After the phone conversation with Vicky, Karl felt a little more at ease, but his mind was still troubled. He was going to start something today that might be permanent; he was going to go to work and present as a woman. This was not a fun thing like the occasional dress up as Karli.
No, this was telling the world today, or at least everyone at the company, that he was no longer a man and, by his appearance, was saying I want you to think of me as a woman.
Standing there in the bathroom, looking into the mirror that had so betrayed him yesterday, Karl's thoughts start to run to difficult questions and realities. How should he tell his father? Would Tank understand? How would he explain this to Juan and Tony and the other guys that worked for him?
Would they respect him? Would they treat him differently? Would this impact his job? And then, the big question, as always: what about Lisa?
Realizing he cannot take on all of these things at once, he begins trying to rewire his thinking so that he can get through today and then be able to get up tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. He decides to split things up by people. Today would be the people at work.
At least by Saturday, he would have to explain to his father, who was going to be at the race, why and how he looked this way. He was not terribly worried about his sister and mother at this point, because he seldom saw them and, honestly, did not care what they thought.
Then there was the final and still most important person: Lisa. Karl remembers back to the conversation that he and Lisa had on their fourth date. Lisa felt comfortable enough by then to ask Karl about his voice and how he came to look like he did. She prefaced the inquiry by saying she liked the way he looked and spoke. She thought of him as a special man and had no issues with any part of his appearance or behavior. Lisa said, as long as I can look at someone and know they are a man, I am fine with anything else I see.
Her saying that, while peering into his emerald eyes with her beautiful hazel ones, was one of the most important and heartfelt things Karl had ever experienced. After struggling all his life with intolerant people who did not even try to understand the kind of man he is and being shot down every time by women he was interested in just because he was not manly enough, here, finally, was a woman who could love him just as he is.
Not only that, she is the perfect woman physically, in Karl's eyes, and they just have so much in common. From pop music, to sappy movies, to riding fat tire bikes on the beach to singing and dancing, to spa days, everything lined up perfectly. Heck, they were even almost the same height.
Karl did worry that, because he was no athlete, Lisa might get bored. She loved to mountain bike and had run track in high school and had even taught classes at a local gym. She was majoring in sports psychology and so sports were a big part of her life. Karl, on the other hand, never cared for sports or athletic endeavors of most kinds.
He had taken ballet and yoga and had run on the treadmill occasionally, but it was only to maintain his flexibility and keep his muscles toned. Yes, they first saw each other at the bike shop where Karl worked part time, but he was only the checkout person. He knew nothing about bicycles other than a few things he had learned to parrot.
The day two years later when Karl ran into Jeannie and Lisa, Karl had parked his car near a trailhead that was close to the beach so he could walk down and put his toes in the water. The three of them just happened to arrive at the parking lot at the same time; Lisa was finishing her ride with Jeannie and Karl was returning from his beach walk. Lisa saw Karl's right rear tire was nearly flat and helped him get it changed.
Something Karl would have had a hard time doing by himself. In gratitude for her help, Karl offered to have one of the technicians at the shop tune up her mountain bike for free. Karl actually had to pay for the tune up, but it was worth it. From there, they planned a lunch date and then a movie and then a day at the beach. After the day at the beach, there were very few days where Karl and Lisa were not together.
Both of them saw how amazingly compatible they were. Not only did they share a love for the beach and shopping, but they had the same taste in movies, in books, in most music, and they even had similar values. If Karl was honest with himself, he would admit he was in love on day one. Lisa might not have been quite so quick to fall, but there is no doubt that within a month, she knew she had found her perfect mate, too.
Now, Jeannie was perverting Lisa's words that echoed so strongly in his brain and were so meaningful those many months ago: as long as I can look at someone and know they are a man, I am fine with anything else I see. She was changing him so that when Lisa looked, she would not see any trace of maleness.
It was diabolical. Jeannie's threatening notes talked about many changes, but, as it turns out, she only needed to make one change: his face. Lisa used to love Karl, with his boyish face, even if he had a woman's voice and a slightly feminine body. Now, Jeannie has turned him into something that has no boy features left.
Realizing that he cannot handle thinking about Lisa right now, Karl forces himself to start thinking again about today. He agrees with Vicky that she and the Frankels were likely to treat him kindly even if he showed up looking like a girl. He had no idea how the guys on the crew would act, however, as they had never seen him look or try to act like a girl.
