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Demoted By Michelle X A year ago I was on top of the world. I was not even 30 years old, and already I was making six figures as the sales manager in a large insurance firm. I had a new BMW, a large spacious apartment, and a beautiful girlfriend. I was Mike Richardson, a corporate dynamo who was in total control of his future. And now? Just a year later, that's all gone. My name is now Michelle Smith, and I'm working as a lowly secretary, making just above minimum wage. My car and my girlfriend are gone. I was living in a dumpy, crowded apartment, but luckily my boyfriend Eric is letting me move in with him. How did this all happen? Let me explain. About to years ago, I was one of the two head honchos in the sales department. The other co-manager of the department was a bitch named Julie Black. She was hired by the company at about the same time I was, and for the entire time we were there, we were incredibly competitive. I hated that wench. The position of sales manager was initially supposed to be mine exclusively. But when Julie found out I was going to be promoted, she threatened to file a sex discrimination lawsuit. So to avoid any legal action, they gave her an equal position as me. I hated her even more then. We were serving as co-managers for about six months when there was a huge shakeup in the company. The former president of the company, an old family friend, was being replaced with Vera Spellman, a cutthroat, no-nonsense businesswoman. She had a notorious reputation for hating men, supposedly because she had experienced so much sex discrimination when she was first starting out. About a week after Vera joined the company, she set up a meeting with Julie and me to go over changes in the sales department. When we walked into her office, the woman was just as I had envisioned her. She was dressed in a professional suit with an incredibly stern look on her face that clearly indicated that she meant business. Vera explained to us that because of cutbacks, some of the upper level staff would have to be eliminated. This included one of the co-manager positions. Thus, only one of us could be manager, and she would interview us both before making her final decision. I kind of knew right then and there that I would be getting fired, knowing Vera's reputation as a man-hater. My interview confirmed my suspicions. For more than an hour, Vera utterly criticized my job performance, berating me while praising Julie. She told me that she expected more from me, "given all the advantages you have as a man." The news was inevitable. The next day, all three of us assembled, and Vera informed us that Julie would remain as sales manager while my position would be terminated. "Well," I asked, "at least I can go back to being a salesman, right?" "I'm afraid not," replied Vera without any iota of compassion. "There are no openings for you to be a sales rep. The only open position for you in the sales department will be with the secretarial staff." "What?" I said in disbelief. "A secretary! Hell, that's a job for flunkies. With all my experience, all my education, I deserve something better than that." Then Vera gave me the harshest look I'd ever seen a woman give. "Listen, Buster!" she said. "Don't you dare criticize the secretarial staff! I started out as a secretary, and look where I am now! They work their asses off for all the big-shot managers. If you ever want to be a manager again, you'll have to work your way up to the top, just like I did. It sounds like this experience may actually be a good lesson for you. You'll finally learn what it's like to do real work!" And with that, the meeting ended. As we left, Julie couldn't help but laugh. "I can't believe this!" she giggled. "You once thought you were so much better than I am. And now you're just a lowly secretary." "Shut up, Julie!" I said. "This is hard enough without you rubbing it in." "Um, excuse me. I'm your boss now. It's not appropriate for you to call me by my first name. From now on, you will address me as Ms. Black. Understood?" "Yes." Julie glared at me. "Um.yes.Ms. Black!" "Good," Julie said. "Tomorrow we'll get you started on your secretarial training." When I got home, I pondered my dilemma. Working as a secretary would mean a major cut in my pay, my benefits, as well as my self-respect. But on the other hand, I put five years into the company; I couldn't just throw all that away. I figured there was no way that Vera Spellman would last that long as company president. I thought I could just ride out the storm until she got kicked out, and then I would get my job as manager back. So the next day I swallowed my pride and faced my first day as secretary. Julie decided to make me her Executive Secretary. She figured that way she would be my direct boss and thus have complete control over me. I would have to follow her every command or else lose my job with the company. Things went good (as good as they could