Kathy; The Best Laid Plans

Even though I graduated college, I was always looking for an easy way to make a dollar. Let’s face it I was lazy, and proud of it. A friend of mine in college had a novel idea. He sought out businesses that might appear to discriminate, applied for a job with them, worked a few weeks then sued them for some alleged discrimination. In a lot of cases they wanted to avoid any bad publicity so they settled out of court, to my friends benefit. I had tossed that idea around, wandering if I should try it too.

I was eating out one night, alone as usual. The females that I tried to date saw through me easily, avoiding me like the plague. To them I was a do nothing, going nowhere type of person to be avoided as if I had some contagious disease. It was a restaurant that catered to the single male businessman, or lonely married man. All of the waitresses wore revealing outfits, flirted with the customers, and any other action that would assure them good tips. From what I saw the tips that were left them were astounding. The menu was high class, the cheapest item offered was almost twenty dollars. I really had no business eating here, way too expensive for my meager funds.

As I drove home that night I kind of wondered if this would be a good place to try my friend’s scheme. When I got home I looked them up on the internet finding out it was owned by a group of females consisting of this restaurant and four others. All I could see was dollar signs, ripe for the picking.

I had a lot of waiter experience during college, the only way I was able to afford to go the full four years. Back then I had a purpose in working hard and doing well, to get through college. I had letters of reference from most everybody as to my skill and proficiency at that job. That, I hoped, would help in getting a job with my proposed new target.

I planned to apply for a job as a waitress, since they only hired females from what I could see. I would most likely be turned down, than I could sue them for discriminating against me since I was a male. The fact that one of their restaurants was across the border in another state might bring Federal anti-discrimination laws into effect. Either way the lawsuit would bring some bad publicity to them encouraging them to settle out of court to avoid it. I had a friend that had become a lawyer after graduating, who would file my case for me for next to nothing. Anything to line his pockets was okay with him. No scruples whatsoever typical of a lot of legal help these days.

I did visit the other restaurants, each one set up basically the same employing only female waitresses. The following Monday I entered the local branch of the restaurant as they opened and asked to fill out an application for employment. The gal that was at the door gave me a smirk and told me to follow her. I was led to an office in the back and handed an application to fill out. I sat there filling it out watching the waitresses come by the office as they went to the floor to start work. Whoever did the hiring picked well, I doubt you could have found a nicer looking group of females anywhere.

It was about thirty minutes later when the lady that gave me the application came to check up on me. I had just finished the application and handed it to her. Right at the top was a blank for what position I was applying for. I wrote waiter/waitress. The lady looked over the application, my resume and then my references. She smiled then interviewed me for the next twenty minutes. She asked a lot of questions especially about handling customers. How to serve them, ways to keep then happy, ways to encourage them to come back. I kind of felt like I had been put through the wringer by the time she was done. Then she surprised me by handing me a smock, told to put in on and she would assign me two tables to wait on to see if I am as good as my references.

The smock was girly, but since I was wearing pants it did not affect my image that much. Yeah, at least, that is what I told myself. I was given two tables right in the middle of the restaurant. I turned beet red, looking like I did and clearly in plain sight of everyone. She waited for me to balk, I grabbed one of their pads to take orders and made my way to the table. Luckily for me the customers were couples, so I was spared waiting on males only dressed like I was. I did get lots of amused looks, and the whispering in my area of the restaurant increased exponentially.

I took their orders, turning them in and went to get their drinks. The other waitresses were friendly, showing me where things were at, and how the orders were served up when ready. I doted on my customers, delivering their salads, then removing the plates when they were finished. When their orders were ready I took them to the tables checking to see what condiments they wanted and putting them on the table. I made sure their drinks were kept filled, busing their used dishes as soon as they were done. Of course, coffee if they wanted it to finish off the meal. I asked if they wanted dessert, one table ordering some the other table declining. Once finished I gave them their checks, they left a tip and departed.

I looked around to see if the lady that interviewed me was around, she waved to me from the other side of the restaurant and I walked over to her. She was at a booth, had a bunch of forms spread out on the table, asking me to sit opposite her. She offered me a job, but wanted me to listen to her before I accepted.

“All of the girls have to sign one year contracts, a requirement of the restaurant. You will be allowed two days off per week, if sick those days off were deemed my sick days. You will be working three to midnight with an hour off for dinner, five days a week. The rest of the terms of employment were in the forms, be sure to read them thoroughly, there are no allowances or exceptions for not knowing them after signing.

You will be furnished uniforms, they are to be worn at all times while you are at work, no exceptions. Hair and makeup as stated in the contract, penalties for not adhering to the standards are docking of your pay and placed on probation. Terms of probation also explained on the forms. Read them thoroughly and if agreed sign and date them. I will get someone to witness your signature. When you are finished bring me the forms. I ignored the statement about hair and makeup, figuring that was just because they had an all-female staff.