Karl is not stupid or blind; he knows he has been a very feminine man since puberty and was called a sissy child before that. But up until yesterday, he has always been able to maintain, as an adult, a somewhat male presence and, more importantly, has been able to think of himself as a man.
Now, Karl had to face, no pun intended, the fact of no longer being able to live like a man. It was a form of mental castration and it hit Karl hard. Standing there peering into his deep green eyes in the mirror, he made the decision to take the easy road for today and tell the guys that he had decided to look this way.
Rather than admitting to Tank and the crew that he blacked out for an entire day and woke up looking like a girl who had spent a day at a spa, he decided to just own what had happened. No one would understand the blackout thing, hell he did not, and there was nothing to be gained by bringing it up.
Vicky already knew that he had made a mistake at the salon, but Karl had not mentioned his lack of memory to her. He could trust her to leave the mistake part out of the conversation with the Frankels. In fact, rushing to grab his phone again, he texted her asking to keep that part confidential.
As for George and Cindy, he would probably tell them the same as the crew; he made a decision to change his look and hoped they would understand. He did not like any of this, but looking at his cute face, pretty hair, and piercings, what choice did he really have?
Taking another deep breath, Karl says, well, I have made the decision to go in looking like a woman, now I have to actually do it. I have to get ready. He picked up his phone, staring at it momentarily thinking about calling Vicky back and asking her to help. But, he said, no I gotta do this myself.
In the past he walked a fine line dressing for work, as he almost always wore women's underwear but, technically, men's outer clothes. Now, because of the changes to his face and what Karli had done, he was being forced to cross over that line and essentially tell everyone at Fortis Resort Services, by look and dress, that he was to be viewed as a woman. So wearing men's clothes, even softer men's clothes, would not work. He could not go in halfway. Today, he would be completely en femme.
Underwear is not a problem. Probably ninety percent of Karl's underwear was women's anyway. Which silky items to wear, though, that depended on his choice of outer attire.
Karl does have a large selection of Karli clothes, but nothing much that is job appropriate. Most of the Karli clothes are fun clothes or clothes to be worn at home. Things like negligees and short skirts and tight pants.
Karli even has a bikini, something else that Lisa surprised him with one weekend saying let's go lay out on the beach. The linen blouse laying on the floor by the closet from yesterday might have been fine for work, but it is in no condition to be worn a second time. The black leather skirt is probably okay, but what to wear with it?
Leaving the bathroom, Karl goes to the entry closet where the other two hangers from the dry cleaner were stored. He pulls the first hanger out; it is another blouse, this one sleeveless and sheer pale green in rayon.
It was another gift from Lisa. It is delicate and beautiful, but is probably meant to be worn with a jacket if going into a work environment. The other bag contains a very short gray clingy dress in some sort of shimmery synthetic fabric. It is a club dress as Lisa called it.
Karl had bought this one online one drunk Saturday. A Karli Saturday. He had only worn it around the house dancing to Lady Gaga and it was definitely not work appropriate unless your work had you standing on street corners flagging down men.
As for women's pants or slacks, Karl had none. Shorts, skimpy tank tops, denim shorts. Stuff like that he had in bunches inside his Karli stash. He had other very short skirts in all kinds of fun styles and colors, but most of these were from his juvenile Karli days and were reflective of teenage girl taste. So, other than this sleeveless top and the skirt from last night, he was pretty much stuck for this morning. They would have to do. The decision for top and bottom seemingly made for him by his limited wardrobe scope, Karl decides to move on to other items.
For shoes, he has the pair of cork three inch slides, but they were not right for work, either. Otherwise, his few other pairs of Karli shoes were like the rest of the wardrobe, casual and or sort of sweet sixteen. Turning back to the sofa in the den, the only grown up shoes he has are the four inch stilettos lying there where he dropped them earlier. Could he even last a whole day in shoes like that?
Were they too, too, too much? Taking a moment more to ponder his options, Karl decided to go for it with the shoes.
He was a little surprised at the decision he just made. Moving from where he had been for years, walking the fence in terms of androgynous clothing, donning a four inch pair of heels was a big step, pun intended. It was like something in his mind was pushing him forward and out of his comfort zone.
The decisions about his top, skirt, and shoes made, the rest would be more straightforward, except for one item: the gaff. He had worn a gaff as recently as last night, so he was no stranger to wearing the confining garment, but wearing it to work is just different and seemed another step in his emotional castration.
