The Back(dressing) Rooms [A Supernatural TG Story]

Commissioned by George Washington, world-building by redmond17

Joel accidentally wanders into a strange shop that seems to stretch on forever and has no exit. Not only is he trapped but there seems to be a strange creature intent on finding him the perfect outfit, followed by the perfect body!

~

Ever since the internet really took off, Malls had started to have this creepy aspect to them. At least that’s what Joel thought; the shops that weren't empty were either run down or big chain stores whose bright, cheery displays only made the rest of the area look worse. The weirdest part was the lack of people. Joel could remember coming to this very mall when he was a kid; it was always bustling with people, vendors set up tables to sell wares, and there were even a few food carts outside the main food hall. Now, it was practically abandoned. He could count the people he’d passed on one hand. 

“Guess some things just aren’t built to last.” he sighed, eyeing the abandoned JCPenney. 

The faded posters outside featured a number of beautiful cocktail dresses. Despite the faded colours, Joel found himself staring for a few moments before ripping his eyes away. It wasn't fair, really. Men’s clothes were all so boring; why should women have all the fun? 

He had planned to cut through and keep going, but then something caught his eye; a strange storefront he’d never seen before. It was generic, almost creepily so. There was no obvious signage, but the front was open, and racks of clothes lined the entryway. Inside, he could see bright fluorescent lights, mannequins, and what seemed like hundreds of displays and shelves. 

“Must be one of those direct factory outlet places…” he muttered. 

Like the rest of the mall, it was totally empty, but given its sheer scale, they would probably have a sale bin somewhere with some good deals. Joel glanced at his watch. 4:15, he had half an hour till his bus arrived, enough time to look around and cross to the other side of the mall. He needed a new jacket anyway. He stepped inside and started walking through the racks, trying to find the front desk or an employee to point him in the right direction. 

“Hello? Does anybody work here?”

When nobody answered, he glanced around nervously, his fingers twitching. Joel couldn't see any cameras, and this place was so massive…maybe he could just grab something and go? No, he wasn't a shoplifter and knowing his luck, if he worked up the courage, he’d turn the corner and come face to face with some sort of employee. There had to be somebody here, after all. He peered over the racks and furrowed his brows.

“Geez, how big is this place?”

He could see the back wall in the distance, but it didn’t seem to get any closer even after walking for a full minute; and there was still no sign of a service desk of any kind. 

“Alright, this is getting weird.” 

Joel turned to leave only to find…more clothing racks and a distant back wall. 

“Huh? Wait, where is the exit? I walked in a straight line!”

He turned around, looking in every direction. He couldn’t possibly have gotten lost already! Surely, the shop couldn’t be that big anyway; the building didn't extend that far out! And yet, no matter which direction he walked in, there was no sign of where he came in—not even a fire exit, no doors of any kind, in fact, or windows. The space had a strangely liminal quality to it, especially since there was still nobody else around. 

When he spotted a large pillar in the distance, he broke into a sprint, excited just to see something different. It was a toilet block, one of those large round ones with benches lining the outside and a change room. Strangely enough, it was unisex. Joel had never seen one of those before. And, of course, it was empty. No assistant to be found. Joel’s heart began racing in his chest; something weird was happening here. 

“Okay, Joel, calm down. There has to be an explanation for this…” He muttered, running his hands through his hair. “If you just keep walking in one direction, eventually you have to reach a wall, then you can just walk around the edge of the room till you get to the front. Easy.”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment; he was going to feel so stupid when this was all over. With one final look at the changeroom, he started walking through the racks of clothes while making sure to keep straight. He walked for a few minutes before the panic began to return; he turned and couldn't see the change rooms anymore. He had walked far enough that, despite the flat flooring, he couldn't see it, and there was still no end in sight. 

“This doesn't make sense!”

He was going to miss his bus at this rate. Joel checked his watch and froze; the blood in his veins felt like it had turned to ice. 4:16pm. That couldn’t be right; he had been in this place for at least twenty minutes, right? 

