He makes me work it off

I hear the attendant outside the shopping room, her high-pitched girly tone contrasting with a new voice with a deep timbre.

“Sarah, this is your last warning - if you fuck up one more time, you’re out of here, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Poor Sarah.

I see a big, black hand draw back the curtain of the changing room. It’s the boss, who I would swear I recognise somehow. I’m unsure until his full body comes into focus: this man used to be an NFL player. His name was Jamie... something... you weren’t sure of his surname. He’d only recently retired - he must have used his fortune to set up this shop.

His eyes instantly alighted on me, running up and down my body. I feel so ****: I’m so small in comparison to this man, who must have the strength of a god. He wolf-whistles. “Well, aren’t you pretty... even for a real girl you would be. Come on, baby, gimme a twirl.” I stand motionless, until he snarls, “I said gimme a twirl.”

As I turn around, I feel his eyes appraising me. “You wanna pay off your debt to me? Why don’t you work for me for a few hours? I can give you a hostess uniform from the back, you’d be a perfect fit.” He winks.

“N-no, I don’t want to do that,” I stutter.

“Well, there is one other way you could pay it off,” he says, grabbing his prominent bulge through his dress pants.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll work for you...”

“Good little girl,” he says, ruffling my mid-length hair. I really do feel like one in front of this man.

“Sarah!” he calls. “Get this trap a uniform.”

He stays in the cramped changing room with me while the attendant quickly grabs a uniform for me - she already knows my measurements, of course. “We expect our attendants to be obedient, especially to real men like me, and to make sure that women and boys - like you - are turned into the most beautiful versions of themselves they can be. That’s the philosophy of our shop. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumble.

“Good girl,” he says, and Sarah returns.

“Her uniform is here, sir,” Sarah says, and Jamie grabs it from her hands. He watches as you put on the black shirt and miniskirt over your pink bra and panties.

“Oh, you look even better now, babe,” he says. “Alright, now go out in front of our shop in the mall and hand out these leaflets.”

“B-but sir, what if someone sees me?”

“Should have thought about that before you decided to be a thieving slut, huh? Now get out there and do your job or I’ll call the police - and god knows what would happen to a boy dressed like you during a night in the lock-up.”