From nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE Tue Jul 15 11:13:00 1997
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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary by Amy Brett (04/11)
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Date: 15 Jul 1997 15:13:00 GMT
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Hi.
This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next
one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the
current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and
rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
4___The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_
"Do you have one you've done before?"
"Sure," he said and went to the credenza behind his desk and got a bound
report about half an inch thick. He handed it to me. I scanned it quickly
as he stood at my side, looking over my shoulder. It looked like most of
the material was already set and only a few pages at the beginning were
tailored to the specific potential client.
"This looks pretty easy," I noted.
"Yeah. Not bad. A few hours work but I can never seem to get a block of
time during the day when I can concentrate on things like that."
As if to punctuate the statement, the phone rang. He started to get it but
I intercepted him.
"Let me," I said.
"Mr. Miller's office. May I help you?"
"Yeah. This is Ed. Let me talk to Bill please, hon."
"One moment please." I pressed the hold button and handed the phone to Bill.
"Ed?"
"Oh, yeah. Ed's marketing," he explained as he sat down back behind the
desk and pressed the button.
"Hi, Ed. What's up?" He listened and looked up at me and smiling after a
few seconds. "Yeah. Yeah, excellent as far as I can tell so far. Yeah."
He chuckled. "That, too." I had the feeling I was the topic of conversation
and wondered if this was one of the marketing types the girl in the bathroom
was talking about.
"Yeah. No. I don't think so," he said, looking up at me. "Thanks. We'll
see. No. No. No fucking way. Yeah, bye."
"Is there anything else I should know?" I asked as he hung up. I didn't
have to speculate much on the call. I thought I could have carried on the
other end of the conversation at one time. And I was pretty sure I didn't
want to fill it in when it was applied to me.
"Not right now," he said. "You can start on these." He handed me the
handwritten memos and I returned to my desk.
In the next two hours, I answered the phone a half dozen times, finished the
memos, and looked at the proposal on the computer. He was pleased when I
gave him the memos in the first hour.
I finished my first day of work as a woman relatively uneventfully with a
five minute pep talk from Bill about how well I was starting and left the
building on time.
9. Chapter
We celebrated our first day at work (and getting hired) by going to the bar
on the way to Margaret's. She was buying.
We went straight to our usual booth and ordered our usual drinks. That's
where the similarities to any other time ended.
First, when we walked through the door, every eye in the place turned to us
or came to us within a nudge or two. Next, when the drinks came, the bar
girl, who was all smiles, told us somebody at the bar had bought them for us
and when I looked, a guy smiled and saluted toward me. In about another
minute, we had second and third drinks, delivered at the same time from
various parts of the bar.
We still sipped at our drinks, as we always had, but with glasses that
seemed to be bottomless, we were all drinking more than usual and getting
happier in the process. Thanks to that, we talked about absolutely nothing
serious.
If we had, it wouldn't have worked because we were interrupted every 10
minutes by another guy or pair of guys or group of guys who came to "talk".
They all wanted one or all of us to join them, to buy drinks for us in spite
of the groaning table filled with them already, or to offer the rest of the
night out somewhere else. We got offers for movies, discos, and more than
one apartment.
They seemed to concentrate on Michelle and I but Paula and even Margaret had
to fend off offers when they went to the restroom.
Needless to say, even when we left after about an hour and a half or so to
go home, we didn't discuss anything even marginally serious. What I'd
thought important that afternoon, wasn't even important to me by then. In
fact, I'd entirely put it out of my mind for the night.
With another beer at home and the hamburgers we'd picked up on the way, we
were all ready for bed and sleep.
* * *
I'd never had a secretary. Too lowly. And I'd never really known one. But
I had an idea I knew what a secretary should do.
Anticipate what your boss needs to do his job and try to do as much as
possible without step by step guidance. So that's the way I approached my
first real morning of work.
I made it to work a few minutes early. Nothing remarkable. Just a few
minutes. I pulled up the calendar and printed out a copy of the day's
appointments. When Bill came in, I smiled, said hello, handed him the
printout, and went for coffee.
It didn't look like he'd even gotten settled behind his desk when I came
back with the coffee, set it on his coaster, and sat down.
"If you have any additions to your schedule, just let me know," I told him
with what I hoped was a bright smile. He smiled back every bit as brightly
and moved himself and his coffee to the chair in front of his desk again.
"I like your outfits," he said, disconnecting me somewhat. This morning,
I'd chosen one of the shirt-cut dresses that the rest of the girls thought
was flattering to my figure but not revealing. The skirt fell to the top of
my knees. "You know though that the boss's secretary, as well as being the
most beautiful in the place, usually dresses slightly more what should I
say? Sexy?
"You know," he said with a wave of the hand. "Shorter skirts. Maybe
tighter. Maybe the tops a little more revealing."
I was really stunned. No boss in the world could suggest how a secretary
should dress, unless it was more conservatively, without expecting trouble.
But I bit my tongue and slowly nodded agreement.
>From there, he made small talk for another 15 minutes, interspersed with
tidbits about his evening at home (unexciting in the extreme) and
observations about the business. I responded in kind and left when he said
he'd tell me if there were additions to the schedule or anything else he
needed.
I answered the phone, checking with Bill about salesmen and others before
connecting some, and fending off the rest or redirecting them to other
people. He wrote another half a dozen short memos that I typed, taking them
to him with the mail. The mail produced a dozen letters in response that I
also typed.
I went to lunch with Paula and noticed that something seemed to be a problem
but she just shook her head when I asked and said it was nothing. I should
have pressed her on it.
At two, I got coffee for Bill and I, and was greeted with a big smile as I
brought them and most of the letters. He sat at the other chair in front of
me as usual while we talked pleasantly enough. I felt less self-conscious
with each of these meetings, almost feeling at ease.
This time, however, I noticed that he seemed to study me unlike any other
time I'd been with him. Even during the initial interview. It was
disconcerting, in a way, since he was actually staring as much as anything.
And staring at parts as I hadn't noticed him doing before.
First he stared into my eyes, my face, as if memorizing every contour. Then
he stared at my neck and chest (something I was coming to expect if not to
thoroughly enjoy). Then he talked to me but looked at my crossed legs, the
hem of my dress, and my hands where I'd set them over my bared knee to keep
from fidgeting.
Sometimes I had a difficult time concentrating on what he was saying or
asking me for wondering what, exactly, he was looking at and trying to
remember if he'd done that before in our short experience together. I
didn't think so but I wasn't sure. Wasn't sure enough to run, although I
did blush at his intense scrutiny.
Did all women undergo this kind of inspection from some men? Was he
attracted to me? What was it? And, most important to me for some reason.
Was this new or something I just hadn't noticed before?
As had been the case since the previous afternoon's session, I was happier
when he finally said we needed to get back to work, dismissing me as he
stood up to return to his desk.
I was just reaching out for the door, my mind racing at 90 miles an hour,
when he said, "Oh Andy?" I turned and said yes, awaiting the question. But
no question was forthcoming. He just stared at me, a smile slowly spreading
on his face as his statement sunk in.
My throat clenched as I started to correct the situation. But all I could
do was stand there with my mouth working silently like a fish out of water
and my mind whirring with possible ways I could undo the damage I recognized
now.
"Come back and sit down," he said. I hadn't had that much trouble walking
on the high heels since the first minutes I'd worn them Friday.
"I had lunch with Roger today and he told me a most interesting story," he
began as I sat down nervously, again knee to knee with him. "He said his
new secretary dropped her purse this morning and, being a gentleman, he
helped her pick her things back up.
"But one thing he picked up was her driver's license. He said he was very
surprised when he saw the name on it and recognized a former employee. Now
he said that though Paula seems to be an excellent employee he's had some
... well, say strange vibes from her."
I was trying to control my breathing to stop my chest from heaving as it
was.
"May I see your driver's license?" he asked softly, still pleasantly. I
started to say it was in my purse at my desk. Then I knew it really wasn't
necessary.
"You don't need to," I said. He nodded. "So what now? Am I fired for
gaining employment under false pretenses?"
For far too long, several seconds that allowed me to listen to the surge of
blood through my ears in the silent room, he stared at me with a slight
smile.
"You're very good," he finally said. "You're a very good secretary. At
least from what I've seen so far and I expect that will continue. But, as
Amy, you're very good. Normally poised. I can understand why you're not
right now. Beautiful. Better. You're sexy as hell."
He looked at me some more. Silently.
"You must have wanted this job very much." I nodded. "But I don't think
even that motivation could make you so thoroughly ... believable. I've
seen women ... real women that is ... who are not nearly so feminine or
appealing. Certainly appealing. I've been thinking very un-boss-like
thoughts, ones the EEOC would not approve of at all, since the moment you
walked in the door for your interview."
Now he grinned from ear to ear.
"We find ourselves in a rather unique position," he said then, tapping his
front teeth with a fingernail. "You obviously want this job. I need you to
do the job. You qualify in all ways." He stopped. "But one.
"One, I think, that anyone would be hard pressed to discover without your
direct assistance. Without your telling them outright, in fact. I don't
think you're inclined to do that. Am I right?"
I nodded jerkily.
"Did you and Paula do this on your own or did you have help?" he asked
quickly. I opened my mouth but nothing came out luckily. Only after I
thought about it did I question saying anything. "Ah, Margaret. Of course.
She had to be in on it. She did the background check. You couldn't have
manufactured qualifications quickly enough to fool her."
I choked again but he didn't need an answer. My face had been answer enough
for him.
"Okay. So it's not likely she'd give you away to anyone who matters.
Neither would Paula. She's in the same position you're in. In fact, she
and Roger already had this little talk and came to an arrangement.
"In fact, the same arrangement I intend to suggest to you."
I could only wait. If there had been a ticking grandfather clock or
metronome it couldn't have ticked off more clearly than the beats of my
pounding heart. Perhaps I couldn't have heard over it anyway. A drummer
leading the way to the gallows couldn't have made any more noise in my head.
"One of the reasons I've succeeded in business is that I'm a very pragmatic
man. I know what works in real life and what doesn't. And I know when an
opportunity is offered to me and how to take advantage of it."
I must have been a few beats back in this music, still trying to react to
his initial statements.
"I'm ... I'm not fired?" I said, seeing the grim job search again. The
frustration. The feelings of complete loss of self worth.
