Change
by parker

Anxious, I checked my watch for the fifth time in as many
minutes. How long could it possibly take her to change? Women!
The dinner started in half an hour, and the election was tight
enough without me being late for my own fundraising events. I
looked around the clothing store, hoping to find a female
attendant to check the changing rooms, but the store seemed
empty. I walked over to where a hung curtain separated the
changing area from the rest of the store.

"Janice." 

No answer. I tried again, louder. 

"Janice." 

Still nothing. 

I looked around the store again: still empty. Did I dare? Another
glance at my watch told me I did. After one more quick look
around to make certain no one was watching, I pushed aside the
curtain and slipped into the changing area. It was a small
hallway with three mirrored doors on each side. Five of them were
open. I walked up to the closed one and almost knocked before I
realized where I was. What if it wasn't Janice? It wouldn't do to
get caught in the woman's changing room. I thought for a second
and then decided to sneak a quick look. If it was Janice, I'd
knock; if it wasn't, I could always slip out with no one the
wiser. Feeling a bit silly, I tip-toed forward and put my eye to
the crack along the doorframe.

It was Janice, but she wasn't alone. She was standing in the
middle of the small change room, topless. Another woman, a tall
blonde, stood directly behind her. The blonde woman had her arms
around my wife, one fondling a naked breast and the other down
the front of her pants. Janice was breathing hard; her eyes were
closed and she had a dreamy look on her face. I watched for a few
seconds and then forced myself to pull away. In shock, I wandered
out of the changing area and over to the store entrance where I
stood, dazed, waiting for Janice to reappear. I don't know how
long it was - five, ten minutes? - before she eventually came
out. "Sorry about the wait," she said casually. "Just wanted to
try on one more blouse." I think I stammered out some sort of
reply, but I can't remember what. The rest of the evening passed
in a blur.

I replayed the scene in my mind a hundred times over the next few
days. My feelings ran the entire gamut from furious, to hurt, to
frightened and, finally, to curiosity and arousal. To make
matters worse, I'd started imagining all sorts of strange
behaviour on the part of Janice: how she was sometimes a little
late from work; how the trip to the corner store for milk somehow
took longer than normal. Then I would convince myself that I was
just imagining things. Then I would be certain that something was
happening. Then... 

By the end of the week I was exhausted.

On Saturday, she asked me to drive her to the mall so she could
pick out a new summer dress. Needless to say, I jumped at the
suggestion, hoping to learn something about what was going on.
Once we arrived at the store, Janice picked out a couple of
dresses and disappeared into the changing area. I waited for a
bit, looking about the store to see if anyone was watching. Just
like the previous week, the store seemed to be completely empty.
Before my luck could change, I walked up to the changing area and
slipped inside. Again, just like the previous week, five of the
six doors were shut. Trembling with excitement, I crept up to the
door and put my eye to the crack. 

It wasn't Janice. The woman, half undressed, caught sight of me
through the door and let out a scream loud enough to pull the
store down around my head. I stumbled away from the door,
frightened half to death. Where was Janice? I started to run out
the entrance to the change area, but held back as I noticed that
the store was filled with people, all of them staring at the
entrance. The woman's screaming had attracted a crowd. By now, I
was starting to panic. What would it look like if I were caught
here in the woman's change area like some kind of peeping tom?
The best I could look forward to was the death of my political
career, never mind my marriage. I had to...

"You're Ted Randall!"

I turned to see a woman coming out of a doorway I hadn't noticed
before, at the other end of the change area. She wore a name tag;
obviously she worked at the store. "You have to help me," I
stammered. "There's been a terrible mistake." The woman in the
change room screamed again, something about rape. "Please." I was
almost in tears. "I was just looking for my wife." 

The woman looked at me for a second and then nodded. "Come in
here," she said, gesturing towards the door. I did as she said;
it was a makeup and change room. "Wait." She shut the door. I
listened in fear as she helped the screaming woman out of the
changeroom. There was some more yelling and talking and then they
fell silent. 

A few seconds later, the door opened up and the woman came back
in. She looked grim. "The woman's upset," she told me. "She's
calling the police."

I looked around. "Can you get me out of here?"

She shook her head. "There's no exit. The only way out is through
the store." I sunk back into the makeup chair and stared at my
tired reflection in the mirror. There was no way out. 

"Unless..." I looked up at her. "Unless I can put you in a
disguise." She started looking about the small room, gaining
energy as she thought about it. "I can make it so no one will
know it's you when I take you out." 

"But..." 

She silenced me with a look. "It's the only way," she told me.
"Unless you'd rather wait for the cops?" I shook my head. I just
couldn't let that happen. I'd do whatever it took to get out of
there...

My ankles wobbled a bit despite the fact that the heels were only
three inches. The only shoes that would fit me, she'd said. I'd
gotten upset when she'd started in on my face with the heavy
makeup, but she'd given me a drink to calm me down and reminded
me about the police. Since then, everything had been kind of
dreamy. Just as well, though. If it hadn't been for the drink,
there was no way I would ever have let her lead me out of the
changeroom dresses as I now was.  The tight corset; the cold gel
that burned my legs, crotch, chest and underarms while she made
up my face; the electric razor that cut my hair short enough so
that she could fix the long, blonde wig on my head; the large,
fake breasts she'd affixed to my chest with some kind of glue and
covered with a bra; the stockings pulled over my suddenly
hairless legs... Even then, I might have gone out sober if it
hadn't been for the tight tube dress she'd squeezed me into. I
had thought that the idea was to avoid attracting attention, but
I was in too much of a daze to protest. By the time I'd
formulated a protest, she'd dragged me out of the room and into
the store.

Once I was out in the open, there was nothing for it but to act
as confident as possible and try to pull it off; my career was at
stake. The woman kept one hand on my arm as she led me through
the crowd - were people staring? - and out of the store. I
breathed a sigh of relief as we left the store behind, but the
woman kept a firm grip on my arm. I went along with it, not
wanting to make a scene in the mall, dressed as I was. She led me
outside into the parking lot and directed me to her car. As we
got there, she stepped behind me and grabbed my wrists. I felt
something cold and realized that my arms were fastened behind my
back. She opened the car door and started to push me in. I braced
myself and resisted. Even with my wrists cuffed, I was larger and
stronger than her. 

"Want to go for help?" Her lips were at my ear, whispering...
licking... "Should do wonders for your political career." I
resisted for another moment and then gave up. She was right. I
let her push me into the car.

I sat in silence, staring down at my feet, as she drove. After
about half an hour, she pulled into a driveway on a quiet
residential street. "Let me look at you," she said, grabbing my
face with her hand and turning it towards her. She made a
clucking sound and proceeded to touch up my makeup. I just sat
there; by now, I was past resisting. After she finished with my
face, she reached down under the dress and gave my cock a quick
squeeze. It was hard. "You're going to like this," she smirked.

She pulled me out of the car and led me to the front door. I
stumbled as she opened it and pushed me inside. Janice was there.
She was dressed exactly as I was and wore the same heavy makeup
and blonde wig. She was kneeling in between the legs of the tall
blonde woman I had first seen her with a week ago. I was forced
down onto my knees beside her. I felt a hand on the back of my
head and then Janice and I leaned forward to begin licking at the
woman's pussy. I resisted for a moment, but then gave in as I
felt a hand slide under my dress and grasp my balls.

That was a month ago. The house actually belonged to the
screaming woman. I've been there ever since. I still see Janice,
although it's only once in a while, whenever the tall blonde
woman brings her over.