Maid to Order

Hi! Another story! Yay! This one is a little softer, in the same vein as The Girl Inside. If you're looking for hard fuckin', this might not be for you. Definitely for folks who focus more on the crossdressing aspect and bois kissing bois. This is told in the 2nd Person too, and assumes you are a boy at the start. Just a heads up! Anyways, please enjoy a brief, relaxing stint as a cutie maid~

***

"You need a break."

The words from your best friend echo in your head. You've been working long hours, sacrificing sleep and eating nothing but takeout to meet your deadlines. Your friend was adamant when she came over to your place and found you a raccoon-eyed mess. Reluctantly, you pried yourself out of your desk chair, showered, shaved (even your arms and legs, according to your friend's instruction, put on your best clothes, and followed the map app on your phone down to the place they recommended.

As you push open the glass door and step into the "Maid to Order" cafe, you're overwhelmed by the wonderful scent of baked goods. Your mouth immediately waters, and you catch sight of many delectable pastries, cakes, cookies and scones on a dozen different plates. Each table is being served by its own waitress. A curiosity, surely, but one not unexpected from a place that is rumoured to be focused on the customer experience.

The waitresses themselves wore a particular uniform. Each was resplendent in a pink dress with a skirt that went down to her knees, a white frilly half-apron, long white stockings, and a lace headpiece. They looked every bit the image of the stereotypical French maid, save for the dresses not being black. A short woman approaches you, cradling a menu in her arm.

"First time?" she asks. You must have been gawking. You nod.

"I...my friend recommended this place," you explain.

She nods. "We get a lot of recommendations. Plenty of people are eager to experience our unique brand of service. But let's not get too into it here. How about a seat by the window?"

She guides you to a lovely little two-seat table. It's not in direct sunlight, so you get the warmth without the blinding glare. She sets a menu down and tugs out a notepad. "Something to drink to start you off?"

Glancing at the menu items, you decide that tea sounds appropriate. She takes your order is short, efficient strokes of her pen.

"My name is Daphne, by the way. I'll be back for your order. Okay, sweetie?" she says before traipsing off, humming some tune to herself.

Already this experience has been strange. Maids serving as waiters? You've heard of themed restaurants before, but you've never been to one! Far from erotic, however, the other patrons you can see seem content. They're chatting away pleasantly with their servers, who either stand beside them or sit opposite. Some share bites of the confections the customers have ordered and others simply listen with rapt attention.

As you casually run your eyes down the menu, you notice just how soothing the atmosphere at this cafe is. It feels like a kitchen out of an old movie, filled with home-baked delights stuffed with as much love as they are calories. Its warm, but not unpleasantly so. Heat from the baking ovens, no doubt. That too fills you with a charmed placidity. This really does feel like a place where you can let your worries just...drift away.

"Have you decided?"

Your waitress' voice snaps you back to reality. How long had you spaced out for? It was hard to say.

You order a delectable sounding slice apple crumble pie. As your order leaves your lips, you notice one of the waitress-customer pairs getting up to leave. The waitress is leading the man in a red silk tie and white shirt to the back. A dreamy smile on his face, like he's sleepwalking.

"What's going on there?" you ask. For a moment, you wonder if it's one of 'those' kinds of themed cafes. The expression you make must have told the whole story. Daphne laughs.

"Oh no, it's nothing like that!" She places a gentle hand on your shoulder, scattering your fears. "Our services here are unique, but are much to the enjoyment of both parties. You'll see soon. I'll be back with your pie."

You watch her depart, remarking as she leaves on just how cute those maid outfits were. You take a sip of tea, enjoying the contentment. You're still aware of your work stresses, but they seem less pressing. Less demanding of your full attention.

You're sipping your tea again when the pair who had retreated behind the curtain emerged once more. But something was amiss! The man...was wearing a maid outfit now? It was baby blue instead of pink, but he was undeniably dolled up just like one of the waitresses!

Confusion overtakes you. You're about to stand up and ask what is happening when Daphne returns with your slice of apple pie. It looks fantastic! You sit down and get answers this way. You got your order, after all. You dig into the pie. It's just as delectable as it sounded! The sugary-cinnamon taste fills your mouth, the satisfying crunch of the crumble adding to the thoroughly enjoyable experience.

