Part 7

[b]Part 7[/b]

Denise stepped into the kitchen feeling anxious. He hadn't been here since he looked like a younger version of himself. He suspected his staff wouldn't recognize him. His suspicions were quickly confirmed when he approached the kitchen staff and nobody paid him any attention. Denise scanned the room and noticed everything was more or less the same. One thing that had changed, however, was the addition of a microwave on one of the counter tops. Denise sincerely hoped the microwave was a joke. There was no way his kitchen was churning out food cooked in a microwave!

Another change was Adam, the waiter that Denise had once berated in the middle of the dining floor. He was working a frying pan and wearing a chefs jacket! Denise felt the button-up shirt and apron adorning his body weighed him down like heavy manacles. He may have no longer been recognizeable as Dennis, but he would be damned if a front end [i]reject[/i] was disrespecting the coveted chefs jacket. Denise knew [i]HE[/i] should be the one wearing the jacket! That snake Adam should be the one serving food in a shirt and apron!

"Why the fuck are you back here cooking?" Denise blurted out in an angry, feminine pitch.

Adam looked around then pointed to himself, surprised that Denise was asking him that question.

"Uh." Adam started, "I...work here?"

Denise put his dainty hands on his worryingly wide hips as he complained, "Is this a fucking joke?" He couldn't control his frustration any longer as he continued, "You're the last person that should be cooking anything! Why don't you take off the chefs jacket and-"

Suddenly, veteran chef Michael burst from around the corner with an angry scowl. Denise never noticed just how large Michael was!

Michael growled as he stomped across the floor, "What did you just say to him, [i]bitch!?[/i]"

The kitchen grinded to a halt as a dozen eyes fixed on Michael and Denise. Denise shrank at Michael's hostile question. He felt small and unsafe in the face of Michael's aggression. He'd never been intimidated like this before!

Michael charged towards Denise and stopped squarely in his personal space. Michael was suddenly a giant! There's no way he used to be this tall! He was at least a full head taller than Denise and it only served to make the power differential between them even more lopsided. Denise looked like a server in her early twenties with her feminine body and waitress uniform while Michael was a well respected, middle-aged, male, veteran chef in a chefs jacket.

Michael screamed down, almost directly in Denise's face, "You take the [i]fucking[/i] order and deliver the [i]fucking[/i] food. That's it! But here you have the fucking [i]balls[/i]- oh wait, excuse me, the fucking [b]ovaries[/b] to come back here and say some smart ass shit to one of my hardest working guys. I don't think so, cunt!"

The room was totally silent. Denise quivered beneath Michael's scrutiny. He was terrified, speechless and horribly embarassed. He wanted to argue back, he wanted to use his superior size and prestige to win the argument and assert his authority like he had so many times in the past- but he didn't have [i]those[/i] assets anymore. [i]Those[/i] assets belonged to a powerful man named Dennis. Denise had [i]different[/i] assets now. He felt tears welling in his eyes and burning in his cheeks.

He spoke down harshly, "Tears won't save you, girl! I don't care if he's your ex-boyfriend or current boyfriend, or whatever. From now on you better shut your [i]damn[/i] mouth and take the fucking orders or I'll throw your fat ass out so fast your pretty little head will spin. That clear enough for you?"

Denise sobbed and wrapped his arms beneath his breasts as he nodded his head. Michael was such an asshole! He was using his towering size and high social standing to make Denise feel small and weak. It wasn't fair! Denise felt the judgemental eyes of the kitchen staff as they mentally lowered his status on the social hierarchy even further. He needed to get out of here and regroup!

Michael took a step back and spoke in a lower, calmer tone, "Good. Also, wear a damn bra from now on. [b]My[/b] customers don't need to know when my waitresses' panties are damp."

Denise was suddenly hyper aware that his nipples were poking into his top. He felt strange as he thought about what Michael said. He'd just assumed Denise was wearing panties. Which, of course, he was, but Michael had no way of knowing that. Michael saw him as a girl and, as such, assumed he was wearing girls underwear!

Michael stood up tall and proud, "Now, where's the ticket, girl?"