"No. Or at least it's leaning that way. But I need to know that you are
totally loyal." I nodded my head. "To me and to the company. That you're
not going to turn us all in to the EEOC at your first opportunity."
"No!" I said in answer.
"That you're not going to use your unique situation to take advantage of
us." He stood up and I stood up with him. "Some odd kind of sexual
discrimination suit."
"No. How " He towered over me and, before I could finish either my thought
or my statement, put one arm under mine and pulled me close against him. He
didn't do it hard enough to drive the wind out of me. The unexpected action
did that to me instead as I caught myself with a hand on his chest and the
other on his strong arm.
If I had the breath to say more, it would have been wasted as his mouth
covered mine. My eyes probably sprung to two inch circles with the surprise
I felt at being kissed by this man. By any man.
"This is the test," he said softly, his lips still brushing against my
lipstick. "Pass or fail."
Strangely, I felt a sort of relief and, as his mouth covered mine again,
sighed into it.
Though Paula was really a man, our bedtime games had been as women usually
and only with a strange mental shift did my mind approve that. But this was
surely a man. A big man. Hot against my front and leaning over me so my
neck was bent back with the pressure of his kiss, his hand hard in my back.
There was something about feeling my breasts pressing into his hard chest,
his leg pressing between mine. I felt like a woman in a man's arms and I
reacted like one.
My hand moved from his chest where it had made a feeble attempt at holding
him back, to the back of his neck to hold his kiss. When his tongue delved
into my mouth, it was already open and accepting. When I felt his dick hard
against the side of my stomach, it felt right and I was glad I'd caused it.
Minutes later, wildly pleasurable minutes, adoring minutes, he broke the
kiss and slowly lowered himself to the chair again without moving his hand
from its place in the middle of my back. I found myself between his legs on
my knees and my head on his chest for a few minutes.
I felt disappointment when he moved me away and curiosity when he let go of
my arms, my hands resting on his legs. It shows you how ready I was that I
only watched his hands move as he unbuckled his belt, unzipped, and put his
hands in the sides of his underwear to push them down below his knees.
He sat back in the chair, slid forward slightly, and moved the leaves of his
shirt to the sides.
He stood hard and straight from the patch of dark pubic hair, an inch in
diameter for at least seven or eight inches to a mushroom shaped, flared
purple head topped with a drop of clear liquid.
His hand moved under the back of my hair and pulled me toward it as I
stared. His knees were at my sides as he lifted it straight out from his
body so I was looking down its length.
My hands on his thighs, I didn't resist mor e than slightly as the flared
head was guided to my lips. I opened my mouth to accept it and looked up
into his opened mouth, as if he were demonstrating for me. A little more
pressure on the back of my neck and I had to resist as it touched the back
of my mouth.
"Take it all," he gasped. "Just once. All the way."
I bent my head forward and swallowed. I can't say what it was like since
I'd never experienced anything like it before. As it entered my throat and
my thoughts were of retreating, he pressed down much harder than before and
my mouth sunk all the way into his pubic hair.
"That's it!" he gasped, releasing the pressure on my neck so I could react
as I'd wanted.
I wondered if I was going to lose the contents of my stomach and realized I
wasn't. It wasn't even reacting against the thrust. I swallowed hard when
it was again near my teeth, taking a deep breath. The pressure returned and
I went with it all the way down.
"Ah!" he gasped and released me again. "Oh. Shit. Amy."
This time, his hand vibrating still on my neck, I purposely swallowed, took
another deep breath, and plunged down on him myself.
"Ohhhh!" he gasped more loudly. I had control now and moved out
immediately, his hand weak against my shoulder. Again with the same result
but more a gurgle.
This time I moved around the hard head before going down again and quickly
back up, drawing him with me. And I did draw him completely. He gasped and
filled my mouth with come. So much that I had no hope of keeping up with it
as he went through spasm after spasm.
I swallowed most of it but lost some down the sides. To keep from letting
it mess him up, I sat up quickly and grabbed for the box of Kleenex on the
front edge of the desk. Two pieces caught it before it went into his pubic
hair but made him gasp, probably with pain now, as I touched the sensitive
head.
"Pass or fail?" I had to ask.
"Magna Cum Laude," he said, slumping in the chair. His in-taken breath was
a shudder.
"Do you need anything else, Bill?" I asked in my most efficient secretary
voice.
"Huh uh," he moaned before I got to my feet and leaned over to kiss him
gently before leaving. I waited at my desk for a few minutes before calling
to tell him I needed to go to the restroom so he would cover the phones.
10. Chapter
The rest of the afternoon was easy. Easy enough that I began writing this
between the few telephone calls.
Just before five, Bill asked me to come back into his office. I sat down in
my customary place but he stayed behind the desk.
"Do you think that was sexual harassment?" he asked. I thought back to my
human resources experience and knew the answer.
"Of course," I said. He chuckled.
"You're honest."
"I worked in your HRD department with Margaret for several years. From
being a 'woman' for two days work here, I know enough to realize there is a
widespread and pervasive atmosphere of sexual harassment throughout the
company. Far worse than the preferential treatment given men before."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that the right woman with the right motivation could probably shut
your business down," I noted unnecessarily.
"Why hasn't it happened to this point?"
"I imagine a number of reasons. Some enjoy it. Some are using it as a
stepping stone, learning new things and going new places. Some are probably
afraid or have been compromised by their own actions enough that they can't
report anything without implicating themselves too deeply."
"Why haven't you reported it?"
"The same. I can learn a lot here and need the job. I can't do it without
deeply embarrassing myself and probably hurting a lot of other people."
"And?"
I looked at my hands and then back up into his eyes. He wasn't smiling but
he was looking at me pleasantly.
"And because I enjoyed it, too."
"So what now?"
"Exactly. What now? Are you going to fire me?"
"I never thought I would. Why would I? You went to a great deal of hard
work to be here. It must be very difficult. To change yourself over so
completely."
"We sort of enjoyed it," I said with a smile slipping onto my lips.
"Are you really blond?"
"Yes. Not as long, of course."
"It will be. When it is, I hope you'll wear it naturally. Curled, of
course." I nodded. "How much of that is yours?" He pointed toward my chest
and I shook my head.
"Have you thought about hormone treatments?"
"I first tried any of this Friday," I noted.
"If you're interested, I have a friend who's a sex therapist. Psychiatrist.
He could help you."
He shifted in his chair, the grin spreading somewhat.
"You know, before I said anything. I looked at you very carefully."
"I noticed. I wondered ..."
"There are a few things physically different in a man's body. A prominent
Adam's apple. Knobbier knees. Narrower hips. Thicker waist. Harder tush.
Different musculature in general but particularly noticeable in the upper
arms, thighs, and calves. More facial and body hair, of course."
"How did I do?" I asked. He nodded.
"Your Adam's apple is small. I've seen women with larger. Same with your
knees. You do have narrow hips but I've seen well, you get the idea. Same
all around. Each slightly masculine and maybe, taken together, you could
put together a case for being male. Something like fingerprint
identification. Enough points makes it true. But it would be very hard
without verification, in your case. In fact, I wouldn't have thought to
look before Paula's discovery by Roger.
"When I called your name, if you'd looked at me like I was a fool, I would
have still dismissed the entire idea." He smiled again. "You should have
expected that possibility. Maybe someone calling to another friend by that
name or something."
"There aren't that many people named Andy," I said.
"Yeah. Probably true." He looked at me again for quite a while before
speaking again. "Would you come here, please?"
I stood up and went around his desk as he turned in his executive chair to
follow my progress until I was standing knee to knee with him again.
"You have great legs," he said with a smile, never looking up from them.
"Lift your skirt and let me see them."
I hesitated first but then reached to the sides of the skirt and lifted it
until he could see my legs almost completely.
"Very very impressive. I think you should show off more of them. You
certainly wouldn't give anything away if you showed as much as you are now
all the time."
"They don't even make skirts this short," I noted.
"Well. Shorter, anyway. Okay?" I nodded agreement. "Now let me see the
rest."
Feeling very uncomfortable now, I lifted it further.
"All the way up." I did. It was actually above my waist as he leaned
forward, his hand touching my hip through the pantyhose. "Very impressive.
Cute panties."
His hand moved silkily across the front of my hip onto the front of my
panties and rubbed down the intersection of my leg and trunk before going
back up the other side. He'd crossed my tightly held and shrunken penis in
the traverse.
"Amazing," he sighed. "You know, I'm still not absolutely sure."
Sitting back slightly, he reached to the sides of my pantyhose and slowly
began pulling them down until they were around my thighs. I couldn't read
the look on his face. The whole situation was so wildly alien to me that I
was shaking with fear and one of the effects was that I was still as soft as
I ever have been.
Very carefully, he moved my panties back into place, making sure they were
positioned just as they had been. Then he rolled the pantyhose back where
they belonged as well. I wondered what he was thinking but there was no way
I would even consider asking. I dropped my skirt back into place and jumped
when his hands went to the front of the shirt-cut dress and began
unbuttoning from the top as he looked up into my eyes.
When he had it unbuttoned almost to the waist, he put his hands on the sides
of it and opened it. I knew that the feminine cotton bra was filled almost
perfectly with the breast forms and that it was tight enough that it pulled
the small amount of my moderate chest flesh and muscle to a hint of a
cleavage.
"There's something called a miracle bra," he said softly. "They sell them
all over. Get one. And some blouses that show more chest. And this nice
little cleavage." He ran his fingernail down between the false breasts and
sent shivers running down my body. I'm sure he saw the goose bumps it
produced.
He just grinned up at me and slowly rebuttoned the dress to a point between
my breasts. When I reached up to finish it, he took my hands and moved them
to my sides.
"Leave it. Like that. I like it." He nodded to me by way of dismissal and
I took the opportunity to walk back around the desk.
"Do you need anything else?" I asked like a good little secretary, scared to
death he would say yes.
"You've got it, Amy. You really have. Now emphasize the feminine as much
as you can without looking trashy," he said. "Feminine. Showy. Classy.
Okay?"
"Yes sir. If I can."
"You can. See you in the morning."
I nodded, went through the door, straightened my dress with a quickly
dismissed thought of re-buttoning the top buttons, got my purse, and left
for the day.
When I got to the car, Margaret and Michelle seemed perfectly normal if a
little concerned that I was a few minutes late. But Paula looked at me
quickly and then away as if she was embarrassed. She sat with her legs
crossed and her hands around her middle defensively.