“Relax, your watch stopped, that’s all.” He told himself, but a little voice in the back of his mind told him that wasn't true. On some level, he knew there was no logical explanation for this place. He focused on walking, but eventually, he had to hit the wall. He didn't, though, after some indeterminate amount of time had passed, Joel saw something that made his skin crawl. A pillar, a very familiar-looking pillar. He’d arrived at the same rest area he’d seen before, or at least one that had been modelled identically.

“But I didn’t make any turns!” Joel breathed. “I…what the hell is this place?”
 He scuffed his shoe against the ground nervously, glancing left and right, unsure of what to do next. Out of desperation, he checked the bathroom again; still nothing, not so much as a wet paper towel to suggest that anybody but him he had been here at all today. When he stepped back outside, though, his eyes fell to the floor where only moments ago had been a black scuff mark. Clean. 

Blood rushed in his ears. Somebody had to have cleaned that mark! There was someone or something in here with him.  He raced around the pillar, hoping to catch a glimpse of coattails, but there was nothing. In a blind panic, he dove back between the racks of clothes, running, desperately chasing the phantom person who cleaned the floor. If he could just find them, he’d have answers. At least, that’s what Joel told himself. 

The thing about being panicked and creeped out is, you can’t maintain it forever. No matter how weird this situation was after enough time had passed, Joel found himself becoming…bored. Yes, he was trapped in this weird clothing shop hell, but he wasn't in danger. He kept waiting for some sort of monster to appear, but it never did. It was just him, endless clothing racks and the mysteriously reappearing rest area. There was a vending machine that seemed all too happy to dispense protein bars and water without any payment, so he wasn't in danger of starving. He was just…stuck. 

There wasn't anything here to entertain him except the clothes. So, after a while, he started looking at them more closely; perhaps they contained the key to get out of here. He ran his fingers along the line of shirts; like the shop themselves, they were nothing special. Almost painfully generic plain tees with the occasional pattern. He perused jeans, then jackets, even finding a nice leather one he might have bought if this place hadn't trapped him. Nothing that seemed out of the ordinary, though, or even noteworthy. 

Then his eyes fell on a rack of dresses, and his breath hitched. They weren't really special; cocktail dresses made with shimmery fabric, some with beads or patterns, others plain. Deep down, he knew they were standard fare, but they were so much prettier than the men's clothes he’d walked past. No wonder women spent so much time shopping and preparing to go out. He might as well if he had that many options at his disposal. His heart ached with jealousy; he knew it wasn't exactly manly to like clothes, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn't that he wanted to wear dresses per say. He just envied the sheer variety of clothes women had at their fingertips. 

He was just running his fingers over the fabric, appreciating the soft feel, when his head snapped up. The silence had been broken so slowly that, at first, he hadn't noticed it. But now that he was focusing, he could hear it—a strange whispering sound. He couldn’t make out any actual words; it was more like a mix between static and indistinct murmuring, but it was there. It was like somebody had turned on a speaker just loud enough he could hear it at a distance or as if there were a crowded room nearby. But, of course, that last option was ludicrous. Whatever this place was, it seemed to be one big space.

“Hello? Is somebody there?”

The murmuring continued, it seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. No matter Joel's direction, he could hear it, but never find the source. 

“Okay…it’s getting creepy again…”

The whispering got louder and more distinct as he walked, more than once he swore he felt somebody brush up against him only to find it was just a skirt or pair of pants rubbing against his leg. 

“Is this some sort of weird shopping purgatory? Am I dead?” He wondered allowed. “Man…if this is the afterlife, that’s a rip off-”

“That jacket clashes with your complexion.” 

The voice was so sudden and out of nowhere that Joel jumped in surprise, letting out a girlish scream he was glad somebody could hear. He whirled around and immediately had to force himself from yelling again in fear. Before him was what he could only describe as an…entity. A ghostly grey swarm in the vaguest shape of a person was floating, or perhaps standing, it was hard to tell, in front of him. The only distinct parts visible were hands, almost a dozen of them, ghostly white and floating through the mist that made up the entity, seemingly forming and disappearing back into the mass at random. The creature loomed down, two humanoid eyes stared at him from the writhing mass, and Joel held back a whimper of terror. 