get given the situation) for about two weeks. Then one day Julie called all of the secretaries in the department in for a special meeting. As we entered the conference room, she handed us all a memo. On the subject line were the words "Dress Code Changes". "As the new manager," Julie said, "I have decided that this workplace environment should look more professional. Some of you have been a bit too casual with your attire, so I have made a new code that I expect you all to adhere to. It will be strictly enforced." At first, I was a bit puzzled, because the memo clearly didn't apply to me. It described a no pants policy; only professional-looking skirts and dresses were acceptable. In addition, no casual or athletic shoes were permitted. Anyone not wearing high heels would be fired on the spot. Finally, it was "strongly suggested" that we wore an appropriate amount of makeup, to show that we took pride in our appearance. Julie saw the puzzled look on my face, and before I could even let out the question, she looked right in my eyes and said, "I expect everyone to adhere to these rules. Everyone!" I thought it must have been some kind of joke. "Excuse me, Julie.er, Ms. Black. This new policy doesn't make any sense. Why on earth would I want to wear skirts and high heels?" Julie made a sadistic grin and said, "I could care less about what you want. This is about what I want. I case you've forgotten, I'm the boss, not you." "All right, bitch, this is the last straw!" I yelled. "I can tolerate being your peon, but there's no way you're going to humiliate me further by putting me in dresses!" Meanwhile, one of the other secretaries, Phyllis, chimed in. "Well, I think this dress policy is completely fair. It's not comfortable wearing, skirts, pantyhose, and heels every day. If we have to do it, why shouldn't he? He doesn't deserve any special treatment." "I agree," said Julie. "Mike, you forget, you're not a manger anymore. You're just a secretary, like Phyllis and the rest of the girls. You don't get any special treatment just because you're a man. You'll have to suffer in heels and skirts like the rest of them." Julie then picked up the phone, saying, "I know how we can settle this." She called Vera and asked her to come over right away. In less than five minutes, she came strutting in with the typical stern look on her face. She picked up the memo and quickly scanned it. Vera looked at Julie and said, "Ms. Black, I've very impressed with your concern about maintaining a professional environment. I think it makes perfect sense to implement a more well-defined and equal dress code." Vera then turned to me. "You, sir, have absolutely no right to talk back to your boss like that. After all, you're just a lowly secretary, and you're in no position to decide company policy. If you care about your career, you'll follow these new rules to the very letter!" After Julie dismissed the rest of the secretaries, who were snickering at my predicament, Vera told me to follow her to her office. "You'll have the rest of the day off to prepare to tomorrow," she said. "I'm sure you don't have any of the necessary attire or makeup, so I'm going to take you on a shopping trip. Let's go." Before I had any chance to object, Vera dragged me out to the car, and we were off to the mall. I stayed silent as we drove, wondering what I should do. The thought of having to dress like a woman every day infuriated me. Could I really sink so low? Yet my dilemma further increased my desire to get revenge against Julie. If I left the company, there would be no way I could get my managerial position back and put Julie in her place. If I had quit, that would that would have been an undeniable admission that she had beaten me. Yes, I had no choice but to ride this thing out, even if it meant working as a woman. But I still had my doubts about the whole thing. Just as soon as I had made my decision in my mind, we arrived at a small boutique. Vera asked me if I had a credit card with a high limit. I said that I did, and she said, "Great! You'll have enough money to buy the perfect wardrobe for a working woman!" Vera explained that her friend owned the boutique, and that she would ensure that no one else would be around, so that I could try on all my clothes with minimal embarrassment. We must have spent hours, as Vera forced me to try on dozens of suits, skirts, and blouses. She kept on charging dozens and dozens of items to my card, and at one point I asked, "Isn't this a bit excessive?" She just ignored me, and gave me another skirt to try on. Vera really seemed to be enjoying my being forced to parade around in women's clothing. We must have bought several dozen items in every imaginable color, when she then sent me to the shoe department to buy some high heels. The whole time I was complaining about how much they pinched my toes and how hard it was to walk in them. Vera dismissed my complaints yet again. "Tough! All the other secretaries have to wear