Zoot Suit

by Robin Douglas

Scotch is my one indulgence. Unless you count the women, which I don't. The numbers add up too fast. Now, this little excess isn't ordinary scotch. Not Johnny Walker, Chevis or Pinch. No, I'm talking pure quill single malts here. The real stuff. Makes my knees weak just to think about it.

Sales is my one talent. If you're good -- really good -- you can sell yourself into bed or out of trouble. I'm good. And not too long ago Scotch and a woman gave me a chance to prove it.

Right now I sell ladies' fashions but I've been in many sales areas in my career.

Let me introduce myself. I'm Kip Martin, Master Salesman.

The twin cities area is a good headquarters for my sales territory, which includes South Dakota, Minnesota and part of Wisconsin. I used to think my territory was pretty conservative, but a month ago I changed my mind about that.- I was in Sioux Falls visiting my regular customers, making sure their orders were in, wining and dining buyers and checking out prospects and leads. The heater in the car made me sweat. My balls itched. I had driven a part of Dakota Avenue I had been on time and time again, so when I saw the shop it kind of threw me.

"Meg's Prosthetic Fashions" the painted sign declared. Prosthetic Fashions? That was a new one on me! I looked in the window for a display of bra's and wooden legs, but it looked like dresses to me. I pulled the Olds up into the snowplowed parking lot that faced this line of shops. I remembered 'Subs Deluxe' to the south and 'Dragonbone Comics' to the north, but I couldn't quite remember what had been between them before Meg's.

The shop was a simple affair with two show windows and a door in the middle. Meg was showing some cozy midwestern winter wear on what looked like a couple of very expensive mannequins. She was well financed, I decided. That was good. She might be able to use some fall stock. A bell tinkled as I entered the door, shaking snow off my shoes.

Meg was a very pretty redheaded lady with a broad smile and green eyes full of intelligence. I would have to be straight with her. She wasn't the type I could fool around with. I told myself to try to remember not to unconsciously scratch my balls.

"Hi, I'm Kip Martin." I said in my brightest voice. "Regency Marketing out of the twin cities. You've probably seen some of our line at Knutson's."

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Martin. I'm Meg Pope. And I've never been in Knutson's." Her eyes sparkled as she gave me a wry grin.

"We're a full line company, Meg. Do you mind if I call you Meg?"

"Not at all Kip, but I wouldn't be interested in your line no matter how extended it may be. I'm a specialty shop. Prosthetic Fashions only."

"I don't mean to sound stupid, Meg. I mean I keep up with all the magazines and shows, and I've never heard of prosthetic fashions. What have you got here? Do you mind showing me?" I like to know as much as I can about a prospective customer before I can really meet their needs.

"I'd be proud, Mr. Martin ... Kip." Meg lead me through racks of very normal looking spring and summer dresses, pants, blouses and skirts to an advertising poster mounted in an aluminum frame at the rear of the small shop. "Read this first. After you're finished, I'll answer any questions you have."

The poster boldly stated "PROSTHETIC FASHIONS FOR A NEW YOU" It went on to explain that by building correction for simple flaws in the wearer's body a PF could look better than any normal fashion. The breakthrough was in the use of sensing devices in the garment that reformed the dress, skirt of shorts to correct perceived flaws in the wearers figure. The correction looked and felt completely natural, both to the wearer and anyone viewing her.

"Impossible." I blurted out while reading, then looked around to see Meg snickering behind me. "Is this a joke?" I asked.

"No joke, this is modern technology at it's finest, and it's going to put companies like yours right out of business!" Meg stated flatly. "Just as soon as I get financing for national distribution of the product ... " Her eyes dropped and the sparkle left them for a brief moment.

"There's no way you can promise that much for your product, I you don't mind my opinion, Meg. The Federal Trade Commission will be all over you the minute they see your literature or advertising. Please don't think me bold, but I'd like to give you some advice. Your literature and advertising claims have got to be honest and straightforward, my dear."

"They are honest and straightforward, Kip. My garments do exactly as advertised.

I have over 50 customers in the Sioux Falls area to prove that."

"Sioux Falls is not Paris, 'Honey', and I think you'll be a little disappointed when more sophisticated customers in big cities shun some artificial padding you've cooked up."

"There's no padding in my garments, Kip. Why, if you put on that little blue number over there hanging on the end of the rack, you'd be as well proportioned as a beauty pageant contestant. Most of my customers like the products that emulate the figures of beauty pageant winners or top models. However I do have a few that dress for their men and desire fuller bustlines and tinier waists. It's all possible, even with you!"

"Bull! Excuse the French, Ma'am. Listen, it's almost lunch time. Why don't I take you out for a nice meal at Chez Josephine? We can talk about adding some really fashionable stuff to your store." I decided this lady needed help in her store in the worst way. I could probably help her improve sales, and improve her love life as a bonus! As I said, being a Master Salesman had its rewards.

"Sir, the most fashionable thing a woman can possess is a beautiful figure, and only my products can give them that."

A good salesmen always answers objections effectively, by getting to proof of performance. It was time for me to prove to this lovely lady that she was wrong.

I figured that would open her mind to my line.

"OK, OK, you said that that dress over there," I pointed at the blue above the knee print sleeveless she had used in her example, "would give me a beautiful figure. Prove it. Demonstrate it. Let me put on that dress. If it gives me a figure like, like ... one of your mannequins in the window there, I'll give you $50 bucks. If not, I take you to lunch and we talk about an additional line for your shop."

Meg put her delicate hand on her chin. "Hum, I guess we could do that. Only I really don't want your $50. How about you help me test a new experimental model if you lose."

I wouldn't have minded doing anything with this pretty woman, the lunch was just an opportunity to get to know her better. Even if I lost, and the possibility seemed remote, I would get a little time to develop a relationship with Meg.

"You've got it." I answered quickly. "Now let's get this over with." I grabbed the dress and headed for the one and only dressing room at the back of the shop.

"Be careful, Kip, the fabric is very delicate. And you should take off all your clothes to get into the dress. Some materials aren't compatible with the liner I use."

Compatible with the liner? I'd never heard of that before. I took off all of my clothes and looked with satisfaction at my broad chest in the dressing room mirror. At 35 I was still relatively trim, the little bulge at my waist barely showed if I dressed carefully. My body was still in good shape from racquetball and jogging. I held up the dress and chuckled. There was no way it was even going to fit. I felt and little twinge of guilt and pity for Meg. She seemed like a sweet person, and I hated to hurt her, but I was helping her, wasn't I? I was helping her see the reality of the situation. Maybe her prosthetics idea would work for some, but overweight ladies couldn't be made thinner, and waist cinching garments might look good for a while, but women would eventually get tired of the discomfort and go back to their regular clothes. I unbuttoned the back of the dress and put both legs into it the way I'd seen models do. I pulled the elastic waist up to my waist. The dress was comfortable, I had to admit that. There was no tight waist cinching going on here. The lining felt smooth and silky against my skin. I pulled the top up and slid my arms through the armholes, being careful not to rip the material. The top didn't seem to stretch or rip but felt cool and comfortable against my hairy chest.

"What size is this?" I called out to Meg with mirth in my voice, "It fits pretty good."