But, on the other hand, how could he wear a skirt like the tight black leather one without a gaff? Going over to Karli's Trousseau lingerie chest, he retrieves his only other gaff. In the same drawer, he locates a pair of black panties with elaborate lace.
They are a beautiful and intricate pair; a pair that a confident woman might wear on a date where sex is expected. Today, though, Karl picks them because they match one of the other items he will need: a garter belt. Karli never liked pantyhose and either went bare legged or wore stockings and a garter belt, so those were Karl's options now. Karl did not need stockings to make his legs look good, but in a business setting, he just thought it more appropriate and, in a weird way, he would feel more covered up.
The stocking selection, unlike most other clothes, was pretty large. Karli was into lingerie, and Lisa had encouraged that affinity. Karl chose a pair of sheer nude nylons. His tan would show through, but the nylons would really make his legs look just that much more girly.
Speaking of lingerie, it was time to think about what to wear under the sleeveless top he had selected. The top was translucent, so a camisole was going to be a must. The question was whether he wanted to wear a bra, too. With his male outer clothes, he had been able to get by with a plain camisole alone under his thicker manly shirts. In the past, it always seemed to him that wearing a bra to work was a step too far, too risky.
Looking down at his chest this morning, his A plus breasts are modest, but his nipples are fairly large and his areolas dark and puffy. So, given how light his top is, a bra seems like it would be a good idea, even with a camisole. Besides, he was already going to be wearing stilettos, a garter belt with sheer nude stockings, and a tight leather skirt. In for a penny, why not wear a sexy bra, too?
As it so happened, he had the lacy black demi bra that matched the panties and garter, so once a bra was required, the choice of which to wear was simple. Surprised once more at his quick decision, he again had the sensation of someone whispering in his ear, pushing him forward into this next chapter.
Pulling on the gaff, Karl is a little surprised that his cock has not spoken up. However, he is glad that the turtle is largely staying tucked in its shell for it makes putting on the gaff easier. This flaccid acceptance is short-lived, though, as the moment he starts pulling those lacy panties up his silky smooth legs, there is an immediate pressure against the gaff.
Karl feels a little flushed, but takes a moment and calms down. Garter belt is next, and then the stockings. Karl or Karli has always loved the feeling of nylon sliding up leg. Today is no different, except that it is. In the past, most of the pleasure of that physical sensation was because of the release of tension it provided along with the naughtiness of a man putting on sexy women's hosiery.
Today, the feelings are a bit different. Even if Karl has not formed the thoughts yet, he is feeling what a woman feels when she knows what she is wearing is sexy. The effect on Karl's cock is much the same as before, but the source of the arousal is different. Stockings up and clipped into the garter, Karl runs his hands up and down his soft nylon encased tanned legs, smoothing the stockings and making sure there are no sags or picks. Another momentary feeling of lightheadedness passes quickly as he stands up and begins walking to his closet.
He scoops up the leather skirt from the floor by the closet door. Examining it, he sees a little white spot on the front, that he dabs off with some water, but it otherwise looks okay. Pulling it on over his stockings, the sensation is almost overpowering and Karl has to sit down on the bed for a moment. The emotions and stirrings cause his breathing to intensify and the pressure under his panties to increase.
After a few moments, he stands, pulling up the skirt and zipping it in the back. Walking by the mirror, Karl pauses and looks, noticing his nipples are fully erect and the crinkly brown skin surrounding them is especially crinkly. Looking down to his skirt and legs, he has to admit, he looks good.
Picking up the thirty-four A bra, he spins it around, fastening it into the smallest band clip. Settling his little boobies in place, his nipples are pushing over the top of the lacy demi-cups. He does his best to contain them, and then goes into the closet to find a camisole.
Karl has many plain camisoles; they were, after all, his work undershirts for a long time. The pure white one he wore yesterday was his favorite Karli cami, but he did have other more overtly feminine ones, too.
Selecting a pale skin tone pink one with very narrow spaghetti straps, he slips it on easily over his shorter hair and, like yesterday, it tickles his escaping nipples as it settles into place, doing the impossible; making his already hard nipples glass-cutter hard. Stealing a quick calming squeeze of his left nip, he moves on to the blouse.