* * *
Paula was uncharacteristically quiet as we made dinner for the others and
while the rest of us talked about our days (without some of my experiences)
and later when we watched television for a while.
A little early, she said goodnight and, tired as well, I kissed Margaret's
cheek, Michelle on the mouth, and followed her. She still wasn't talking as
she washed her face and hung up her clothes.
She surprised me when the first thing she'd really said, other than in
direct response to my questions, was "Do you think I can wear sheer
pantyhose?"
"Of course," I said without hesitation. She has boyish legs and hips but
the "boyish" is a feminine appellation. She's cute in an almost little girl
way.
"What about showing more top? You know."
"You're not stacked," I pointed out unnecessarily. "But you have a cute
shape. A feminine shape. You could pull it off with no problem."
She nodded without further comment.
"Why?"
"Roger told me to."
"To wear sheer pantyhose and show more top?"
"Uh huh. Tomorrow." She looked distressed to me. "You know all through
this I've been more comfortable in pants or leggings or something that
covers everything up."
"I know that's what you like. But I've always thought you were a little
conservative. It'll be okay."
"But what if I get caught?" she said looking into my eyes for reassurance.
"I just know you can do it, hon. Really."
She nodded but didn't look like she really believed it still. We got into
our nightgowns and turned out the lights. I felt her laying on her back
next to me as rigid as a board. I knew she had more but I could only wait
and try to make it easier for her.
I rolled onto my side and tried to get closer to her.
"Cuddle with me, hon," I said.
"You won't want me to," she said. Now I knew there was a problem.
"What is it, baby?" I rubbed the side of her neck and head with one hand.
She took a very deep breath.
"I fucked up today," she began.
"How?"
"I ... well, I dropped my purse. That was first. But I let Roger help me
pick things up."
"I know," I said simply. There was a long silence.
"You know?"
"Yeah. Bill told me about it. How Roger found your driver's license.
Everything."
"But ..." she said, the confusion in her voice "... I was sure if Roger
told Bill that, well, we'd get in trouble. That we'd probably all get
fired."
"We kind of came to an agreement," I said.
"He knows about us? You too?"
"Yeah. He knows."
"W-what is he going to do?"
"He said ..." I thought about what he'd said about me but switched my tack.
"He told me Roger thinks you're too valuable to be fired."
She was silent.
"And the same for me. He, well, let's say that we decided that he couldn't
make a deal out of it without making waves with the EEOC and problems
finding people to replace us and we couldn't because it would hurt all of
us." A simplification that left some things out but I figured she didn't
need to know everything.
"Did you tell him about Margaret and Michelle?"
"Huh uh. He guessed about Margaret since she had to do the background
checks. But not about Michelle."
"I didn't tell Roger about anybody. Just me."
"Yeah. Bill figured me out by himself with what Roger told him. We better
tell them about it in the morning so they won't be surprised."
"Yeah," she agreed. "You really think it's going to be okay?"
"Sure," I said. In fact, I wasn't totally convinced by the current set of
facts. A lot of things could happen. "So, Roger told you to wear stockings
and show more skin on top."
"Uh huh. That's really scary, too."
"A little. But we'll be okay."
"You said 'we.'"
"Yeah. I got the same word from Bill. I wonder if they agreed to it at
lunch?"
"Maybe. I mean ..." She stopped and took another deep breath. "Well, when
Roger saw my driver's license, he took me into his office and asked me
everything. Made me tell him all about our ... change. You know. Nothing
specific that involved any of you guys or anything. Just about trying the
clothes Friday and shopping Saturday and getting used to things Sunday. And
coming in and interviewing and everything Monday, of course. But he knew
about that."
I waited, knowing she wanted to tell me more.
"That's why you were so distracted at lunch," I said.
"Yeah. I was worried. The last thing he said was that he needed to talk to
someone. But I didn't know he'd talked to Bill until they came back from
lunch together. That's when I knew I might have got you in trouble, too."
"So what did he tell you after lunch?" She gulped before speaking.
"He took me back in his office again and said there were several conditions
for me to keep working," she said. "First, keep my mouth shut about our
arrangement." She stopped again. "Then," she took a deep, shuddering
breath, "he had me show him my bra. He just grinned at me and nodded."
"Lots of girls are small there," I reminded her again.
"Yeah, but I have an appointment tomorrow with some psychiatrist friend of
his he says can make real tits grow. He says we'll see how big they really
get." Bill had offered me the same thing. Suggested it. But he hadn't made
an appointment for me. "Then he had me take my leggings off, put the heels
back on, and walk around for him."
I remembered the short dress she'd worn during the day and knew how
sensitive she was to showing her body. I could imagine her embarrassment
and the way she must have looked during that.
"That's when he told me to wear stockings." I nodded against her shoulder.
"He had me come and sit on the edge of his desk and put his hand on my leg
while he talked.
"He said that sexual harassment pre-supposes someone of the opposite sex.
First. Then he said that if both people had something to gain and a lot to
lose, it was something just between the two of them.
"He looked up at me and asked if I had anything to gain from staying working
there and I said yes. Then he asked if I thought there was a chance that I
might gain something from a sexual relationship with him."
I was holding my breath, waiting for what she was going to say next.
"I told him I didn't know. Then he said I should know that he has a lot to
lose if ... what I am gets around or if, well, someone knew that he'd had a
sexual relationship with a boy. He called me a boy."
I nodded again.
"What happened?" I said softly, prodding.
"He lifted up my skirt and touched my legs and all around my panties and,
then, the front of my panties." Her breathing was hard now. "Then he took
them off and kept me sitting there on his desk, looking at me.
"He said it looked like I was as much girl as boy anyway," she said and I
wondered if that made her happy or unhappy. "He thought it was great, he
said."
I could only wait. Maybe she'd give me her reaction without my asking and
embarrassing her further.
"He said, 'You have a cute clit.' Do you believe that?" She sounded pleased
so I said sure.
"What happened then?" I asked.
"He spread my legs real far and played with my pussy and licked my clit
until I came," she said quickly, really breathing hard now. "I know you did
that once but it's different when a real man does it to you."
I didn't know whether to laugh or get upset. Of course, when I'd done it,
I'd been dressed in a nightgown filled out with breasts and dragging long
hair across her flat stomach. I hadn't felt like a man then and decided to
dismiss the comment now.
"I don't know how he did it. He didn't, you know, touch my butt then. Just
between my legs. But it was exactly like he was playing with my pussy and
--
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From nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE Tue Jul 15 11:15:47 1997
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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary by Amy Brett (05/11)
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Date: 15 Jul 1997 15:15:47 GMT
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Hi.
This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next
one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the
current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and
rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
_The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_ 5
that's what he told me he'd done."
I moved my hand down her silky front and into her panties, my fingers
finding the spot directly between her legs and pressing.
"Yes," she hissed. "That's it. Oh."
I rubbed the spot as she rocked her pelvis forward and back and moaned. I
wasn't too surprised when she clenched around her orgasm before twisting her
body toward me and kissing me hard for long minutes.
"Oh, Amy," she said. "You understand."
"Yes. I understand," I told her as I got a few Kleenex to clean off my hand
and give to her to clean up her stomach.
Satisfied and happy, she nuzzled into my neck and fell asleep.
I lay there for a while wondering what the new day would bring and if it
could possibly be as event filled as the last few had been.
11. Chapter
I had bought exactly one set of lace panties and tight uplift bra that I put
on when I got out of the bathtub before putting on my sheerest pantyhose, my
only short skirt (a pink one that was really part of a suit), and a white
puff sleeved blouse with an open circle neck that fell low in front almost
to my bra.
A thin silver chain with a silver medallion lay on my chest at the top of a
noticeable cleavage and matching dangly earrings hung from my earlobes.
Paula bounded with excitement and bounced my breasts on her palms with a
giggle as she went into the bathroom to get ready, saying she didn't have
anything to worry about if I could do what I'd done and look so great.
I got more rave notices when I went to the kitchen to join Margaret and
Michelle for coffee and donuts. While we ate, I filled them in on what had
happened the day before and what the status was for them. Michelle didn't
seem to care and Margaret didn't seem overly worried about herself. She did
express some concern for Paula and me. I told her we'd be okay and
sincerely hoped I was right.
We agreed to support Paula and, if necessary, to help her with her outfit.
But we needn't have worried. When she came out of the room, her legs were
sheathed in sheer pantyhose and looked great, if just a little skinny.
The tight white skirt would have been impossible to walk in if it had been a
foot longer. But since it ended high on her thighs, it could hardly tie her
knees together.
The equally tight white tee-shirt with its red and blue sequined flowers
bulged over her cute bra and circled low on her chest. She wore several
brass bracelets and a necklace that was chain to a series of brass coins on
her chest. One coin hung from each ear below her short auburn hair.
"Oh, honey, isn't that cute!" Margaret said before any of us could react.
"It looks great on you, Paula," Michelle said. I just smiled my approval
and nodded an I-told- you-so nod. She grinned back happily.
* * *
When I walked into my office, I wondered if I'd taken a wrong turn
somewhere. I had to look at Mr. Miller's name on his door before I was
convinced.
The night before when I left, my desk was a solid dark wood one with an
L-extension that held the computer. The open end had been open to a wall
next to Bill's door and four chairs sat across the room behind a low coffee
table. The door to the hallway had been to the left of the row of chairs.
Now, a new glass topped desk sat tight to the edge of the door, a dropped
glass leaf on the right held my computer, and two chairs and short end
tables were on each side of Bill's door. There were even new paintings over
each pair of chairs.
When I sat down in the soft white leather office chair and turned to start
the computer, I saw that I was looking directly at Bill's door over the top
of the computer monitor. The computer itself was on the floor to the right
side of the drop leaf and the printer against the wall to the right. All
the wires were neatly hidden.
I printed out the schedule, as I had the morning before, and went for
coffee. When I got back, the door to Bill's office was propped open with a
large crystal ball with a carved rearing horse inside.
He looked up from some papers on his desk as I came in and smiled as his
eyes moved up and down my body. He stood up as I progressed across the room
and came around to his seat at the front of the desk.
I gasped as his hands came up under my breasts and bounced them as Paula had
earlier.
"Very nice," he said. "Your legs look luscious in that skirt, too. Let me
see."
"What?" I said, not understanding.
