New Job TG

Mark Davidson walked into the office as he had done every weekday for the last five years, scanning his ID card at the front desk without even thinking. But today, something was different. The scanner beeped twice instead of once, and the receptionist looked at her computer screen with a confused expression.

"Looks like you've been reassigned," she said, barely looking up. "New department. Just head down that hallway, take a left, and they’ll get you sorted."

Mark frowned. "Reassigned? I wasn’t informed of any changes."

"Yeah, well, that’s what the system says." She shrugged. "Better get moving."

Sighing, he followed her instructions, assuming it was some kind of clerical mix-up. Maybe IT was finally fixing his payroll issues. But as soon as he stepped into the back hall, two women in sleek leather uniforms greeted him with enthusiastic smiles.

"Oh, you must be the new girl!" one of them beamed, grabbing his arm. "Come on, we don’t have much time to get you ready. The first shift starts in an hour!"

"Wait, what? New girl?" Mark tried to pull back, but the other woman had already swiped his ID from his hand.

"Yep, we’ve been expecting you!" she said, confirming his details on the tablet. "Says right here: Emily Dawson. You’re lucky, sweetie, this is a prime gig!"

Mark’s stomach dropped. Emily Dawson. He didn’t know an Emily Dawson, but somehow their IDs must have been swapped. Before he could protest, the women were leading him through a door into a brightly lit dressing room filled with revealing black leather outfits.

"Okay, first thing’s first—let’s get you prepped!" one of them, Vanessa, said cheerfully. "Strip down. We’ll take care of the rest."

"I—No, this is a mistake! I don’t work here, I—"

"Oh, hush, every newbie says that. Trust me, after tonight, you’ll love it." Vanessa winked. "Besides, management insists on the full look for all their girls."

Before Mark could bolt, the two women expertly stripped him of his business attire. His protests fell on deaf ears as they led him into a shower area, where his body hair was quickly and efficiently removed. A light, fragrant lotion was rubbed onto his skin, making it silky smooth.

"Soft and touchable," Vanessa praised. "Perfect."

Then came the real changes. Mark barely had time to react before a corset-like leather bodysuit was slipped onto him, forcing his posture into a more feminine stance. The real kicker came when they fit him with two large, lifelike breast forms, pressing against his chest and blending seamlessly with his skin.

"Oh, wow!" the second woman, Lisa, grinned. "You’re going to be a knockout."

A flowing blonde wig was placed on his head, expertly styled into seductive waves, framing his now-delicate face. They applied makeup next, giving him smoky eyes, plump glossy lips, and a rosy glow that made him look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

Mark stared at his reflection in disbelief. He looked nothing like himself—he looked like a sultry bombshell, the kind of woman who turned heads effortlessly.

"Something's missing... Oh!" Lisa snapped her fingers. "The command collar."

Vanessa smirked as she clipped a sleek black choker with a tiny silver heart around Mark’s neck. "This ensures you follow all the house rules. Flirting is mandatory. Smiling is non-negotiable. And when you serve, you lean in close."

Mark gulped. "I can’t do this."

"You already are, sweetheart," Vanessa teased, patting his now curvy hip. "Now, let’s get you on the floor."

The moment he stepped into the dimly lit cocktail lounge, Mark felt the eyes of the patrons on him. Dressed in tight leather, his heels clicking against the floor, he moved through the tables carrying a tray of drinks.

"Well, well, who’s the new girl?" a deep voice called.

Mark turned to see a man in an expensive suit smirking up at him. He swallowed nervously, forcing the smile Vanessa had warned him about. "Just started tonight," he said, his voice softer and breathier than usual.

"Lucky us," the man chuckled. "You make a great addition."

Mark bent forward slightly to place the drink on the table, suddenly aware of how the tight bodysuit pushed his chest forward. He caught the man’s appreciative glance and felt a blush rise to his cheeks.

"Enjoy your drink," he murmured, stepping back before his knees buckled.

As the night went on, he found himself slipping into the role more naturally than he expected. The way the other waitresses swayed their hips, giggled, and leaned into conversations—it all became second nature. The command collar ensured he played his part, nudging him into action when he hesitated.

By the time closing rolled around, Mark—no, Emily—had nearly forgotten the world outside the bar. The compliments, the tips, the rush of excitement from being desired—it was intoxicating.

"You did amazing tonight," Vanessa said, unclipping the collar but leaving the choker in place. "You’re a natural."

Emily bit her lip, hesitating. "Do you think… do you think they’ll let me keep working here?"

Lisa grinned. "Oh, honey, after tonight? They’d be crazy to let you go.