How Did That Get There? free porn video

HOW DID THAT GET THERE? By O2BeLisa We were both on the edge of having it made. Big time. Of course it was a sharp edge, one which could cut either way, but nonetheless we had hope, and some reason, to believe that we both would succeed. By "we" I mean Betty Clark, my wife of three years, and I, born Thomas Clark, called by my nickname Tommy by the time Betty and I met. We were both in our early twenties, young to be on the edge of big time, but too young to realize that life isn't always in your favor. The conceit of youth, I guess. Betty is an attractive woman, slightly taller than I am, with long auburn hair, a very pretty face and nice figure. She has outstanding long legs. To describe myself at that moment in time I would have said I was lean, not masculine but good looking in a boyish way; my least masculine features were my large blue eyes. Like all the men in my field, computer software, I had grown my light brown hair long, in protest against the rules that make most business so boring. I wore T- shirts and jeans and I tied my hair in a pony tail with a rubber band. Betty's company, which provides marketing services for smaller companies, had some problems and those problems had gotten one of the managers in trouble. He had made too many bad decisions. She expected him to be fired and the job to be offered to her. It wouldn't be easy work, if she got the job, but if she did, well she would earn more money and be on track to be promoted to an ever higher level, with a big raise in salary at that time. If she was to be overlooked for the promotion that would mean that her company had no confidence in her abilities and that she should begin looking for a job in another company. Since she was a hard-driven career woman, she was on pins and needles, waiting. As for me, I was one of three partners in a software start-up. We had a new product about to come to fruition. It had taken us a year to develop it, working long hours and surviving on take-out pizza. It had been a year with no other income. If the software lived up to our expectations we would not only survive but we could make a lot of money. The down side was that it was our last hope, as our savings had been depleted over the past year. We were only a day from knowing what we had. That next day Betty and I kissed each other good-bye as we left for work. We both knew our fate was about to be decided. As a sign of our confidence we had made a reservation at a good restaurant for that evening and we expected to order Champagne to celebrate. We arrived home at about the same time that evening. I was carrying a cardboard box with my personal belongings. I was a mental wreck. The software hadn't worked; in fact it was a disaster as it wasn't fixable. And we had no money to continue on with the business. My partners and I got together, shouted curses at the gods, and decided to close up. We were through. Kaput. We had put all out savings into the company and now not only was the company finished but we were all personally flat broke as well. Betty spoke first. "I got the job." But she said it without excitement. "Then why don't you seem happy?" I asked. "Because my secretary resigned today, she and her husband are moving away. She gave me two weeks notice but I know I'll never be able to replace her with anyone who can be a real help to me, certainly not in time. I'll need strong help or I won't succeed. The first months are critical and I need someone I can trust, someone intelligent that I can lean on when I need to, and someone who can keep the office running smoothly, typing, answering the phone, serving coffee for the meetings I'll hold. How could I get the promotion and her resignation on the same day?" She began crying. Then I told her that my business had folded. I was out of work. She hugged me and cried harder. She told me how sorry she was for me. We cancelled the reservation and got left-overs from the frig so we could talk. We talked for hours. Of course, Betty would try as hard as she could. She would hire a secretary and hope for the best. But it had taken a year to properly train her current one. She gave the odds of succeeding in her new position, with this distraction, at only about 50%. "You know," she said. "A couple of times you gave me advice, when I asked for it, that I used to good effect at the office. Your ideas contributed to my getting this promotion." "I'm glad I was able to help," I said. "What are your prospects?" "I don't have any. There are hundreds of tech people looking for work right now." She spent some time looking me over. I felt like I was on display, and I was confused as to what she was doing. "I'm about to suggest something you will probably think is crazy," she finally said. "Really? Go ahead and suggest it." "I want you to be my secretary." "You're right, I do think it's crazy. But crazy doesn't begin to describe it." "Hear me out first," she said. "You're really serious?" "Very serious." "Well, I'll listen but don't get your hopes up." "If you were there with me every day, helping me solve problems of course mostly being my secretary as I need someone to do all those duties I could master my job and when I'm promoted again we'll be on easy street." "Betty, I have a degree in computer science." "Don't look down on secretaries." "I didn't mean to do that, exactly." "Come on; let's at least discuss the pros and cons of this." "Ok, but it's an up hill battle for you." "First, we need more income. The secretarial job would provide it." "True," I answered. "And you would be a big help to me." "Also true, I hope. But consider this. Having me as your secretary would be embarrassing for me. And it wouldn't look good for you, either. Not just because of nepotism, but your company would question your judgment in hiring me." "You're right but there is a way around that." "How is that possible?" She paused for over a minute. Then she said, "I would hire you as a girl." "Oh, sure. And when I show up " "They would see a girl." "And how is that possible?" "Because you would dress and act like one. Listen, I'm taking two weeks off before I start my new job. There may not be time for a vacation later and I need some relief from the pressure I've been under. We would have two weeks to prepare you." "It sounds absolutely insane." "No, it sounds brilliant!" "Brilliantly insane, perhaps?" "I only need one day to get you ready, just as a test, I don't mean the complete job and if, at the end of the day it seems that it won't work, then we can give up the idea." "Before I say yes to a test, I've thought of other reasons it wouldn't work." "Such as?" "My name for one thing. In order to receive pay checks I'd have to give the personnel department my name." "People change their names all the times. Especially celebrities. You simply go down to the court house and talk to a judge. Presto, you have a new name." "I'd have a legal new name?" "After I've succeeded in the new job you could quit and change your name back." "If I was made up to be a girl all the time, how would you explain that