"Why is he dressed like a maid now?" you ask after swallowing. The question isn't said with any alarm. More the tone of someone asking for directions.

"Why, he's the customer. And the customer deserves the best experience that we can offer!"

Another waitress/customer pair walks behind the curtain. Nobody else in the restaurant besides you seems confused by this. Everyone's taking it like it's business as usual. Maybe it is, for this kind of establishment.

"I...I didn't order that," you say. The statement's a little dumb, you realize, but words are coming less easy now.

Daphne grins, eyes closed. "That's no problem! Its part of the service we provide. First one's on the house, minus the price of the pie of course. We know once you try it, you'll come back again and again!" She holds out her hand to you. "Would you like to see what they do behind the curtain?"

You nod before you notice what you're doing. She helps you to your feet and tugs you gently towards the curtain. A sudden tension builds up in your throat. What could be behind those strange black drapes?

You emerge out the other side and are immediately dazzled with a bright flash of pink light. It felt like a hundred times the intensity of the oldest camera's flashbulb you've ever experienced. You see sunspots dance in your vision as you try to blink them away. The more you blink, however, the more you realize just how calm and good you feel. All your movements slow. You look at your hand, seeing the pretty colours dancing. What was in that flash?

"Come along now. It's time to try on your new outfit," Daphne insists. The room looks like the makeup and changing area you've seen in movies before. You oblige her request, following her to a series of small booths on the side, all hidden behind another set of curtains.

Upon entering the changing booth, you hear the curtain rings slide behind you. Daphne is in the tiny room with you!

"Umm...excuse me but..." you begin, trying to be polite.

"I can't very well help you dress from outside, can I?" she says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. She picks up a pile of laundry that resembles one of the maid outfits you saw before. You stare dumbly at the clothes in her arms and try to articulate why she shouldn't be in the same room while you change, but the words are sluggish in your mind. It's hard to think of the reasons why it was a bad thing.

She puts them back down to give you a reassuring hug. "It's alright. You're okay. Repeat after me. 'I'm alright. I'm okay.'"

"I'm...alright," you say, "I'm okay." And you feel it too. That same calming warmth from the cafe floods your body. Everything is fine. You shake off your worries and start to strip.

Your shed your male clothes with a carefree ease now that you're calm. It felt like wriggling your way out of a cocoon, in a way. Your pants and shirt were always scratchy, restricting. These clothes seem so soft. So freeing. You pull down your underwear and flick off your socks. Daphne pays no attention to your nudity. She simply starts handing you items to try on.

The stockings first. You have a little trouble with them at first, but you get the hang of it. They're just long socks, after all. One rolls up to your thigh, then the other. They cling tightly to your skin but feel so comfortable. Why are guy socks so uncomfortable, you wonder. Why can't you wear these all the time?

Panties next. These are light blue, same as the dress, with a tiny bow at the waist. They slide up effortlessly, settling around your waist and cradling your limp maleness.

"These are specially designed," Daphne explains, tucking your bulge into a little pouch at the bottom, "They help keep your bits tucked away. Helps the rest of the clothes fit."

You nod. That makes sense. You don't even notice that you've stayed limp throughout this. Even a woman's soft fingers touching you haven't elicited an aroused response. Why would it? You're simply getting dressed, after all. Your soft parts fit snugly into the pouch panties, and you move on to the next item.

Daphne holds the training bra out to you. You try putting it on yourself, but make very little progress. How do the other girls even get into these things? Thankfully, Daphne senses your confusion and lends you a hand. You feel the support press against your nipples. Unnecessary, of course, but it feels nice. And it matches your panties perfectly!

The next article is special. You run your fingers along its long ruffles. It's white, elegant, and boundlessly soft to the touch. The word petticoat springs to mind, but you've honestly never seen one in person. Thankfully, Daphne is there again to guide it up your legs. You stare at your utterly feminine lower half. You can't suppress the warmth at that sight.

Lace garters are next. You smile down at Daphne as she helps affix them to your leg to keep your stockings in place. You feel so elegant like this. She hands you the baby blue dress next, and she steps out of the curtain for a moment. You slip on the dress, just like you've seen women do countless times in your life. It fits like a glove. Like it was made especially for you. Or you for it.