Denise sniffled and fished into his apron pocket. He procured the tables order and presented it to Michael. Michael snatched the paper from Denise's hand and examined it.

He scoffed, "You've got really girly handwriting."

Denise looked at the paper and saw the order he'd taken was written in a neat, bubbly script that screamed 'girls handwriting'. It was even written in sparkly pink. As if on queue, a sparkly pink pen anchored to Denise's apron pocket for all to see to fully confirm he was the one who'd written it. Was that really his handwriting now!? He remained standing in place as another blow was dealt to his sense of masculinity. The intimidation Michael continued to extert froze Denise in place. Her brain didn't seem to know how to respond.

Michael took a second to look Denise up and down before ordering, "Dismissed."

Denise felt himself freed from Michael's grasp. He ran for the door like a dog with its tail between its legs. He could feel the eyes of the kitchen staff silently judging him. Denise could also feel his body continuing to change as his movement felt even stranger than before.

When Denise made it back to the dining room, he was relieved to find it the same as he'd left it. He took a quick second to wipe the tears from his eyes and take a deep breath. He couldn't ignore his nipples any longer. Every person in the whole damn restaurant had to comment on it and Denise couldn't take it anymore. If ignoring the problem and covering it with tissue didn't solve it, he'd have to go to plan 'C'.

He had to collect the bra.

With his mind made up, Denise made a beeline for the men's restroom where he'd discarded the bra. He approached the door clearly marked 'Men' with the stereotypical male stick figure. He raised his arm to open the door but hesitated. He figured it might be a better idea to wait until he was positive there was nobody inside. He certainly didn't want an embarassing repeat of his previous encounter in the restroom.

As he contemplated whether to wait or go right in, the door to the bathroom suddenly opened. Out stepped the man from Denise's table who had apparently decided to finally use the facilities.

The man chuckled, "Wrong door, miss. The women's room is down the hall there."

Denise took a step back to allow the man room to pass as he explained, "I'm just going in to get something I left behind. Excuse me."

The man put out his arm and stopped her, "If you're talking about that bra I found, I tossed it into the women's bathroom. Was that yours?"

Denise found himself reluctant to confirm that he was looking for a bra, but wanted the encounter over as quickly as possible so he admitted it, "Yes, that was mine."

The man cupped his hand around his ear, "What did you say? What was yours?"

Denise wanted to tell him to 'fuck off' but refrained. He was just being an asshole. Denise didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of making him angry.

Denise shouted calmly, "Yes, that was my bra! Thank you!"

The man shot a thumbs up and giggled as he walked past Denise, clearly checking him out as he did.

Once the man was gone, Denise turned towards the women's restroom. For whatever reason, he felt his heart beating quickly. Denise rationalized it in his head. The women's bathroom was just a normal restroom without uninals- that was all it was. But as Denise got closer, he realized that there was much more to it. Sure, It WAS a normal restroom without urinals- but it also came with the expectation that those entering were women...women with vaginas. It was a place where thousands of exclusively women had come to relieve themselves...with their vaginas. Each of those thousands of women had each, individually, passed by the men's restroom because it wasn't meant for them and they knew it. The urinals in the men's restroom didn't support their female hardware.

Denise stood before the door clearly marked with a stereotypical stick figure in a dress and the word "Women". He pushed his anxieties aside, took a deep breath, and pressed on the door. As he did so, a middle aged woman wearing a red dress was preparing to exit. She smiled at Denise who stared back wide eyed like he'd gotten caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. Surely, this middle aged woman, who was the proverbial gatekeeper and poster child of womanhood, would see right through Denise and raise the alarm. She'd been a woman for her entire life and been around women in women's spaces. She was bound to know....

But, instead of calling Denise out as a man, the woman held the door open while maintaining her smile. Denise forced a smile of his own and walked in before offering a soft 'thank you'. The woman returned the pleasantry and made her way back into the dining room without a second thought. Denise watched as the door closed. She hadn't noticed a thing. Denise truly passed as a woman now. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad that he'd made it in.

Either way, he needed to find that bra!