"Hello Annabelle," said the rosy cheeked blonde as she slid into the booth across from me. She was noticeably squirming, but her clear blue eyes met mine. She seemed oblivious to the stares from the other customers in the diner. She was wearing a leather jacket zipped up, but it was plain to see that she was wearing the same thing she had on the last time I had seen her, a year ago.
The outfit in question was a maid`s uniform, and a very revealing one at that, to put it diplomatically. I had been forced to fire her from the call center we had worked at for showing up wearing it. She had begged to keep her job, claiming that she couldn`t take the costume off. But that was ridiculous, and I couldn`t have her disrupting the office like that. And then out of the blue I received a text from her, inviting me to lunch. I had agreed, thinking maybe she wanted to apologize.
"What are you doing, Sarah? Why are you still wearing that godawful thing around?"
Sarah continued to squirm, but expression remained serious.
"You know why. I already told you, it doesn`t come off. I wished to god it did."
"Sarah, that`s ridiculous. And obviously not true. You`d be filthy, and you`re not. Now, I don`t have time for this," I said standing up. Her hand flashed out lightning quick, and her perfect fire-engine red nails gripped my wrist.
"Sit down," She hissed. I was so shocked I did. Sarah had always been quiet and polite when I had worked with her.
"You`re right, I should be filthy, but I`m not." She glanced down at herself, breathing heavily. "Whatever keeps me trapped keeps me clean. It keeps me pretty. I haven`t had a period since I put it on. I`m not even sure I've aged."
I could only gape as her eyes met mine again. Her lips were a glossy harlot red. Had they been that way when she arrived? Not noticing I was doing so, I leaned forward as she started to speak in a low voice.
"But the worst thing is, it teases me. Almost constantly. And it never lets me orgasm. Not even once."
She unzipped her jacket, revealing her heaving chest. Her uniform was scooped so low that you could almost see her nipples, not that they weren`t jutting visibly through the velvety black material. Her lips parted in an insane smile, revealing her perfect teeth.
"It doesn`t like to be covered," she giggled. "I have to be on display, all the time, or it punishes me. But you`ll be seeing exactly what I mean soon." She abruptly released my hand. To my horror my, the fingernails on that hand were now the same bright red as hers.
"Why!?" was all I could mange. I tried to bolt from the booth again, but she jammed her stiletto heel into the booth`s padding, blocking my exit. I jerked as her other heel quested between my thighs and up my sensible skirt. She caressed my pussy with the tip of her shiny black heel as she answered.
"You were the first to cast me out. You could've helped me." Her mad, blue eyes went wide. "Ooh, a matching set," she giggled. It took me a moment to understand what she meant, but then I saw that both hands were now tipped with red, and my nails were longer.
"That`s different from mine," she said delightedly, holding up her hand for me to see her shorter nails. "More bimboey. Ooh, and your lipstick is glittery," she tittered.
I couldn`t take another second of her insane, predatory, but unmistakably sexy grin. I pushed her leg aside and bolted from the restaurant. I paused for a moment to check my reflection in the window glass, and sure enough, I was wearing dark lipstick with silvery flakes. I hurried to my car, trying to tell myself that my sensible flats hadn`t become impractical, sexy stilettos. And they certainly weren`t adorned with small, heart shaped locks.
As I fumbled through my purse for my car keys, I felt a sharp pain like someone was pulling my hair. My professionally styled hair was now a pair of perky pigtails. Another sharp pain from each nipple, and then it was gone, replaced with the feeling of cold metal. I was so busy fumbling with my blouse and bra, trying to see if I had just been pierced, that I didn`t hear the clocking stride of approaching stilettos.
Her hands seized me with unearned familiarity, going straight for my breasts. "Piercings," she cried excitedly! "You`re going to make the cutest slut!"
I whirled away from her, ending up facing her with my back to the car, nearly stumbling in the unfamiliar heels. I focused on meeting her gaze defiantly, trying to ignore the feeling of my tasteful diamond stud necklace shrinking into god-knows-what around my throat.
"Tell you what," she said cruelly, twirling her platinum blonde hair with her finger. "If you get down on your knees and please me, like a good little girl, maybe I`ll show you some mercy. Maybe."
She stood there confidently, like a predator, despite her outfit. Her own uniform was flared out, supported by petticoats, and scandalously short. Fishnet stockings cut cruelly into her plump thighs, black bands apparently leading up to a garter belt. Her thighs were slick with her own desperate lubrications, but it wasn`t that that was making me consider her offer. It was her breasts, or rather, the fabric over them. It was moving. On it`s own. It shouldn`t have surprised me, considering my own situation, but it did. I watched her own tits squirm on her chest, fondled, teased, and stroked, and knew my situation was hopeless.
I let her lead me to the alley behind the restaurant, noting that my skirt was growing shorter and tighter. By the time I sank to my knees and felt her fingers in my hair guiding me beneath her skirt, my blouse had receded enough to expose my breasts to the air. By the time Sarah`s thighs were squeezing my head in the involuntary throws of her first orgasm in a year, my transformation was complete.
Unlike Sarah`s prison of satin and silk, my own was latex. Where her skirt was fluffy and bouncy, my own was tight and binding. A leather collar around my throat was emblazoned with my new role in life. It read simply "SLUT." I said my transformation was complete, but that turned out not to be true. I still had Sarah`s taste on my tongue when I felt it for the first time. The uniform was stroking me, tightening to point of discomfort around my nipples before relaxing, teasing them effortlessly to an aching stiffness, that hasn`t gone away since. The butterfly kisses and silken strokes to my clit and pussy haven`t ceased. I can still make Sarah cum but all she can do is add to my torment. But where else would I go? Who else could understand. This all happened eleven months ago. I just hope that in one more I`ll get to make a maid of my own.