them, and I doubt they're complaining. Besides," she said with a sadistic smile, "You'll have plenty of time to practice walking in them." In the end, I had about 15 pairs of heels. Again, I complained about that being excessive, and she simply replied that we needed enough to match all my clothes. After we found some bras and pantyhose, Vera gave everything to the cashier to be rung up. "That will be $2,088.77," announced the clerk. I almost crapped in my pants! I was forced to spend over $2,000 on clothes that I didn't even want to wear in the first place. Before we left, Vera gave me one of the outfits and said, "I really loved this suit on you. Can you try it on again, just to see how it looks? Wear it with these pantyhose, this bra and these heels." She pushed me into a dressing room with the clothes. I first put on the navy blue pantyhose, followed by a padded bra and a white blouse. I then put on the navy blue jacket and skirt, followed by navy blue high heel shoes. I looked in the mirror and was amazed. From the neck down, I looked completely feminine. No one would doubt that this was the body of a very feminine secretary. Vera told me to walk out and show me the outfit. Because of the high heels and the tight skirt, it was impossible for me to walk in a masculine manner. Instead, I had to walk in an ultra-feminine style, taking tiny steps and swaying my hips. I was so embarrassed as I saw myself in a large mirror. "You look fabulous!" said Vera. "No one would ever guess that you're a man!" Was that supposed to be a compliment? "Okay, let's go." she said. "We have plenty more to do." "All right, let me just change." "Change? Why would you want to do that? You're going to need practice wearing these clothes, and the time to start is right now! You're going to go out exactly as you are dressed!" To ensure this, she went to the dressing room, found my male clothes, and threw them in the dumpster at the side of the store. "There!" she said. "Now you have no choice but to go out as a woman!" Indeed I didn't. Even though the walk back to the car took just a minute, I was incredibly self-conscious. I wondered how I, in my tight skirt, nylon-clad legs, and high heels, might look to another man passing by, sacred that they might find me attractive. I felt so vulnerable. When we got to the car, Vera informed me that that we were going to a salon. She remarked that it would look silly for me to have the body of a woman and the face of a man, so she would do everything she can to remove any trace of masculinity from me. This would include a perm, complete makeover, and manicure. Again, like the boutique, the salon happened to be owned by a friend of hers, who assured us that I would have total privacy for my makeover. The first thing that was taken care of was my hair. I was commanded by Vera not to ask any questions, just to let the beauticians do their thing. But it got to the point where they were doing so much styling, using so many chemicals that I had to pipe up. "I hope you're not giving me anything too feminine?" I asked. "On the contrary," the stylist replied. "Vera told me to give you a very feminine cut. She wanted to ensure that no one would ever mistake your hair for a man's style. It will have plenty of curls, and you're going to be a blonde as well!" I got really scared. Vera definitely seemed to be going overboard with all this. I was hoping that she would leave me masculine enough that I could still pass as a man when I was outside of work. But now it was becoming clearer that I would be living as a woman 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The rest of the session didn't do anything to allay my fears. They spent a long time on my makeup, and even pierced my ears. The worst part was how they plucked my eyebrows. They got them down to an unmistakably feminine arch that would take months to grow back. For my nails, Vera decided that since my own weren't long enough, she would have them glue on some fake nails. The beautician explained, "The glue will hold for at least a month. It's really strong, and there's no way you'll be able to get them off. After that, your nails should have grown long enough that they will look completely feminine." A month stuck with long nails! Even if I wanted to go back to being a man, I would be stuck with those. After we were all done, Vera had me take my first look in the mirror at myself completely feminized. My first thought was, "Oh my God, what have I done!" I looked undeniably female. I don't think any person passing me on the street would ever think I had been born a male. I panicked all of a sudden, saying to myself that this was all a big mistake. "How on earth did I let myself be feminized like this?" I wanted to just run away, but I knew I wouldn't get very far in my heels. But it was too late. I was stuck. There was nothing I could do to immediately go back to being a man. I had made my choice, and I would have to live with the consequences. Like it