Sissy Slave Requirements
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Special Work Requirements free porn video
HOW YA DOING MISS CARLY?
I've been out of work for two years now. Bummer! Down on Luck, bank
account used up, no dates for a year (no money of course). I was
feeding the pigeons in the park when I met an old flame. One of the
ones who doesn't hate me. She told me of a job vacancy, which was right
up my alley. It was overseas, good pay and benefits. She said they were
looking for males because the turnover was so great, the office was out
of statistical whack with too many females. They feared an EEO
complaint. So a qualified male was a shoe-in.
I hopped right on over, was interviewed, was hired on the spot and was
on a plane within the week for Zitzplotz, Uzbekistan - It ain't LA!
It's the absolute end of the world. No place to go, I think the most
exciting thing to do is watch goats, milk goats, eat goat cheese, and
get goat intimate, while watching 1930s movies - a drag, but a paying
job - it requires a 3 year binding contract. Whoopee, save a bunch in 3
years with no place to spend it.
I was met at Zitzplotz International Airport (a joke right?) by 14
goats walking the dirt runway. Shooing them away was this nicely
dressed woman who introduced herself as Miss Sarah, the assistant to
the Chief, Miss Laura. We drove straight to the office where she
introduced me to all 19 smiling female workers and the 4 cranky males I
was warned about. All were doing essentially the same kind of work I'll
be doing. She then oriented me on the customer service work they do for
the American oil field workers 100s of miles away. She dropped me off
at my pretty nice living quarters, telling me she'd be back at 7:00 pm
to take me to a party in my honor at the Chief's house. From a pigeon-
pooped park bench to uptown Zitzplotz in less than a week. Life is a
real kick. You bet - I was ready at 7:00 - off we went to Miss Laura's
spiffy, big house.
After parking, we entered the house met by a maid who ushered us
directly in to Miss Laura's library and bar. Miss Sarah whipped up two
scotch and sodas and we waited. I could hear many people partying in
the next room. Miss Laura finally joined us. She was a very attractive
woman in her late 30s. Miss Sarah earlier told me Miss Laura was a
genius and on the Company's fast-track and recommended working hard,
following orders, staying loyal, and close to her coattails because she
promised she will bring the good performers upwards with her. Miss
Laura went over the company mission and history with me then proceeds
to advise me of her employee preferences and pet peeves.
Miss Laura explained she prefers all employees being called 'Miss' as
an honorary title because it symbolically emphasizes and recognizes the
excellence of femininity for all of us. - She asked, "Do you mind my
idiosyncrasy? Would it bother you"? I thought, "What do I care what
they call one another, so I say, "No". Anyway it's no skin off my nose.
I'll call those gals anything they want to be called as long as it
makes my new boss happy.
Krikey, I didn't see the next hard ball coming. Miss Laura said since I
didn't mind the 'Miss' appellation, what name would I like to be
called? I said my name is variously Charles, Chuck or Charley, so she
suggested I be known as ... MISS Carly. Wham ! What do I say to that? I
am so stunned; I am unable to open my mouth. In the meantime, Miss
Sarah went to the other room announcing to the Gang that "our new
employee's name is Miss Carly". Damn! I thought. What to do? It's
already a lock with the others. I can't say "No" now, so I sheepishly
answer, "that's fine". Hmmmmmm, I think, "Oh well, Charley is now Miss
Carly, the bashful, tongue-tied, doofus of Uzbekistan. What's in a
name, eh"?
Miss Laura said she found this titling to be very effective in an
office giving as reasons that women are more productive, less argument,
better at problem solving, withstand work/office pressure, are better
at stress avoidance and women just get along with one another better.
She recently thought males might obtain some of the same benefits if
their male egos could relate closer to the office females by being
called 'Miss' to hopefully absorb and identify with some of the
essential positive characteristics of females.
I later learned those grumpy guys I met would not do it. So, they are
in technically in violation of an official office policy, which is
binding in Uzbekistan. An office manager can conjure up any nutty
policy, make it official policy and make it stick in court. Shoot,
being slow on the uptake got me to home plate. Yes! - the right answer
without opening my mouth. My being called Miss Carly is not so bad
especially since those guys are leaving. Miss Carly is a whole lot
better than missing out on this great job.