"It really doesn't matter with prosthetic fashions, Kip, but I think its a ten."

A ten? I'd bust the seams out of a woman's ten. I looked in the mirror of the dressing room. The dress hung neatly from my body. My hairy knees shown below the hemline, but the bellshaped blue skirt made smooth lines over feminine hips to a small, impossibly small, waist just below my ribcage. My chest looked narrow also, not the muscular barrel I was used to seeing. The buttons in back weren't fastened yet, but I could see what looked like two handsome breasts under the summer cotton. Sticking out of the top of the sleeveless top of the dress were two obscenely large, hairy arms and a thick neck.

Meg must have heard me gasp, because she opened the door of the dressing room and come in. In the close quarters her perfume was very noticeable. She came very close, a cute expression of delight on her face. "Why you look positively ...

positively unique." The she giggled the cutest little giggle. My cock began to respond to her being so close as she move behind me and gently began buttoning me up. I looked down for the little tent my hard cock would make in the dress I wore, but there was nothing but smooth blue material. The tighten top, now completely buttoned, strained at well formed breasts. I could make out nipples through the material.

"How in the hell do you do that?" I asked turning to Meg. She opened her mouth to answer and a bell rung.

"Oops, a customer." She said running out of the dressing room to help a gray-haired lady.

I stood waiting in the tiny room as I heard Meg making her pitch to a older lady with a slight Scandinavian accent like you hear a lot up in these parts. I felt foolish in a dress, looking like a novelty trick photo more than a human being but I ignored that and listened in on Meg's presentation. Meg had the lady interested, it was her birthday, and a lot of friends would be visiting. Meg had gotten her to admit that she'd like to look a bit trimmer and younger for the party. I had to admire her technique. She wasn't too bad a salesperson. Not a Master Salesman, but not to bad. Absentmindedly I stroked the dress as I listened, stroking higher and higher until ... .Youch! I watched the nipple I had just slid my palm across tighten against the material of the dress. I touched it again. It felt firm and fleshy. I felt my finger through the dress. It was as if the breasts on my chest were real. I panicked. My hand went under the dress, after all I had gotten a boner and not even seen it, maybe that was changed to. I sighed with relief to find the "Master Sergeant"

still alive and well, but the whole thing was too disturbing. Without thinking I lunged out the door to confront Meg ...

And found myself in the middle of a dress shop, wearing a dress, with female looking breasts and hips on MY body, with Meg and two older ladies looking straight at me.

"Eh, Well, uh, an amazing effect, Meg." I stuttered.

"Oh, Kip, thanks." Meg beamed. God she had a beautiful smile. "We need that dressing room. Would you be a dear and give it up for a few minutes?"

I dashed for the nearest clothing rack, poked my head up above the top and said, "OK," then raising the level of my voice slightly to make my point, "but make it quick."

Meg gave a pantsuit to a lady who looked like Mrs. Olsen from the Maxwell House coffee ads. (It's the richest kind ... ) That little lady sure sold a lot of coffee, but I wasn't going to sell many dresses hiding behind this hanging rack wearing one.

The lady disappeared into my only refuge to try on the clothing as the other lady, a white-haired lady of about 60, spoke.

"Young man," she asked sweetly, "do you wear dresses all the time, or just for fun?"

My cheeks grew red as I tried to come up with a snappy answer. "Uh, I'm Ms.

Pope's official tester. I make sure the garments meet our strict quality standards. If they work on me, they'll help anybody, right?"

"My," The lady exclaimed, "they certainly do work well. But I think you should shave your legs if you want to make a good impression in a store like this."

"Thanks for the suggestion, ma'am." I answered seriously. I watched Meg break up in silent laughter behind her.

Not long after "Mrs. Olsen" came out of the dressing room. The creamy beige pants suite Meg had chosen for her set off her trim figure perfectly. Trim figure? When she went into that dressing room she had been a matronly little butterball! I almost forgot my present number one goal in life as I looked at Meg's transformed customer. Finally, regaining my composure I said, "Ma'am, that looks so good on you you should wear that home." As she seemed to nod in agreement I virtually jumped into the dressing room and handed the ladies clothes out to the waiting Meg and closed the door.

I finally got the dress off, and watched Meg finish her day my mind buzzing with the repercussions of what I saw. I watched a young girl in her 20's come in looking grossly overweight, and go out looking trim and fit, with the addition of a Prosthetic Fashions pants, blouse, shoes and socks. A real "Olive Oyl" type came in skinny as a rail and went out as voluptuous as a calendar girl. I kept quiet and shook my head with awe and amazement.

Finally Meg went to the front door, pulled down a shade and said "Now, you owe me Mister! Follow me. And bring your samples."

We drove Meg's beat up station wagon to the north part of town, my garment bags in the back. We wound up into hills and ended up at an old Victorian house about 1890's vintage, and it looked like it hadn't been painted since it was built. It just didn't look like Meg, but then neither did that station wagon. As we walked up to the old home Meg turned with a wicked smile on her face.

"You see, the technology I'm using for the fashions is just the tip of the iceberg. There is so much more that can be done. Travel to new worlds, garbage disposal ... " Meg opened the ornate front door with a key and bowed, waving me into the front parlor.

I expected Victorian furniture, thick oriental rugs and heavy velvet curtains. I expected furniture at least. What I saw was the nest of a person obsessed with one goal, and that goal wasn't a neat clean house. The front parlor was a jumble of boxes and equipment. Computers torn apart for power supplies were laying on the floor and a pile of boxes from fabric companies lay next to them. Some very high tech testing stuff was carelessly strewn in a corner.

"This way." Meg breathed excitedly. My cock stiffened at the sound of her voice.

Could her experiment involve something more than fashion? We wound down a stairway into a musty basement. Several huge machines connected by thick cords of wiring dominated the single block room. A little furnace in the corner was dwarfed by these science fiction monstrosities. "What do you think?"

asked pretty, redheaded Meg.

"What do these do?" I asked.

"Well, they pretty much grab bits of space from other dimensions, draw monofilament silver for the grid the garments use, capture molecular patterns and this one cooks TV dinners when I need to eat."

"What's this thing?" I asked, pointed to a 4 inch diameter bundle of cord leading to a hole in the basement wall. Meg didn't answer, digging through a pile of fabric by a portable singer sewing machine, looking for something.

"Here it is." She chirped gaily, ignoring my question. She held up a set of long johns made of a fine silvery wire mesh. The mesh was delicate, like a woman's stocking and the only other visible feature was a tag sewn in the collar of the garment. A hood was sewn to the neck, making the thing a coverall I guess. Meg looked at me, cocked her head and jumped up into the air excitedly stomping her feet lightly on the basement floor. "Well don't just stand there silly. Take off your clothes."

"In front of you?" I asked, wondering where this would lead.

"Don't worry, I'm a professional. Just take off your clothes and put this on."

I reluctantly stripped off my coat, tie and shoes, stopping to look for a clean place to put them down. "Quit stalling and get them all off." Meg breathed. She was breathing shortly now, visibly excited.