"Under your skirt. Your panties." I know my mouth dropped open with shock
but he just waited.
I looked out the open door and lifted it off my lap.
"Mmm. No. Either thigh high stockings or, preferably, stockings and garter
belts. Okay?" I shrugged. Was there a choice? "Well, no problem. You
have an appointment with Dr. Phillips. Phil. At 9:30. You and Paula.
While you're out, you can do a little shopping.
"Do you have plenty of outfits? Short skirts. Nice tops like that."
"I'll have to shorten some," I said. "My wardrobe's a little limited."
"No problem. You can get a few things now, this morning, and take your
things in to a tailor I know. It'll be much faster and easier."
"I'm sorry, sir. But ..."
"Don't call me sir," he snapped.
"Ah, sure Bill. But I'm almost broke. We've been out of work for ..."
"Oh. Of course. This is by way of company public relations. I'll talk to
Roger."
I was still in shock as he rolled on into several things he was expecting of
the day and added several items to his schedule.
"We'll get one of the guards to drive you to your appointment and shopping
in a company car. Good?" I could only shrug. It seemed that things were
out of my control altogether.
"Okay," he said and stood up to round his desk. I got up and went to my
desk to enter the new items in his schedule. He picked up the telephone as
I sat down. I could hear him clearly from here.
"Roger. Pull about three or four hundred from petty cash each for Paula and
Amy. Yeah. On the public relations budget. Right. Well, how well do you
want your secretary dressed?" He laughed. "Right. That'll have to be on
your own budget. Yeah, it's for clothes for the two of them. They need it
and so does the office. That's why. Okay. Thanks, Roger. Get it to Paula
before about nine. Tell her what it's for and that half is for Amy. Okay?
Good. Thanks. Yeah. Thanks. Good." He hung up.
When he looked up into my eyes and then down below the computer monitor, I
realized part of the value of the new office arrangement. At least for him.
I crossed my legs.
* * *
The doctor's office was nothing like I expected. The reception area was
small, with four chairs and a receptionist's window where we told a woman,
who looked like a cashier, that we were there. More like a dentist's
office, I thought.
A nurse, in white starched dress, white stockings and shoes, and perky cap,
called Paula in through the door a few minutes later and, part way through
an Reader's Digest article, called me.
I followed her to a small room that included a chair, instrument covered
stainless steel cart, and cupboards.
"We'll just get blood first," she said and proceeded to drain four test
tubes full before curling my arm around a cotton ball. Then she took my
blood pressure and heart rate with an automated blood pressure cup on the
other arm that read out on a digital display on the wall. She wrote it
down.
She stood me up, take off my bra (and the breast forms), had me take off my
shoes, and put me on a medical scale for height and weight. Then she used a
tape measure for chest, waist, hips, thighs at mid thigh, calves, ankles,
wrists, forearms, biceps, and neck measurements. She asked shoe, pants,
shirt, dress, skirt, blouse, and bra sizes. Then she let me put my bra back
on.
We'd sat and filled out a normal patient form in the waiting room before
Paula was called in. Now the nurse sat down in another chair to my side and
asked me a long series of questions that started with, "Are you aware of any
medical problems?" and went on through drugs, habits, and childhood
diseases. She was particularly interested in any drug reactions or any long
term drug use.
All of this was done without comment and very friendly. She didn't seem to
take any particular note of my obvious deviation from the norm and didn't
comment on it at all. I couldn't help wondering how many guys came in
wearing skirts and high heels.
She left for a moment and came back almost immediately to lead me into the
doctor's office.
Dr. Phillips is a large, friendly man with massive hands that enfolded mine
when he shook it.
"Call me Phil," he said as he indicated a chair in front of his moderate
sized desk in the very medical looking office. It was carpeted with a kind
of nondescript indoor-outdoor carpet and had several shelves of haphazardly
arranged books and a window behind him.
"Bill made your appointment for you. Do you know what for?"
"Yes," I said. "I believe so anyway."
"He thinks you need a course of hormone treatments. Have you agreed to
this?" I shrugged. I really hadn't been consulted. First he'd suggested it
as a possibility and then told me I had the appointment. I told him that
and he sat back in his chair.
"So you really haven't agreed. Is that right?"
"I haven't. But I'm here and I knew why."
"Has this been made a condition of your employment?"
"Not that I'm aware of. Bill didn't tell me that."
"It's quite important that you agree to the procedure. But let me tell you
about it first. Okay?" I nodded. "Very well.
"The first step is series of injections. If you agree, three today, three
tomorrow about this time, and three the next day. Two of the three will
produce direct stimulation of breast growth. The third will balance female
hormones with testosterone levels in your body. Today's will be a kind of
starter but the next two will be based on analytical results from your blood
tests.
"The value to you in this is that you will immediately see some diminished
facial and body hair growth, some softening in musculature, and stimulation
of body weight redistribution." I nodded again.
"The balancing act is good because it does not have an affect on libido.
Sexual desire or response." He cleared his throat and went on without pause.
"We'll do analysis of blood again tomorrow and the next day as well to see
the results of our injections as we go. We'll also keep very careful track
of the measurements we took today and check for any negative physical
reactions to the medication. We'll talk more so we can determine your
personal reactions."
Sitting forward in the chair again, he went on. "When we get the results of
the third blood test, we'll prescribe a long term oral form of hormone
supplement.
"It's important that you know that though the injections, in particular,
have an almost immediate affect, it is reversible by simply discontinuing
treatment at any point. The success and speed of reversal, of course,
diminishes over time.
"We've found that about three months is a kind of break-off point. Beyond
that, there are some long term changes that can take months or even years to
reverse."
He studied his hands for a minute.
"We've found that the results of the course of medication is highly
variable. This is dependent on the patient's musculature, size, body fat,
profusion of body hair, existing hormone levels ... just a myriad of
things, in fact. Some results in some patients is almost immediate.
Meaning there will be noticeable physical results by the end of the week.
"In fact, your body shape, coloring, size and musculature is the most
amenable to the treatments. You may experience unexpectedly noticeable
results sooner than most.
"After the initial course of injections and prescription of the maintenance
additives, we'll check on our progress in a week, two weeks, and again a
month later and every month after for the first year or so."
"What's the bill for all this?" I asked.
"It's not terribly expensive but Bill has already agreed to pick up the tab.
If you decide to stop the course of treatment, any cost stops, of course.
If, for some reason, you decide to continue but stop working for Bill, he's
agreed to pay the first two years of treatments after your separation."
"Are there any psychological effects?" I wondered.
"A few but they seem to be fairly minor. Perhaps slight emotional
enhancement. You could cry at things you wouldn't now, for instance. But
it's not like your general outlook will change or you'll suddenly have
uncontrollable urges to do housework. Unless you already do, of course," he
said with a laugh. "Seriously, you may experience slight depressions but
balanced with heightened peaks. Slight mood swings that might be somewhat
disconcerting because they are rapid, if not extreme."
"So what now?"
"There's just one more examination we need to do and then the injections, if
you are positive about it." Decision time, I thought. It helped that it
wasn't an all or nothing decision. I could change my mind without too much
damage being done, if what he said was true. And I had no reason to think
otherwise.
"Okay," I said finally.
"Good. Then, if you don't mind, come over here and lift your skirt for me,"
he said. When I was next to him and had my skirt around my waist, he leaned
forward and pulled down my pantyhose and panties.
"We're checking two things here," he explained as he reached between my legs
and took my balls in his fingers. "Physical size and characteristics and
normal responses. Okay? Believe me that it's necessary. Any indication of
potential problems will show up here first so we have to have baseline
information. I'm not just a degenerate."
As he'd been speaking, he'd been manipulating my penis from side to side,
inspecting it, and gently feeling my testicles.
"Any problems here?" he asked as his fingers began moving on my partially
hardened penis.
"Ah, no." I had gone from almost completely soft when he pulled down my
panties to as hard as I ever get. His fingers left my balls and pressed
into the depressions below them and then against the soft spot below my
sack. His hand had never stopped moving on my penis.
"Okay." He stopped. "Turn around now." I saw him reach into a desk drawer
and put on a rubber glove, coating a thick finger with KY jelly. "Bend a
little. That's it. Good."
His finger dove into my asshole before twisting from side to side and then
pressing and rubbing my prostate gland. I'd never found that to be an
unpleasant examination but when his hand returned to my penis and began
moving up and down it as his finger rubbed my prostate, that was infinitely
more pleasant than the normal exam. It took only a moment before I came,
shooting come on the floor in front of my shoes before drooling the last
between them.
He pulled his finger out of my butt and pulled out several pieces of Kleenex
to hand me.
"Okay. You can clean up now. Just put it in the trash can there and don't
worry about the floor."
I cleaned off the head of my dick and looked over my shoulder at him writing
some entries on the medical form. I cleaned off the KY on my bottom and
dropped the soiled tissues in the garbage.
"Before you replace your clothing, we'll do the injection," he said, turning
with a needle in his hand filled with pink liquid. He tapped it with a
finger and, before I could anticipate overly, stuck it in my ass high enough
that I wouldn't sit on it. It didn't hurt.
"Okay. Pull them back up now," he said. I pulled the panties into place
and got the pantyhose right before dropping the skirt.
He dropped the syringe in the garbage, turned and got another.
"Just pull up your blouse and bra in front," he said. He didn't waste time
with explanations of what was going on now.
He rubbed very chilly alcohol on one nipple and moved the tip of the needle
into the area just below it in the surrounding darker skin. The shot stung
when it went in and I grimaced but didn't move.
"One more," he said, turning to get another syringe. He did it again with
the other nipple. "Good. All done for today. We'll see you same time
tomorrow. Okay?"
"Yeah. I guess," I said as I pulled the bra back into place and then the
blouse down where it belonged. I turned my back to him to lift the skirt
and pull the blouse back into place.
Paula was grinning when she looked up from a magazine as I went back out.
We spent the next hour and a half at the mall buying new bras, panties,
short skirts, filmy blouses, camisoles, stockings, and garter belts. We
spent every dime and treated ourselves to a nice lunch at a french
restaurant in the mall.
We got back to the office with our bags before one.
I told Bill I had appointments for the next two days and sat down at the
computer. I wondered if he could see the skin above the stockings when I
looked up and saw his eyes on my legs.