no one ever sees your husband. I went to a number of your office parties, so they know me." "I would say that you left for California to try and do a start-up of another business, one like the one that went broke here." "You would say I left you?" "Men do it to wives all the time." "You have good answers, I suppose, but boy are they be difficult for me to accept." "Even if it means our final success?" "You know, even in a dress and heels and make-up I wouldn't pass as a girl. I'd need curves that fake padding wouldn't provide. Got you there!" "I'm just thinking as I'm talking but I don't see any reason why a boy couldn't get breast implants? If girls can, boys can. Doesn't that make sense?" "Probably. But it's like a big step." "For girls it's done as an out-patient. It's not that big a deal." "Still, I don't think having breasts would be enough." "So, you're imagining yourself with breasts?" "I have to in order to keep up with the debate." "You may be right. What makes a fetus become a girl and not a boy? I'm not being facetious, I really don't know. Help me out here." "Hormones, probably. Different types of hormones." Betty's lap top was close by and she quickly Googled hormones. She scrolled down a number of sits and stopped at one. "Ooooh wow," she said. "This site tells boys how to become girls by taking massive hormones. Apparently it's done all the time. We wouldn't have to be pioneers. Just follow instructions like these," she said showing me the site. I peeked over her shoulders. "Hormones did that to those boys?" I said looking at before and after pictures. "Those boys must have been more effeminate to start out than I am." "I don't think so," Betty said studying the photos. "Look at these two." I looked and sure enough two of the girls who had been boys who had been quite masculine. "I'm amazed," I said. "Darling, this can work easier than I might have imagined. We'll simply get you breast implants and start you on hormones. According to this, the hormones will take a while to have full effect but they will work fast enough to get you through." "There's still the fact that I look like a boy. I mean, my face. I know I'm a bit effeminate, but I still look like my sex." "But those boys must have gone to a beauty salon before being photographed for the after' pictures." "Perhaps." "After going to a beauty salon, you'll look perfect." "I can't believe I would. The more I think about it those after' photos could have been retouched digitally." "You're too suspicious. The site looks honest. Anyway, as I suggested, let's give it a trial for a day." "Ok, but I'm only going to do it to show you that it won't work." "And if you look great?" "I won't." "You're sure." "Positive." "If you agree that if indeed you do look like a girl, a real girl, no questions about it, then you will let me hire you?" "I'll do it if you agree that if I look silly then you'll never bring up the subject again." "Great. By the end of the day you'll be my secretary." "Tomorrow I'll be wearing jeans and reading the want ads." "We'll see," she said. "I'm going to bookmark the site so I can refer to it later." The next morning Betty called the salon that she uses. We were lucky that the salon could take me on such short notice, especially as Betty had said I would need at least five hours of work. "Let's go," Betty said. "They're expecting us." She picked up a suitcase to take with us. "What's that for?" I asked. "You'll need clothes to wear home. Fortunately we're the same size so I picked out some of mine." "You're really sure about this, aren't you?" "Start polishing your typing skills, sweetie." When we arrived, Karen, the manager greeted us. "So you're Tammi?" she said to me. Betty laughed. "Sorry," she said to me. "In our hurry to get here I forgot to tell you your new name. It's the one you'll officially get when you go down to the courthouse." "Betty said you spell your name with an "I", Karen said. "Ha ha, funny," I replied. Karen took me into a back room and told me to take all my clothes off and lie on the table in the middle of the room. "All my clothes?" "Yes, Tammi, there's no time for modesty. I'm going to do a complete wax job. Almost every inch of you." She got out wax and a bundle of strips and placed one waxed strip on my leg. "Let's see how well you tolerate this," she said ripping off the tape when the wax had dried. "Ouch!" I exclaimed. "That really hurt." "Some girls prefer us to give them a large tranquilizer. It doesn't put you out, not completely, but it makes you almost unaware of what we are doing to you." "Then give me two of them," I said. "Two coming up," she answered. I was conscious of some of what they did. As they, Karen and her assistant Corey, were about to finish with the waxing, I heard Karen say that Betty wanted me to have what was left of my pubic hair shaped into a small "landing strip" design. I know they plucked my eyebrows. Mine had always been a little bushy so it took them a while. I should have told them that this was going too far but I was too out of it to care enough to complain. Corey worked on my nails, both fingers and toes, while Karen washed and cut my hair. She put small strands of my hair in foil, until my head was covered with them, then added a strong smelling solution. While that was taking effect the assistant pierced my ears and inserted earrings. After a while the foil was removed and my hair was put up in rollers. I was put under a dryer with the rollers in place. Without allowing me to see myself in a mirror, my hair was brushed out and I got a final hair spray to help it keep its shape. Then both of them began applying my make-up. From foundation to final blush, it took nearly an hour. My lips had coat after coat of lipstick applied, then lip gloss was added to make them look wet and shiny. "I need to see myself," I said. By that time the tranquilizers had worn off. "As soon as we get you dressed," Karen said. She opened the suitcase and removed all the clothes. "First, let me put this garter belt on you." It was black and lacy. "Now your hose," she continued. I sat so she could roll them up my legs. It was then that I realized how hairless and smooth my legs were. When she attached them to my garters she had me stand so I could look at them over my shoulder, as she asked me to do. "See, they have seams. You'll need to check every so often to make sure they're straight and straighten them if they aren't." Corey took a pair of pink patent pumps, with 4-inch heels, and slipped them on my feet. "Stand up," she said handing me pair of black bikinis. "Put these on." As I was pulling them up my legs the silkiness and the lace caused me to get an erection. "Oh, no you don't!" Karen said. She grabbed hold of me, squeezed me like an experienced nurse might, and I went limp. "Your bra matches you garter and panties," Corey said. She put it on me, after showing me how it's done, then snapped the hooks. "Extra hose for stuffing," she said filling the cups. "I understand this stuffing will only be temporary." The bra looked full, too full for me to be comfortable standing in