I pulled off my socks, hopping around on one foot. There was no place in the crowded basement laboratory to sit down that I could see. Then the shirt and pants came off, leaving me in my boxer shorts. I looked at Meg again watching for a reaction. There was sweat on her brow. Her eyes looked slightly glazed. I was really turning her on! I let the boxers fall and Meg immediately handed me the strange garment. The back of the gauzy material fell open and I stepped in, looking over at Meg. She was taking off her shoes! Encouraged I pulled the material up over each leg, then put my arms into the sleeves, which ended in gloves. The hood came over my head backwards, the closed back of the hood over my face. "Is this right?" I asked.

Through the transparent material of the hood I saw that Meg had pulled off her skirt and I was staring at the longest, leanest, loveliest legs in all humanity.

She looked up. "That's right. Now let me clasp it in back for you."

Meg came over, blouse provocatively swinging around her waist, playing hide and seek with her panties. She did something to the garment behind my neck and I heard a crackling, sucking sound and the garment was gone. I was completely naked again. I shook my head to clear it and looked around the room. Something had subtly changed. I was now shorter than Meg. She and I looked almost eye to eye, but now I was the one who looked up. It was weird. I looked down at myself and almost blacked out. I was female. Twin mounds rose out of my chest, smooth and round tipped with delicate brown nipples. And I was skinny. My fingers were skinny, my waist was skinny, my legs were very skinny. My fine thighs narrowed to delicate knees, then thickened ever so slightly to streamlined calves. Tiny feet with fragile looking toes seemed appropriate for such legs, but totally foreign to me.

"I don't like this, Meg" I reached around to the back of my neck where she had fastened the clasp. All I felt was smooth flesh. My firm little breasts were pulled upward by the motion, a strange feminine feeling. "How do you get this thing off?" My voice was the voice of a young girl.

"An experimental subcutaneous model." Meg stated matter-a-factly. "The control chip is under the label. Follow me and I'll explain everything." Meg started up the stairs in just her bra and panties. I watched her tush wiggle against pink silk, then followed, hoping that an explanation included the removal of this female body. As I walked up the stairs I felt a new articulation in my hips, throwing them from side to side. I tried to imagine what that might look like from behind, then looked up at Meg, just reaching the landing. That's what I looked like all right. Sexy as hell! As we went up a second flight of stairs to the second story of the house I had a sudden realization. For the first time today, my testicles didn't itch! I didn't have testicles.

Meg glanced behind to see if I was following and said, "Once upon a time, Kip, there was a scientist that was working on the absolute phase of matter. This scientist found out that there wasn't any absolute phase for matter at all, that the matter we perceived was all in phase at the subatomic level, but if it's phase was changed it seemed to be destroyed. Then this clever scientist found a way to create an area of phase change. Matter at a certain location could be changed in phase. It was discovered that there was matter co-existing with ours, only if different phase. In other words, other dimensions. The scientist was excited about the discovery, but the scientific community didn't accept such radical finding. Just because they couldn't duplicate the experiments they lobbied for cutting off funding to the project."

"And that scientist was you."

"Very astute." Meg answered, turning into a door. "Sit down." she offered.

I looked around. The room was a bedroom, bare except for a bed in the middle and a TV on an orange crate against the wall. I didn't know if I was up for a little lesbian, hot sex, but it seemed to be what Meg was offering right now and what I was capable of. I sat on the only seat in the room, the bed and jumped back up in pain. I had sat on a remote control for the TV. I tossed it onto the carpet and sat back down. Meg regarded me, looking at me from top to bottom. I covered my, my ... well what had been my cock. I wasn't really sure I wanted to think about what was there now.

She reached behind her and began to unclasp her bra as she spoke. "I was really low. But I kept working until I found a way to scoop matter from another dimension, and bring it into this one in the proper phase. It used huge amounts of energy, but it worked. It was like fishing, I couldn't see what I was scooping, or what the dimension was like I was scooping from, but like Edison, I kept trying. Results were disappointing, I got a cube of rock, poisonous gas, some soil. Then just as my electric bill was about to become impossible, I hit paydirt."

"You found an animal, a human being?"

"Not exactly. My phase chamber wasn't big enough for that. It would have sliced a neat cube out of them and gotten a bit of muscle or bone." Meg dropped the filmy bra to the ground as alabaster globes fell free. I swallowed very loudly.

"You found the key to some fantastic alien technology."

"Yes, kind of, well yes. I think I got a bite of a garbage sack."

"A garbage sack. That was your big breakthrough?"

Meg tugged at the tight material of her pink panties. A drop of sweat fell into my eye. I reached up with lithe fingers and wiped my brow.

"The chamber contained a piece of brown paper bag, part of a half eaten pastrami sandwich and 100 of the fastest computer chips in existence." Meg dropped the panties to the floor. She came closer to the bed.

"You promise to get me out of this?" I asked back pedaling on the bed as I watched her lovely form approach me.

"As soon as I complete the test." she said. "You see the dresses are made from a combination of the technology I used to break the dimensional barrier, and the chips I scooped up. The chip reads and stores a general molecular body structure.

If the grid surrounds a body that doesn't meet the parameters of the chips definition, the chip moves enough flesh out of phase for the mass parameter. Then it just has to redefine the molecular structure of what it surrounds to meet the specifications it was programmed with."

"Well, where do you want to go to dinner?" Meg added, changing the subject.

"Dinner?" I asked, my voice a husky shallow breathed sigh. "Dinner? I thought you wanted to ... "

"To make love?" Meg's voice took on a delightful lilt, like she was laughing and talking at the same time. "In due time my dear salesman, but now I'm hungry, and we have to let the subcutaneous network stabilize before we try anything like that! Soooo ... what kind of food do you like?"

Meg began pulling on smooth nylons. She was getting dressed again. I swallowed and tried to hid my disappointment. My breathing was beginning to return to normal when it hit me. "Wait, if we go out to dinner, we'll have to get dressed."

"That's right, Kip."

"And if we get dressed, I'll have to dress in women's clothes."

"Very astute my dear. You've been selling them for years, it's time you learned what it's like to wear them."

"We could eat here?" I suggested. "I'll go see what I can rustle up." I practically charged down the stairs, little boobs bouncing, and glanced around for the kitchen. I grabbed the handle of the refrigerator, knowing whatever she had, I could whip it up into a meal that wouldn't force me to spend two hours in public looking like Cindy Crawford. A bachelor had to be a pretty good cook at times -- and this was one of them! I opened the refrigerator door ... the smell hit me like a slap in the head with a rancid fish! The primary colors decorating the interior of Meg's refrigerator were blue and green. Gooey looking stuff clung to the walls. What little food was on the shelves was gaily decorated with colorful molds and spores. I decided Meg ate out ... often.

I trudged back up the stairs trying to think how I would get out of leaving the house looking like some undernourished, oversexed, thick brained fashion model. I strode into the bedroom and put my foot down. "I'm not leaving." I said with as much strength as my thin little voice could muster. "I'm staying in the house until you take this ... this thing ... off me." My firm breasts quaked as I fought for control. I stood silent and naked in front of Meg who was fastening a gold necklace around her pretty neck. She was dressed in a lavender evening dress and looked stunningly elegant.