12. Chapter
There were several memos ready for typing as well as changes to a
spreadsheet. I worked along steadily but, after about half an hour, I
realized that my nipples under the breast forms itched and I'd been
scratching under the bottom of the bra for a while and squirming in the
chair more.
Finally, I found that my bladder was full and the itching was getting to me
so I excused myself and went to the women's room.
Safe in a cubicle, I lifted my blouse and bra and looked at my chest,
putting my fingers on my nipples and rubbing through them without rubbing
the sensitive surfaces. I noticed that the nipples and the darker
surrounding circles were swollen considerably so they were much larger than
normal and hardened as I'd never seen them. Even some of the skin
surrounding them and below was puffier than before.
I recognized it as just being irritated, not that they were growing already.
I didn't think that was possible. But it certainly itched.
Paula came in as I was about to go out and came directly to me with a
harried look on her face.
"God, Amy," she said. "My nipples are driving me crazy. They itch so bad I
think I'm going to go over the deep end if it doesn't quit."
That just made mine come back to mind even though I'd sort of dismissed it
for a minute while I checked my makeup.
"Yeah. Mine too. The shots must irritate them," I suggested.
"This is the second time I've been in here since we got back," she said.
"It's terrible."
"Try to leave them alone, if you can," I said as she rolled her tiny breast
forms with both hands. "Let me see."
Quickly, she lifted her tee-shirt and bra and I saw that hers looked like
mine but bigger and redder.
"Do you think they're growing already?" she hissed.
"No. It couldn't be that fast. The shot just makes them really sensitive."
I brushed one of hers and she cringed.
"Damn. That feels great," she hissed again. "They ARE sensitive."
"I think we better do our best to leave them alone. It's like the more you
mess with a sore or something, the worse it is."
"Yeah. You're right. But I'd still do about anything to get you to suck
them for me," she said with a big grin.
"Maybe later," I said with a chuckle. She started pulling the shirt back
into place and I helped her get the bra pulled back down right on the sides.
I went around her and back to my office. Being around her fidgeting made
mine itch worse, too.
I tried hard to concentrate on my work but it was hard and I caught myself
squirming or rubbing myself several times. Several of those times, I looked
up to see Bill watching me do it and blushed. As hard as I tried, I
couldn't seem to stop it completely. Instead, I only resisted it and became
self-conscious.
* * *
I took some of the memos in to Bill and he looked at his watch and grinned
at me.
"Grab the coffee and let's talk," he said. I nodded and went for it. I sat
it on the front of the desk as he came around. "Why don't you shut the
door?" he said and I returned to the crystal ball and bent to roll it to one
side. It must have weighed thirty pounds but, luckily, rolled fairly easily
to the side and out of the deep hole it had made in the carpet.
I shut the door and sat down. I had my hands crossed over my crossed knees.
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and covered my hands with
his.
"I've been watching you. How are you doing?" he said sincerely.
"I'm okay. I just itch a little." He nodded.
"What'd Phil do today?" I told him all of it in a kind of shorthand.
Interview. Weight and measurements. Explanation. Shots. And plans for
the next two days and later. He listened while holding my hands loosely.
As I talked, I found that I was more aware of the itch instead of less. But
under his intense scrutiny, I couldn't do anything to relieve it at all.
"You said they're irritated?" I nodded. "And swollen?" I nodded. He
couldn't have been teasing them with his fingers and made me any more aware
of them. "Itchy and sensitive?"
"Yeah," I chuckled. "And this is making it even more."
"But you can't scratch them now," he said. I wasn't sure whether I couldn't
because he was there watching or that he wouldn't let me. He grinned as he
looked at my chest and continued holding my hands. I squirmed, feeling the
itch now in more than just my chest.
"I think I need to go to the ladies' for a minute," I said but he shook his
head as his smile spread a little.
"There's nothing like an itch you can't scratch, is there? It seems like
the more you try not to think about it, the more it demands your attention."
I squirmed more and, if possible, it got worse.
"We both have a problem," he said. "I'm just itching to see them and you're
just itching. So what do you think the solution might be?"
"I'll let you watch while I scratch," I said immediately starting to move my
hands to do that.
"No," he said. "Instead, I think you'll take your blouse off for me. Then
you'll put your hands on the arms of the chair and let me take care of the
rest. Don't you?"
"Okay. Just " He let go of my hands and I lifted the blouse over my head
quickly to put my hands on the arms of the chair. I moaned as he used both
hands and pinched the false nipples of the breast forms through the bra.
"No. Please. Don't tease me. If you won't let me, please do it for me," I
begged.
"Okay. That was cruel." He reached under both arms and found the fastener
of the bra, undid it quickly, and moved it down my arms. I moved them
forward so he could take it off and was surprised when I looked down at my
chest. They were at least twice as swollen as before, the slightly reddened
and enlarged area extending a couple of inches onto the skin surrounding the
darker circles.
Where my nipples had been typically male and about the size of pencil
erasers before, right now they were reddened, hard, and several times their
normal size. The circles, the areolas, were swollen in the same way and, I
thought, larger than normal by at least twice.
His fingers of both hands lightly and ineffectively brushed across the
nipples and areolas, only making them much worse. I gripped the arms of the
chair tightly and squirmed some more.
"Please," I finally moaned.
"What do you want me to do?"
"M-maybe pinch them. A little. Roll maybe. I-I don't know. R-rub " But I
gasped with pleasure as he squeezed slightly and rolled both nipples and
areolas. My back arched forward.
"Very appealing," he said, a smile in his voice.
"Please," I moaned, enjoying what he was doing but needing more. He put two
fingers and thumb on one and squeezed harder, milking it slightly. I moaned
with pleasure and a kind of relief. "Yes."
"Hmm. If that's good, this will be great," he said leaning forward and
licking one of them. It was wonderful. But even as I felt it, he moved
back away. I leaned forward to offer it again and he licked and moved away
further. I was forward in the chair, just sitting on the front edge. He
grinned and rolled the other nipple satisfyingly.
He licked again and moved back. I followed and found myself standing in
front of him. He licked and sat back and I crawled up into his chair with
him, my knees on either side of his body.
As I fed him my nipple, holding his head against me, he began sucking me as
his fingers pinched the other nipple more roughly but infinitely more
satisfyingly. As I started having trouble breathing, he switched breasts
and, at the same time, moved the newly freed hand under the back of my
skirt, into the back of my panties, and down to my asshole. For the second
time of the day, a large finger slid into my body in the remaining KY jelly.
I squealed with pleasure as I came in my panties.
While I came down from that, he used the fingers and thumbs of both hands to
thoroughly roll and squeeze my nipples and areolas, finally satisfying the
itch that had started it all.
"Mmmm. You do that so good, I'll let you do it every time I can't stand it
any more," I told him.
When I put the bra back on, he fastened it for me and held the blouse over
my head and pulled it down into place for me. Still helping, after I tucked
it in, he pulled it down right under my skirt, reminding me that I needed to
do a little cleaning up.
I went to the bathroom after I'd done as he asked and bent at the waist to
move the crystal back into place in front of the door.
Paula saw me go by on my way to the bathroom and followed me, begging me to
do her nipples again.
Finally back at my desk, I got some work done before he itches got to me
again and I had to return to Bill's side. He had me untuck my blouse and
slid his hands up under it to roll and squeeze them for several minutes as I
stood there beside him enjoying it.
Paula and I did that to each other twice during the evening before we went
to bed. I sucked hers as Bill had until she came. Then she returned the
favor.
I still woke in the night once with the itch but fell asleep rolling them
myself.
13. Chapter
Except for the tight black skirt and silky black top I wore the next
morning, everything went almost identically. Morning coffee (with the
addition of a nipple rub), the doctor's appointment with the same ritual
(including weight, blood, shots, and orgasm on his finger), an early lunch
on the way back to the office, more itching and having Bill scratch for me,
and an orgasm with afternoon coffee.
The swelling hadn't gone down appreciably when I went to the doctor and he
told me that was normal and seconded that it wasn't real growth that
quickly.
That night, Paula and I told Michelle and Margaret about the whole
experience and what was happening. Michelle was a little miffed that she
hadn't gotten in on the deal but didn't mind getting a blow by blow of what
was happening to us before signing up for the same thing herself.
* * *
Friday started off fairly similar. There seemed to be a little more
swelling, this time on the inside of my breasts where the second shot had
gone, and the original hadn't gone down that I could see. My nipples and
areolas were far redder and larger than they had been, very sensitive, and
itchy.
Red lace underwear, the first garter belt I'd ever worn, red pumps, and a
red silk dress that weighed about two ounces made my outfit. Everyone
seemed to like it a lot.
I forgot about one of the results of wearing a dress to the doctor's office.
Right off the bat with the nurse, I had to take it all the way off to get my
bra off for the weighing and measuring. Then I had to undo the garters for
the hip measurement.
She made me blush by telling me that, my nipples swollen the way they were,
she'd seen dozens of women who weren't as feminine looking as I was in
panties, loose stockings, and a smile. As if to prove it to herself, she
reached into my panties and cupped my balls and penis "to prove it" to
herself, she said.
As if turnabout, when I was finished, she lifted her skirt and I saw that
she too wore a garter belt but without he panties. Her "clit" just wasn't
as big as mine, she giggled as she let me check for myself. She helped me
dress and suggested putting the panties on the outside of the garters so I
wouldn't have to undo them again with the doctor.
The final shots went as the others had, this time on the outsides of my
areolas.
For the third time, he got on his glove, checked out my balls and penis, and
fucked my ass with a thick finger as he made me come. After I cleaned up
and dressed, he had me sit down in front of his desk.
"Okay," he began. "What we've done is sort of a jump start on the process.
Using your first blood sample, we've formulated a good approximation of your
balance hormones. Three each day, morning, afternoon, and bedtime. By next
Friday's appointment, we should be able to come closer to balance.
"For the last three days, we've been monitoring the effects of the jump
start dosages. If there were going to be any side effects, we would have
seen them. We haven't."
He looked at his clipboard.
"Part of the extensive set of measurements we've taken is to see the early
results. The first quarter of the ballgame. Of course, the first quarter
is a poor predictor of the final score. But if it's 44 to nothing, you've
at least got a pretty good idea of the way it should go.
"And that's exactly what we've got here. A complete blowout.
