Happy fucking Halloween.
That was his thought as the alarm bell clanged this cold autumn morning. A costume, where the hell was he going to find a costume on Halloween day. The memo from the office booster club arrived in his inbox at exactly 5:55 pm last night. It was a lucky thing he even saw it. What the hell were they thinking springing a costume day at work on such short notice.
Mandatory
, imagine that, a prestigious law firm and they wanted the office dressed as clowns.
There had better be a big fat treat at the end of the day, and it better come in the form of cash. He showered and considered going in naked, costumed in his birthday suit. That would be enough to send the prudish secretaries running for cover, and would certainly cause more than one sexual harassment suit. Would serve them right, a costume on such short notice was enough for a mental harassment suit on his part.
Grumbling over his usual breakfast of a protein shake and a banana, he was dressed in his birthday suit, naked as a jay bird and he should just stay this way. Hang a sign around his neck...NUDIST! Deal with it!
Rinsing his glass and tossing the banana peel, he headed to his bedroom. Rifling his closet, did he actually own anything other then suits, shirts and ties? Inspiration struck, there at the very back of his closet hung a foreign item. The dress he had bought for that no good ex-girlfriend. But could he squeeze into it? Worth a shot I suppose.
He felt his smooth face, freshly shaved and started to smile. He grabbed the dress and slipped it over his head. Hmmmmmmm, not bad, but I need titties. He checked the drawer, the one he had reserved for
her
things and to his surprise found a bra, panties and stockings, luckily dark stockings, if no one inspected too closely they might not notice his hairy legs.
He pulled the dress on and wrapped the bra around his chest. Why did women wear these things, comfort was definitely not a design demand. Now to find boobs! His girlfriend was rather modest chested, so no need for watermelons. But, a couple of balloons, filled with water and wrapped in socks might just work. He constructed himself some titties and for added effect glued a pair of sawed off golf tees for nipples. He turned to look at his profile in the mirror. Boobies complete with erect nipples. The effect was rather good.
He slipped on the panties, tight enough to hide his cock, as long as he didn't get aroused at work...fat chance of that happening! He had been looking at the same old co-workers for years now and no one had even piqued his interest enough to ask their name let alone stir any sexual desire.
Stockings slid surprisingly easily over his muscled hairy legs. The dress came to mid thigh and the look was complete, except for shoes. Where in the hell would he find a pair of size 10 women's shoes at this time of the morning? And how the hell would he manage to walk in them?
He got down on his hands and knees...scooting to the back of the closet, cell phone held aloft to see if maybe something other than his standard black leather dress shoes might be hiding back there. And sure enough, that rotten ex of his had left a shoe box with sandals in them...tags still attached. She had no sense for money, at least not his money when she went shopping.
But at least they were sandals with no heels. He squeezed his size ten man feet into the size 9 woman's shoe and fastened the strap. Maybe not a fashion statement with the slinky red dress, but better than his shoes. He winced as he stood up, the sandals tight and uncomfortable. It will remind me of how much this pisses me off at least.
But his hair, short and closely cropped, thick eyebrows...what to do about that?
Finding tweezers, surprised that he had some he stood in front of the mirror and quickly plucked his eyebrows into a semblance of womanly appearance. Smiling he found he liked the shaped trim eyebrows. He put the tweezers where he could find them easily next time. Now for hair. What to do for hair?
He started grinning as he remembered his neighbor two floors down had wigs. Lots and lots of wigs. She was a wig designer of all things. And she
had
borrowed coffee that one morning.
He grabbed his briefcase and headed for the elevator. Punching the 11th floor button he found himself smiling and humming "The Monster Mash," the only Halloweenish song he could think of.
As he knocked on her door, he realized he didn't even know her name, just thought of her as the wig lady, usually adding the adjective crazy to the moniker.
She answered his knock and stood staring at him with such a look of abject horror that he started to laugh. Once the laugh started he couldn't stop. Her look never changed, but she backed away from the door...preparing to shut it, and probably lock every one of the dead bolts he suspected lined the door casing.
Finally catching his breath, he said, "Hi, I'm Thomas, I live upstairs, I am dressed for Halloween, but as you can see, a few key ingredients are missing. I thought maybe you could loan me a wig."
At that point, her horror turned to mirth and she let out a girlish giggle. "Come on in. You need some help if you are going to pull this off."
"I have made as many wigs for men as for women, and I think I have the perfect one for you...also a pair of shoes that just might fit better than those things you have on." She led him into her work room. A mass of wigs, and a rack of clothes, a rack of shoes and a make-up table. "I don't just make wigs, I do complete make-overs as well as the occasional low production movie costuming."
He smiled, he had certainly wished he had known that before he had dressed in this outfit. "Maybe you can find me a costume, instead of this disaster I am wearing. I saw the look of fear on your face when you answered the door."
"No, the look of fear was from thinking I was supposed to have a custom wig ready for a customer that I didn't remember booking an appointment for. Apart from the shoes and the hair...you look pretty good. I am not even going to ask why you own a dress though."
Frowning at the implication he said, "I bought it for an ex-girlfriend, she never came back to wear it. Found a better offer I guess."
"Well that doesn't matter, fixing you up is what we need to do now. So relax and let the expert have her way with you." she winked at him as she went to work.
"Here's a pair of heels, size 10 mens, and before you ask...lots of men dress like you do everyday."
While she rummaged her collection of wigs, he sat down, discarded the too tight sandals and strapped on the black leather shoes. He stood up, wobbling and grabbed a chair to steady himself.