front of those women. "Didn't you stuff them with too many hose?" I asked. "You're a 34D so it took a lot," Karen answered. Karen gave me a slim skirt that fell just above my knees, and told me to put it on. It was black and had a wide belt. Next I put on a pink short sleeve blouse and buttoned it up. It was sheer enough that my black bra was just visible through the fabric. That was followed by four rings and a necklace. "Ok, now you get to see," Karen said leading me over to a full length mirror. "Oh, my God!" I said. "Betty was right! How can that be?" I was so shaky that Karen and Corey each took an arm to hold me steady. I was about to fall over. Just then Betty came into the room. "I can't believe it!" she exclaimed. "You can't believe it? What about me? If they weren't holding into me I'd fall over." "You're more beautiful than I could possibly have imagined," Betty said. "I didn't want to look beautiful. I wanted to look silly so we could go onto something else." "So, how would you describe yourself?" "As a beautiful girl." "Not as a boy masquerading as a girl?" "No! And that's the problem. You were right about the results of our test. It's just that it's taking me some time to adjust to it." "See if you can stand on your own," Betty said. Karen and Corey let go of me. I didn't fall. I reached up to touch the mirror. I thought it might be some sort of trick mirror but I could follow my hand, my hand with pink painted nails, to where it touched my image. What I was seeing was really me. "I've actually become a girl," I said. I had blonde hair, full blonde hair. Too wild to be the hair of a female executive but perfect for a sexy secretary. I had pink lipstick, color in my cheekbones, and my eye shadow went from light blue to dark blue. My eyebrows were thin and arched. Betty asked Karen and Corey to leave us alone for a while. When they were gone I said, "Are you really going to make me go through with this?" "That's the wrong question. You should be asking me how soon you can slide your pretty rear onto my secretaries' chair," Betty replied. "I'm still trying to adjust to this. Knowing I might become be your secretary." "I purposely didn't make this a bet. I didn't want you to loose and feel you then had no choice but to agree. No, I want you to do it because I've proved you can be a girl. And that by becoming a girl, a secretary, you will help me greatly in my new job." "I'll have to wear dresses and heels every day?" "Yes." "Maintain my hair like this and apply my own make-up?" "Yes, again." "Have breast augmentation?" "That would be essential." "But it could be undone at some point, couldn't it?" "That can't be a worry at this point, can it? Take things one step at a time." "So I'll have to change my name and for all intents and purposes become a girl? Your secretary? Take orders from you?" "Yes to all your questions. I know this must seem daunting to you. But, Darling, it's important for both of us. I need you there with me and the only way is for you to become a girl. So, yes, the answer is that I very much need you to be my secretary. You must do it. Please " "Oh, my God, how can I say yes?" "How can you say no?" "I want to say yes out of loyalty to you." "Then do it. Say yes." "Alright. I mean, yes, I'll become your secretary." Having said those words I began shaking again. Betty took my arm to hold me steady. "Thank you, Darling," she said kissing me. "You'll get over your fear in a minute." "How long do you think I'll have to be in dresses?" "The business world is sooo unpredictable. Don't make me guess." "But it could be a long time?" "Let's just say that I intend to keep you as my secretary until I've achieved my goals." I had stopped shaking so she let go of my arm. "What if software companies begin hiring?" "Darling, a lot of girls make perfectly good careers being secretaries. Now, stay here and admire yourself while I go up front and pay." I was doing just that, looking deeply into the mirror, when Corey came in. "You look terrific," she said. "Thanks." "Are you going to stay like this?" "I guess so. I'm going to be my wife's secretary." "Great. I know a couple of secretaries and they love it." "She talked me into it." "She didn't make you?" "No " "She must love you, then, because she could have made you do it." "I agreed to do it " "Did you?" "Yes." "She has complete control over you, you know." "She doesn't " "Oh? Just take a look at yourself. I bet you didn't decide on this? The idea came from her, didn't it? While we were working on you I heard her say that she was going home to remove all your male clothes from the house. So she's going to decide what you wear. And if you work for her then she'll decide if you are performing properly and correct you if you aren't." "Still " "Did you agree to a definite time limit on the job?" "No " "Well, then, she has control over you." Just then Betty came into the room. "Darling, let's go," she said. When we were out at the car Betty said, "What were you and Corey talking about?" "About your control over me." "Corey is good at her job but I've heard that she likes to get up to mischief. Anyway, I suppose I do have control over you. But it's benevolent. I'm going to be your boss so we can't really be equals, now can we?" "I guess not " "Well then, forget all about it." When we got home Betty popped two frozen meals into the microwave. "We need to take it easy tonight but not let up with the training you need to have. Did you get a good look at what they did when they put on your make-up?" "No, the tranquilizers still had too much hold on me." "Pity. But I guessed that might be the case so I picked up a couple of DVDs on make-up. We can curl up on the sofa and watch them." Both DVDs were over an hour long and I watched them carefully as Betty kept pointing out things that I needed to remember. Finally we became tired and were about to go up to bed. Before we went up the stairs, I said, "Did you really remove all my male clothes?" "It was necessary. When you open the door to your closet you have to see the clothes you are going to wear from now on. It would only be confusing to see something that you aren't allowed to wear. Understand?" We went to bed without making love, due to my exhaustion. I slept in one of her gowns. I spent the next day learning how to apply make-up. It's not that difficult, but it does require a lot of practice, which I knew I would have over the next two weeks. The following day Betty informed me that we had an appointment for that afternoon to have my breast augmentation. "I didn't tell you yesterday," she said, "as I didn't want you to be worrying all day about it." "I don't want to be too big," was the only thing I could think to say. I knew it was inevitable, I had just hoped she would wait a few days longer. "Darling, you know that having a secretary that's blonde and busty is a status symbol." "So I have to be busty?" "My heavens, yes. I know you want what's best for me - for us. And that requires you to be busty. I don't think there's a secretary at the office that isn't. How would I be perceived if I hired a