Now Miss Laura said was my moment of truth. She demanded a showing of
sincerity and good faith. Would I agree? I had to follow on so, I said,
"Sure". I didn't know what was happening when Miss Laura came close to
me with a gadget of some kind. Whambam, whazzup? My ears were pierced
painlessly - medium size tasteful hoops were inserted, she told me I
couldn't remove them if I wanted too as the fastener was secured by
super glue. Looking in a mirror they did kind of stand out with no way
of hiding them. I'll have to make up a whopper of an explanation. - And
then Miss Sarah gently pushed my head back, tweezers in hand, began
busily plucking and shaping my eyebrows as the third initiation stage
into the Gang. Ouch. ouch. ouch! No doubt about it, my career and face
has taken an unplanned turn into the Twilight Zone. I hope it is worth
it. Thinking back, the nightmares took about two weeks to go away.
We all then went to the Main Room. Everybody welcomed me somewhat like
they did Norm in the Cheers' TV show: "MISS CARLY"! I was embarrassed
and blushed. I never blush. It must be the new name, earrings and
eyebrows. Some kind of magic going on here? No waste of time, they
quickly got down to business. "Well, Miss Carly, this is the way it
goes here. We are 100% women in this room - you are nothing, nothing,
but an interning woman and new employee", Miss Laura said sternly, "we
all are doing you a favor, got it"? Head, ear rings and arched eyebrows
pointing down, I said, "Yes mam, Miss Laura, I got it and would like to
beg everyone's' help". The gang all clapped. The doofus, the new Miss
Carly, hit another home run.
She finished saying, women get along better, those guy's macho
declination, lack of loyalty and general stupidity proves it - had they
agreed they wouldn't be looking at a very long period of unsuccessful
job seeking, if they ever find one. Miss Laura smiled like she knew;
like she would assure those dudes are forever toast.
Returned to my room I was wondering, am I just a weak fool? YET, it is
always best be on good side of power - no doubt about that - need job
and money - disastrous if contract was terminated for cause - no money
- pay my own way home - no job - bad references, maybe never work in my
field again - already messed up with a sissy name, with pierced ears
and girl-shaped eyebrows.
Stick it out, I concluded. Why not play the game since it is the only
game in town at least in this Uzbekistan universe. Who would know; who
would care? Except for the weird matriarchy aspect it is do 'able and
certainly beneficial as opposed the alternate - which was extremely
gloomy and self-destructive - almost borderline suicidal for me if I
chose to reject. So I'll play along for awhile, what the hell? The
eyebrows will grow out and I can use dynamite on the earrings, if need
be. Miss Laura did say the only other guys were getting the boot, so
they won't be around. It's all girl, all the time, and me.
Next day a 'package' was delivered early. In it was a reminder of my
pledge of good faith and a caution, "You will be checked", the note
warned. The Package contained various colored slips, bras, panties,
panty hose, sleeper baby dolls and night gowns. Oh God! OK, again I
rationalized who is to see anyway? It is all under-stuff. The girls in
the office already know what's happening. So I started dressing and
found a second page to the Note telling me I would have cosmetics
applied at the office, but for me to immediately remove all body hair -
so back to the bath room, razor in hand. Ouch, ouch ouch - Why does all
this woman's' stuff have to hurt? Poor little me.
Clean and smooth as a baby's a... I dressed in all that pink, soft
silky stuff, hitched up the panty hose and put on my shirt, tie and
suit. For some reason the shirt and suit material felt rough where I
never noticed it before but underneath this sandpaper cloth, all was
heaven. I'm done and ready. I won't screw up on my first work day
anyway. Funny I didn't even find dressing this way unusual at all
considering the circumstances and controlling female environment
coupled with my desperate need for paid gainful employment.
I thought maybe I'd buy a ski mask to wear while walking to work to
cover my new, different face and ears. Either way, I stand a chance to
have an unpleasant encounter with the police. I ditched the ski mask
idea preferring to be seen as a minor freak instead of a major thief.