"You'd better get dressed if you want to complete the experiment. If you just want to stay here while I go out ... " My hopes began to rise. " ... then you can stay like you are. No experiment, no going back. I've kind of wondered how long term experience as the opposite sex would affect the mind of the subject. Would he slowly accept being a she ... or ... "

"Stop, stop, I'll eat, but how's going out to eat part of the experiment?" I countered. I was in pretty deep, but I still had confidence my selling skills would get me out. As I started a mental personality type analysis of Meg she answered.

"You've got to have a little food in that new stomach of yours. It's the key to one of the tests I want to make later. Now take this robe and get those samples you brought. If there's anything that fits you I think you should wear something you've been selling. Put yourself into the shoes of your ultimate customer for a change."

I felt a complete fool in the "Katrina". A little flare skirted number that ended above my smooth knees and wrapped tightly over my dainty breasts.

Twenty minutes later I felt even more foolish as I followed Meg into "SKOL--A COUNTY WESTERN BAR AND GRILL" The place was authentic as these places get. In Minneapolis they're filled with urban cowboys and cowgirls learning to two-step and looking for action. "SKOL" was filled with cowboys from western and central South Dakota looking for action. And right now Meg and I, sashaying into the bar in our cocktail dresses, looked like action. Eyes under cowboy hats followed us as we were shown to our table by an attractive young lady in a square dancer's skirt and blouse.

The room consisted of a long bar backed by a fancy mirror, a dozen tables of various sizes with red and white checkered tablecloths flung over them, and a huge dancefloor that we were seated at the edge of. Rodeo posters, branding irons and riding gear cluttered the walls. Lots of well dressed singles stood clustered in front of a bar while couples and diners sat at tables at the edge of the dance floor. A band was setting up, the name "Will Stallion and the Fillies" was painted in script on the drum.

Meg looked around with delight, "I love this place!" she exclaimed.

"Can I get you ladies a drink?" said the young waiter was he looked at my breasts.

"Glendronach scotch, neat. Make it a double." said Meg.

I stared at Meg, she winked at me. "I'll have, uh ... a ... uh glass of white wine." Now I'm a scotch drinker by nature and a nice single malt sounded like heaven right now, but somehow it just didn't seem right for a delicate girl to order Laphroge -- straight up.

As the waiter returned with the drinks he put the scotch in front of Meg and a cheap wineglass filled with urine colored liquid in front of me. Meg must of noted my distaste at seeing the wine and pushed the big tumbler of scotch over to my side of the table. "You look like you need this worse than I do," she explained.

I accepted the gift thankfully and took a long sip of the smoky liquid. It burnt my throat on the way down, but tasted like ambrosia. A warm glow spread through my body. It hadn't occurred to me that this whispy 105 pound body might not be able to handle much liquor. I took another big swig and coughed delicately at the huge injection of scotch passed my throat. "Well," I said gathering my wits. My wits didn't seem to gather too easily after the scotch hit my empty stomach, but I gave it time. Meg seemed to lean forward, waiting. "Well," I repeated, buying time, "uh, what's good here?"

"The cowboys are very good, Kip."

"That's not what I meant, Meg." I answered at the band struck up "Ropin' the Wind." A male singer was backed up by an all girl band.

Meg giggled like a girl out on the town with her girlfriend, "I know, silly. But look at them, aren't they just too cute? And they seem to think the same of you."

I forgot about the menu for a moment and slunk down as low in my seat as I could, watching the eyes staring out of the smoky darkness of the bar. As I slid down my seat my short dress hiked itself up my legs until I realized in horror that my lacy panties, from the ever popular "Cleopatra Collection", were showing. A couple untrimmed brown pubic hairs peeked enticingly out from under the lace. I stared for what must have been too long. Then I jerked back up and yanked my dress down with my right and lifted the heavy tumbler of scotch to my lips with my left. "Jesus." I exclaimed, "This isn't easy."

The waiter interrupted, "Another scotch, lady?"

I stared down at the tumbler. It was empty. "Shhhhure." I blurted.

Meg caught the waiter's eye. "And bring us a couple menu's."

"Menu's." I repeated. "Yeah!"

"Dance honey?" a soft male voice at my right ear whispered. I just about jumped out of my seat, startled as a rabbit.

"Go right ahead. I'll order for you. What do you want." Meg said in reply to the young man in the white Stetson, plaid western cut shirt and bluejeans at my right shoulder.

I looked at him and looked back at Meg with a pleading, 'get me out of this', face. She just smiled and shooed me off with her hands. "Go have fun! What do you want to eat if the waiter comes before you get back?"

"Jusssh order me steak, rare." I answered without thinking.

I staggered to my feet. The combination of the low Italian heels ("Gino Valencia -- Starlight"), the scotch, and the waxed dance floor were too much for me. I felt my feet fly out from under me long lithe legs all akimbo. Before I could hit the floor strong hands swept under my bare armpits and lifted me back up onto my feet. I turned and stared into blue eyes and a two day old beard. "Th ... th ...

thansshs." was all I could stutter.

"Name's Billy ma'am. My pleasure." The man swept me onto the dancefloor like a storm all wiry arms and old spice aftershave.

Now I had never danced the two-step in my life and I had never had to follow instead of lead either. So I was prepared for disaster of the highest order as this cowboy and a couple ounces of scotch pulled me toward the middle of a sparsely populated oak floor. But being small and light had it's compensations. I seemed to float over the floor, half by the inertia he had created and half of my own violation. We danced a couple of tunes and I hardly gave what I was doing a thought. Billy, as he had introduced himself, was easy to dance with. My skirt flew, heels clicked as the scotch pumped in my bloodstream and warmed my body.

Then I looked in the ornate Victorian mirror on the wall as we danced past. A tiny long legged figure of a girl danced in the arms of a tall, lean ranch-hand type. Her head rested on his broad shoulders, one small hand beside his neck, the other around his back. Her teal blue dress swirled hip high as he swung her around. A twinge of longing for her hit me -- until I realized she was me! Suddenly I was cold. The warmth of the scotch left me and I found myself dancing in the arms of a man. A man for God's sake! What was Meg trying to do? Humiliate me? Was this part of the experiment? Getting this net thing off so I could be a man again became my first priority.

I stopped dancing an apologized to the cowboy that my dinner would be at the table soon. I don't even know how he answered me I was off for our table so quick.

"You got me drunk so that would happen!" I shoved the words at Meg as I sat down, checking to make sure the short hemline of my "Katrina" was modestly arranged.

"Get me out of this!"

"I just ordered the scotch, you drank it, Kip." A smile formed on Meg's beautiful lips. "You two sure cut a fine rug out there."

The blood came to my cheeks and I hung my head so Meg couldn't see me blush. I couldn't get mad at her, I was really really attracted to this beautiful lady, but I had to get myself out of her weird experiment. I grabbed the refilled scotch glass in from of me and took an unconscious drink and thought about the problem. A plan came to me just as the waiter set a huge steak, French fries and a salad in front of me. "Eat hearty." he advised.

I took two bites of the leviathan piece of beef and I was stuffed. Not only was I forced to look like a skinny model, I was forced to eat like one! This was too much. The rich smells of the dinner in front of me beckoned, but my tiny stomach told me 'no way'. I watched Meg munch on a chefs salad for a few minutes, then pronounced, "I'm going to the bathroom."