secretary who's small?" "Do I have any say in how busty I will be?" "I think we better leave that decision to your surgeon. I'll give her my input then she will do what she thinks is best. I think it will be fun for you to wake up and discover what you look like. The suspense will be exciting." When we arrived at the doctor's office I was dressed in a simple black dress, short, about six inches above my knees. I wore 4-inch strappy sandals. I was getting to the point to where I could walk successfully in heels. When the surgeon, Mary-Beth Fortune, met me she said, "Can you really be a boy? I mean genetically. You're a girl, otherwise, that's obvious. I understand you're going to be a secretary?" "Yes " I stammered. "And what is your name?" "Tammi." "Well, Tammi, let's go back to my surgery." To make small talk, as she took off my bra to examine me, she said, "What did you do before you decided you wanted to be a secretary?" "I was into computers." "Well, I think being a secretary will be much more exciting. Think of all the people you will get to meet. And the clothing you will get to wear. I bet you wore T-shirts and jeans before, didn't you?" "Yes." "Well, then, see how lucky you are now!" "She won't have to stuff her bra with these any longer," Beth said scooping up the hose that had filled my bra. "No, she won't," the doctor replied. "How big am I going to be?" I said in a shaky voice. "Don't you worry your pretty blonde head. I'll make sure you're large enough to fill the bra you brought with you. 34D" "Could I possibly be smaller?" "Why would you want that?" she said in disbelief. Then Betty said, "Doctor, what do you think of Tammi's lips?" "They are a bit on the thin side." "I think so, too. At the time you do her breasts could you make her lips fuller?" "Easily," the doctor said. "What?" I said. Betty said to me, "Darling, let's do the things that will help you look more like a girl. Ok?" I nodded my head, yes, but I didn't want to. "Let's get this over with," the doctor said laughing. "Tits and a new kisser!" When I woke from surgery I could tell, from looking down at the blanket covering me, that the two mounds I saw were no smaller than what I had been promised. Betty was beside me when I woke. "Do you want to see them?" "No. They frighten me." "Don't be silly." She carefully removed the blanket and a bra like fabric that covered them. "They're truly beautiful," she said. I had to admit, admit to myself I should say, that if I had to have breasts then these were probably the ultimate ones to have. Round, firm, standing upright, with perky nipples. In a way I was proud of them although I wasn't going to tell her that. "My lips are a little sore," I said. "Let me put some lip gloss on them. They'll be fine by tomorrow. They look great, by the way." About an hour later a nurse arrived to give me hormone shots. She gave me an extra large shot in each rear and then she gave Betty a large box of hormone pills with instructions for which ones to take each day, or twice a day as with some. "Make sure she takes them," the nurse said to Betty. "That's why I'm giving them to you." Back home I spent the rest of the day resting. Betty was so pleased with herself she said to me, numerous times, "This is going so well! Rest, Darling, we have a lot to do tomorrow." I was still too sore the next day to wear one of my regular bras. However, Betty insisted that I put on hose, heels and a short skirt. I did my make-up, of course, that I would do every day, without fail. When I studied my lips I could see that they were much fuller, more than I had expected, and that they were shaped so that there was a small round opening where they came together, as if I was about to speak. I tried to close my mouth completely but the small opening remained. When I asked Betty about it she said, "That's considered the ultimate in sexiness for a mouth. You won't believe how the doctor achieved it." "How?" I asked. "She placed a dildo in your mouth, a small one, and it stayed there as she injected silicone into your lips. Your lips molded themselves around the dildo. When the dildo was removed your lips closed up, but not all the way, and that gave you the shape you see now." "I can't believe it!" I exclaimed. My voiced sounded more feminine as I spoke and I knew the new shape of my lips had made that happen. So they had been shaped for practical reasons as well as for aesthetics. "Believe it," Betty said kissing me. "Darling, you're turning out to be a dream." We spent the day practicing what it would be like performing every day secretarial duties. Under her supervision, I pretended to answer her phone. I politely asked who was calling, what the purpose of the call was, and whether Mrs. Clark could return the call later. The first thing I learned was that I was going to have to call my wife Mrs. Clark. Every other employee of the company would be addressed as Mrs., Mr., Miss, or Ms. The only employees I could call by first names were the other secretaries. I worked on my typing as Betty showed me how she wanted her letters to be formatted. I was told to type up to six before I took them into her office for her signature. Delivering refreshments to her guests was to be a big part of my office duties. She would hold many meetings and I was to come into the office and ask each guest what she or he wanted. I learned to make coffee and to, of course, ask if the guest wanted milk or sugar. There was a refrigerator nearby where I could pick up soft drinks, Cokes and the like. Betty had me practice walking into a room with a tray of soft drinks, stopping in front of each guest, opening a bottle and pouring some into a glass. I would hand the glass, and a napkin, and smile and ask if there was anything else I could do. "Make sure your heels make that sexy clicking sound on the wood floor as that is so much like what a secretary should be doing," she would say. How I could make them click louder I wasn't sure. But I practiced with my heels click clacking while walking over to each imaginary guest, a big lipstick smile on my face. The next day I practiced walking in heels. I thought I had become proficient but I soon learned there was more to walking than just not falling over. I had to be sexy while doing it. I had to take short steps in a way that my hips and rear would move in a sensuous way. In addition, I had to learn how to sit down properly and then how to get back up again. The next day Betty said, "We have an appointment at the courthouse today at 11:00. We need to get your name changed. Tammi is perfect for you but you can't be Tammi Clark. That would be a give-away. Since my maiden name was LeClair I think you should be Tammi LeClair." "It's sort of like you are swallowing me up " "Because your last name is going to be LeClair? That sounds stupid. I thought you were more intelligent than that?" "If I were intelligent I wouldn't be standing here in a dress with my breasts about to fall out of the top." "Darling, I didn't say that you were more intelligent than I am. And that raises a point. We don't want you to rebel because