First through the door the 4 guys were waiting - they saw the obvious,
my ear rings and eyebrows and made rip snorting macho dirty derogatory
commentary, jokes and fag insults. I smacked the loudest, John, the
leader. They settled down telling me that they had received the same
offer and refused. They didn't get as far as I and they were glad. -
All said life was a veritable hell for them after that, they all were
very experienced and were still unable able to secure jobs elsewhere. I
told them I don't have any money or even have much experience and said
I had to go along and asked what's so bad, what difference if the
bosses are happy and support me if I give them what they want. In this
forsaken wasteland, who sees, who knows, who cares besides it is not
criminal, illegal but overall, career enhancing. They all said, "It was
not manly, you freak'in faggot". I'm not - but looking like I do, makes
it hard to convincingly argue otherwise.
Since they had turned down the offer, they did not receive a package so
they were not aware of what I was wearing under my suit, GOOD! The
piercing and eyebrow sculpture set the cruel SoBs off bad enough. They
said many other men had worked here, but all refused, all left quickly.
No one coming here knew what the whole deal in this place was. They
said I was the 'first to knuckle under to those GD broads' and not man
enough to say screw you bitches.
John guffawed loudly saying they wanted to call him Miss Joan. That's
when he told them to shove it; the others told the same story. They
started ragging badly on me again. One even yanked my hoop ring. With
that bit of BS, I left and went to my desk with a slight smile on my
lips as my new neat, superbly comfortable lingerie, rustled silently
against me, sliding softly, touching my whole body, saying, "It's all
right".
All through the day, all the girls one-by-one introduced themselves to
me. I was first given a crash course in make-up application and told it
was required, so I should get to work earlier or I could leave it on
and simply refresh it the next day, as I chose. I received a purse with
all the necessary stuff I would need. They were all nice, friendly, and
very helpful, never once forgetting to call me Miss Carly. Even the
guys returned to call me Sissy-Missy-Carly, then laughed uproariously
every time, all the time, all day long, especially now with me sporting
the additional indignity of lipstick, nail polish, eyeliner, mascara,
foundation and blush. As it turned out, I had the last laugh as they
all were deported the next day rapidly exiting Uzbekistan to wherever
and to whatever ghastly, but well deserved; unemployment fate lies
ahead for them.
Each week brought a new package, with quid pro quo 'to follow orders or
get gone', requirements! The first was a required physical checkup
after which the Physician prescribed a required a strict diet, certain
vitamins and daily 'health shots' administered by Miss Sarah. Another
package contained a required membership in a health club and had me
jogging three miles every day. Then following - on to hair styling for
my longer hair and THEN, a package with women's' shoes - followed next
week by women's' pants suits and women's' blouses to be worn instead of
my men's' stuff , with a last package surprise: scheduled electrolysis
sessions.
Funny, it was crazy, kind of embarrassing but I started to look with
anticipation for the each package - each time was a Girlie-Christmas. I
began to love the excitement and each new addition to me. The changes
came so slowly and were subtle that I almost didn't notice. The people
on the streets did, especially the young and old men, and even some
women. At first I didn't think anything about since I was so confident
and secure spending so much time in the office environment with my
friends and coworkers but this was different, out in the world
observations by interested people. I had to assess where I am, where
I've been and where do I want to go. - The workload was awesome long
hours, long days but the Gang held up just fine. It truly was an
integrated bunch. I chose correctly. I am so glad I was with them,
beginning to almost look and act like them, instead of being against
them, and be gone.
Time passed quickly, while work went on smoothly because "WE were
really a whizzbang working team. They joked, "It was all good now
because the testosterone was gone" - except for me, but they didn't
think I was significant enough to even mention, or purposely exclude me
from "the Whizzbang Gang". As the only male left, I felt funny being
included but it also felt good to be included part of such a superior
organization. I observed some coworkers holding hands, being very
close, saw a few kissing, but thought it all meant that it was only
part of the excellent, close camaraderie and exuberance over
successfully completing many difficult work projects. Shoot guys do it
too, well maybe not the kissing part, unless the guys are French - then
who knows?
Now I need a brassiere as chest enlarged to a B cup making jogging
painful - so far into this, I say who cares, no one outside sees or
knows except the gal gang, who are always supportive and actually fun.
I even finally figured what all those health vitamin and shots were.
The breast growth was a tad painful but tingly too, and sensitive like
nothing I ever felt in my life. The addition of a brassier made life
easier supporting these two new loads but it was uncomfortable too but
a necessity.
With them more sticking out like they were, more people stared.