"Height, unchanged. That's usual. Weight, up two pounds. We'll watch that
but it's probably good at this stage. Musculature, softening. Gaining in
the biceps, thighs, and hips where you should. Losing in the forearms,
calves, and waist where you should. The others are stable as they should
be. Wrist, ankle, neck. Penis and testicles, normal and decreasing only
very slightly if at all. Response quickening slightly but maybe you're just
getting used to the situation.
"You've gained an inch of hips and lost two of waist, by the way, and this
may make some dress size differences if the trend continues.
"You've noticed the initial reaction of the hormonal stimulation of breasts,
nipples and areolas. With the injection today, you'll notice further
increase for the next three or four days but then it will back off somewhat.
Maybe as much as half the increase. Then, as the balance takes effect
during the next month, you should see some real longer term growth.
"Be careful with your diet. Balanced meals and no extra snacking or we may
see a weight gain you won't appreciate.
"A biological woman's hormone levels vacillate considerably during the month
in response to her menses, of course. Many of the mood swings you observe
in other women are a result of these imbalances. Unless you want to
experience your 'sister's' discomforts, you won't have to vary hormonal
balance. Your body's natural hormonal swings may, however, occasionally
throw off the balance somewhat.
"When you're more familiar with the results and the swings, you may want to
experiment with dosages but I wouldn't bother unless they are pronounced or
particularly uncomfortable."
He'd done all this emotionlessly. Now he sat back and smiled.
"Okay, Amy. Let me tell you first that your friend's results are perfectly
normal for our work. In three months, she will gain a full cup size and
have fully formed nipples and areolas. She probably won't gain much more
than that. She's slight so she probably won't lose much waist size but she
will gain an inch of hips. She wasn't muscular, just as you weren't, so
there may not be noticeable reduction in biceps or thigh development. She
obviously doesn't eat much or has a high metabolic rate so it's unlikely
she'll overeat and gain undue weight.
"Basically, slow, cautious feminization. Probably slow enough that the
change won't be perceptible by close friends. She's happy with that.
"Now you, on the other hand, are a different case altogether. We call the
few we've seen like you our high achievers." He grinned at his own
cleverness.
"Your waist loss is three to four times our normal case. Your hip gain is
double. Your breast development is already notable and likely only to pause
slightly before blossoming. You chose your breast forms appropriately. In
another week, you could be an A-cup and I wouldn't be surprised if you
filled out those C-cup bras in three months. I'm not sure but it's possible
you'll be bigger than that eventually but the growth should slow by then.
"Similarly, your waist is likely to be two to three inches smaller while
your hips may be two to three inches bigger. You'll gain thigh mass and,
probably, biceps mass as the more muscular forearms and calves lose
slightly.
"I want to emphasize again that the game ain't over til it's over. But,
from our experience, you are quite likely to have a spectacular shape."
He sat there grinning at me as if expecting something from me but I didn't
know quite how to respond.
"So I'm going to have big tits, baby hips, and a wasp waist? Is that it?"
"Pretty much. A good butt and great legs, too."
"So I should be really happy, right?"
"I think so," he said. "Listen. We do some rehabilitative work with women
who have some development problems they want to correct without cosmetic
surgery. After a year, they would go crazy for what I think you are going
to develop in three months.
"This is the absolute plus plus for my work." He grinned some more. "Also,
I think you are going to do it with a minimum of depression or mood swings.
But if I'm wrong and you have any psychological problems at all, no matter
how slight, you give me a call and we can talk about it.
"There are all sorts of possible courses of action if that happens to be too
extreme. Mood altering drugs. Modifications to your dosages. Changes in
the formulation of hormones. Even discontinuation. Or maybe we can address
any problems with simple consultation. A little psychoanalysis.
"My last question," he said, leaning as close as he could from behind his
desk. "Are you happy with what I've said?"
I thought about it. It had been a week since I was a frustrated male
looking for a job. Now I was a very happy working person with a more
questionable gender. But heading for "foxy lady." Was I happy?
--
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From nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE Tue Jul 15 11:14:02 1997
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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary by Amy Brett (06/11)
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Hi.
This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next
one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the
current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and
rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
6___The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_
My first thought was that I shouldn't be. My second was that I didn't give
a shit about what I should or shouldn't be. I was very happy with it.
"I think it's super," I told him and his smile returned. "Are you going to
finger fuck me again next week? I've gotten to like it." He laughed hard.
"That's called a sexual response test combined with a simple proctology.
The scientific terminology is supposed to make it very objective and
medical."
"Oh. I thought it was just a really good time," I said, gaining his
laughter again.
* * *
Paula and I talked over another slightly early lunch before we returned to
the office and I learned that Paula was excited about the changes the doctor
had predicted for her.
Back at work, Bill called me into his office and said he'd talked to the
doctor after I'd left the doctor's office. I wasn't sure about the
confidentiality question but, since Bill was paying for everything I didn't
think I could complain too loudly.
As he talked, I found that I didn't have anything to worry about anyway
since all the doctor had told him was that the process looked like it was
working better than expected. "Extremely well," to quote him, according to
Bill. What he wanted was an update from me so I ran it down for him.
"Fantastic," he said with a huge smile, sitting this time behind his desk.
It wasn't coffee time, after all. "You're happy?" he asked and I told him I
was, with qualifications.
"Bill. It's obvious after this week that I need to be as feminine as
possible," I told him. "The way I work is, if I'm going to do something, I
want to do it as well as I possibly can.
"Maybe by next week's appointment or after a month, I'll know if the changes
are going to work right and be good for me," I said, broadly indicating my
body. "At the same time, I should have a pretty good idea if things are
going to work out here. At work."
"If you have any problem, you bring it to me," he said quickly.
"What if the problem is with you? I mean, I work for you. Right?" He
stared at me for a minute.
"Is there a problem so far, Amy?" he asked. "Are we moving in the wrong
direction?"
I thought about it, looking at my clasped hands in the lap of my short red
dress.
"Bill, I'm not at all sure I would have moved this fast. Particularly on
the medical thing. I felt some pressure to do it. Almost like you were
forcing me to do it." I stopped and looked at him but he was quietly waiting
for my comment. He wasn't going to be defensive. Or maybe he knew it was
true and was waiting for what I thought of it.
"I only tried on my first women's clothes a week ago today. Suddenly,
there's this." I moved my hands across my body. I decided to make it more
explicit. "Suddenly, I've got budding breasts, I'm not only dressing as a
woman full time but as a sexy woman, my body is changing in ways I can't
even appreciate yet. And, well, there are the ... things you've done with
me.
"It's just so ... radical. So fast and so much." He looked at me while I
tried to decide if I'd made myself clear.
"Do you wish none of it had happened?" he asked.
"No," I said. That wasn't it at all.
"Is it all just for a job?" I felt like I should think about it but I knew
as soon as the question was out of his mouth that it wasn't true.
"No. There's more to it than that."
"Now that you know how good the medical procedure is going, would you want
to stop?"
"No. Not now."
"Wish you hadn't done it? That I hadn't made the appointment for you?"
"No."
"Would you have done it on your own?"
"Maybe. Eventually. Not yet for sure."
"So are you happy with where you are now or not?"
"Yes."
"Do you itch?" he said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Ah, yeah. But I'm going to make myself wait until coffee time. Myself and
you. It's hard to tell which of us enjoys that more."
"You're sure. After all, the itch will probably come back in an hour."
I looked toward the door and back to him.
"The problem is this dress," I pointed out, blushing. "We'll wait until
two."
"It's your itch," he said. "I'll warn you though. This time I need an itch
taken care of, too."
I blushed at what I thought was a reference to a blowjob. Now I had to
think whether I'd enjoyed that the last time.
He had some surprises in store for me.
* * *
I used some time in the women's room with my dress already around my waist
to lower the top and take care of the itch for a while. It was still as
intense as it had been the first day. Perhaps even more. I didn't look at
them but just reached under the breast forms to scratch and roll the nipples
and the puffy flesh around them.
The manipulation did have the effect of turning me on considerably but
wasn't sufficient to bring on a release. The carry-over of that to my desk,
made me squirm in my seat before the computer until Bill lifted his cup to
tell me it was time for the coffee break.
I was back with coffee in a few minutes. The itch was at the peak of its
form by the time I'd closed the door and, at Bill's bidding, locked it.
He sat down in the chair casually, a few inches away from touching knee to
knee, and stared at me. I wondered if he wanted me to make the first move
as he picked up his coffee and sipped at it or if he was going to torture
me. Make me beg him. Or, blushing at the thought, if he wanted to be
satisfied before he'd do anything for me.
"I've been watching you," he said. I nodded because I was aware of that.
Every time I'd looked up from the computer screen, I'd met his eyes or could
at least see him staring at my legs. "You're very appealing even when
you're not squirming like you have ants in your panties."
I blushed for him.
"Have you gotten any work done today at all?" I asked him. "Or have you
spent the whole day watching me?"
He laughed. "Not much. It's lucky a good boss doesn't really have to do
anything if he hires good people."
The phone rang on his desk then but he held up a hand and answered it
himself.
"Yeah. Sure. About an hour. Right." He hung up and looked at me again.
"Margaret needs to talk to me. Bosses are only needed when there's a
problem. I hope it's not the EEOC again."
I couldn't comment since I didn't know what she wanted..
"It does put us on a schedule, however," he grinned. "Why don't you show me
where the itch is?"
"You mean " I vaguely pointed toward my chest but knew that, of course,
that's what he wanted. A thrill of strange excitement surged through me
that had to be an exhibitionist high I'd heard strippers have sometimes. I
read a book once where the heroine had an orgasm from a dream where she
found herself naked in a group of fully dressed people.
I stood up shakily, my legs feeling my excitement, and turned my back to
him. He slowly lowered the dress's zipper and pushed the narrow shoulder
straps off. Not ready, I gasped as the weightless tunic fell to the crooks
of my elbows. His fingers went to the fastener on my bra before I'd reacted
to being bared to the waist in that second. He lifted the bra straps off my
shoulders as well, presenting me with a dilemma.
I caught the weighted bra and breast forms with both hands as my elbows
still held the dress. I could only set it down on the chair in front of me.
When I was bent that way, he stood behind me and, when I started to
straighten up, he pushed me forward gently with a hand on my back. I caught
myself with both hands on the chair arms, straightening my arms so the dress
fell to my wrists.
"What are you doing?" I asked as his hands went into the sides of my panties
and pushed them down to my knees.