When Daphne returns, she's holding a pair of black high heels. You gulp at that.

"I don't know how to walk in those," you say absently.

"Don't worry," she assures you, "It's fairly natural. You can practice after we put the finishing touches on you of course."

The apron ties up nicely behind your back. The frilled headpiece slides onto your head. The last item is a satin choker. You've never worn a choker before! You've never worn anything like this before.

Just as questions start to form in your head, the choker turns them all to dust the moment you feel it around your neck. Daphne turns you around to face the mirror.

"See? Doesn't that feel better?" she asks.

It does. You've never looked more beautiful! A soft, cute girl in a white and blue maid outfit. Your job is to take orders, literally, and that's just what you're going to do. Along the way your intellect has seemed to dim. Your once cacophanous thought patterns are tranquil and languid. It's hard to get up the urge to think about anything more complicated than the next order.

Your name...what was your name? Gosh! You're such a sillyhead sometimes. You've completely forgot! But wait! There it is, written in flowing letters on your choker! But darnit, it's backwards! Reading cursive is hard enough, but doing it when the words are reversed is nearly impossible!"

"S...y...d...ney?" you ask. Daphne gives you a reassuring nod.

She peeks from beside your shoulder in the mirror. "Sydney! Don't you remember? Your name is Sydney."

You struggle to recall that fact. But as you dredge up your memories, they get slightly blurrier for a moment before returning to focus. For a second you catch sight of another name, but it quickly fades and Sydney only grows larger in your awareness. It expands and expands until it pushes everything out of the way and forces you to let it out.

"Syd...ney? Sydney!" you love the sound of it! Your name is Sydney. At least, you're pretty sure.

Daphne seems please. "Well, finish collecting yourself Sydney. I'll be waiting at your table in a few minutes. Practice walking in these, won't you?" She sets the heels down at your feet. You can't wait to try them out!

***

The scene when you leave the changing room is the same...but different. Customers chat at their table with the wait staff, who are all wearing maid costumes. But now it's the former customers who wait on the women, who are all dressed in rather masculine outfits. Shirts, slacks, sneakers or flats. Some of them look like the old clothes that the men had worn before, while others looked like original ensembles. You pay almost no mind to this change. It's just so nice to be in such fabulous clothes for once!

"Yo! Waitress!" you hear. Daphne is waiving you over from your table. Not only that, but she wearing your shirt and pants! You quickly shuffle as fast as you can in your new footware, clicking noises drawing attention to you as you make your way over to her table side. You are cognisant of your new role and act accordingly.

"What can I get for you?" you ask automatically. Fishing around in the pouch in your apron, you find a notepad. But Daphne puts her hand onto yours before you can pull it out.

"I just want some company, babe. Just some casual conversation." Her voice has lowered in pitch and sounds so...powerful. Mysterious~

You blush. Was she hitting on you? That's not something that happens often!

"O-Okay." You leave the notepad behind and put both hands behind your back. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Why don't you tell me your name?" she asks. You know she can read your choker just fine.

All the same, you blurt out, "Sydney!" She hides her approval, but you can see a little flicker of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

"A lovely name...for a very cute girl."

Your heart swims. It feels so nice to be wanted! The rest of the cafe fades away, and your focus is locked to the two of you.

She picks up another fork from the table, the one placed on the other side, and takes a bite from your pie. "Mmm...you've got good taste. This is my favourite item on the menu." After another two bites, ones you watch her savour and enjoy, you wonder if there's more to what you should be doing. Were you trained how to be a waiter? Or a maid? You couldn't remember.

"Mind if I sit down?" you ask. She nods, pointing at the other side of the table with her fork. You slide into it carefully, conscious that spreading your legs too far apart might make it easy for her to peek underneath.

"How are you feeling?" she asks you between bites. That's a very complicated question, and you're feeling so dizzy right now. So...cottony up in your brain. Finding thoughts is like moving around a room filled with styrofoam pellets. It's possible, but it's slow going and they're hard to see amidst the clutter.

"I'm...good? I feel really, really calm. Like...cozy calm. Like when you cuddle up in a blanket at night." You do your best to articulate, but it's so haaaard. Thankfully, Daphne seems to understand.