Thinking what? I am a ... they do not know what to figure. It's time to
move to the next level to dispel the androgynous, quasi-gay/lesbian
questionable image I present. It's time for me to accept the awesome
changes that have occurred too. Dressing in the lingerie was fine but
still hidden, dressing up in the pants suit and blouses, even with
jewelry and light cosmetics still made me appear as if I were clutching
on to what little was left of my maleness. Where after all this time
and my fine association with these superb women has surely changed me
greatly. I have to admit to myself, Charley is no more, Miss Carly is
happening now! Time to go to the next level by wearing skirts dresses
and high heels - just do it, Lady!
Over the next 6 months there was much work interspersed with more
company parties, paid weekend trips to neat European locations, perks,
bonuses, and fat incentives. My neighbors still look at me strangely,
but they are Europeans so they would anyway - has little to do with
them anyway - all after-work social life is with one or more girls. Or
all of the girls whether I want to, feel up to it. Or not, but it is
still fun. We work together, play together, shop together, and vacation
together.
Overtime, I've become as much a woman, or anyway look, walk and act
like one, as good as almost anyone in the gang. My work is outstanding,
my bank account and investments are up there, I've traveled all over
and have seen many of the exotic sights, and I feel great, my health is
excellent. I look great as a female and many men have said so. Stunning
was the word most frequently used.
No one looks at me as if I was anything other than a good looking, well
dressed, poised, intelligent business woman, except for useless
anatomical protuberances in my panties, but is only seen by those whom
I want to see it. --- And they are only the members of the gang, - that
is the way it is, the way it must be, we stick together ... l am
committed, I gave my word - in Uzbekistan.
Miss Laura told us all that we would be visited by an Inspection Team
from the Headquarters - this was going to be make or break important
for all of us! My presence and gender was a major problem. The solution
was to have my personnel documents changed to make my appearance match
the paper work - high tech equipment and slick hacking allowed a name
change, gender and personnel file picture to be changed, in time. On
official papers. I AM an official female. Now, how do I change back to
male, if I have ever had a mind to? Naah, not to worry, we have only
the present to wrestle with, the future will take care of itself.
We worked, worked and worked. Long hours and days checking and fixing
files and important papers. We all made sure everything was correct,
neat and in order. With the same intensity, we flew to Paris over the
weekend - and shopped, shopped and shopped for dresses, skirts, shoes,
evening gowns all to dazzle the inspectors - We put our best foot
forward in sexy minis, clinging long skirts, lacey silky soft semi-
revealing blouses, high spike heels, and black-black stockings. The
steady use of the gym, jogging, dieting and some necessary and
unnecessary cosmetic surgery, for sure, made us all look model-quality,
fabulous, albeit, a bit like an office gathering of hookers, but
definitely high-class but as usual, done very tastefully and
efficiently.
The inspection was finally completed so we hosted a big party for the
Inspection Team. It was Wonderful! We danced, drank, and laughed
through the night. I very much liked Terry, one of the Inspectors. He
was tender, good looking and smart - he wanted badly too to get it on
with me and I with him, but Miss Laura only allowed touching, but no
other emotional fooling around in case something turned sour, ruining
our accomplishment. I left Terry with a sweet 'til we meet again kiss
and finally we sent all the Inspectors happily on their way.
The final report came in highly commending our profitability, job
efficiency, accuracy and customer service. It concluded we had become
so good in our use of automation and employee cohesion that our model
will be used throughout the industry making it so our jobs can be
accomplished in the US to perform the same service worldwide. - No need
of an expensive over seas outsourced operation.
We saved bunches of money for the company, who rewarded Miss Laura with
an important executive promotion, a generous bonus and a huge monetary
award, which she unhesitatingly shared with us. Clever me Miss Carly, I
made time to have 'an operation' just before we left. Now, I match my
ID card, totally. For me, I came there as a penniless, jobless, stupid
male and three years later return home as a modestly wealthy, super-
competent, power female. All us girls are working as heads in our own
Divisions back home in the good old USA. Miss Laura's organization
plans, albeit extreme, were so very, very right. She "Miss'ed" us all--
-errrr----but missed nothing.
I made a call - "Hello Terry, This is ... Carly, Miss Carly, from
Zitzplotz, remember me? ... Would you like to come to work for me, Miss
Terri?
FINIS
-------by Amanda Roman-------
Vera
- 03.08.2020
- 17
- 0