I stood up, righted myself and aimed as best I could for the hallway leading to the restrooms on the other side of the dancefloor. Before I could stagger in the door, Billy was in front of me leaning against the wall. I felt a slight tickle in my crotch. Was it the bathroom calling or was it Billy? I decided for my own sanity the former. "What's your hurry, Kim?" Billy asked. I had told him my name was Kim on the dance floor, whispering it so softly that I hoped he hadn't heard.

He had.

I looked him up and down and had a sudden inspiration. Maybe if I couldn't remove the subcutaneous device myself someone else could. "Billy, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure honey, anything."

"Well, Could you feel around in back of my neck and see if you can find a, well anything. A pimple or a mole. I'm note sure what. But I need to have you look."

If this was a strange request you wouldn't have known it looking at Billy. He closed in on me and took his left hand around my slim waist and his right lifted my brown hair as he peered at my neck. He pulled me closer as he felt around at the nape of my neck softly stroking the flesh. "No, in the back of my neck." I instructed with an involuntary shiver.

He had pulled my body really close now. I smelled the Jack Daniels on his breath mingled with sweat and musk. Something hard in the crotch of his jeans pressed into my belly button. An inch of smooth white cleavage shown above the teal silk of the "katrina" model and my nipples poked through the thin material and pressed against his hard midriff. He stroked my hair and I let him. He pulled me tighter, still stroking the back of my neck. The upper half of me thought 'find the switch that gets this thing off me, find the switch' while the lower half of me slid lightly against his leg and knew he already had. His hot breath was at my neck, I was lit up with booze and sexual tension when a piercing scream jolted me.

"Nooooooo!"

I felt hands clutching my waist, then pulling me back away from Billy. Billy held on for a moment, then let go as the effort from the hands on my waist increased.

I fell backwards onto someone. Meg! Meg crawled out from under me and went for my crotch, feeling the lacy Cleopatra panties. I could tell I was damp down there as she touched the silky area over my unmentionable feminine regions. "Did you ... " She paused and touched the wet panties again, "did you come?"

Billy stood above us watching with disgust. "Keeee-Riiiiist! Lezzies!" he muttered as Meg probed my panties. That didn't stop him from watching, though. I could feel his eyes soaking in my long smooth thighs and imagined what he must think about the damp spot on my underwear.

"I don't no ... I don't think so." I answered, still a little dazed from the events of the night. "What a question." I grasped at the hem of my dress, pulling it down over my thighs and covering my private parts from prying eyes. I gave Billy a sharp look and he turned and left the corridor. "We weren't even ... even ... well you know. We weren't doing anything."

"Damnit, I was terrified. We can't be doing uncontrolled experiments here at The Skol! The way you were dry humping that cowboy's leg I thought you might have an orgasm. I know it sounds strange, but that's the rest of the experiment."

"Dry humping a cowboy's leg issh the rest of the experiment?" I asked with a silly smile.

Meg smiled back. "No silly, coming is the rest of the experiment. We're going home now and make love." God she looked beautiful, hair ruffled from the tussle, dress askew. It was a great moment.

"Did you get a doggie bag for my steak?" I asked.

Zoot Suit Part 2 Meg's bedroom was Spartan, but her presence made it come alive. I watched her undress for a second time, this time knowing what was about to happen. I was confident that if we made love as "girl friends" that it would be easy to transition to a normal affair.

"So I was telling you about how I designed the ZOOT suit, Kip." Meg said as the last piece of clothing fell to the ground. I drank in her perfect body.

Meg was reaching around to the back of her long slim neck as she spoke. I watched her round breasts rise with the movement of her arms and sighed deeply.

Ah, the life of a Master Salesman! "The clothing was easy. A benign experiment in the uses of this new technology with no cynical colleagues to pour cold water on it. Then I went for something bigger. A suit that would change the whole body. A complete body transplant so to speak!" Meg's fingers played around at the back of her neck, then suddenly a haze formed around her head. A silvery wire mesh appeared around her body and filled with a tall lanky figure. I jumped back in surprise. The suit came off the figure and slid into a puddle of mesh on the floor. A big dark-haired man, maybe thirty, spoke, continuing what Meg had been saying. "I call it a Ziglas

Otherdemsional Outerbody Transformation Suit. A Zoot Suit. Cute, huh?" The young man smiled, eyes dancing. "I used the technology on a couple experimental subjects with only one little bug. I'm positive the bug has been ironed out in the suit you're wearing!"

Meg had talked me into wearing a cute number in the "Nights Delights" negligee line. A full lace teddy with matching panties. She had made me look at myself in the mirror with it on, I was a dish! I looked at this strange man and he looked at me. I felt the panic rise. He was a he and I was a she. not the exact situation I had expected when I had followed Meg out of "Meg's Prosthetic Fashions" this very afternoon. I studied his tall furry body. The experiment was not for Meg and I to make love. It was for this person ... this MAN ... to fuck me. It was unthinkable. This Man who had been impersonating a woman and had fooled me into thinking he was a pretty redhead named Meg, who was now swelling impressively in the area of the genitals, was going to put that engorged tool inside of me.

Meg was a man! I was still sitting on the bed and this tall, and I mean really tall, guy was standing right in front of me. His exposed organ was only a foot from my face, and I noticed, glancing down for a moment, that it was hardening.

I quickly looked back up into this man's eyes and leapt up to get out of that room. It seemed that his little experiment included fucking me. A Master Salesman rule -- "If given the choice between being the Fucker and the Fuckee, the former is always preferable."

I ran. I bolted. I flew out of the bedroom door and into the corridor beyond surprising the enamored Walter. I tripped clumsily down the narrow Victorian stairway and into the downstairs hall. I looked behind me. Walter wasn't there.

I ran to the front door and tugged it open with my skinny arms, swinging myself around in into the refuge of the night.

Cold. Bitter cold hit me as soon as the relief at having escaped subsided. It was winter in Sioux Falls South Dakota and I was dressed in a filmy nightie. Warmth had never been one of the promotable benefits of the "Night Delights" line.

Looking back at the door I could see the 'male Meg' through a decorative beveled glass window pulling on a pair of overalls. He was going to come after me! I turned and ran down the front sidewalk, high stepping as my bare feet hit cold patches of ice and snow. I looked down. My nipples shown clearly through the peach material jutting proudly in the frigid air. I had to find a warm,

sympathetic house to get out of the cold, get this ZOOT suit off and get me back to my motel. That all seemed pretty far away on a street of old Victorians in the north hills of Sioux Falls.

I dashed up onto a neighbor's porch with the lights on. I was about a block away from Meg's place that was far enough if he (she?) hadn't seen where I went. I gave the brass door knocker three quick knocks. As I pressed my ear to the door I could hear a sound inside. A man's voice, "June, could you get the door?"

Footsteps. Then the door cracked open and a pretty face appeared. She looked me up and down like I was the black death. "Could I step inside, Ma'am?" I asked politely, "I'm freezing out here."

The woman looked at me, then looked back at her young husband on a stratolounger in the adjacent living room. "Who is it, sweetums?" he asked. She looked anxiously at me again.

"Whatever you're collecting for you deserve it." she said quickly and put a twenty dollar bill in my hand. Before I could get a word out of my fast- numbing lips she slammed the door.

