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aeternum-writer — Ready for the New Job [TG]
#bra #mtf #skirt #tg #pantyhose #tights #tgtransformation #mtftransformation
Published: 2021-08-10 15:54:11 +0000 UTC; Views: 43934; Favourites: 349; Downloads: 89
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I got inspiration for this story from @ shado-mind caption. Feel free to check it out there. There is a lot of great content.
Currently I am open for commissions. Just contact me if you are interested.
If I have made any mistakes in spelling or grammar please correct me. Thanks and enjoy the story!
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Today I finally had my job interview. Since I had been looking for a job for several months, I was quite nervous. The company I applied to was in international marketing and had its offices in a big city.
A long-time friend of mine lived in the same city. She was very successful in her profession and always a role model for me because of her self-confident and open manner.
To be honest, I was more than nervous before the interview. I was scared. I desperately needed a job and with every rejection I had received in the past months, I felt more and more like a failure. In school and college I had always somehow slipped through, but now, I realized, life was getting serious. And I wasn't sure I was up to the pressure.
"Do you want something to drink?" my friend Jasmin greeted me.
"A tea, maybe?", I said, closing the door behind me.
"Sure. You look pale. That nervous before the interview? I'm sure it'll be great."
"Yeah, a little bit," I said, and walked with her into her living room.
We both had tea and chatted about the latest happenings in our lives. She had just been promoted again. Don't get me wrong, I was really happy for her, but it just made me realize once again what a failure I was. She was a successful power woman and I was the boy who was on the brink of a mental abyss.
I can't explain how it happened, maybe it was the fumes from the tea, but as we talked I started to get tears. Jasmine asked me what was wrong and I began to open up to her. She hugged me and tried to talk to me. I felt safe with her, but knowing that I still had to walk my life alone, it was only a small comfort.
"Your interview isn't for a few hours," Jasmine said, looking at me with her bright eyes.
"So what?", I asked confused at the sudden cheerfulness in her voice.
"I was thinking that we could give you a little makeover."
"A makeover?"
"Yes. Wear something different, comb your hair differently. That sort of thing."
"What's wrong with my shirt?", I asked uncertainly.
"Nothing," she said cheerfully. "I just think with a little help from me you'll walk into the office a lot more confident. They'll hire you right away. I'm sure they will."
"I don't know," I said hesitantly. "But if you think..."
"Just trust me," she interrupted me, pulling me up from the couch. Together we went into her bedroom.
She took something out of a drawer, threw it on her bed, and said, "Go on, put this on."
It took me a moment to realize what she had thrown on the bed. "Panties?"
"Exactly."
"But. What? Why?" I looked at her as if doubting her sanity or mine.
"Indigenous tribes also often wear feathers in their hair and adorn parts of their enemies because they believe it strengthens them."
"But I'm not an Indian. And this is not a feather."
"You will feel as if I am with you. That will make you feel safe. Believe me."
"I don't know."
"Just try it on for a minute. If it really bothers you, you can take it off right away."
"But it's women's underwear."
She looked at me with amusement. "So what? What does it bother you? Fabric is fabric. It doesn't have to be noticed by anyone."
"And you really keep it to yourself?"
"Of course. We've known each other since we were both in kindergarten. You know I only want what's best for you."
I wanted to refuse, but I was running out of arguments. Jasmine was so sure about her cause, I just didn't want to upset her. She was my best friend after all.
She left her bedroom so I could change my underwear.
Hesitantly, I slowly undressed until I was finally completely naked. Here I stood now, stripped naked in my friends bedroom and holding one of her panties in my hand. It was black and decorated with floral elements of lace. Should I really put on the panties? Wasn't that too freaky? I wasn't a freak after all. While I was still cradling the fine fabric in my hand, a voice in my head whispered to me. "Put it on", the voice said. "You want to put it on."
Before I could imagine anything more, I decided to comply with Jasmin's request. Hopefully she knew what she was up to. I slowly pulled the panties up and was surprised at how soft and comfortable it was against my skin. Not bad at all, I thought to myself.
"Are you ready?" asked Jasmin, who must have been waiting behind the door.
"Yes," I called out, waiting for her to come in. From the heat that was cycling in my head, I knew I was blushing.
"It looks good on you," she said with a smile. I didn't know if it was a casual joke or if she was serious.
"Now what?", I asked.
She looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Your posture isn't good. You should put on a bra of mine, too. I'm sure you'll stand up straighter then.
"A Bra?", I exclaimed, baffled. A pair of panties was one thing. After all, men wore underpants too, albeit different ones. But a bra? "Only women wear those."
