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Josh had always been a little too comfortable at Hooters. The kind of regular who thought a beer and wings earned him the right to treat the waitresses however he pleased. He leered openly, made crude jokes loud enough for everyone to hear, and always found excuses to brush against the girls as they passed by.

But last night, he took it to another level. When Melissa, one of their sweetest waitresses, turned to grab a tray, Josh reached out and smacked her ass. Hard. Not just a quick swat—he lingered, his fingers digging in for a bold, unmistakable squeeze. Melissa froze for half a second, her back still to him, her face burning with humiliation. Josh didn’t care. He just let out a low laugh, muttering, “Couldn’t help myself.”

Without a word, Melissa straightened, smoothed her apron, and walked away. Minutes later, she returned with another drink, setting it down in front of him with a bright, cheerful smile as though nothing had happened. It hit him as he finished the drink—a woozy, lightheaded feeling he couldn’t shake. Before he could stumble out of his seat, Melissa appeared at his side, crouching down and placing a hand on his arm.

“Aww, is someone not feeling so good?” she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Let’s get you to the back. We wouldn’t want you making a scene now, would we?” Too disoriented to argue, Josh let her guide him through the restaurant and into the staff room. As the door clicked shut behind them, his legs gave out, and everything went black.

The girls didn’t waste any time. “Alright, let’s start by cleaning him up,” Melissa said as they rolled him onto a chair. First came the waxing. Hot strips of wax were applied to his chest, legs, and arms, ripping away every last bit of body hair. Once his skin was smooth and hairless, Melissa grabbed a pair of tweezers and reshaped his thick, untamed brows into thin, arched lines, giving his face a distinctly feminine look.

His hair was already long, which made things easier. Melissa snapped on a pair of gloves, grabbed a box of blonde dye, and set to work. They saturated every strand, rinsing it out and drying it until it gleamed in soft, golden waves that framed his face perfectly.

“Now for the fun part,” Melissa said, holding up the breast forms. They were large, full, and heavy—exactly what they needed. She glued them carefully to his chest, smoothing the edges before blending them flawlessly with makeup. With a smirk, Melissa gave one of the breasts a firm slap, watching it bounce. Next, they moved on to accessories. A small, shiny navel piercing was added for a bit of extra flair, glittering under the lights.

“Almost there,” Melissa said as she held up a small chastity cage. She snapped it in place around him with a click, sealing away the last bit of his masculinity. “Nice and flat,” she teased, stepping back to admire their work. Finally, they dressed him in the iconic Hooters uniform. The snug white crop top pushed his new chest together, creating cleavage that couldn’t be ignored, while the bright orange hot pants clung to his smooth legs, leaving very little to the imagination. To complete the look, they applied a clean, everyday makeup style—foundation, blush, mascara, and a soft pink lip gloss that made his lips shimmer under the lights.

When Josh finally stirred, blinking groggily at his reflection in the mirror, he didn’t recognize himself. His chest rose and fell with each panicked breath, his smooth legs glowed under the fluorescent light, and his glossy lips parted in shock.

The door swung open, and Melissa stepped inside, arms crossed and a smug smile on her face. “What the fuck did you do to me?” Josh snapped, his voice laced with panic.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Melissa said, waving a hand dismissively. “We just helped you get ready for your first day of work.”

“My first… what?” Josh stammered, his eyes darting back to the mirror. “There’s no way I’m doing that!”

Melissa pulled out her phone, tapping the screen and holding it up for him to see. It was a video of last night—the slap, the squeeze, and his smug grin, all caught perfectly. “This is called sexual assault,” she said sweetly. “I could send it to the cops, or you can work a few shifts for us. Your choice.”

Josh hesitated, glaring at her before letting out a defeated sigh. “Fine.” Melissa’s grin widened as she turned to leave. “Welcome to the team, Tiffany.”

His first day was humiliating in every way. The girls didn’t just force him into the uniform—they made sure he knew exactly how to “work it.” They critiqued every step, every gesture. “Smile more!” Melissa called out as he shuffled awkwardly across the floor. “And sway your hips, Tiffany—customers love it!”

By the time his first table arrived—a rowdy group of men—he was shoved forward with a sharp, “Go on, Tiffany, show us what you’ve learned.” Forcing a tight smile, he leaned in just enough to press his fake breasts together, his cheeks burning as the men whistled and laughed. The teasing was constant, the comments unending.

Hours later, as he handed off another beer to a particularly handsy customer, he winced at the sharp sting of a slap on his ass. “Thanks, gorgeous,” the man said with a wink.

He bit back the urge to snap and instead giggled nervously, just as Melissa had instructed. “Anything for you,” he said through gritted teeth, swaying his hips slightly as he walked away. As he returned to the kitchen, his legs aching and his cheeks still burning with humiliation, he couldn’t stop the question racing through his mind.

How long was Melissa going to make him do this?

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This is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. It is not affiliated with or endorsed by any real people, businesses, or brands. All characters and events are purely fictional.