I read the contract carefully, one year working for the restaurant, with two weeks’ vacation after six months. Nothing in it alarming me. There was the standard social security information that had to be filled out and withholding info for my pay. Then a few of the rules that had to be adhered to. There again nothing out of the ordinary, most just common sense. In the meantime they were closing up, had waited on the last customer and had cleaned their stations. I got to my feet, and bused my two tables, setting them up for tomorrow, not fair to the girls to have to do it for me, then returned to finish the forms.

The lady came to see if I was done, I handed her the forms, she glanced at them and then took them to her office. Another one of the waitresses was called, and she witnessed my signature. I was told to go to this address Monday morning at eight AM for my appointment, while there I will be issued uniforms and shoes. That night I will work the three till midnight shift for the first time. “Come about an hour early so that we can show you where everything is, by three you will be all set.”

She handed me a check for my time tonight, for which I had to sign for, plus my share of the tip jar. All the girls shared in their tips, each table worked gave you a better share of the tips. I figured I was home free, work a few days then make up some story about how I was discriminated against and sue their butt. I smiled at the thought, money at last.

I arrived at the address at seven-thirty surprised to see it was a beauty salon. I had a sudden flare up of nerves, this can’t be good. I went ahead and entered and told them my name at reception. I was shown back to an office at the back of the salon and then to a chair in front of a desk. In strolls the lady that had interviewed me and hired me with a huge smile on her face. She had a stack of papers with her, I noticed the top sheet was my application form. Suddenly this was not looking good at all.

She started right off telling me what they are going to do to me today. I would be fitted for my uniforms later today after my body had been converted to fill them properly. Of course, no charge for any of this since it is covered in my contract with the restaurant. I opened my mouth, but she interrupted me pointing to the application and the word waitress circled on it. Then flipped over the other sheets, stating on the back side my transformation, what my uniform will be and how I am expected to look for my shift. I picked them up, never expecting to look at the back side of what I signed. I stood up ready to leave, but she suggested that I sit and she would tell me how it is going to be.

If you walk out you will be sued for breach of contract, plus you will be liable for the cost of your transformation, uniforms and wages for someone to replace you at the restaurant. Plus penalties as listed in their contract and of course all legal fees. She pointed to the penalty portion of the contract, I noticed a lot of figures there, all ending in lots of zeros.

She sat there waiting for my response. I tried to convince her she wouldn’t want a male looking like a poor excuse of a female in her restaurant. She laughed, you will be just as pretty as the other guys on the floor. Did she say guys, oh gawd, all of the girls that I lusted after were really guys. Just then one of the girls walked by and she called them in to introduce them, It was the same girl that had witnessed my signature last night. Her name was Tiffany, but it used to be Tim. Tiffany gave me a hug, welcoming me to the sisterhood, and then went on down the hall to her salon appointment. My dreams of financial security without having to work went up in smoke, but that wasn’t the worse. Living and working as a female waitress, flirting and cajoling the males to get good tips, oh gawd what have I done?

I asked for some time to decide, and I would like to speak to my attorney. She smiled sure hon, what is his number. I gave her the number and she called. He answered and she giggled, telling him this was Jackie, I have another one trying to weasel out of the contract, you need to set him straight. She handed the phone to me, then stepped out of the office.

“Do you work for her, I really need your help right now. What she tells me can’t be happening to me, it just can’t.”

“Look Cliff, if this is regarding employment as a waitress, and you signed the contract and it was witnessed, you are now an employee of said restaurant for a year. There is no way out, except to buy your way out. That will cost a minimum of a hundred thousand dollars before all is said and done. I suggest you do as you are told, as you can see from the number of girls she has working for her, there are many more in the same boat as you. They have all found out that the contract is ironclad, so they have accepted their fate and become the girls that they were meant to be. Now unless you want to pay for any more advice, hang up so that they can make you beautiful. I will be by later to the restaurant to see how you turned out.” I heard a click and he hung up.

The lady showed up again, taking me gently by the arm and led me off to my fate. Her name I found out is Evelyn, one of the owners of the restaurants. To another room and just before she left me to my fate she asked me if I knew a Jimmy Haverty. My eyes perked up, the one I had gotten the idea from, my old college buddy. Well she is working the floor at one of the other restaurants, I might be persuaded to let you work up there some, I am sure you both will have a lot to share by then.

The tech came in asking me to strip. I did so, this is going to be very long year, as my boxers hit the floor. The last time I will be wearing anything masculine for quite some time apparently. That was confirmed as she threw my boxers and the rest of my male clothes in the trash.