"You watch sports too, don't you?", Jasmin asked me. I nodded. "Then you know those posture trainers that athletes wear sometimes. They almost look like a brassiere, too."
I had to agree with her. "But they're not bras."
"I don't have a posture trainer here, though," Jasmine said tersely. "Don't make such a fuss. No one will see that under your shirt."
Again, I conceded defeat.
"I'll just help you," said Jasmin who could tell I had no idea how to put the bra on. She stood behind me, pulled the straps over my shoulders and closed it at the back. "Is this too tight?" she asked.
"No, it fits," I said, looking at myself in the mirror. So there I was, wearing a black two-piece underwear. And what was to come next was also black.
"Be honest," she asked, "How do you feel?"
I pondered. Actually, if I was honest with myself, I didn't feel so bad. Maybe she was actually right about the Indians and about some of her strength falling on me. Of course I looked stupid in women's underwear, but at the same time I felt closer to Jasmin than ever. She was the one who usually wore these clothes. They usually touched her skin. They were, metaphorically speaking, the clothes that were the last armor of a woman. They protected her most intimate parts. Perhaps, I thought, they would also protect me now in a way.
"You're smiling," Jasmine said, "Does it mean you feel good. Or at least better?"
I nodded shyly. Did that make me a freak already? What normal man wore women's underwear, please and willingly at that?
Again Jasmin's eyes flickered, and I realized she had another idea. "I have the perfect match."
I watched wide-eyed as she went to a drawer again to pull something out after a brief rummage.
"A pair of pantyhose?"
"That's right," she said, handing them to me. "They feel great against your skin. You'll love it!"
"I don't know," I countered.
"No one will see them under pants," was all Jasmine said. "Try them on."
"All right," I said. "But you really have to help me with that."
"Why?" she asked.
"Well," I hesitated. "Because I don't want to damage them."
"Don't worry about that," she said, taking the pantyhose and unwinding it. Her hand movements left no doubt that this wasn't the first time she'd done this. "Now put your two toes in," she instructed me.
I followed her orders. She asked me to stand quietly while she slowly slid the pantyhose up my legs, inch by inch, until it ended up just below my belly button.
"Well?" she asked curiously.
"It tickles a little," I said.
"Probably because of your hair. But it'll get better in a minute," she assured me. "Do you want to leave it on?"
I looked at her dumbly. Before, I'm sure I would have said no, but now that I was wearing them, I wasn't sure. Like the panties and bra before, it felt more or less good. Almost to the point of being right.
Jasmine smiled. "You want to keep them on, don't you?"
I nodded.
"Very well. Let me take a look at you," she said, stepping away from me a little. "Something is missing," she said as if she was just thinking out loud.
"What is it?", I asked uncertainly.
"I think you're not quite happy with your size. Are you?" she asked, "You'd rather be a little taller."
"That's true," I said. "But that's just the way it is."
"You won't grow any bigger," she agreed. "But..."
"But what?"
"But we could use a little trick. A trick we women are only too happy to use."
I knew what she was thinking of. "Shoes with heels? No way. I might be able to hide underwear, but the shoes will show."
"So what?" she said flippantly. "Most people look at the face first anyway. And you'll definitely do the interview sitting down. No one will notice."
"Better not. I couldn't walk in heels anyway."
"I think you could," Jasmine said as she ran out of the room for a moment and returned with a pair of high-heeled shoes. "Try them and see if you can walk in them. Then you can always decide against it later."
This time I really wanted to refuse, but somehow she had been right about the other things. It made me feel better. And if the shoes made me look a little taller. That was actually a good thing, wasn't it?
"All right," I said. "I'll give it a try."
"That's the spirit," she praised me.
With my stockinged feet, I slid into the shoes. I didn't think at all about the fact that they should be way too small for me. They just fit perfectly. And I was happy about it.
"Walk a few steps," she suggested.
I went, quite awkwardly at first, but after a few steps it didn't seem so unfamiliar at all.
"That looks fantastic. Have you walked in heels before?" she asked.
I noticed that I was blushing again. I quickly tried to change the subject. She shouldn't think that I had done something like that before. Even though it was kind of exciting to try something new. "But now I'm going to put my shirt back on."
"Okay," she said, waiting patiently for me to button it up.
"I think I'm pretty well set for today," I said with renewed confidence. It crumbled immediately, though, when I saw her critical look. "What's wrong?", I asked right away.
"Well," she said, "through your white shirt the bra is showing. I'm afraid you'll have to take the bra off again."