you think you are doing duties that are beneath you. If you admit, openly, that I am more intelligent than you are, I think that will allow you to accept my decisions more easily. What do you say?" "If I weren't standing here like this I would put up an argument. But, considering my position, relative to yours, then I guess I have to admit that you are more intelligent than I am." "That wasn't so difficult to admit to, was it?" "Yes, it was, but I realize I had to do it." "Since the issue is settled, I don't expect you to challenge any of my decisions." "I won't." "Just do everything I say and in a few years we will be on easy street." We arrived at the courthouse and were shown into Judge Sandra Johnson's quarters. Betty introduced us and the judge said, "YOU are Thomas Clark?" "I am," I admitted." "Well, I see why you need a name change. It's going to be Tammi, isn't it?" "Yes, Tammi." "Are those real breasts, Tammi?" "Yes " "Well, then, Miss LeClair, let's get some papers signed." And after I had signed them she said, "Get a new Social Security Card while you're in the building." As we were leaving I said, "I can't believe it. As of ten minutes ago my name is actually, legally, Tammi LeClair! I'm no longer Thomas Clark." Betty laughed. "You look like a Tammi to me!" For the few next days I alternately practiced doing make-up, acting like a secretary in realistic situations, and walking and sitting. I also practiced feminine mannerisms, gestures, etc. I found it very comfortable to hold my arm so my wrist appeared limp, that clich? pose women effect. When I got good at these things we moved to organizing my closet. Betty had always liked buying clothes so her closet overflowed. Since we were about the same size we went through each item so I could choose from dresses, skirts, blouses, heels, etc. in order to furnish my own closet. I had soon picked out enough things to last me a year, if not longer. She owned so many shoes that I was able to pick a dozen for myself. My male clothing was, of course, long gone. Inevitably the day came when I was to report to work. I need to mention that Betty had phoned the personnel department of her company much earlier to inform them that she had found the prefect secretary for herself. The personnel manager was pleased that she had taken that imitative. All that was required was for me to come to the office and sign a few papers. As we were entering the building two attractive, busty girls fell in along side us. "Oh, you must be Mrs. Clark's new secretary!" one of them said to me. "Yes, I am," I answered. "I'm Suzi and this is Bobbi," she replied. "We're secretaries, too. Before you get too busy, let me ask you a question. Our apartment has three bedrooms so we could use another roommate. You know, like, share the rent? Do you need a place?" I suddenly realized that Betty and I were about to make a huge mistake. I looked at her and her expression told me she had understood our mistake as soon as I did. I was about to give the personnel department my new legal name, fine, but I was also about to give my address as the house Betty and I share. That would have raised a red flag! I had to think fast. "Yes, I do need a place," I said. I looked at Betty and I could see the relief on her face. "Give me your address and I'll use it when I go to personnel," I said. "And thank you so much." "That was close," Betty said as we got into an elevator without the girls. "That was quick thinking on your part. It's a good thing we ran into them." "Yes, but don't you realize what it means?" "It simply means that you will have to live with them until we can figure something else out." "So now I'm a secretary living with two other secretaries?" I said almost in tears. "If you think about it, it's perfect. We don't have to worry about our neighbors wondering who you are. Especially after I tell them that my husband has left me." The first day was surprisingly easy. I was introduced to other executives and not a one of them questioned my suitability to be my wife's secretary. A number of the men said I was pretty. I answered the phone, typed, and in general helped Betty get established in her new job. When I go off work I went home and gathered up my clothing and make- up, and put them in boxes. I phoned for a taxi as the one car we owned was going to be used by Betty. Before I left for the day Betty had said, "First chance you get, let your roommates see your breasts as that will establish you bona fide. Then all you have to do is be sure you don't shower when anyone else is around. Simple, right?" "I hope so." "Take their direction. Learn to like the things they like so you will fit in. If they like to shop for clothes, see chic flicks, whatever, you do too. Bring up articles that you've read in Cosmo Magazine so you can have long conversations with them. You're a girl for the foreseeable future so act like one. Go on and have some fun!" "I guess I should get a subscription to Cosmo?" "Good idea. Keep your conversations with them at their level. I want you to be intelligent when you're in my office, but when you are with them you need to dumb down. Fit in. Talk about the new shipments at Victoria's Secret. And, Darling, don't forget to sit down when you pee." "Ok." "I'll have your hormones here in the office so I can give them to you. Remember, you have a weekly Saturday appointment at the salon for waxing and hair touch-up. I'll call them so they can start you on electrolysis as well." Living with Suzi and Bobbi turned out to be fun. I hadn't expected it, but they were so adventurous and good natured that they were fun to be with. The three of us went out a lot, to restaurants, to movies, and to clubs. At first I hadn't wanted to go out but they had literally dragged me out the door so I finally gave in and willingly went with them. At the restaurants I learned to eat salads and other "girl" foods. The movies were always chick flicks. At the clubs I was hit on by men but I managed to fend them off. We especially liked going to clubs that had "Ladies' Nights" as drinks for us were free. The girls dated, and wanted me to join them, but I told them I had had a bad relationship and was still recovering. If we were a few days away from a paycheck we stayed at home, usually renting a movie and making popcorn. And then there were nights when we had to do our "smalls", wash out our panties and hose in the bathroom sink. We strung up ropes about the bathroom to hang everything out to dry. That required us to duck under hose and panties to reach the toilet but it was fascinating, sitting there under a canopy of lingerie, to observe what the other girls wore, realizing that my intimates were no different from theirs. None of us are good cooks but when we stay at home we take turns cooking dinner. My spaghetti usually gets good reviews. We help each other with our hair. Betty had wanted me to go to the salon weekly, but on a secretary's salary that isn't possible. Fortunately Betty decided to pay for my electrolysis. Anyway, it's so much easier to have someone put rollers in your hair than do it