The sleeveless translucent rayon blouse is a pullover with a tiny button and loop in the back. He has worn it before with Lisa, but she was there to fasten the button. He remembers remarking, I do not know how any woman can button that thing on her own.
Today, he finds out just how hard it is to do by yourself. His long nails do not aid in the endeavor, but his short hair in back does give easier access. After a couple of minutes, tongue out to the side in concentration, the button is done.
Smoothing the blouse, trying to decide whether or not to tuck it in, he returns to the mirror. Looking at his reflection once again, Karl's mind splits into two halves. Seeing how feminine, how even more feminine he looks, one side of his brain is saddled with the unmistakable truth that this is how he looks now and the other side revels in the pleasure of looking at a beautiful woman.
Looking at his chest in particular, the outline of the black bra can be seen as a shadow under the camisole and his nipples are still trying to peek over the half cups. Adjusting his bra through his clothes again the best he can, his head once again goes fuzzy for a moment and he flushes feeling another tightening within his gaff.
He really does not need makeup, but going all in to make what he will tell his co-workers about his decision believable, he has to do it. The good news is that he can keep it simple. Looking over at the makeup he brought home from the salon, it is dramatic and clearly meant for going out at night. So, returning to the tackle box, Karl takes out some basic foundation, mascara, blush, and lipsticks.
Normally Karli makeup is a little heavy handed, but as Karl sits again at the lit makeup mirror by his bed, he wants to use the bare minimum; no eye shadow and only light blush. Just enough mascara and transparent foundation for it to be noticed and a subtle neutral pink lip color is all that he uses.
Karl is nervously satisfied. His restraint and less is more approach leaves him looking like a teenager whose mother wants to keep her daughter from looking like a whore. However, with his skin, hair, full lips, and dramatic eyes, that is no teenager staring back from the makeup mirror.
Putting on the antique locket and his Garmin Lily watch, the easy part is over. He walks into the den and stares, a little intimidated, at the stilettos. He knows, even though he does not remember, that he wore them last night. His slightly sore calves are a gentle reminder of that fact. Sitting down and pulling them on, the deep red toenail polish that matches his fingernails pops through at the toe. Buckling the straps on each shoe, he pushes off the couch to stand up.
Feeling a bit like an acrobat on stilts, he takes a few tentative steps around the room. Not feeling exactly comfortable, but gaining more confidence as he goes, Karl is surprised how well he is adapting to the new shoes.
He notices that he is still naturally keeping his elbows close to his sides as he walks and now is, without thinking, bending his wrists down for better balance.
Looking through the den toward the kitchen at the mess on the table, he sees the empty coffee mug. I have not had any breakfast. But I do not think I can eat. I am too nervous. Looking at his rose gold smartwatch, it confirms there is no time for food anyway. Well I guess it is time.
Walking back to the full length jeweled mirror one more time, Karl does a final assessment. The mind split is still there. Standing before him is a very attractive, maybe even borderline hot, woman. Delicate features and slim feminine build, no one is going to think that is a dude. This reality keeps Karl's mind bouncing between sadness and appreciation.
Resigned to his decision to go, he reluctantly walks toward the kitchen, puts his phone, wallet, and keys back into his purse, and steps up to the door. Picking up his backpack, he hears the rain still pouring down, Oh yeah, forgot about that.
Into the hall closet, Karl finds a pale pink Patagonia rain jacket and a small collapsible umbrella. Slipping on the rain coat, Karl takes one more breath and opens the door. At that very moment, the rain suddenly stops. Well, maybe that is a good sign.
Carefully navigating the steps in high heels, walking down almost side step, Karl reaches his pink Caddy and unlocks the door. Removing his rain jacket, he throws it, the umbrella, the backpack, and his purse onto the passenger seat and climbs in. Stealing one last glance in the visor vanity mirror, a sense of deja vu hits him.
Arriving at work just after eight a.m., Avril Lavigne's Complicated is playing on Karl's Spotify stream. Thinking no song could be more appropriate for today, Karl takes a well, here goes deep breath and steps out of his little S.U.V. No one is around in the parking lot.
Thankfully, the rain has abated. Karl walks uncertainly into the building, his heels sounding the alarm that a girl is coming. Passing Cindy on the way to his office, she waves at him like she always does. No note of shock or sadness at his changed appearance.
After the wave, though, Cindy gives him a reassuring smile. Dropping his purse at his desk, he removes his laptop and notepad from his backpack and starts down the hall to George's office.