"I suppose your friend didn't tell you the purpose of the cafe?"

You shake your head. "She told me it'd help me relax." You can remember that conversation, but just barely. You almost believe it took place in a dream. After all, what ugly clothes you were wearing!

"That's our mission statement," she continues. When you look visibly confused at that, she rephrases. "That's out goal, like in a soccer game. When we make our patrons calm, relaxed, and carefree, it's like we score a point!"

Oooh. You get it now! "So making boys into maids makes us calm?"

Daphne waggled her hand back and forth in a 'so-so' gesture. "In a fashion. The infrasonic tones we play over the cafe's speakers instil a placid atmosphere to someone without training to resist it. Same with the hypno flash you saw. It allows for instantaneous implantation of what would normally take months of deep programming. It only lasts for a few hours, of course, but that's all we need to have fun. Sorry, techno jargon. The point is that we put all your higher stresses out of your mind, temporarily. By focusing all your efforts on being cute and obedient, it's like making the more complicated parts of your brain fall asleep."

You sort of follow along this time. It sounds like super-duper complex stuff though. You're glad Daphne's here to explain it! She seems so smart.

"And your outfit?" she asks, almost as a formality. "How does it feel to be dressed like a maid?"

"Oh my gosh I love it!" you say, trembling. "I've never felt so pretty before!"

"So you like being a cute girl?"

You nod so hard you get a little dizzy.

"Good," she crooks her finger, beckoning over one of the other couples. You watch as the pair you originally saw swap clothes come over. The man who was once wearing a red tie looks just as cute as you do now, maybe even cuter! Notable differences include a hairclip in the shape of a baby blue flower above his right eye and a heavier dose of eyeshadow. He looks really cute...or she does?

You look down at her choker. 'Cameron', it says.

"Hi Cam!" you beam.

"Hi Sid!" he says back. He's on Cloud 10 right now as far as you can tell. The former maid now wears his shirt and tie, the apparel baggy on her slender frame.

"Cameron," the other female customer begins, "Do you think Sid's a cutie?"

He nods. "Sid's so cute. So pretty in that dress. So kissable~"

That made your blush flare up once more. Kissable?! You had to admit, Cam was looking very attractive. Maybe even hotter than the other maids had been. You're still not getting hard though. Though the arousal is there, it's not translating to stiffness. You remain soft and limp. Like a good girl.

"Show each other your panties!" Daphne requests. You can't help but obey. You lift the hem of your dress and petticoat both to show off your pretty blue panties. Cam does the same, reflection your own embarrassed but happy expression back to you. The other maid is tiny down there. Barely even a nub! You giggle, but feel nothing but affection towards the tiny cocklet. In fact, you want to touch it. You stare into his eyes. He wants you. You want him. Your heart pounds in your ears from barely restrained arousal.

"Ma'am, may Cameron and I make out for your amusement?" you ask. Daphne laughs, but gives you the go-ahead. Cam repeats the question to his customer who also agrees. In an instant, you press your mouth to the other boy's and feel an explosion of sexual bliss. Your lips feel like they're erogenous zones now, and you make quick work of any reserve either of you might have felt to kissing another boy. After all: weren't you girls now anyways?

His hands slide up your dress, and you do the best to respond in kind. You mutually masturbate one another through the soft panties, gently rubbing and massaging each other's bulges. Your climax comes on fast, but you barely notice. Becoming a quickshot is so much less important than how good it feels when Cam sticks his tongue in your mouth. You can taste him! You lose yourself to the act, and time seems to stand still.

Along the way you feel yourself spurt. Still limp, your flaccid cock shakes and shudders before squirting a quickly blossoming stain into your special panties. It feels so good that you moan into Cam's mouth as you continue to kiss. Creaming yourself is the ultimate submissive experience, and you ache to drag it out as long as possible.

Determined to make him feel as good as he made you, your attention on his soft little nub increases. You slide your fingers past the panty fabric, rubbing and stroking it liberally. As you feel his breath quicken, you intensify your makeout session. Your tongues dance and drool spills liberally from you both as he cums onto your hand. You stroke his clitty to completion before raising the cupped, spunk-filled palm up above both of your heads.