I put my face to the curtained window beside the door and rapped on the glass, but the sound on the TV suddenly got very loud.

I turned and painfully crossed the icy street to a house about a block from 'Meg's'. Some sort of Rock and Roll was playing inside. My legs were cold, my nipples were freezing and my feet were beyond help. There was no bell or knocker so I pounded on the door with my little fist, still clutching the twenty. Then I wrapped my arms around the protrusions on my chest to keep as warm as possible.

I decided as I waited in the cold that I was going to barge into the warm house first, and talk later.

Light washed over me as the door opened and I charged into the room like a linebacker blitzing the quarterback. I looked around. The old house was a pit.

No furniture, boxes, a centerfold crudely tacked to the wall in the living room.

A few cushions and boxes thrown around and the sound of Mettalica on the stereo.

I was surrounded by scraggly bikers dressed in black. One wore only black underwear. Another held a dumbbell in one hand and idly pumped it as he studied my scantily clad body. A third in a leather jacket looked me from blue feet to chattering teeth. A fourth moved between the door and me, arms crossed.

They all stared at me. This wasn't a jealous housewife. This wasn't a cowboy 40 feet away in some country western bar. This was 4 horny Hell's Angels looking at me with pure, uncontrolled lust. I stood thawing in the middle of them when a fifth tromped down the front stairs with a fist full of something. "I got condoms!" he stated gleefully. I had stumbled into a den of wolves and I was dinner! The greasy haired kid put the condoms in my hand and asked, "How'd ya get here so fast, I just called!" I was warming up but so were these would-be rapists.

"Not much for tits, but cute." Drawled the one with the dumbbell.

"Firsts." Volunteered the skumbag in the black leather jacket.

The burley one in jockey shorts argued, "I'm not taking sloppy seconds again."

He looked threateningly at Black Leather Jacket.

I guess the guys didn't expect their hired gang-bang to run out on them. As I ducked under the reaching arms of Jockey Shorts and shot out the front door I was looking back to see if they would follow. For some reason they didn't. I was still looking back when I ran into a White Ford Farlane with black painted doors. I bounced off the car, idling in front of the hell hole I had just left.

I looked at the legend written on the door in simple white letters. SIOUX FALLS POLICE! My heart soared. I was saved! An officer stepped out of the car and folded his arms. "Trick or Treat, sweetheart."

"Thank God, officer. I'm freezing, I've got no place to go..."

"Get in the car and warm up."

"Oh, thank you, thank you. If you didn't come along I don't know what I'd have ... "

I sat shivering in the back seat of the Squad car holding my hands in the stream of heat blasting over the front seat. The officers were both craning their necks looking at my scantily clad body. Then at my hands. I had forgotten the twenty in my left and the wad of Trojan Lubricateds in my right.

"Ed, I think she was selling poon-tang. Look she's got the rubbers in one hand and the ill gotten gains in the other."

Ed looked at my hands, then at his partner in the drivers seat. "No question about it. Kinda like a vacuum cleaner salesmen. Selling door to door suck jobs.

Heh, heh, heh." Ed laughed at his own bad joke.

I dropped the money and condoms and used my arms to cover my breasts. "I'm innocent." I pleaded.

Ed looked at his partner. "I think she could pay her fine right here -- in trade."

"No. No. NO! I'm not a prostitute. I'm a man ... mannequin. Yeah, a model really. You've heard of Avon ladies?"

"Yeah." Said Ed's partner suspiciously.

"And you've heard of Tupperware parties?" I was on a roll. I had to get their minds on something positive.

"Sure ... ." started Ed. The trick here is to get agreement from the potential customer. If they agree with your fundamental arguments they're likely to agree when you ask for the order. As the warm car began to thaw me out my mind started working faster.

"Well, what I'm doing is kinda like that." Then before they could argue I added, "I'm working for a lingerie party just down the block."

"A lingerie party," Ed repeated. "I ain't heard of no lingerie parties ... "

"I have." volunteered Ed's partner. "Well I'll be damned."

"Sure." I continued. "I was going to change into another outfit but I used the wrong door and locked myself out. I tried to get help from the neighbors but ..." I had them going, they looked confused and hesitant.

"What about the money?"

Payment for our products by a party guest." I answered quickly.

"And the condoms?"

"We sell 'em. Safe sex you know, officer." I could see the disappointment on their faces.

"Well ... "

"Show us this house, girlie."

There was only one house I could show them. Reluctantly I guided them a block and a half to 'Meg's' place. Walter was still in the front yard in his coveralls apparently crossing the yard to start looking in another direction.

"See, they're looking for me."

"Looks like she's right, Ed."

"Shit." Ed whispered under his breath.

'Out of the fire and into the frying pan!' I thought to myself.

The male Meg put me in a big fluffy robe that drug on the ground and sat me by a furnace vent. He smiled and held up his hand as if to say 'wait here'.

I was considerably warmer and my teeth had stopped chattering by the time he returned with a bottle of 16 year old Lagavulin single malt and a tumbler.

"Toddy?" he asked shyly.

I grabbed the tumbler wordlessly as the golden liquid poured into it. A big swig and I was alive again. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not an alcoholic. But when you've been changed into a woman against your will, found out the woman you were expecting to have hot lesbian sex with is really a man, barely escaped being gang banged by Hell's Angels, nearly arrested for prostitution and almost frozen to death a nice splash of single malt isn't overdoing it. I downed the rest of the scotch reminding myself I deserved it.

As I put the tumbler on the floor the lanky fellow swept me up into his arms and started carrying me up the stairs to the bedroom. I was too tired to resist. I fell limp in his arms. He threw me onto the bed like a load of laundry. I looked up at him from my prone position and studied my possible exits. His cock stood out from under his red silk bathrobe at an sharp angle. "You promised to complete the experiment," Meg-as-a-man coaxed with a smile.

Maybe after the SKOL I was getting used to being treated like a woman or maybe about then the scotch kicked in. It was like I was a cup and a hot liquid had been poured into me. It started at my little toe and crept up my body, melting me like into the mattress. When I looked up again I saw his long lean body sliding into the bed beside me, then pulling me close. Every point on my body that touched his was on fire. I actually shook with pleasure as he stroked my skin. Hot explosions of passion hit was his hand grazed my brown nipples.

For a time I didn't think about selling anything, which is unusual for me. I just enjoyed the sensations I was experiencing. My slim body was soon covered by his much larger one as he guided his cock toward the hot prospects of my loins.

I didn't think I'd ever had said this before today, but women have a pretty good deal. The sex is great for one thing.

Then the fireworks came. I've come many times before, but never like this. The liquid heat inside meant now congealed into pure pleasure and rocked me with wave after wave of magical orgasmic spasms. Woww, wow and double wow! No wonder this guy wanted to perfect these suits. I was about to be his first customer for one.

I lay back and let the afterglow wash over me. The liquid fire poured out to be replaced with a contentment that I hadn't had since I'd closed the Smith-Barney deal back in the twin cities. But that's another story.

"How do you feel?" asked the dark-haired fellow.

"Great, just great. No wonder you want to get this thing finished."

He looked at me a bit jealously I think, but persisted, "No, I mean do you feel all right?"