“That jacket clashes with your complexion.” The creature repeated. 

“Uh…sorry?”

“You should wear dark colours to bring out your eyes.”

“Oh…kay?”

“Who do you want to impress when you dress?”

“You are the weirdest ghost.” 

The terror was wearing off quickly. Whatever this hand ghost thing was, it didn't seem to want to hurt him. The voice was slightly emotionless but oddly familiar. It actually reminded Joel a lot of his own voice, but it was more musical and feminine. It was definitely a woman’s voice, but he had a hard time calling this strange ghostly mass of hands a ‘she’. 

Those strange ghostly hands were reaching toward him, caressing his sides and grasping the fabric of his shirt. Two of them appeared at his shoulder and slid the jacket he’d picked out off. 

“Who do you want to impress when you dress?” The entity asked more forcefully. 

“Um, my boss?”

“Formal, business wear. Excellent.”

Joel tried to step away from those creepy hands, only to have them close around his wrists.

“Uh-”

“Have you ever wanted to explore a new style?”

“M-Maybe?”

Perhaps that was how he would get out of here. Whatever this thing, this…tailor, was, it was clearly in control. All it wanted to do, seemingly, was dress him, if a new outfit was the cost of freedom, he’d gladly pay it. The tailor led him over to a rack of clothing; random hands appeared and grabbed hangers, holding up business shirts and pants against him, all while others made sure he didn’t run away. All the while, the creature continued to talk.

“Are you happy with your clothes?”

“I guess.”

“Do you want more variety?”

“Yes, actually…”

“Are you happy with your personal life?”

“It’s fine.”

“What do you feel is missing from your life?”

The questions became progressively more personal as the tailor dragged him from rack to rack. Some he didn't even know how to answer.

“Are you happy?”

“Sure.”

“...Lying. You are not happy. Why are you not happy?”

The tailor's grip increased, as did Joel’s heart rate.

“No, I really am happy most of the time!”

“You are unable to self-reflect, this is noted. Do you think new clothes will make that possible? Would you like to try a dress?”

“What? No!”

“...Yes, you wish for more variety. Female clothing gives this.”

The hands began to grasp more firmly at his clothing, tugging his shirt upwards until Joel had no choice but to raise his arms and allow the tailor to remove it. Two more hands gripped his pants, and he tried to jump away.

“Hey! Hey! You don't need to do that!”

“Yes. I do. Remain still, or I shall be forced to restrain you.”

If that was supposed to be a threat, it wasn't delivered with any malice, just a simple, matter-of-fact tone. Somehow, it made it all the more terrifying. With all those arms, the tailor would have no issues keeping him in place. Joel swallowed. It was probably best to stop fighting. If all this thing wanted to do was play dress up, maybe he could even have some fun. It wasn’t like anybody was here to see it. 

“Alright.”

The tailor didn't say anything; it simply stripped him of his belt, jeans and underwear before forcing each of his feet up in turn. Joel felt a little awkward standing naked on the cold tiles, especially when one of those hands tossed his clothing seemingly into the ether. 

“It is time to dress.”

The tailor plucked a silky tank top with embroidered shoulder straps and placed it over him. It didn’t fit properly at all. It was a size too small, and the front hung off his flat chest awkwardly. The tailor shuffled about, curling him as it tried to adjust the shoulder straps to make the fit better. Joel smiled awkwardly, not wanting to do anything to piss off the thing that helped his life in its many, many hands. 

Next, the tailor reached for a short, frilly skirt that matched the tank top perfectly, or it would, if it were the right size. The tailor lifted each of his legs in turn to force Joel into the skirt, pulling it up his thighs to fit snuggly at his hips. It was so loose it could barely stay up and Joel was forced to hold it in place. 

“Would it be too much to ask for some underwear? This is sort of breezy.”

The mass of hands seemed to shiver, maybe in delight that its model was getting involved. For a moment, it disappeared before a set of racks and Joel briefly considered running, but it was back before he could even take a step. A bright red thong in hand.