or not, I would have to live and work as a woman for the time being. Vera drove me home, and she offered to help bring up all my packages and put my new wardrobe away. She went to my bedroom and started putting all the skirts, blouses, and heels in my closet. Meanwhile, I went to the bathroom and put away to put away my makeup, perfume, Lady Schick, etc. When I came back out, my closets were filled with women's clothes. Not a shred of male clothing was in sight. "There wasn't enough room for both your new clothes and your old clothes. So I found these old boxes and packed away all of your male clothes in them. You certainly won't be wearing them any time in the foreseeable future." She then added, "You know, you just might want to consider giving all of these clothes to Goodwill. There's no reason to keep all these male clothes when they can be used by someone who actually needs them." I politely declined and told her that I didn't need any more of her help. Then after this very long day, Vera finally left. For the first time I had time to reflect on this very unusual turn of events. As I took a look at my feminine self in the mirror, I was definitely regretting my decision. "What the hell was I thinking? I'm a man! And yet here I am, wearing a skirt, hose, and heels, with a feminine hairstyle, makeup, and long polished nails!" I felt totally emasculated. All my life I had always felt in complete control of my future. But now I had no control whatsoever. I had been forcibly feminized, and there was no telling if or when I would be able to return to my male self. Since my male pajamas had been packed away, I changed into a nightgown and cried myself to sleep. I knew the next day would be even more difficult. My alarm woke me up at 5 AM. Normally I woke at 6, but now that I was going to work as a woman, I needed to give myself extra time to get myself ready for work. I first did my makeup, making sure to put enough on to please Julie. I wasn't used to putting on lipstick, mascara, and blush, but thankfully Vera had given me a copy of Vogue with some basic makeup tips. I then picked out a smart tan suit, completing with a beige blouse, and tan pantyhose and heels and picking out a matching purse. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a very feminine working woman. There wasn't even a trace of my former masculine myself. I felt a sudden rush of embarrassment and considered just not going at all. How could I, once the head of the department, now face all the secretaries in a skirt, so obviously forced into submission? But I knew I truly had no choice. Because none of my neighbors knew of my feminization, I quickly rushed out to my car to avoid being seen by them. And I drove off to my first day in the office in women's clothes. I could tell that all eyes were on me as I walked into the office. I was so humiliated that I didn't make any contact and walked right to Julie's office. "Good morning, boss." I said. "Is there anything you need me to do right now?" Julie looked me over with a grin and said, "Well, Mike, I have to give you credit. I never thought you'd go through with it. I'm glad to see that you know who the boss is. You clearly understand your low status in the office." That first day was hell. The first half of the day, Julie had me running all around the building running errands. I swear she did this on purpose. My feet were killing me in my heels, but I had no choice but to keep on going. The second half of the day, she had me do a lot of typing for her. Normally I can type very fast, but with my long nails, my speed was cut in half. I had to stay after work for two extra hours just to get it all done. Things were more of less like this over the next few days, but the other girls always found some way to humiliate me. Whereas as manager, the other secretaries had always treated me politely, now they openly insulted and mocked me. And as a male, I'd had the men's bathroom all to myself. After my feminization, Julie turned the men's bathroom into a private washroom for herself. Meanwhile, I was told that I had to use the public women's restroom with the other secretaries. One day Julie invited my girlfriend up to the office to surprise me. Boy, was I surprised! I had tried to keep my feminization a secret from my girlfriend, but I certainly couldn't hide any longer when she saw me in a white blouse, with a black skirt and matching hose and pumps. She let me know that she was breaking up with immediately, so that she could go find a "real man". The only thing that kept me going was the belief that Vera would soon get kicked out of the company any day. I was certain that the others in the company wouldn't stand her bitchy ways for very long. Once she would be kicked out, a new president would come in, and restore me to my managerial position. I felt it in my bones that I wouldn't be in skirts much longer. But I soon learned that things were not going as I had hoped. I had heard through the grapevine