"You'll figure it out," he said as I let the dress fall off one hand and
then the other. The material slid off the leather chair around my ankles.
The panties did the same thing and I stepped out of both with one foot,
trying not to step on the material with the high heel that, I feared, could
poke a hole in the light material.
As I kicked the dress to the side with the foot still remaining tangled in
it, I felt him standing behind me. I looked under myself and saw his shoes
behind mine but, oddly, became entranced by the fact that my swollen nipples
and surrounding flesh actually formed the cones of small breasts.
I sighed as he put one hand in the middle of my back and a finger at the
portal of my asshole.
"Mmmm. That didn't itch," I noted. He didn't say anything but slid it far
into me before turning it to each side and the upward as if hooking it up.
It slid very easily out and back in a couple of times and made me forget
that it hadn't been the direction of my thoughts right now. In fact, it
made my nipples itch far more intensely and, bent over and supporting
myself, I couldn't do anything about that itch.
There was no doubt that it was stimulating, of course. Beyond the slightly
dangling cones, I noticed my cock was rapidly hardening.
He took his finger out of me and then replaced it, repeating what he'd done
a minute before. Then he did it again. All the way out and back in,
around, in and out a few times, and back out again.
"You like that, don't you?" he asked huskily.
"Yes," I moaned.
"I think I know a way that you can enjoy more of this," he said, grunting
with an effort that didn't translate directly to my body, "and we can
scratch the itches at the same time."
He pulled his finger out of me and then brought it back to the opening
again. Then I thought it was two fingers as it opened me more than before.
Then I thought it had to be more than two fingers because it was near the
edge of painful. He pressed harder and it crossed the threshold, I
squealed, and bent my knees to allow myself to pull away from it.
His hand went around my waist and pulled against my lower stomach, lifting
me, and pushed whatever it was into me again. As a pain flared and dropped
off immediately, I realized it wasn't his fingers. It was the flared head
of his dick.
"Okay now?" he asked. I wondered if I was okay. I wondered if I wanted
this. Then I knew.
"It's okay," I sighed.
He chuckled slightly and put both his hands on my hips and pressed forward.
It lifted me up onto tiptoe as it slid in. I dropped back onto my heels as
he stopped to let me get used to it but rolled back forward as he pulled
back slightly and pressed forward more quickly, sinking still further into
me. He kept the pressure up, his fingers painful on my hipbones, as he slid
further and further of his long dick into me.
I actually squeaked as he finally stopped and moved his hands.
But the feeling in my ass was supplanted when I felt him curl over me, his
shirt and tie pressing against my back, as his hands went over both my
swollen breasts at the same time.
Immediately, I felt some relief from my itching nipples as his sweaty palms
pressed against me. He starting rubbing the entire areas of them, the skin
looser than I thought it should be as he slid it over my ribcage for a
minute. Then he was very slowly sliding out of my ass, almost agonizingly.
I licked my dry lips and moved one and then the other leg apart. He pressed
back into me in a quicker motion until I felt him stopped as the front of
his legs pressed against my bottom. Stopped there for a second, I felt his
rapid breathing all around me.
He began a slow removal and fast return, withdraw and thrust, withdraw and
thrust, as his hands started moving and squeezing and manipulating my
breasts rougher and rougher all the time.
When he changed his pace to an almost spasmodic pumping for several strokes,
his hands squeezed hard.
My eyes were clenched tight shut and my mouth in a grimace of pleasure-pain
as I felt him empty once, pump, again, pump, again and again and again.
The next thing I noticed was that my arms were vibrating with exertion or
reaction, his fingers and thumbs were rolling my new breasts between them,
and he was kissing the back of my neck and shoulders over and over again.
"You liked that," he said simply after a few minutes. His voice almost
sounded normal.
"Yeah," I hissed from a totally dry mouth, my eyes still closed to red and
yellow flashes. I swallowed dryly. "Oh yeah."
He still manipulated my breasts but slowly slid himself out of my ass and
shifted to straighten his legs. The wet and softening flesh rested in the
crack of my ass as he lifted me upright.
"Mmmmmm," I moaned as I put my hands over the back of his and felt, even
more acutely, the way he took care of the itch that way.
But as I relaxed, I realized that I was having to clench my ass to keep from
leaking and might, actually, be leaking anyway.
As if sensing my problem, Bill reached to the desktop and got a handful of
Kleenex that he pressed against my ass and, I thought, maybe even a little
way inside. Then he got a couple more and handed them to me. Looking down,
that was the first time I realized I'd climaxed, too.
Quickly I wiped off my penis and tried to wipe off the chair a little. But
there was too much there for a couple of Kleenex.
I slipped back into the bra, carefully seating my own nipples beneath the
breast forms, and fastened it behind me. I had to hold my hand against the
Kleenex on my butt to keep from losing it as I bent over to get my dress and
panties, and clasped my legs together like a five-year-old while I dropped
the dress over my head. I was sure I wasn't going to make it.
"Bill, I've got an emergency," I said, embarrassed. "I've got to get to the
bathroom right now."
"Sure. Go ahead. I'll take care of this, hon." He was grinning and using
more Kleenex to wipe up the mess on the chair and the few drops on the floor
as I opened the door and carefully went to the bathroom. I had to walk
funny, my panties balled in my hand, to get there as quickly as possible.
I hustled into a stall, holding up the skirt and thanking the gods that no
one else was there, and sitting down right away. As soon as I relaxed my
muscles, a stream of hot fluid poured out of my ass that sounded very much
like a woman pissing. I had to squirm a little to get it all and still used
several times as much toilet paper to clean up as usual.
I put the panties on my legs while I sat there and pulled them into place
when I stood. But immediately, the change in body attitude made it
necessary for me to sit back down and allow some more come to drool out of
me.
When I stood up, decided I was done, and got the panties back in place, I
felt like I'd been stretched to the size of a baseball. I wondered, almost
seriously, if the next time I had something to eat it would go in my mouth
and immediately run though and straight out without slowing.
I grinned at myself in the mirror. I hadn't brought my purse. I rushed out
too quickly. So if there had been terminal damage to my face, I couldn't
have done a thing about it. But, I realized, Bill hadn't even kissed my
mouth or touched my face. It looked as perfect as it ever did.
Like I hadn't just lost my virginity.
14. Chapter
I had just finished kissing Bill and thanking him for "taking care of my
itch" and returning to my desk when Margaret and Michelle came into the
office.
Margaret, with an open door and her experience behind her, didn't have to
wait for me to announce her or even to check with Bill. She just finger
waved as she passed into the office, dropping Michelle off with me.
She shut the door behind her.
"Hi," I said. "What's up?"
"I talked to Margaret about you and Paula? Your doctor's appointments?"
"Yeah."
"And she said she'd talk to Bill for me. Keep him from blowing his stack
when he finds out."
"He won't. You know him as well as I do now. Better, I'll bet."
She looked down at me with a grin, my red dress and crossed legs.
"I'll bet not. In two years, he never kissed me once," she said. I blushed
and knew what I was going to say next and blushed some more. She saw it.
"He probably never fucked you either," I noted.
Her mouth dropped open with surprise. Real shock. She used her hand to
shut it.
"You're kidding!" she said. I only shook my head slowly. "How?"
"I told you he'd sort of rolled my nipples to make them stop itching.
Right?"
"Yeah but "
"Yeah. That's different. I know. But he'd done some things and I'd done
some things before. Today, he just took it I don't know. A step further?"
"How?" she squealed.
"With a really long dick," I chuckled. "And really well. And rubbed and
squeezed and played with my nipples at the same time. They feel better than
they have in three days."
I blushed again.
"You certainly look good. Happy."
"I am. It was great. I highly recommend it."
The door opened and Margaret told Michelle to come in. She went and the
door started to close but then opened again.
"Amy? Bill wants you here, too," Margaret said.
Bill was behind his desk and Michelle took the second chair in front so I
sat against the cadenza behind him.
"Amy? You knew about Michelle all along?"
"Yes," I said.
"But didn't tell me?"
"I didn't think it was my place, Bill. If she wanted to, I figured ..."
"Okay. I understand," he said, a little disgruntled, I thought. I wondered
if we were in trouble. "So now I know about Paula and you two. How many
more are there?" There was a definite edge to his voice I didn't like.
"That's all, Bill," Margaret said.
"Since this involved my former secretary and my current secretary as well as
my employees in general. And in possible contravention of a federal law.
Shouldn't I have been informed instead of having to find out for myself?" he
asked Margaret.
"I wasn't at all sure it would work out," she said by way of defense.
"So if it had failed miserably, say having them get caught in the ladies'
room by some women's libber, then it would have all been okay?"
"No. I thought the most likely scenario was that the, ah, girls would
change their minds. One or more. That they'd decide to stop and go on to
something else," she said. "Or, more likely, that you or Roger wouldn't
hire them in the first place."
He sat with his fingers steepled below his chin, contemplating what she'd
said.
"I wasn't sure that any of them could get away with it until the middle of
the week. That they'd be believable."
"They're certainly believable," he said softly. "I didn't even recognize M
... ah, Michelle. After having him sit outside my door for the last two
years and having coffee twice a day."
He looked at Michelle then more closely and I could see his grin in profile.
"You're certainly believable. If I'd known you're this pretty, you'd have
been in dresses two years ago," he told Michelle.
"Thanks, Bill."
"It probably would have helped in avoiding the EEOC problems," Margaret said
with a chuckle.
"Okay. We've got three, what should I say? New women," he emphasized, "on
staff. How likely are we to get caught doing this?"
"I guess that it's possible that other staff members could still catch on.
I'm not sure whether that would be a problem. Maybe a 50-50 chance if they
were caught. But I'm pretty sure that if they were going to get caught it
would have been in the first week. As Paula and, I guess, Amy did. No one
in my department has identified Michelle and she's a fixture now.
"They'll need to remain cautious, of course, but I think the greatest danger
is passed. After all, they're all gaining friends and acquaintances among
the staff so they would be less likely to get turned in even if they were
discovered. They're also getting more confident and believable, if that's
the term, as they go.
"And all of them are working out very well in their jobs. And that would be
the mostly likely problem. If they didn't do their jobs and there was a
disciplinary problem." She paused for breath.
"The medical, ah, work with Paula and Amy can only help."
Margaret looked at me and smiled.
"Shortly, if they're challenged they can show a breast and make anyone eat
their words." Bill finally laughed. "There isn't an EEOC official in the
world who'd say 'Lift your skirt and prove you're a woman.' Right?"
