Changing Room Pt. 01

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Foreplay: This is a work of fiction. I really haven’t a clue whether everything herein is possible, but just in case you’ve ever wanted to be a fly on the wall of the women’s changing rooms, let’s just suppose everything is. What originally started out as a small idea grew into a much bigger one, so for convenience I’ve split it into two parts. All characters depicted are fictitious and are over 18.


After years of hard work in IT planning, developing and upgrading websites for several companies, I had gleaned enough knowledge to put some programming to my own use. The company I’m presently working for owns four huge clothing warehouses, specialising in quality, budget-priced clothing to fashion conscious teenage girls and young women. We also sell beachwear, nightwear and a small selection of clothes for the older woman but ages 13 to 35 or so are our target and by using the time tested sales plan we can stack ’em high and sell ’em cheap. By trading solely online through a well planned website we can undercut high street stores while never skimping on the quality of our stock and offering first class customer service.

“Terry,” said MD Steve Winterbourne one day, “Come in and take a seat. Would you like a coffee?”

“Please,” I answered, “How can I help you?” I’d been summoned to Steve’s office, which usually meant something had gone wrong – like a deadline not reached or the IT department had gone over budget. When something had gone wrong, though, I didn’t get the coffee. Managerial coffee was in a totally different league to the usual barely drinkable vending machine sludge. I never refused it.

“The Board had its regular meeting this morning,” he began. “You’ve been with us quite a while now and you’ve worked wonders with our website. You know the huge range of styles we stock and you know that we operate a comprehensive returns policy. If a customer orders from us and doesn’t like what’s arrived in the post, they can return it without any fuss. It’s a policy that works well.”

The coffee arrived by way of Steve’s secretary Julie. Partly unbuttoned blouse, breathtaking tits, slim waist, short skirt arranged around a tight butt and very, very attractive … the way Steve likes them. He took a sip of his coffee and bit into one of the local delicatessen’s home made biscuits.

“Of course, this is one of the many company costs and we are always reviewing options to maximise profits. Minimising returns is one way of doing that.” He paused again to take another sip of coffee and bite of a most delicious biscuit. I was an honoured employee to partake of such a feast.

“We have quality photos which can be zoomed to half screen. We have front and back views and we have almost every size in stock. What we don’t have is a fitting room and, as a married man with a teenage girl, you will know that every woman loves to try clothes on to see how they look. Why, even little girls like to dress up.”

We chatted for a while about our families, holidays etc., while what he’d said sunk in.

“So, Terry,” he continued, “If our customers could have a virtual changing room, we’re hoping the returns will become less and less, and when our customers tell their friends, well we are not going to shut down any high street stores but we might hit them where it hurts. You’re the programming whizz, Terry. My thoughts are that if we could link a customer’s webcam to our range of clothes, although it might take some special photography, we could run rings round other Web retailers.”

With just one buzz on his intercom, our coffee and biscuits were replenished

Steve was in serious mode. Although the company was doing well, there was always the desire to do better.

“Think of it this way. The pound shops have cutout books. There’s a cutout of a girl, then cutouts of clothes with tabs. The tabbed clothes go on the … ”

“I know exactly what you mean. Our daughter, Holly, had several. She spent hours and hours playing, trying this then that until she was happy.”

“So you see. If we can join the customer’s face from a webcam to our clothes, do you see where I’m going?”

“Exactly. Give me a few days to chew it over.”

“Hi daddy. Did you have a good day?”

Holly, our beautiful 19 year old daughter, was there to greet me when I got home. A simple hug and a kiss on the cheek was all I was allowed. There are just the three of us at home; Holly, Rachel my wife and myself. Holly is a studious girl but prefers working her way up and earning a salary. We could have helped her through college or university but Holly has her own mind. She often looks on the company’s website but prefers going into town. As I said earlier, girls like to try clothes on and, with the limit of 3 items per person in the changing rooms, she shops with her friends. They then swap with each other. You get the gist?

Holly and I have always been close but Rachel intervenes even if Holly wants to sunbathe in the garden.

“Holly! That bikini bottom is so cut back I can see your pubic hair. Yenibosna Escort What will old Arthur next door think? What will you father think? And tighten your neck strap; when you bend you don’t want anyone seeing your nipples and blah, de blah, de blah.”

