"...I just, I dunno, am so jealous of you."
Zoe grinned lackadaisically, shrugging her shoulders as she continued applying the finishing touches to the false lashes she'd placed on her latest client's face. Fatimah had been a regular since she was a teen, coming at first with her cool Auntie to get her nails done and now waltzing in by herself as an adult to get done up for a friend's hen night.
She'd had quite the metamorphosis, at least in the eyes of the ever-present beauticians. Not quite to the degree of the three ladies now zipping about within the salon, theirs being much more drastic and (harshly speaking) jarring in nature.
Zoe, for example, hadn't switched her style up (neck upwards) so to speak, still styling her dark brown hair into the sterile, obstinately professional looking bun she'd always use at work, with the accompanying oversized & overpriced Chanel glasses with the dorky square frames.
Beneath these familiar features however was an unmistakably masculine body, a well-sculpted one at that, with rippling biceps and a pair of calves that could pop a bull's head, swathed in a sleeveless white blouse, a medium-length scalloped skirt (that left little of her groin's contents to the imagination due to its form-fitting hem), as well as a pair of short Chelsea boots and a stylish suede jacket to boot.
"How come, luv?"
"Well..." Fatima rolled her tongue around her mouth as Zoe's stubby, acrylic-tipped fingers began gingerly touching on some mascara.
"I dunno. It's just...I'm not sure my Ibrahim would still enjoy my company without my...endowments."
The Pakistani woman gestured to her full chest with a nervous but polite smile, a far cry from Zoe's set of meaty pecs.
"You'd be surprised, Fatimah," Carly chuckled, emerging from the salon's backroom with a hefty cardboard box in hand.
"For all their masculinity talk, men are surprisingly susceptible to a sturdy set of cum gutters."
"Carly...!"
Zoe's cheeks flushed bright red, her meaty paw instinctively moving to obscure her chiseled abdomen.
"What? Am I lying? For a house-husband, that Carl fella was strapped."
Carly clucked her teeth as she set the box down, a coy grin settling across her face as she rifled within for some unknown beauty product that only an expert of her caliber would even care to know of.
"Besides, not all of us were as fortunate in the randomised genetic lottery."
"Surely you're not referring to yourself, ungrateful b*tch," Zoe scoffed, "Katie's an absolute bombshell."
Carly smirked and spun around with pride, showcasing the likewise new bod under her usual mug, courtesy of her friend Nicola's second eldest daughter, a recent (and unfortunately timed) hire from Wilko. She'd not lost much at all post-trade, considering Carly had shared the same height and cup size as the young lass even before the trade had occurred.
Alas, it was evident that Carly was benefitting from the youthful vigor that'd been granted to her, not only because it gave her license to run around a bit more, but also because of the sexy figure she cut beneath her short dress and lacy skirt combo- high-gathered waist to accentuate her widened hips, of course- with sexy black pantyhose and a bold pair of black high-heeled pumps.
"When'd I say I was complaining?" Carly remarked, whipping her short, asymmetrical blonde hairstyle out her eyes in a way reminiscent of a mean cheerleader on a cheesy American noughties sitcom.
"Twenty-years younger with a bit of girth added to the tits is a huge net positive, even when taking bleaching my pubes blonde into account. I'd been thinking about doing a bit of lasering to snip off that faded rose tat on my boob; guess good ol' Mother Nature didn't want me shelling out £4K."
"Bet Steven's absolutely gutted with his decision nowadays," Zoe sighed. "A few more months and the two of you would be getting on like rabbits in heat."
"He should be," Carly tutted, "But we don't need to badmouth him too much, not now that we've both become somewhat amicable again. Anyhow, I've already given him enough verbal bollockings for breaking up with me over text like a pussy over the last few months to last him a lifetime."
"Not a bad idea to keep that nerd on the leash," Zoe chuckled afterwards. "I had half a mind of using his breakup-guilt to get a free titjob."
"Zoe...!"
The swapped beauticians' banter was interrupted by the soft patter of Holly's feet entering the room's open plan, an ironic sound considering the size of the hooves now attached to the young lady. Holly, always the girly girl, was clad in a relatively subtle outfit today consisting of a pair of baby blue gathered jeans and ankle-strap wedges, with a pair of sexy oversized hoop earrings completing the 'MILF-chic' aesthetic.
Too bad the body beneath her cute twin plaits was anything but, being a somewhat lean, unathletic looking boy bod that stretched her clothes in all the wrong places, not that Holly seemed aware of this fact. One belonging to Scott, Katie's current boyfriend, funnily enough.
Well aware that their bodies had engage in a somewhat casual relationship (mostly consisting of spontaneous, post-lecture hookups, according to Katie's own admission), Carly found herself uncharacteristically drawn to Holly's flattened torso and boyish bulge, a sentiment she'd embarrassedly passed onto Holly not too long ago only to find the lingering sexual tension was mutual.
"Hey, boss," she chirped, jamming her blue-polished nail towards the back, "I just finished organising the exfoliating creams in the back. Is it okay if we...?"
Holly jerked her head to the side conspicuously, a sly smirk on her face. Carly blushed, understanding the gesture. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd done such a thing in the salon, far from, but it was the first time Holly had openly suggested the notion outside of hushed, secretive whispers.
"Well done, sweetie," Carly cooed, trying to maintain some decorum. "But are you sure? I thought Jason..."
"Nope. Him and some of his lads have gone down to Maga-bloody-luf for three days, without my say-so of course. No doubt he's getting some random-arse Spanish slut to eat out Sasha's pussy, the man-whore."
"Lucky bastard," Zoe chirped with a grin only for Carly to playfully smack her arm
"Sorry, luv," Carly replied, the edge of her lip quivering into a smile. "Just wait in the back for me if you're done, okay? I'll pop my head round in a minute."
Holly nodded eagerly, shooting Carly a wink before she disappeared once more.
"I assume you'll be taking your break sooner than expected today, eh?" Zoe purred, placing down her lash utensils before holding up a mirror to showcase her finished product to her client below, to Fatimah's quiet relief.
"Take care of Fatimah, Zoe. I'll worry about logging it on the timesheets."
Carly giggled impishly as she slapped her palm against Zoe's (now curveless) rear, eliciting an equally impish cry from her best friend, before she gleefully skipped into the store's back room, her shapely teenage peach of an arse bouncing in tandem.
"Just make sure you both put everything back in ord..."
Zoe groaned as she heard a momentary cry fill the air only to be replaced by hushed giggles and lips smacking only a few seconds after, indicating that Holly had been hiding round the corner in wait the entire time.
"...And they're off. Great."
Fatimah frowned. "Are they really going to...?"
"Fatimah, darling," Zoe butted in, her playful smirk dissipating into a cold, business-like glare. "You've got a back-sack-'n'-crack waxing to worry about, luv. Their sex lives should be the last thing on your mind right now."
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