yourself. As you must have guessed, Suzi and Bobbi are also blondes so we help each other bleach our dark roots. Suzi has a camera and she likes to take candid photos of Bobbi and me in silly situations. There is a photo tacked to the refrigerator of me with my head full of rollers. I'm wearing only my bra and loose pajama bottoms and I have on no make-up! I had quickly gotten Betty's office running extremely well. I soon became known as the best secretary in the company, which pleased me. It's in my nature to want to be good at whatever I do. There's a plaque on my desk that reads, "Tammi." The only slightly unsettling thing was that the desk I have doesn't have a dress shield in front and that makes me conscious that if I don't sit properly, pulling my short skirt down, then I will likely flash my panties, which I don't want to do. I had selected the laciest ones from Betty's wardrobe and I wanted to keep that knowledge to myself and not to every man who walks up to my desk. I had been called Thomas for over twenty years of my life, but by the time I had been Tammi, for just a couple of months, I couldn't think about myself with any other name. Also, I couldn't imagine getting up in the morning and not putting on make-up. I like wearing make-up, I genuinely like it, and I spend much too much money on cosmetics. Lip gloss is my very favorite thing to use. I had not seen Betty outside the office since that first day and, at first, that bothered me. I still looked forward to when she was established in her job and I could chose to return to being her husband, but I thought about it less and less. When you're living with two other secretaries, fun loving girls, there are too many things to keep you busy and away from introspection. The first thing I do at work each morning is go into Betty's office so she can give me my hormones. It's also the last thing I do each afternoon before going home for the day. The hormones were affecting my body in ways that surprised me. I expected to have better skin, thicker hair, and so on, but I hadn't expected to have the additional roundness in my rear and thighs, at least not to that degree. I looked better, no doubt about it, so I didn't complain. Then I noticed I couldn't get an erection and I went on line and discovered that the hormones were certainly the cause. My testicles and penis had shrunk considerably, which bothered me, but then it also made it easier to look natural in my panties. Still, I was concerned enough to bring up the subject with Betty. "It's no surprise that the hormones would do that," she said. "You certainly don't need your penis at this point and later, if you want, you can take testosterone to try and restore yourself. Everything is going so well that it would be counterproductive to worry about your manhood. Remember what I said, you're a girl for the foreseeable future." "I'm going to pray that taking male hormones will correct the problem," I said. "When we go back to living together, I mean." Suzi and Bobbi live for Saturdays and love to find new things for us to do every weekend. I like my job so much that Saturdays mean less to me, but still I enjoy the things they find to do. One Saturday Suzi and Bobbi decided that it would be fun if we got tattoos. I wasn't up for it but soon their enthusiasm got the best of me. We found a tattoo parlor and each of us had a small butterfly tattooed on our left breasts. When I wear low cut tops it peeks out and I get comments from boys I met. That was the point of what the girls had wanted since they are always thinking up ways for them to tease boys. Betty saw it immediately and, after I had taken off my top and removed my bra so she could get a good look at it, she pronounced the tattoo as being "cool." "It somehow fits with all the jewelry you're wearing these days," she added. It's true, I buy a lot of jewelry and I wear at least five rings, always a necklace, large hoop earrings, and sometimes an ankle chain. When vacation time came around Betty and I scheduled the same dates. But she wanted complete rest so she chose a small resort in the mountains. She encouraged me to take my vacation with my roommates. Suzi, Bobbi and I ended up taking a cruise ship to the Caribbean. The ship stopped at all the islands I had only read about. I had probably the best vacation in my life. I even danced with a number of boys when we went to the clubs in the evening. During the day I worked on my tan and read romance novels that Bobbi had loaned me. When we were ashore we visited interesting towns and handed other tourists our camera so we could have photos taken of the three of us posing in front of some interesting landmark or another. I emailed some of the photos to Betty, photos of three laughing girls having the time of their life. She emailed me back by quoting the song, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!" Every night, in the main dining room, there were "beauty" contests. They were always on the amusing side, never really serious, and it was fun to watch girls who were passengers get up onto the stage and be judged by the men in the audience. On the last night out, before our ship docked, the contest was "Best Blonde Bimbo." The three of us, and a dozen other blondes, got up onto the stage. We all struck "slutty" poses and lifted our skirts higher so we exposed the tops of our hose. When we were asked questions we all pretended not to know the answers. Actually, I hadn't listened to the news or read a serious magazine for a long time so when I was asked, "Who is the Vice President?" I actually couldn't remember. Talk about dumbing down. Bobbi won first place and I came in second! The months rolled by and, as clothes that I had picked from Betty's closet became worn, I began buying new things that I liked. It turned out that my taste was for sexier, trendier skirts and tops. The new skirts I bought were at least three inches shorter than the ones she had given me. And some of my new shoes had 5-inch heels. The new tops were frequently sweaters, a size too small so they molded themselves around my prominent breasts. Betty noticed this, of course, but apparently decided not to say anything. After all, she has the most efficient secretary in the company. There are a number of very pretty secretaries but most people think I'm among the top two or three. The girls and I scout all the stores for sales. Most of what we buy is on sale and that requires that we visit the stores every few days. I swear I know the inventory at Victoria's Secret better than the sales staff does. My favorite sweatshirt has a large "Pink" insignia on the back. Although my life had never been so much fun, nagging in the background was the thought that I was slowly reaching the point of no return, or that possibly I'd already passed it. It was easy to blame much of this on my roommates but, in truth, when wasn't I a wiling participant in all the things they wanted to do? It wouldn't be unfair to describe Betty's clothes, initially on loan to me, and the work done at the beauty salon as a masquerade, a masquerade that