Over the next eight hours my body was feminized by the best, my image at the end confirming that they had indeed erased every trace of masculinity that I possessed. Removal of body hair, eyebrows waxed to very thin high arches, ears pierced, and then seven hours suffering the effects of their breast machine as it formed twin mountains on my chest. While that was being accomplished, junior was hid away under a silicone vagina, my sex now visually female. Long elegant nails extended from my fingertips, painted in too many coats of red nail polish. The UV light, I was told would set the polish so that it would be almost impossible to remove or chip. At the end of my time with the breast pump I tried to come to some kind of resolution with all of this, not what I had in mind, but it seems my future no matter what I may have desired.

Hair is next, once free from the breast pump I was moved to a sink and the next hour was spent on my hair. The cups were still firmly attached to my chest, the breast tissue within the cups trying to move around some, causing me some distress. I was not used to such movement, but I guess it is a precursor of things to come.

Numerous treatments were applied to my hair, several of them quite smelly, so when my longish hair was set in curlers I doubted I would ever be able to look like a male again. Once under a dryer I could see part of my image in a mirror across the room, my hair now quite blonde and with a pinkish cast to it. Remembering the girls at the restaurant a lot of them sported a similar color, all with lots of curls and waves. I presume I will fit right in.

Once the hair was dry, it was brushed out into a very feminine hairstyle, lots of curls framing my face and settling on my shoulders. Then the uniform, one look at it and I started to protest. It was even smaller than what the girls at the restaurant wore. The lady holding it said that is easy to explain for the first four weeks I would be wearing the trainee uniform before I am moved up to the regular uniform. Not wanting to suffer any penalties I wiggled my butt into it and the back zipper was brought up. It was tight on me, real tight then she aimed a blow dryer at me, bathing me in the heat of the dryer. I felt the uniform shrinking, as I looked down to see it was getting smaller, pushing some flesh up to my bust and the rest to my hips. My feet were slipped into some heels, with an ankle strap to assure they couldn’t be slipped off easily.

I was pushed over to a chair and she started in my makeup. Like it was an everyday occurrence she told me it was semi-permanent, to allow me to get used to doing it myself. I still had to apply makeup, but underneath was the outline of what I had to follow. Mascara and lipstick had to be added often, but eyeliner, blush, lip liner and eye shadow were there whether I added them or not. I let out a big breath, now fully realizing what a mess I have got myself into. A female 24/7 the breasts, hairstyle and makeup assuring that fact.

I was stood in front of a mirror, my long legs encased in stockings, the garter belt used to hold them up a part of my brief costume. At the bottom of the outfit I now had hips as my excess flesh was pushed out from under the garment. The thong back on the outfit splitting my ass cheeks, a most provocative sight. Then we have the top, my breasts now bulging over the top of the outfit, seemingly only a breath away from escaping. I was still standing there staring at my image when she came to pick me up.

She usually lets the new girls take public transportation on their first day, but in your case I decided to take you to work. Another sigh that I hadn’t realized I was holding was let loose, this can’t get any worse, can it.

Back in the restaurant where all of this started I was assigned the tables right in the center, my body to be on display all night to anyone in the restaurant. I set up my tables, just something to do to keep from thinking about tonight. Then the first few customers were shown in by the hostess, a group of college males full of themselves. Yep it could and did get worse, it was shaping up to be a long night, a very long night.

“Honey can you get our drink order?” That was the voice from one of my first group, just think another eight hours of this my first day. I did make it through the first day, my share of the tips quite substantial. It was a couple of weeks into my employment when I realized I liked working there. I was making a comfortable living, even managing to do some shopping to add to my wardrobe when not at work. I ate when I first came in to work, saving quite a bit of money there, it also helped to keep my girlish figure looking as it should be. The weekly salon appointments were not to bad, I actually enjoyed being pampered and fussed over.

On my days off several of the girls and I made the rounds shopping for anything and everything. Since we were all in the same boat we became friends. Very seldom did we bitch about being tricked with the contract, we all had made the same mistake and learned to live with it. Jeannie and I had became more than friends, deciding to share an apartment after three months working there. It was not romantic, but we did enjoy each other’s company and often cuddled in bed to keep from being so lonely. I never did get to see Jimmy, the last I heard he was now dancing as a stripper in the town he had first started at.

When the time came up to renew the contract, we eagerly signed. The new contract for five years instead of one year. I figure one or two contracts more and I will have enough to buy a residence, and live my life without having to work. So imagine my figure ten years from now, yep not having to work, but living the rest of my years as a female. How ironic that all of this started as an effort to not have to work, it was a not a very good plan and it failed miserably, but maybe that was as it should be.

Story Complete For Now

© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker

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