that Vera was bringing in record profits for the company, and that she would certainly remain as company president for at least a year. Could I keep up my feminization for that long? Well, it wasn't as if I had any choice. I had made my choice, and there was no going back until Vera was out of there. I had already invested this much into my career, so I couldn't just stop now. After I had been working in women's clothes for about two weeks, something happened that made my return to masculinity an even more remote possibility. I was driving to work one day, when I noticed one of my best friends and neighbors driving alongside of me. I couldn't possibly let him see me feminized, so I sped up to try to get away from him. Unfortunately, the cops were out that day, and I was pulled over for speeding. The policeman walked up to my car and said, "Can I see your license and registration, miss?" I reached over for my purse to pull out my license, when it suddenly struck me. My license had my male name, and a picture of me as a male. I couldn't possibly show it to him! I told him I must have lost the license and I tried to talk my way out of it, flirting with the cop and pretending to be a ditzy blonde. Thankfully, he let me off with a warning. But it did make me late for work, which was particularly bad that day because there was an important meeting at 9:00 sharp. I rushed into the conference room at about 9:20, and immediately Julie gave me a stern glare. "And what excuse do you have for being late?" I was honest and explained everything that happened. "Gosh," said my coworker Phyllis. "It would have been really embarrassing to show that cop that you were really a guy dressed in women's clothing!" "I agree," chimed in Julie. "It would be a shame if something like this were to happen to you again. And I think I know just the solution. It's actually something I had been tossing around in my mind the past few days, but I had never really brought it up." "What?" I asked cautiously. "Well," she replied, "it really doesn't make much sense for you to call yourself Mike, when you don't look at all like a man. It's not really appropriate for you here at work, and it's clearly causing you problems outside of work as well. Therefore, I would like you to ditch your masculine name and go by a feminine name." My name? This was the last vestige of my masculinity! She couldn't possibly take that away from me, could she? Then again, as with everything else, I as a mere secretary had absolutely no control. All of the other secretaries nodded in agreement with Julie. "All right then! For your new name, why don't we call you.Michelle Smith? I'll call human resources and payroll and let them know about the change." Julie left for a few minutes, and returned with a smile. "It's all set! From now on, you'll be known as Michelle Smith. As far as this company is concerned, Mike Richardson no longer works here. All of your paychecks will be made out to Michelle Smith, so you really have no choice in the matter." Julie turned to the other secretaries and said, "Girls, here's how I want you to think of this situation. Don't think of Michelle as Mike. As far as I'm concerned, Mike Richardson no longer works here. Just think of it as if we've hired a new girl, Michelle Smith, fresh out of secretarial school! Pretend that he is a woman and that he has always been a woman!" Phyllis interrupted, saying, "That's perfectly fine with me, but I do have one problem with this. If you really were to hire a new, inexperienced girl, you would hardly make her your personal secretary, which she is now. Since I have the most secretarial experience, I should be the executive secretary. And Michelle, who is newly hired, should take on an entry level clerical position, such as a file clerk or a receptionist." Julie smiled and said, "Phyllis, I completely agree! I'm making you my secretary now. Your first official task will be to find simple duties that are more in line with Michelle's minimal experience." Unbelievably, things had gone from bad to worse. As Julie's executive secretary, I at least had a position of some importance with a somewhat decent salary. But as a mere file clerk, I would be making minimum wage in a meager position performing menial tasks. Even worse, Julie's new demands would make it even more difficult for me to return to a man. She explained to me that since all of my salary would be going to Michelle Smith (not Mike Richardson), I would need to get new bank accounts, credit cards, driver's license, etc. in my new name. It all seemed so drastic and irreversible to me. I protested, but Julie said that she wouldn't hear any of my whining. "You got yourself into this. You're the one who volunteered to work in women's clothes. It's only fitting that we give you the proper name to go with it." "Besides," she added, "with your feminine looks, it's not as if you're going back to men's clothes any time in the foreseeable future. You're stuck! Now