Immediately I got sad, even though I shouldn't care about it. After all, I always walked around without a bra. Why not now too? Even though it really felt quite good wearing one and I now had a better posture.
"Or," she said, "you could wear something black over it."
"I don't have anything black with me, though," I interjected. I got a joyful laugh from Jasmine for that answer.
"We can solve that problem," she said. She reached into her closet and pulled out a black long-sleeved top.
"I can't wear that," I said, almost as if by reflex.
"But look," she said, "It's just a regular piece of clothing. Just a long shirt. If it fits you, no one will be surprised. It's sort of unisex."
I looked closely at the piece and had to agree with her. It did look quite tightly cut and was rather stretchy, but that's how shirts were worn nowadays, wasn't it?
Without discussing it for long, I gratefully took the shirt and pulled it over. Like the rest of her clothes, it smelled very fresh and not as musty as my own clothes. I smiled.
"Great," Jasmine said approvingly. "It fits you almost like a glove."
I was just turning away to look where I had put my pants when she held me by the arm. "You're not going to wear those black jeans, are you?"
"Why not?", I asked, confused.
"Well, because then you'd only be dressed in black. You're not going to a funeral, are you?"
"You're right about that. It would look really awful that way," I said in dismay. "What am I going to do?"
"Don't worry," was all she said, "I've got the perfect skirt for you. It's red and just the perfect length I think."
"There's no way I'm putting on a skirt," I countered.
"Why not?"
"Because then people will see my tights," I said. "No, I'm not wearing that."
She smiled and I got nervous, not knowing the reason for her smile. "But you will want to wear it," she said, showing me the skirt.
I wanted to disagree, of course I didn't want to wear the skirt. I didn't want to wear any skirt at all. But this skirt - it did look kind of cute.
"Do you think," I asked cautiously, "that it would look good on me?"
"Of course girl," she said. The girl sounded so casual that I didn't really noticed it.
"And what if people laugh?", I voiced my concerns.
"Why would they laugh?" she asked. After all, it's perfectly normal to wear a skirt. And with such beautiful long legs as you have, it's almost a must.
The answer reassured me. Of course it was normal to wear a skirt. And it would look good on me, I thought.
"Okay, I'll try it on," I said with great anticipation. I was very glad to have a friend who had no problem borrowing clothes.
I put on the skirt and looked at myself in the mirror. I noticed that I looked different. Something was wrong. I thought about it for a long time and looked at myself for just as long. Of course I looked different, I finally decided. I had just changed my outfit, after all. I checked my sight in the mirror, but didn't notice anything alarming. That my breasts, which were slowly growing, were becoming more and more apparent through the fabric, interested me just as little as my general build, which was getting more curves.
Meanwhile, Jasmin came with a brush and began to carefully brush my hair. I wasn't paying attention, but with each stroke my hair grew a bit longer.
"Do you want me to help you apply your makeup quickly?", Jasmin asked me when she was done with my hair.
"I'd love that," I said and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Carefully, she applied the makeup. The red lipstick emphasized my lips and the eye shadow made my eyes look even more mysterious. I was really pleased with myself and my appearance. Then she gave me my necklace which I put on over my top. A little jewelry never hurt, after all.
"I think you need to get going," Jasmine finally said. "Your interview is soon."
"Of course," I said with great anticipation. I had a really good feeling.
I was heading for the door when Jasmin stopped me. "Didn't you forget something?"
I thought for a moment. Of course I did. "My purse." I'd had it specially color-coordinated with my skirt. No telling what would have happened if I had forgotten it.
"One quick test," Jasmine said, "just to see if you're all there."
I looked at her askance. "What could be wrong with me?"
"How old are you?" she asked first.
That was easy. "Twenty-five."
"And what's your name?"
"Bella," I said, suddenly faltering. Was my name really Bella? Wasn't Bella a woman's name? I glanced in the mirror. But I totally was a woman. Why was I so confused? Of course my name was Bella. It always has been.
"Bella," said Jasmine, "I think you are now very well prepared for your interview."
"Thank you sweetheart," I said and we kissed each other on the cheeks goodbye. "You're always so good to me."
The interview went great. They were thrilled about me and I'm super excited to start there next week. In the photo you can see me right after the interview. Jasmin and I have arranged to go through the city as a celebration. And maybe I will meet my prince charming today. Who knows what can happen in one day? But even if I wouldn't find anyone to date today, I'm super happy anyway. My life is perfect and so am I.
You have an idea for a TG story that you really want to see realized? Maybe I can write it for you and make your dream come true. Just send me a message here on deviantart and we'll discuss the details of the commission there.