Rachel probably had a fair point. Holly’s breasts were a little below par for any horny male. A last minute shopping trip before she went on holiday meant her bikini top was too big and if the strings weren’t pulled tight the cups sometimes gaped open I knew that well enough as we’d been swimming in the town pool. Arthur would probably have a heart attack if his neighbour’s daughter accidentally flashed him. Poor bugger would die happy though.

Inside, Holly dare not parade around in underwear, had to wear a peep-proof nightie, dare not bend forward lest her limited cleavage showed too much skin. Neither dare she sit casually in a short skirt on the off chance she might show her panties.

When Rachel wasn’t around Holly sometimes used her charm to beg £10 off me, but those times were few. Rachel’s constant remarks had sunk in to Holly’s mind but Holly and I were at one. She loved me as much as any daughter could love her daddy and I loved her.

I could dream though. I could fantasise about being a fly on the wall being able to see her topless or naked. For now though all I had to look forward to was a kiss on the cheek and a brief hug.

I tried to think Steve’s idea through, then I tried some more. In the end I phoned Bill, a long-standing friend who knew far more about webcams than I did. He agreed to have a drink with me the following evening.

“Thanks for meeting up, Bill,” I said, placing a pint of his favourite real ale in front of him. Bill lived on the other side of town and we met up from time to time at The Rampaging Ferret Inn to solve all the world’s problems that affected us. As long as I kept the beers coming I knew he would fill me in with his expertise. Between us we had the webcam sub routines sorted.

Steve seemed relieved and pleased that the Board’s suggestions looked to be quite feasible. For days and weeks I drank the undrinkable machine coffee and ate the regular supply of home made biscuits that the Board donated, working long hours getting the coding working as I wanted it to be. Finally I scanned some face photos and matched them to samples of clothes on the website. A book load of coding, a webcam link and some volunteers from the secretaries pool and we had lift-off.

“It looks good,” said Steve, viewing my work on his laptop, and that was praise indeed. “How about our swimwear lines and, if any if our secretaries play along, some lingerie lines? Tell them I’ll pay a bonus and the photos or cam shots will be held securely. If you get a volunteer, could you link their home webcam to your testing pages so they can model for us in private?”

“I don’t see why not. That’s what we ultimately want anyway. And I think I know just which of the secretaries to ask.”

Roll on several months, more pages of coding, sleepless nights, testing, debugging, retesting. The vending machine coffee was upgraded and finally a sample of clothes, swimwear and, yes, lingerie were prepared for the new website. Our photography team worked hard and, with some image manipulation magic, quite a number of our stock photos were altered so the clothing could be detached from the model’s body. This was the digital version of the pound shop cutouts. The clothing could be dragged and dropped to the customer webcam photo in the virtual changing room, then resized as necessary. The results were tested against a female face and then a female body.

I needed a volunteer.

“Hi, Debbie speaking.”

“Hi Debbie, it’s Terry from IT.” I knew Debbie well. Like many of the other secretaries she rang me when her computer went down. Debbie was a vivacious blonde who partied to the full outside of work. Aged just 23 she was by far the most knowledgeable of our secretaries and could be depended upon to keep important matters hush. We’d had a kiss and cuddle and … well … a steamy session in the stationery store after the office party last Christmas.

“Debbie, I’ve been working on a new addition to the company website. We need a bit of modelling done and I thought you might be able to help. Could we talk it over through lunch?”

“Sure, Terry. I owe you a few favours for fixing my machine so quickly.”

“OK, I’ll meet you at The Drowned Rabbit at 12.30.”

The pub was just 2 minutes walk away and served excellent food. We talked my ideas over and I stood the food and drinks tab. It would mean a short visit to Debbie’s home to teach her how to access the test site and link her webcam up

It was around 6.30 when I arrived at Debbie’s house, a modestly sized semi on a housing estate a couple of miles north of town. Although the furniture wasn’t top notch, the house was neat and tidy and spotlessly clean. She led me to the small bedroom where her PC was.