you have to see what it's really like for a typical working woman. You'll probably start wishing that you had treated the secretaries a lot nicer!" Julie said she wanted to make everything official, so she took me down to the courthouse to get my name legally changed. She had some more friends over there, so there really weren't any questions or hassles. And before I knew it, I was now legally Michelle Smith. She dropped me off at home at the end of the day, and just as I was going out of my car, she had one last remark. "You know, Michelle, this apartment of yours is really extravagant for a new secretary just making minimum wage. I know we women like to live in high style, but for a mere office flunkie, you really need to find something more appropriate. You'll soon learn that a secretary's paycheck doesn't go very far." I knew she was right. I was no longer Mike, the hotshot businessman who had the world in the palm of his hand. I was now Michelle, just a stupid little secretary, like thousands of other women. Drastic changes soon came within the next few weeks. My paycheck as a secretary was less than a quarter of my pay as a manager. As a result, I had to follow Julie's advice and move out of my nice apartment to a small, dumpy studio. Because the apartment was so small, there was no room for all my boxes of male clothing. So I had to do the unthinkable and gave away all my male clothes. That further guaranteed the permanence of my femininity. I also decided to sell my brand new BMW and buy a used Hyundai. Even then, I was always low on cash, given my minimum wage salary. Things didn't improve at work either. Everyone treated me like a dumb, inexperienced bimbo. I was given the most boring, menial tasks, as if I wasn't competent enough to do anything that required even a modicum of thought. There was always the temptation to feel sorry for myself, but I understood that there were millions of other women who were in my same exact situation. We were stuck in low- paying jobs with no hope of ever advancing. Michelle Smith was nobody important. She was just another working girl trying to make it in the world. My life hit rock bottom about a year after I officially became Michelle. Julie had called me into her office. "Michelle, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. We're making some cutbacks at the company, and I think we'll have to let you go." "What!?" I screamed. "How can you fire me? With all my experience, all the time I've worked here? This company needs me!" Julie shook her head. "You're confused, Michelle. You've only worked here a year. It was Mike who worked here a long time. But he doesn't exist anymore." She continued, "This company doesn't need you. As the least experienced secretary here, you're absolutely dispensable." I was still consumed by disbelief. "I refuse to accept this, Julie! Look at what I've done for this company! I've turned myself into a woman, probably permanently! I've been doing all of your menial tasks for a whole year! You're not firing me after all that!" "I'm afraid I can," Julie replied. "Remember, I am the boss, while you have no power whatsoever. But don't worry. Secretaries are a dime a dozen. I'm sure you can find another job somewhere else. I'll even give you a good reference." And that was that. She had security come and escort me out of the building. Though my time with the company was over, my life as a woman and as a secretary would continue for the foreseeable future. Because of my depleted savings, I knew I had to find a new job right away. I tried to apply for jobs with more managerial responsibilities. Many wouldn't take me because as Michelle I only had minimal clerical experience. Other told me that a manger is a "man's job" and that a position such as receptionist or secretary would be more appropriate. I soon realized that I was stuck as an office flunkie. So I bit the bullet and took one of the many secretarial positions I was offered. So here I am now. I've faced reality and accepted the fact that I'll never return to my male identity. I'm stuck in heels and skirts for the rest of my life. I've tried to make the best out of my position. I'd been feeling pretty lonely, so I decided that it was time to start dating. One of the salesmen in my office, Eric, took a liking to me, and we've been going out for a few weeks. He's young and cocky, just like I used to be. It was a bit unusual going out with a man, but I've learned to accept assuming the submissive, feminine role in the relationship. It's difficult to surrender all of my control to Eric, but I guess I have no choice given my female identity. Things have already become serious with him, and it looks as if our relationship may become as permanent as my femininity. I'm a bit scared obviously. I never intended on being living my life as a woman, much less a secretary and a wife! I know I have a difficult road ahead of me. But I guess that's something all working women have to deal with. The End