I stretched languidly. "Well, maybe a bit too relaxed. What an orgasm, do woman really feel like that?"

"I wouldn't know." he said coolly.

"By the way," I said, tactfully changing the subject, "I don't even know your name."

"I might as well tell you since it doesn't matter now. It's Walter Ziglas. You see for years I've been longing for just the thing you just experienced, but unfortunately my first experiments showed that it wasn't safe yet to have an orgasm in the suit. Causes an error in the chip. Stand up here." he said, grabbing my hands and helping me stand up. "A remote sensing device was capturing the chip recovery pattern after your, uh, orgasm. If my current programming has solved the program I think I can use the chip recovery program to reprogram the chips on the previous subjects ... "

"Previous subjects?"

"I'll show you." Walter gathered up a small laptop computer and a tiny antenna dish. "Browse through my closet and put on something warm. We're going down to the shop to make a couple of stiffs very happy."

I selected a practical beige bra and panties, a comfy taupe wool pantsuit and warm silk blouse. The flat black pumps I wore weren't glamorous but they were easy to walk in. I glanced in the mirror. I was dressed like a matron and I still looked sexy! I turned around and Walter had the "Meg" suit on again. Meg was putting on a black fitted suit. When she was finished she gathered up the laptop, wiring and antenna and gestured for me to follow.

Meg tuned the key and opened the door to "Meg's Prosthetic Fashions", reaching around for the light switch. The lights of the store illuminated the falling snow drifting gently around us as we entered and closed the door. The shop was warm and cozy and I still felt a little high from unbelievable sex and great scotch. I figured running around naked in the cold must have gotten to me as I stretched to relieve the growing resistance in my muscles and joints.

Meg ran to window and called to me, "Help me get Randy here down so I can test the new override." She had her slim arms around a mannequin and was heaving it off the window ledge onto the shop floor. I ran as fast as my stiffening muscles would take me and help her gently lower the dummy to the tile. The dummy was heavier than I imagined it would be.

Meg was setting up the little computer and antenna when it came to me. "Meg, why do you call this mannequin Randy."

"It is Randy, Kip. Or was."

"Are you telling me this dummy is a person?" I looked more closely at the statue for signs of life.

"I'm afraid so. But now I hope our successful experiment will allow me to use the recovery pattern from your chip to take Randy here out of stasis. Not that he doesn't deserve to be up there for a few more years."

"What happened to him?" I asked still looking over the frozen girl.

"Randy was an accessory salesman. A real ladies man. Got me into the back room and ... and ... well, I'd rather not talk about it."

"The son-of-a-bitch, but how did he get ... "

Meg flipped open the computer and booted the hard drive as she spoke. "The next time he came by I got him drunk, into the suit and , well tested my theories about orgasm and the chip. Unfortunately, the maintaining the female form and dealing with the orgasm at the same time crashed the program. Randy froze as he stands here, almost immediately."

Sure enough there was an expression of surprise of the pretty mannequin's face.

"I figured the best way to keep an eye on him was to put him in the shop where I could watch him during working hours. I figured since the program was still keeping him in a female shape, that maybe it would come out of the crash loop and he would revive. I guess I kind of enjoyed seeing the macho bastard up there in the window modeling women's lingerie and such. I made sure that summer he wore the skimpiest bikini we were showing." Meg entered a command and a graphic control panel came up on laptop's screen. "By the way, how are you feeling, Kip?"

I stretched to get the languor out of my joints and commented, "Great, a bit stiff from my neighborhood tick or treat, but otherwise ... "

"Stiff? My God." Meg's eyes widened. "Quick, Kip, out of the suit. You've got to get out of the suit, NOW!" Meg jumped up from the controls of her laptop and made a circle motion at the base of my neck with her thumb. "Damn." She cried frantically. "The suit won't release."

"What's happening?" I asked, jaw muscles tightening. There were tears in Meg's eyes.

"What's ... going ... on?" I asked haltingly. The pity and fear on Meg's face had me concerned.

"Just listen Kip." Meg talked as she frantically worked the computer's graphic control panel. "You see the fashion idea came out of my original research to accomplish a complete body change. I happened onto the chips during the last dimensional research experiment I could afford. My electric bills were overwhelming and I was out of funds for further research so I concentrated on adapting the chip to something I could sell that wouldn't arouse suspicion until I could complete my dimensional research projects. The military was out, and I was down on the corporate world because of my last research experience. I had to have something I could sell myself."

"The story's ... great, Meg, but I'm ... freezing up here." I commented impatiently.

Meg looked up at me from the computer screen and back at her readings. "I'm trying, Kip. Hang in there. You want to hear more?"

I knew she was trying to distract me, hoping for a miracle or something, but I had nowhere to go as my mobility slowly crept from my body. "OK."

Meg continued, "As I studied the chips, I was amazed at their power. They ran at a clock speed of one gigahertz, cache memory of 25 terabytes and on board power.

An idea formed in my mind to combine the computer technology I had just acquired with my dimensional research. I figured by storing part of a person's matter in an unused dimension I could create the illusion of a trimmer figure. I used twenty of the chips selling 10 pair of size 5 shoes that fit any foot for $1000 a pair. But I was using chips up too fast and not making enough money for my research. Then I attended a fashion show and saw the prices they got for the good stuff. An idea hit me, prosthetic fashions. I had been a closet transvestite for years, so the idea appealed to me. I'm six foot four. Finding clothes that fit was no easy task, so I had to sew my own. Even then I made a very big woman. I started a dress shop, and had some success, but not many Sioux Falls women wanted to trust a man's fashion sense, even if he could make them look better than they had ever looked before."

Meg gave up on the computer and tested my arm by flexing it at the elbow. "Maybe if we wait it out the chip will still recover, Kip." She said hopefully.

"What ... happened ... then?" I answered trying to keep my mind off the consequences of the chip freezing up for good.

"I had about used up my profits on the shoes on rent, material and living expenses when I made a breakthrough. Using a grid in my dressing room and one of the chips to read the image, I captured the molecular design of a woman's torso.

Then I burned the image onto a chip and created the grid inside a garment concept. I mounted the chip behind the label of the clothing and attached it to a silver wire grid sewn into the lining of the garment. As long as a woman was in the garment, the chip realigned her molecular structure to that of the image burned in the chip. The extra molecules were stored in that unused dimension I

told you about.

"My next breakthrough was the Zoot suit. I managed to use some compression and capture a whole body image on the chip. With some careful cutting and pasting of different body images, I assembled an 'ideal' woman suit. I had to test it on someone when in comes Randy. Perfect. I tricked him into testing the first model."

Meg looked at me, squeezing my hand. I couldn't squeeze back. She hugged me tightly and I felt a teardrop land on my neck. "God, you really made me feel like a woman. I was so sure it would work ... it had to work."

I tried to get a comment out that I liked her, too, but I couldn't seem to do it. A tearful Meg was standing me up and arranging me like a mannequin. I tried to say 'Wait don't do this to me,' but I couldn't move couldn't talk, couldn't get my body out of the position Meg had placed it in.