“Oh…that’s not really what I had in mind.”

The tailor didn’t respond; several hands appeared, and he was hoisted into the air.

“Hey!” Joel flailed, but more arms appeared. He held his legs in place, manoeuvring them into the G string before dropping him gently down onto the ground. The movement forced the G-string up his legs and right between his ass cheeks, almost painfully so. The front of the G-string cupped his cock gently, and despite the embarrassment of the situation, Joel couldn't help but note how comfortable it was. 

“You like this underwear.”

“N-no! It's just sort of comfortable!”

“More of this is required.”

The tank top was ripped off, and the tailor lifted his arms through the straps of a bra. It was far too big for him, with cups that hung off his chest even more prominently. The lace that decorated it itched, and Joel gritted his teeth, trying to bear it. The tailor then forced the tank top back over his head. It was too small for the bra, causing the underwear to spill out the front. Before he could say anything, the tailor hoisted him up again, carrying him a short distance until he was before a mirror. Joel watched as his face and neck turned red with embarrassment; not only was he wearing women’s clothes, but none of it even came close to fitting. He had never felt more stupid. 

“This is good, this is right.” The tailor murmured. “But adjustments are needed.”

“I’ll say.” Joel breathed without thinking. 

“I shall make the adjustments, you shall be whole.”

“You’re going to make these fit me?” Joel asked. He didn't hate the idea. 

Not that he would ever wear the outfit again, but the red of the tank top did suit his skin, and the frilly skirt, while girly, was quite freeing. His cock fit snugly in the G-string too. Even with the string between his butt cheeks, he could probably get used to it. Maybe he could even secretly wear one under his jeans. Nobody would have to know. 

Somehow, the tailor seemed to pick up on his approval as it began muttering again, whispering about adjustments and flitting about almost excitedly. The hands reached out but rather than taking hold of the clothes or producing some sort of magic needle and thread, they planted themselves against his skin. At least a dozen of them, all over his body and they began to knead and massage the skin. The grips were firm, it would almost be pleasant if the situation wasn't so bizarre.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Adjustments.”

Joel tried to shift away from the massaging fingers, but they were everywhere. The tailor practically enveloped him in its strange embrace and was running his hands all over him, regardless of whether it was appropriate or not. Joel let out an indignant squeak as a hand found its way up his thighs, rubbing at the delicate skin only inches from his cock. 

“I-I’m sure this isn't necessary! Wait, wh-what’s happening!?”

The grabs gripped his thighs and began to pull, and to his shock and horror, Joel felt his skin move with them. His thighs thickened, and a moment later, a hand grasped each of his hips and pulled. Bones cracked slightly as they stretched impossibly wide, and Joel gasped. His body was turning to putty under the tailor's ministrations! It wasn’t painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. The roundness of his belly disappeared, those extra pounds melting away the way he’d always dreamed, if only they weren’t going straight to his butt instead! He could feel those hands cinching in his waist, then stretching out his hips even further until they fit the skirt. Then, two hands slipped beneath it and pressed against his bare butt.

“H-hey! Ahhhhh….ahhhh t-that feels really weird!”

The fingers massaged against his skin, making it soft and supple before pulling it outwards to form peachy, full cheeks that filled out the skirt even further. His legs were smoothed and reshaped to take on a more feminine lean, and then…one of the hands slipped back under his skirt.

“Oh no.” Joel moaned, realising all too late what sort of alterations the tailor had in mind. “No! Y-you don’t need to do that!”

Of course, it didn't listen. The hand grasped his cock firmly, and Joel bit his lip, then moaned as his cock was pressed gently back into his body. A finger pushed against the smooth skin between his legs, massaging and slowly pressing inside him as a very distinct hole and folds formed. When its work was done, the tailor snapped the G-string back in place and Joel gave a little gasp. His new pussy was tingling and sensitive, even when cradled in that soft, silky lining. God, this was so weird. 

Joel couldn’t even focus on what it felt like to have a vagina because the tailor was still going. It’s many hands running over his side and shoulders, reshaping them to fit the clothes. The straps of the bra and tank top stopped cutting into him quite so much as he was reshaped, and his fingers turned long and dexterous as the tailor stretched each one out individually with a strangely satisfying pop. 

