden change in demeanor.
"Rule number one: do not question Madam Fabulous's instructions, at any time. Would you rather take off your pants out on Castro Street?" Without further protest, he stripped down to his briefs, and when she glowered at him, he removed them also. Terrence stood, naked and exposed, as she circled around him. "Good girl, you took care of your body hair. All right, let's get started." She handed him an evil looking garment that looked like an elaborate G-string. "Stuff your family jewels up into your abdomen, tuck yourself between your legs, and put this on. At once!" she shouted when he took too long to get started.
When his package was tucked away, she nodded her approval. "Good girl," she said once again, unnerving him with the words. "That contraption is called a gaff. You are only to remove it when absolutely necessary. Now that we have that taken care of, we can give you a name. Have you any preference, or shall I assign one to you?"
His mind went blank. "How about Terry?" he asked at length.
"A lovely name. Terry it shall be." One of Madam Fabulous's assistants, a pretty girl dressed in a French maid's costume, materialized. "This is Sissy, my Mistress of Fashion," Madam Fabulous said. "Sissy, meet Terry." Sissy gave Terry a shy smile, and it occurred to him that she was almost as embarrassed as he was. Then it dawned on him. Sissy was really a guy. Although she was very pretty, her square chin and large hands were dead giveaways.
Sissy handed Terry a pair of pink lace panties and instructed him to put them on. When he did, Terry felt an uncomfortable pressure against his gaff as he began to experience a strange arousal. Sissy didn't seem to notice as she handed him a new package of pantyhose. "Have you ever worn stockings?" she asked in a husky voice.
"No."
"There's nothing to it. Here, let me show you." She led Terry back to the loveseat and sat down beside him, coaching him on how to put them on without tearing the flimsy fabric. The sensation of sheer nylon against his smooth skin was unlike anything Terry had ever experienced, and his trapped manhood continued to struggle against its unfamiliar restraints.
Sissy produced several shoe boxes, but Madam Fabulous sent her away to look for more conservative styles. "Unlike most of our clients, Terry will be dressing for the business world," Madam Fabulous explained to Sissy. The Mistress of Fashion returned a few minutes later with several pairs of black pumps. The first pair was too tight, but the second fit Terry perfectly. "Stand up and try to walk in them," Madam Fabulous said.
Terry took a few wobbly steps under Madam Fabulous's watchful gaze. The three inch heels hurt his feet. "Keep your head up and your back straight!" Madam Fabulous commanded as he minced around the foyer. "All right, that's enough for now. We'll take care of deportment after she gets dressed. Let's get her into makeup next."
Madam Fabulous led Terry into an adjoining room, where the Mistress of Style was waiting for him. As she beckoned him to sit down in her chair, Terry scrutinized her, trying to discern whether she was another man. As if reading Terry's mind, she said "We are all girls here, my dear. You have such beautiful hair. I don't think we'll need to bother with a wig. Oh good, your fingernails are long enough to file and polish. This is going to be a cinch."
Madam Fabulous left them, and for the next hour, Terry surrendered to the ministrations of the Mistress of Style. His stubble was shaved, his eyebrows were plucked, his fingernails were manicured, his hair was trimmed and set, and his face was set upon by an assortment of sponges, pads and brushes. He closed his eyes as the sweet smelling cosmetics were applied to his lips, cheeks, and eyelids, trying to imagine what he was going to look like when she was finished with him. He caught himself sliding his legs together, reveling in the sensation of nylon against nylon, the stirring in his panties becoming a steady ache.
"All right, let's get a look at you," the Mistress of Style finally said. She produced a mirror, and Terry was amazed at what he saw. The girl looking back at him was beautiful. More than that, she was undeniably feminine. Whereas Sissy's manly features had given her away, there was nothing in Terry's appearance that would suggest that he was really a guy.
"Oh my," Madam Fabulous said when she walked into the room. "She won't even need a pair of boobs to pass."
"I can't take all the credit," the Mistress of Style replied. "She's a natural."
Madam Fabulous led Terry into another room, one filled with racks of clothing and boxes of foundation garments. "The Mistress of Fashion is helping another Fabulous Girl with a wardrobe crisis, so you're getting my personal attention," Madam Fabulous explained as she used a tape to measure Terry's vital statistics. He watched as she selected a pair of realistic-looking fake breasts and stuffed them into a lacy white bra. Terry stood self-consciously as she fastened it behind him.
Madam Fabulous stepped back to admire her handiwork. "Perfect," she said. "Now, we have a decision to make. Ordinarily, I fit our Fabulous Girls with padded butts and corsets, but you are not our everyday client. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you'll be wearing conservatively cut suits and dresses, and you'll need to be reasonably comfortable in your clothes for at least eight hours day, with an occasional trip to the rest room. Am I right?"
He looked around but didn"t find any. Apparently this was a well-oiled operation, with only I being a potential squeaky cog. Without saying a word, the group disbanded to their various tasks.
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Keywords: of, The, Fabulous, House,