Meg swung me around and pointed my eyes at the delicious blonde mannequin that had been Randy. As least he was well accessorized with a tasteful black and gold necklace with matching bracelet and earrings. I wondered perversely if they were from his own stock? "I tested the second model on myself, but I avoided having an orgasm. That's the Meg version of me. The minute Meg 'bought' the store business picked up. On the third suit I thought I had it. It took several minutes for the Shoe salesman I tested it on to go completely stasis. I did have time to get him into a nice pose, don't you think?"

Meg pointed my eyes at a pretty brunette mannequin in a colorful print skirt and blouse. Her arms and hands were delicately arranged to look like she was stretching to reach a high shelf and her feet were up on there toes to further the illusion. What a way to spend eternity! A poor feminized shoe salesman on display for all the world (at least Sioux Falls) to see.

"Well it's time for you to go up in the window where I can keep an eye on you.

Wish me luck on finding a way to cure your condition, Kip. My last sight was Meg brushing a tear from her eye with a nicely manicured, hand.

I awoke sore and confused. Where was I? My back hurt like someone had shove a cold knife into it and I felt like I was choking. I was stiff, very stiff. I tried to move an arm, but something pulled against it.

Oh, yeah. The chip. And Meg, and the orgasm that caused the overload and subsequent freeze up. It all came back to me. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement beside me. I tried to move gain and another pain went through me like a metal rod had been shoved up my ... er ... my back. I got my arm around to my back and their WAS a metal rod there. I tugged at it and collapsed in a heap in the window of Meg's Prosthetic Fashions. I could see the sidewalk illuminated by a streetlight outside. There were no cars in the parking lot. It was late at night.

I looked down at myself. I was dressed in a summer frock. 'At least it wasn't a bikini.' I thought. I tugged at the metal rod now between my legs, terminating

between my high heeled pumps with a square metal plate. A mannequin stand.

I pulled a metal stand from under the dress I was wearing and slid off the raised platform in the window. I realized there was a haze of mesh before my eyes. I was on the floor in a tangle of dress, too small heels and the mesh body suit I had put on what seemed like a few moments earlier. "What the ... " I croaked, mouth as dry as dust.

A little man in a plain gray knit leisure suit stepped over to the blonde mannequin in the window. "My, my." he exclaimed. "Here's another one of the chips. "He pointed a beige box with a rounded snout at the dummy's neck and pressed a button. "Power off!" he said absently. He quickly pointed the device at the label in nighties the mannequin was wearing and repeated the process.

Suddenly the mannequin became a dazed man, pink babydolls decorating his mesh covered body. Randy! I let out a dry chuckle when I noticed the elaborate earrings he wore. Randy took a tentative step forward and hit the window, reeled back tumbling off the window's platform into the shop. His head hit the tile with a bounce. I heard a groan and he lay still.

The little man in gray pointed his device around the darkened shop. My, my.

"There's lots of chips here. I may recover them all."

"Who are you and what are you doing?" I asked.

"Comptroller One of Quinzer. I'm deactivating chips that were stolen from me."

The little man answered looking down at me, struggling out of the mesh of the body suit and the too small summer frock I apparently was modeling before the man's intervention revived me. "That's an attractive thing you're wearing there, what is it?"

I held up the dress, the body suit still hanging at my waist. "You mean this?" I asked.

"Exactly that. It's very attractive."

I paused to look around and survey my situation. The shop was indeed closed, and from the clothing Meg was showing it was no longer winter. Outside a streetlight lit up flowers in the streetside planters. I had just spent an entire season as a mannequin. I shook my head to clear it and thought about what this fellow had just said. My salesmen's instincts told me, here was a buyer. And if he was from another dimension to gather up his chips, he represented an unexploited market.

Now all this thinking happened in a split second. Making quick decisions is what separates the men from the boys in the sales business. Then I answered him.

"Sir, you obviously recognize quality when you see it. This is a dress. In our world, they are worn to make the wearer more attractive."

"Well, they certainly are. Why does that dress contain one of our chips."

"Our chips? Could you explain sir?" It's very important to ask questions to qualify your buyer as able to make the purchase you intend him to make.

"I'm from the next dimension over. We're practically neighbors. We didn't think your dimension had the ability to perceive us, so we weren't as careful as we should of been. I put some old outdated processing chips in my lunch bag. They disappeared. Along with a cubic pentameter of atmosphere and a bit of my lunch.

I have traced them here. They were very slow chips with just a tiny bit of onboard memory and power, but it was wrong for you to take them and bring them to this dimension. We want them back."

"May I ask you a question sir?" I continued to control the conversation as every good salesman should.

"Well ... yes." Comptroller One said.

"Is that handsome suit you're wearing the fashion right now in your dimension?"

"Well, I guess so. We all wear these."

"And you like this dress."

"It's very attractive."

"Here, try it on, Comptroller One." I held out the dress. There is nothing better than a demonstration.

The little man pulled a couple straps on the gray uniform and it fell to the ground. He smiled shyly as he pulled on the flowery print frock. "You know this is quite exciting to wear." he exclaimed.

"We have many such dresses to choose from." I encouraged the little man's line of thinking.

"And we have so few choices of dress in Quinzer." Comptroller One continued, thinking.

When negotiating, if it's the salesmen's idea it might happen, but if it's the customer's idea it will happen. I was letting this Comptroller do all the thinking as I feed him ideas to think about. "So true." I echoed, "If there was just a way we could help ... "

"Well, I could purchase from you some of this dimension's wonderfully creative clothing and introduce it to mine." Quinzer smoothed the hem of the skirt he wore excitedly, "But what about the chips. That is why I'm here!"

Answering objections is an important part of sales technique. The customer has just introduced a valid objection. He wasn't really here to shop for clothing, he was here to recover his stolen computer chips. "Exactly the point I was about to make my friend, I said putting my hand on his shoulder. You want your chips, I have fashions that would shake the very foundations of your dimension. Have you ever thought of going into business for yourself?"

"What do you mean?" He appeared to be warming up to my proposition.

I was on a roll now and ignored the fact I was naked from the waist up, still wearing ear rings and a strange pair of mesh long johns. "You provide me with the latest in computer chips from your dimension. I'll provide you with the latest in fashion from mine. We'll both clean up."

The little man looked around the store and licked his lips. "You have very nice things to offer here. Our latest chips may seem modest to you, but I'm sure with enough chips we could work out a fair trade."

"By the way, what are the specs of your latest chips." I asked.

"Well, I could get quantities of a 55 terahertz chip with dual power supplies and 750 quadjillabytes of memory. Would that be adequate for your needs?"

Being a Master salesman is challenging at times, but the job has it's rewards.

The new chips repaired the suits. We sent the accessory salesman and shoe salesman (revived by Comptroller One) out on the road immediately to pitch Meg's Prosthetic Garments. A national franchise was set up. All the world would soon be beautiful.

The Zoot Suits Meg and I kept for ourselves. With the faster chips they worked great, even during orgasm, so we took turns being Meg. Walter played Meg the great inventor of the Prosthetic garment line, I played Meg the lovely salesperson pitching the prosthetic garments to her national organization.

Then of course there was our side business. High fashion for our neighboring dimension. I'll tell you, it's not easy keeping an entire civilization in fashion, but somebody has to do it.

Zoot Suit copyright 1996 by Robin Douglas.