Then, those unsettling eyes focused on his face. Joel wanted to close his eyes in fear, but something stopped him. He was frozen in place and forced to feel as his face shifted and changed under the tailor's touch. His lips became full, his lashes longer, and his features became both sharper and softer in different places. Finally, a palm stroked along the curve of his throat, flattening out his Adam’s apple. Joel swallowed, too scared to talk and hear what his voice would sound like now. 

Finally, those hands began to massage his skull, pulling forth long blonde hair streaked with pink and green dye. It fell in gentle waves around his shoulders, and he couldn't help but run his fingers along the strands. Gone was his boring, generic brown buzz cut. He looked like something out of a shampoo add!

The entity floated back, seemingly admiring its work; Joel’s clothes fit perfectly now, almost like a second skin, except for his still flat chest. The hands reached out, and Joel groaned; there was no point fighting it. He knew what was coming. Still, he couldn’t help but gasp as the tailor took both his nipples between a thumb and forefinger and pulled. They grew, turned a deeper shade of blush pink and then, those hands began to massage and knead out a set of beautiful, full breasts. They grew more slowly than his ass or hips; the tailor seemed intent on making them perfectly shaped, smoothing its palms over the curves to make them perfectly smooth and naturally shaped. They grew, first A cups, then B, all the way to D. Now they fit perfectly in the large lacy bra, which supported them well, and the tailor finally let go. 

“Adjustments complete. How do you feel?”

Joel swallowed; the honest answer was that he didn’t know. The clothes felt amazing against his new skin; in fact, he’d never felt more comfortable in his life. But…he’d been turned into a woman by a cryptid; even the most comfortable bra in the world couldn’t make that normal. He didn't want to offend the tailor, though.

“It’s great!” he smiled tightly, his voice was so alien and yet, oddly familiar.

The tailor's eyes narrowed slightly, and Joel felt the blood rush in his ears.

“You are not entirely satisfied, we shall find another outfit. Do you want to be sexy, or cute?”

God, what a question.

“Can I be a man?”

“Do you want to be sexy, or cute?”

“That’s a no then.”

“We shall try both.”

“No! That’s the worst optio-hey put me down!!”

It was useless, of course, the tailor had so many hands that Joel was perfectly restrained no matter how much he wriggled. As the entity carried him over to a different section of the store, Joel realised why his new voice was so familiar; it was the tailors. Or rather, the tailor's voice was his. It just has less inflection and no emotion. 

“Why did you give me your voice?”

“I have your voice, your inner voice.”

“Well, that’s not unsettling at all.”

The tailor set him down again, expertly divesting him of all but his bra and underwear before producing a pale pink dress patterned with embroidered strawberries. Joel instantly flashed back to the Christmas when his sister opened her presents to reveal a baby doll in a pale pink dress. And how he’d forced himself to smile, forced himself to believe that the Hot Wheels set he’d been given was what he actually wanted and that the weird jealousy he felt toward the doll was just because he knew how expensive it was. 

He raised his arms, trying to make this go as quickly as possible, and the tailor slipped the dress over his head. Unlike the first outfit, this one fit perfectly on the first try. It was feather-light against his skin, and the soft skirt brushed against his ankles. He couldn’t help but sway a little from side to side, admiring the way the fabric hung off his new frame. Still, he felt like a little girl's doll being dressed up. 

“Looks like cute is the winner!” he tried, “You can change me back and let me go now!” 

He watched the tailor nervously, trying to make his smile as wide and genuine as possible. For some reason, it seemed dead set on making sure he was truly satisfied, if he could just convince the weird thing he liked the dress, maybe it would let him leave this weird backroom hell. The tailor hovered menacingly above him for a moment and Joel held his breath.

“You want to be sexy. Not cute”

“No! Well, okay, yeah, but everybody wants to be sexy, and guys don’t exactly like being cute but-ugh, no stop!”