The thought of those uptight, politically correct types suggesting that
seemed ridiculous and we all laughed.
"So now the question becomes first, will you extend the, ah, medical
benefits you've provided Paula and Amy to Michelle?"
"Yes. Of course. Amy can make an appointment for Monday with Phil," Bill
said.
"Okay. Then the other question is should we offer this as an alternative to
other employees if the ax has to fall again."
"Let's hold up and wait on that decision until it looks like it could
happen. God, the more of them we have around here, the greater the chance
of a problem. Right?"
"Yes. Probably. But you've already told me that they are in a rather
unique position that I'm sure you girls have already noticed," she said. I
wasn't sure what she was saying. "Specifically, you have as much to lose if
this becomes public as the company has. Maybe more."
"Not the least, that it's wonderful to live this way," I noted. All three
of them looked at me and smiled.
"It certainly makes some sexual harassment questions moot," Bill noted,
looking at his fingernails and not meeting any of our eyes. Michelle and I
looked at each other and smiled.
"Maybe not all of them," I said into the momentary silence, bringing
Margaret and Bill's eyes to me. "The first day I was here, a girl from the
marketing department told me about some pretty blatant cases."
Bill and Margaret looked at each other and frowned.
"What?" Margaret said.
"She just said that a condition of employment over there is a blowjob and
one had been on a junket with the marketing manager they'd spent in bed," I
amplified.
"Oh fuck!" Bill said softly. "That god damned Ed again. What do you think
Margaret?"
"I think, if it's true," she looked up at me and held up a hand before I
said anything, "and I'm sure the girl said it, then something should be
done."
"Formal?" Bill asked. "Interview the women involved?"
"If there wasn't a problem before, bringing it out formally might make it a
problem. That might be the worst approach."
"It sounded like the girls didn't particularly mind," I said. "The one who
said it didn't like giving blowjobs. If it's a problem, it is that she told
an almost total stranger about it. Me."
"Yeah. Does that make her a loudmouth, stupid, or dangerous? Could she
tell someone who'd make it formal?"
"I've seen her a couple of other times since that first time and she didn't
say anything else," I pointed out.
"Maybe a good start would be for you to have a quiet talk with her the next
time you see her and tell her the potential dangers," Margaret told me.
"Okay," I agreed.
"Bill, I wonder if there's an informal situation you could broach the
subject with Ed," she continued.
"Yeah. I'll see if he can play golf this weekend. Then I can mention it
casually. Hopefully, he'll take a hint."
Margaret stood to leave and Michelle followed her. At the door, when I
joined them, Michelle told Bill thanks for the medical support and he told
her he was glad she still worked for the company even if she wasn't his
secretary any more.
While Michelle waited, I made the Monday morning appointment with the nurse
I'd gotten to know fairly well now. She's the one who asked if it was a
similar case to Paula's and mine. She seemed totally unaffected when I told
her it was.
* * *
We all spent a quiet weekend with a short shopping trip Saturday where I
spent some of my first week's salary on a cute frilly dress.
We went out to dinner together Saturday night and stopped at the bar
afterward. Everyone seemed to want to pick us up and Paula, in particular,
was getting a big kick out of that, dancing with half a dozen different
guys.
Friday night Paula and I embarrassed Margaret when we had a few drinks at
home and started talking about our experiences with our bosses. Paula got
fucked for the first time Friday afternoon, just as I had. We speculated on
whether Roger and Bill had been talking.
We started taking our pills Saturday morning.
Sunday night, I got up after Paula and I had been in bed for a while to get
something from the living room. I stopped at the doorway when I heard what
was going on but looked around the corner to see Michelle with her head
between Margaret's spread legs. Neither of them saw me and, I guess, I
shouldn't have been surprised. After all, Paula and I had been doing things
since the first. But I was.
Monday Michelle came and got me for lunch after her appointment and, almost
in a panic, talked about the itching. Since mine was almost gone, I could
tell her it was only a few days and that she'd get used to it. But we still
ended up in the restaurant restroom where I scratched the itch for her with
both hands as Bill had showed me Friday. Minus the fuck.
I think Margaret must have helped her out for the rest of the week because
she didn't ask me again.
Wednesday, after her third appointment, she came to my office and told me
that the doctor had said her progress was nearly as good as mine. Mine, on
the other hand, had gotten a little less sensitive as the itching stopped
but looked the same as they had. Bill told me they looked like a teenager's
and I missed the opportunity to ask him how he knew what a teenager's tits
looked like.
Tuesday, I ran into the girl from marketing that I'd met and talked to her
in the restroom for quite a while. As I'd been asked, I told her that if
the word about the sexual activities in the department got around, it could
cause problems. She seemed surprised since she took it as a matter of
course. Something that had happened to her at every job she'd ever had, she
said. She did promise to keep it to herself and me, so I could monitor if
anything new was going on.
Bill never mentioned what had happened when he talked to Ed and I didn't
really think it was my business.
Every day that week, I wore a new outfit and every day got more praise on
the clothes from Bill and other people who came into the office.
He continued to watch my legs as I worked, took care of my itches (even if
they were gone) with his hands or mouth every day, and made love to me
Tuesday afternoon. His hands or lips on my budding breasts felt different
from when they'd itched so bad but equally different from when they were
small male pimples.
Remembering how I'd had to strip completely the Friday before, I wore a
skirt and blouse Friday. The nurse told me that I'd increased an inch
across the bust and hips, and decreased an inch in my waist. She was
envious, she said.
The doctor told me my progress was "phenomenal" and beyond even his
confident expectations of the week before. He predicted that I'd be an
A-cup before the end of the next week if I kept growing at the same rate.
He adjusted the dosage of estrogen downward slightly. Then he did the
sexual response thing again with the same results as before. Again he said
he was amazed since he thought there would be at least some lessening in
response at this stage, just as he'd thought there would be a little retreat
in the size of my breasts.
By the end of the next week, I fillled out one of Paula's bras without any
breast forms and had to switch to B-cup forms instead of the C's I'd been
wearing.
Before my one month appointment, I had to buy a couple of padded bras
because even Paula's A-cup breast forms shaped around me strangely. The
doctor noted the two inch increase and general progress of everything else.
The dosage was reduced again.
If it was possible, that day changed my life again.
15. Chapter
"What kind of a woman are you going to be, Amy?" Bill asked me that
afternoon as we sat facing each other.
"What kind?"
"Aggressive? Liberated? Ambitious? A shrinking violet? The little
hausfrau? A decorative adornment? An airhead? Fun loving, dance all night
partier? An intellectual? What?" I chuckled.
"I think I'm probably aggressive but I wouldn't call it liberated in the
negative context. I'm not particularly ambitious but I'm hardly a shrinking
violet. I'm definitely not the little homemaker type. I hate that as much
now as I did before.
"I think I'm reasonably intelligent but not an intellectual and definitely
not an airhead. So what were the other things?"
"Just decoration?" he said with a grin.
"I hope I look good but not JUST decorative."
"A prick teaser? A whore? A lesbian? A slut? A nun?" I laughed hard as
he grinned.
"Obviously, not a virgin," I noted. "You should know. But I like girls. I
like you. I don't tease much. And I don't plan on selling it, even if I
could."
"So would you accept a date?" I thought about it.
"With the right guy."
"Am I the right guy?"
"The only guy in my life right now actually."
"Would you be upset if I didn't hold a door for you?"
"I wouldn't know how to react if you did probably."
"Then what if I asked you over tomorrow night to help me cook a nice dinner
and maybe watch a video?"
"Oh, I'd probably say yes."
"Are you liberated enough to drive yourself over?" I laughed.
"I've never had someone pick me up for a date. I don't think I'd know how
to react if it happened."
I just looked at him for a minute.
"How should I dress?"
"I sort of planned on wearing a pair of slacks and a tee-shirt."
"No special requests?"
"You've pretty well demonstrated that you know what I'd like better than I
do. Surprise me. But don't dress up. Okay?" I nodded.
"You like Italian?"
"A lot."
"How about seven?"
* * *
Telling Margaret and Michelle where we were going, Paula and I ate a one of
the restaurants at the mall and shopped for "informal" clothes until the
mall was about to close and the majority of the people had left.
Then we went to the hair salon and the two of us took the place over single
handedly.
Both of us ordered the works and, for the first time in more than a month, I
took my wig off in public. One hair dresser reset the wig while another
worked on my real hair and a third worked on Paula. We both got facials,
manicures, and pedicures as well as our first hot wax.
All the attention was really a turn-on for both of us. The girls in the
shop seemed to really have a good time doing it all.
It felt totally different to have my own hair trimmed and permed and curled
and combed out. In almost three months (with almost two of unemployment),
my hair was nearly shoulder length and looked nice in the soft wave they
gave me.
It was obvious when we got home, finding Michelle and Margaret snuggled up
together on the couch, that they had enjoyed our absence. They thought we
looked great as we joined them to watch a late movie before bed.
Paula and I enjoyed intertwining our smooth legs and cuddling until we fell
asleep. Neither of us were particularly horny since we'd both had the
response test at the doctor's office and Paula had gotten a congratulatory
fuck from Roger after she got back.
I got up at about ten the next morning, had a late breakfast with Margaret
and talked about the sexual harassment situation at the office for a while
(Bill had talked to Ed and the word was out to knock it off or be very
careful), and read a book for a couple of hours.
Trying hard not to get excited, I took a long bath in the oiled, fragranced
hot water as I read some more. I don't know whether it was inspiration or
what but I decided to carefully shave my pubic hair before I got out.
I hadn't really had to shave for a month but I used a little depilatory on
my neck before I got out of the tub. Then I rinsed off with the shower head
so there wouldn't be any hair clinging to me anywhere.
For the next half hour, I tried on underwear, unable to make a decision.
Then I came on my decision.
I thought about stocking and a garter belt but ran my hand up my leg and
felt how soft the skin felt after the hot wax.
I put on the very short Levi skirt I'd finally picked out the night before
and pulled the VERY tight blue tee-shirt over my head and around my body
like a racing glove. Cut in a circle neckline, I could reach in the top to
pull my new breasts toward the center. Left alone, I showed a good cleavage
and a good swell. I wasn't as big without the padded bra but it was
appealing, I thought. I hoped Bill would agree.
--
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