“Thank you very much, Debbie, Yenibosna Escort Bayan for helping,” I began. “I just need to install the test package, tweak your browser and we will able to access my test area on the company’s website.” Rob, her husband, was as excited as Debbie and watched with interest as I got her up and running. Rob obviously didn’t know about the office party.

At home, Debbie was dressed far more casually than at work. Stood behind her I hoped Rob didn’t notice that I could easily gaze down Debbie’s cleavage, especially when she leaned forward to the screen and had a nip slip moment. It was obvious she’d had a quick shower; classy, expensive smelling shower gel and shampoo invaded my senses. Her cleavage was radiating enticing scents. I stayed just long enough to let her ‘try on’ a couple of outfits and explain that short sleeved blouses and swimwear would superimpose over any other items she might be wearing. In effect, being in bra and pants for the short sleeved blouses and short skirts, for example, would give better results. I left the rest to her imagination and assured her and Rob that the test site was secure and no-one else could see.

The following morning Debbie greeted me as soon as I arrived.

“Terry! That new thing you’ve put on the website is FANTASTIC. It took me a few minutes to learn how to drag and resize the clothes, but I tried on loads of stuff and I’m going to order one of the bikinis for our holiday. Rob thinks it’s fantastic too,” she laughed, looked around and whispered in case anyone should hear, “Especially the bra and panties sets. There’s some really nice stuff and Rob’s treating me to some of them.” She paused again as if thinking what to say. Finally she confided, with one of those naughty child giggles. “It was late when we got to bed and even later when we got to sleep.”

That was information overload. “So you think it will be a success?”

“As I said, it’s fantastic. I don’t think any stores would let Rob come in the changing room and I’m not giving any pervs a thrill by wearing underwear outside the cubicle so Rob can see. Anyway, a lot of stores ask you to try on their panties over your own for hygiene reasons. At home you’ve much more privacy, and you don’t have any restrictions on the number of items you take into the changing room. Rob wants me to have another go tonight.”

Rather than talk things over in the office, I stood her lunch again at The Drowned Rabbit. Debbie was bubbling with excitement.

“I didn’t want to say too much in the office,” she said, taking a mouthful of chicken piri piri salad. “As I understand it, this is top secret until it goes live.”

“I take it the idea is something you really like.”

“It’s brilliant. I could spend all weekend just browsing, trying things on, discussing the ones I like with Rob. You really need some more lingerie though. Although most people don’t see it, sexy underwear makes me feel confident and good all day long.”

Ah, yes, the office party. I remembered. “I have to see Mr Winterbourne this afternoon. I’ll tell him what you’ve said.”

We chatted like we’ve never chatted before, about life, about hobbies, about travel … anything and everything. She was an incurable flirt and already I was looking forward to the next office party. Sadly our lunch hour was coming to an end and we both had work to do.

Steve Winterbourne was in an equally good mood. Sales were already up on the previous year, as were profits. I filled him in with my progress and that Debbie had been very pleased indeed. I didn’t mention Rob nor their delay in getting to sleep.

“There’s just one favour I want to ask,” said Steve at the end of my debriefing.

“Sure,” I said, if I can help.

“Of course, I’ll cover all expenses but could you set the same test run up on Julie’s home computer? She sits in on our Board meetings to record the minutes and she knows the progress you’ve made. Julie often finds it difficult to fit in clothes shopping with her hectic social life and she’d be thrilled to road test the new website.”

“No problem,” I said, “But does she know there’s only a fraction of our stock on the test pages?”

“Yes she does. She also knows that the webcam link is to our secure server and any images can be deleted automatically at the end of the session.”

“I could do it tonight if you wish,” I answered. “If you can spare Julie for half an hour I’ll speak with her in my office and explain how it all works.” I wanted to make sure my next suggestion was phrased correctly. “Debbie also suggested that we might try some sexier lingerie. Considering that the virtual changing room is accessed mainly at home, she thinks that her husband might enjoy seeing her in something of his choice, rather than him experiencing some embarrassment buying her sexy undies in a high street store, only to find she doesn’t like them. Maybe you could offer a separate section for registered customers only?”

Steve nodded. “You have a valid point there. I’ll see Escort Yenibosna what I can do.”

I continued. “By insisting on checking for a valid credit card, this would eliminate under age youths sneaking a peek too. Perhaps as a sweetener you could offer a first purchase discount.”