would allow me to be employed as Betty's secretary. True, the breast augmentation and the reshaping of my lips took the masquerade to another level. Yet it was a masquerade, still, although a very involved one that daily threatened my masculinity as I became more and more accustomed to seeing only a beautiful girl when I looked in a mirror, or caught my reflection elsewhere. Yet the physical things that were done to me weren't the true problem. No, it has been the accumulation of the hundreds of little things, like the girls helping me get my blonde roots bleached, and shopping for dresses on sale, and going to chic flicks, that add up to actually living life as a girl, to cause me to forget that I was once a boy. It's all the little things that cause what started out as a masquerade to slip into an actual new existence. I find that I forget that I'm a boy for longer and longer periods of time. Weeks, sometimes. I never question that I'm a girl secretary. That's just simply who I am. But then something triggers my memory and I'm temporary Thomas again, momentarily, for a few minutes later that memory is forgotten and I'm Tammi, I've returned to being a girl again. For example, tonight I know I have to wash out my hose. That's a small thing but it's a necessary part of being a girl, not pretending to be one, but actually being one, for when I get up tomorrow I'll need fresh hose as they are simply a part of my life now, almost as much as breathing is. Goodness, I don't want to become too philosophical. I'm having too much fun for that! Suzi has a Volkswagen that her parents gave her when she graduated from high school. It serves the three of us so I don't miss having a car myself. Still, at least for identification purposes, I need a driver's license under the name Tammi LeClair, so I'm going to apply for one. It will be another thing that makes my life as Thomas a thing of the past and my life as Tammi the only life I have, and the only life I can have going forward. I just hope the photo they take of me shows me as the sexy girl I am or I swear I'm going to complain! And then the first anniversary of my becoming a secretary rolled around. Betty and I talked and she asked me to stay on as she was definitely going to be promoted, but needed me until that time. She didn't demand that I stay on but her voice was firm enough to tell me that if I had wavered she would then have insisted that I stay. A man who had the position above hers was scheduled to retire in three years. "Surely you can hold out until then?" she asked. "I'm only asking for three more years." "Three?" I said. "I had no idea." "Nothing in a big company happens as fast as we might want," she answered. "And I depend on you greatly. Look, you seem to be happy. Right?" I told her I was. "Would you want to go back to computers?" she said. "Definitely not." "What, then?" "That's the problem, I have no idea." "You know, it may be that you were born to be a secretary." That last statement haunted me for weeks. How much truth was there in it? Betty had told me that sometimes secretaries hear rumors first and if I heard something that might affect her job I was to let her know. Well, one day one of the secretaries from another division mentioned that Mrs. Clark didn't seem to have any life outside of the office. She knew that a number of male executives had asked her out but she had refused each one. Now the rumor was that she might be a lesbian. When I told her what I had heard she surprised me by saying she had already heard the rumor. "Perhaps I need to accept some dates," she said. "Just to squelch the rumors." This hurt me more than I might have expected. When Betty saw the sad look on my face she quickly told me that she would only date so people would quit talking about her. She seldom used dirty words so she shocked me by saying, "I won't let any of them fuck me." "Please don't," I pleaded. "There may be similar rumors about you," she added. "It's time for you to accept some dates. You can tell your boyfriends that you are a virgin and want to stay that way until marriage. Most boys will loose interest in you fast, but you will still find boys, who just want to be with you. Hand holding and kissing, nothing beyond that." "I don't know what to say? I sort of want it, but I'm not sure. In a funny way I am lonesome, although I live with two girls." "Tell your roommates the story about being a virgin. My bet is that they will fix you up with dates that are a lot of fun but not threatening." When I told my roommates the "virgin ploy" they responded that I was a bit too old fashioned, but that it would be fun to triple date. Suzi had a cousin that she thought would be prefect for me. He was a grad student at the university and too involved in his studies to worry about seducing girls. He, like me, just wanted to have fun dates, she said. His name was Peter Please, I'm not into puns and we went out together the next Saturday. The six of us. Peter is a hunk, even I could see that, with dark hair and a three day beard that he cultivates. The girls and their dates and Peter and I went to a roller rink. Who suggested that I didn't know? I was unsteady on skates so Peter and I basically skated arm and arm so I wouldn't fall. Then we went to a Mexican restaurant. After eating we headed back to the apartment where Peter and I spent an hour on the sofa just talking. When he left we kissed at the door. Back in my room I said to myself, YOU JUST KISSED A BOY! I fell asleep but not until I had spent hours trying to figure out what else was happening to me. A few days later Betty said to me, "I want you to hear this from me first. I've been dating Roger, the VP from accounting, and he has spent the last two nights with me at my house. Don't be sad. I just need sexual release and I can't get from you. It's not your fault, I know that, but that doesn't mean I can deny my needs. Understand that my interest in Roger is only sexual. I don't even like him all that much, at least I think I don't, so he doesn't pose a problem for our getting back together a few years from now." In retaliation I told her I had kissed a boy named Peter. "I'm so pleased for you," she said, not angry in the least, although I wanted her to be. "We both need to do the things that will get us through the next few years." I began seeing Peter as often as he asked. I told Betty each time that I had a date with him hoping she would become jealous and tell me that we both needed to give up dating so we wouldn't drift apart. Instead, she told me that I should also see other boys. "Play the field" as she expressed it. So I added Greg and Brad to the list of boys I dated. Peter wasn't happy about it but I still saw him as much as I could and still keep the other two happy. One night, on a lark, Greg suggested that the six of us we were triple dating should see a porn movie. This wasn't directed at me, at my perceived prudery, it was just an amusing thing to do. There was a young blonde girl in the movie, a professional porn star, but she looked a lot like me. And her specialty was sucking cocks. I