The tailor was already tugging the pink dress off and tossing it over the shelves, holding Joel in place with half a dozen of its hands while the others picked through racks of clothing.

“I appreciate that you’re trying to help.” He tried. “But I’d really like to be sexy as a man if you don’t mind.”

“No, you don’t, here.”

The tailor produced a pair of tight-looking green pants. Just looking at it filled Joel with the strangest mixture of trepidation and desire. The tailor seemed to sense his unwitting admission and quickly set about putting them on.The pants pressed his ass cheeks together, making the round curve of it all the more prominent. Joel turned, admiring it briefly before blushing beet red; he was checking himself out! 

Next, the tailor produced a midriff shirt with off-the-shoulder sleeves in the same colour. The kind with a frill around the edges. The fabric was silky, smooth against his skin, and perfectly matched the pants. Despite his best efforts, Joel couldn’t help but enjoy the outfit a little. It was simple yet so effective at showing off this body’s assets. A surge of confidence flowed through him; a woman who looked this good could do anything. He couldn;t help but place a hand on his middle, so smooth now; he couldn’t remember the last time he was this fit. 

“This is the outfit that will make you happy, " the tailor murmured, its long arms flying in all directions to pick out accessories. 

It placed a strawberry earring through each of his lobes and then lifted each foot delicately to slide into a pair of strappy heels. Joel wobbled on the spot for a moment before experimentally taking a few steps. He felt like a newborn deer but after a moment, he managed to figure out how to balance on the stiletto thin heels. It was a matter of shifting the new weight of his body around and balancing the extra weight in his butt and chest with a gentle sway of his hips and shoulders. He couldn’t help it. He grinned; this felt great! Despite having his masculinity stripped away, he had never felt more confident. 

“More options.” The tailor said. Joel turned to face the odd creature and shrugged.

“Sure, why not?”

The tailor began grasping and grabbing at random items, or at least. They seemed random. Joel opened his arms and took each one in turn and found that somehow, each one seemed more perfect than the last: hip-hugging jeans, silky cocktail dresses, tight-fitting shirts and shoes of all kinds. The pile in his arms got more and more massive, and he almost toppled over several times while just trying to keep up in his new heels. 

“Uh, I don’t think I can carry anymore!” Joel said when the tailor placed another matching set of panties and bra atop the pile. 

“Another satisfied customer.” The tailor whispered in reply before suddenly grasping Joel by the arms. 

For a second, his heart froze in fear; what now? Was this creature going to turn him into some twisted mannequin, or worse, just leave him in this mall-styled purgatory? Thankfully, it did neither; instead, it dragged Joel a few feet until they hit a wall. Taking the clothes and placing them in blank paper shopping bags it produced from thin air. 

“Holy shit, there is an edge to this place,” Joel whispered in wonder.

Never in his life did he think just seeing a wall would amaze him so much. 

“Thank you for your business.” The tailor said before unceremoniously pushing Joel right into the wall.

No, not into it, through it. 

Joel stumbled, skidding on the smooth tile ground slightly, only to fall when several laden bags crashed into his side, filled with the clothes the tailor had picked out.

“Ow…”

“You okay, miss?”

Joel looked up in shock to see a kindly middle-aged man smiling down at him, offering a hand. A person, an actual person! Confused, he looked around; there was no sign of a doorway or the tailor. Just an empty wall. All around him were the half-empty shops and familiar chain stores he’d been looking at before wandering into… wherever it was he’d been.

“Miss, did you hit your head?” The man asked when Joel didn't reply.

“Miss? Oh, right. No. I’m…fine.”

Joel slowly righted himself and thanked the man as he handed over the bags. He rubbed his eyes a few times, fully expecting to wake up in a hospital bed with some doctor explaining that he whacked his head on something and everything he’d just experienced was a hallucination. But he didn’t. 

He twisted and turned a few times, examining the new outfit and his new body again. All of that…really happened. Despite everything, Joel couldn't help but grin; he was still a woman, but at least he was hot as fuck woman with a huge wardrobe of options available. He could never quite explain what had happened to him, but if this really was his ‘true self’, he could learn to live with it.