“Valid points again. I’ll run them past the Board.”

I phoned home. Rachel answered and I told her I’d be late home. Rachel was becoming resigned to not seeing as much of me as she used to and Holly had started making comments that she ‘hardly sees daddy.’

I smiled. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’

I worked longer that day, rechecking and eliminating bugs. By the time I arrived at Julie’s apartment she too had showered and changed. She answered the door, hair still damp and wearing, let’s just say, very clingy clothes.

“Hi, Terry. Come in. Sorry I’ve not had time to eat yet. Can I get you a coffee?”

“That’s OK, and no, thanks for the offer but I’ll be eating very soon. Wow, you really look different to when you’re wearing your formal office clothes.”

“Thank you,” she answered, smiling. “But can you show me quickly how to use this test website. I’m eager to try it but my boyfriend is coming over soon. He’s rather the jealous sort.”

I understood immediately. That explained too the choice of clothes.

I installed the doctored webcam software from my USB stick and brought up the test website. A quick tutorial was all that was needed. Thoughts of Julie’s cleavage kept me hard all the way home.

“Daddy! You’re home. Mum said you’d be really late.”

Absence really did make the heart grow fonder. Holly had given me much more attention of late.

“I need something to eat, I’m starving, then you have my full attention.”

While Rachel busied herself warming up the remains of the dinner she’d cooked, Holly made the best of her mother’s distraction.

Watching very carefully she sat on my lap and hugged me tight. “Daddy,” she said quietly in my ear, “I really miss you not being here. I love you.” She kissed me fully on my lips.

“I love you too,” I said, “But I’m working on a major project and there is a large bonus at stake. It’s nearly complete, then we can do something really special.”

Holly’s breasts were gently pressing against me and the remains of a potent perfume filled my nostrils. Her long, pale brown hair tickled my cheeks. I could feel myself becoming very hard. Holly noticed.

“Daddy, that shouldn’t happen. Mum says it’s wrong. Please don’t let it spoil things.”

My voice dropped real low. “I’m sorry. It’s something nature doesn’t allow me to control. It tells me how deeply I love you and how beautiful you are. Do you really think it’s wrong?”

Holly thought a moment. No daddy, I don’t think it’s wrong, but if mum finds out …” Her voice tailed off.

Then I think you must go help mum. In that way nature will cure the problem.

Thankfully, by the time my dinner was ready all had calmed down. Rachel would be out for much of the evening at the WI meeting. There was something I needed to do on my laptop straight after dinner, then Holly and I could have some private time together. Both Rachel and Holly knew not to disturb me. As far as they were concerned my work was confidential and top secret. I used the small, spare bedroom as an office. Once there I booted up my laptop.

Right at the start of the project I had inserted coding that could allow me to monitor the webcam feed. The tiny app secretly installed from the USB stick enabled me to link directly into Debbie and Julie’s computer and view their webcam feed to the test website. In other words I could peek into their changing room.

Within seconds I became one of the privileged few to see Debbie ‘wearing’ company lingerie. One of her agreed conditions was that after the live launch her images would be totally wiped from our server, but we were still testing so I wasn’t going to break that rule. In any case, as far as Steve or any other staff were concerned the images were encrypted. Only I could access them with my master password.

After live launch any registered customer would be able to save their favourite item photos or short video on the company’s server for a few days. These would also be encrypted. My only concern was that, should I leave the company, my successor could find the coding and suspicions might be raised, but there wouldn’t be any tracking saved. I could plead an oversight that a development aid had simply been accidentally overlooked.

Debbie seemed pleased with her selection and her husband too. Judging by the way he was running his hands around the imaginary lacy bra and panties proved that he was impressed. The testing was perfect … then Debbie pressed a key and the dragged and resized clothing image disappeared. She was naked!

Then I keyed in Julie’s temporary account ID and my master password. She seemed to be sat browsing the range of items on the test site. I was disappointed, then suddenly an image appeared of her wearing a sleeveless top. She thought for a moment, shook her head as if annoyed at her mistake and discarded the sleeved top she was wearing. It was a simple error but I was lucky enough to view her wearing just her bra before the chosen virtual sleeveless top became superimposed again.

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