was taken back. In the movie she seemed to make a lot of men happy. Of course she eventually went to bed with them, but mostly she made them happy by being on her knees. I asked Bobbi about it the next day. "Do you like doing it?" I asked. "Are you kidding? I've been doing it since high school. I like it a lot but the boys really seriously like it. Give it a try." I decided I would. Betty had never done it to me, but instead I had always gone down on her. For the most part sex with Betty had been good but ordinary. On the next date I had with Peter I asked him if we could stay at home. I didn't give him any other explanation, but he said, "Ok, let's just relax at your apartment." Suzi and Bobbi went out on dates so we were alone. "I want to do something," I told him. "Some thing I have never done before." "What's that?" he asked. "I'm too embarrassed to tell you. Let me just do it and please don't tell me I'm doing it wrong if I am. OK?" He was sitting on the sofa and I got down on my knees in front of him. I reached for his zipper and he understood what was going on. "Wow," he said. "I really want this." Within a week I was going down on all three of the boys I was dating. I hadn't realized how much I needed sex until I began doing this. Suddenly I realized that when I was frustrated, as I sometimes was, and didn't know its source, it was undoubtedly from sexual frustration. Well, I had found a cure for it. Once, when I was going down on Greg, he said, "God you are really good at this!" "Well, I've been doing it since high school," I replied. I only wish it had been true. One day Betty came into the office and she was walking like she was bowlegged. "Good grief, what's up?" I said. "George screwed me last night and this morning like I've never been screwed before." "George? What happened to Roger?" "Oh, Roger is old news. I didn't expect George to be so large and have so much stamina. But what's a girl to do?" "She can return to being celibate," I said. "And wait until her secretary can rejoin her." "Darling, I would, but I don't think you'll ever want to stop being a secretary. Would you stop tomorrow if you could?" "Well, I'd like to go on a little longer." "How much longer?" "Let's shoot for the three years we talked about." "Three years from now you'll be asking for another three years. Don't get me wrong, I'll need a secretary for many years. I'll be happy to keep you for as long as you like." The next day she came in bowlegged. She could barely walk. "George again?" I asked in a sarcastic voice. "Yes, Darling, it was George. Thank heavens he'll be away for a few days. I need to recover." In the weeks that followed she began to adjust to George. I could tell when he had gone overboard with her, as she walked more carefully, not as much bowlegged as before, and I'm sure no one else was close enough to her to notice. She seemed happy as could be. And I had found sexual happiness, as well. I went down on my dates at every opportunity. If a date and I were alone in, say, a dark theater, I might choose to slip down between the seats and pull his zipper down. Yes, I know, this was going overboard, but I had deprived myself too long and I needed that excess before I could comfortably decide where the correct balance lies. My dates all wanted to screw me, and I thought I probably wanted that, too, but, of course, that was out of the question. The company annual party was coming up and Betty asked me if I was going to bring a date. "I think I'll ask Peter," I said. "I look forward to meeting him," she said. "Darling, I need to tell you something. George and I are engaged. We are going to announce it at the party. We'll take some time off to go to Vegas where we can get a quickie divorce and then a quickie marriage. Please be happy for me." "I am," I said hugging her. "Don't forget what I've said, you can be my secretary for ever and ever." "I want that," I replied. The next day I called in sick. After talking with Betty I had made an appointment with the surgeon who had given me my breasts. "Let me see them," she said when we were in her office. I slipped off my blouse and bra. "Yes, I did a good job. They look magnificent. Are you happy with them?" "Very much," I replied. "But I want to discuss the possibility of having sex realignment surgery." "I do it, as you must know. It requires a stay of a week or longer at a clinic I'm associated with. What makes you want it at this date?" "Betty is going to remarry and I also want to be able to say 'yes' to a marriage proposal, should I ever want to, I should add." "I imagine you have numerous boyfriends?" "Three and I keep getting offers for dates from boys I meet." "So you think you might marry one day?" "I don't know? But what I do know is that there will come a time when I will have to go to bed with my boyfriends or they will leave me." "So you want the operation to prevent their departure?" "Well, to tell the truth, I want to know how it feels to have a vagina and a penis inside me. I'm intimate with my boyfriends, as much as I can be, but I want more. I want to be complete." "And you're convinced you would never want to return to being a boy?" "There's NO possibility of that. Being a girl has been the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. I love it. I sometimes cry when I think that it could have happened that Betty didn't need to transform me. I would have never known true happiness." "Still, do you regret anything? Like your wife's upcoming marriage?" "I regret not going to secretarial school directly from high school. I wasted four years in college." "If I remember correctly you studied computer science?" "Yes." "I don't see you in a career like that. Not with those tits." I giggled. "I don't either, not any longer." "You were involved with intellectual ideas before. Will you miss that?" "I fit in with my roommates now. And other girls like us. That's where my head is. I'm comfortable being at their intellectual level, or perhaps I should say unintellectual level." "A true dumb blonde?" she laughed. "My roommates and I love those dumb blonde jokes." "So you wouldn't accept a promotion to an executive position at your company?" "Definitely not. I don't want the 24 hour pressure that comes with it. I want to spend my free time thinking about clothes and dating boys." "I assume you want the surgery to be a secret?" "Betty can know. No one else." "I can list the surgery as a hysterectomy. That way your insurance will pay for it and you can give it as the reason you can't have children." "How soon can you do it?" "What's your availability?" "Betty and her fianc?? are going to take two weeks off to marry, next month. It would be a good time for me to do it." "So you'll inform her before she leaves?" "No. When she's back and I bring her morning coffee to her I'm going to place the tray on her desk, then ask her if she wants to see the new style of panties I've found. I'll lift up my skirt and when she looks over to appraise my panties I'll quickly slip them down to my knees. Then I'll say, "Ooooh, Look at what I have! How did that get there?"