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Reassigned by Life Belladonna I had been working the same job for ten years when my boss called me into her office. I could tell by her voice that something was amiss. She told me to take a seat. I sat and awaited the painful words I somehow knew at that moment were coming. She said in the most delicate manner she could that my management position had become redundant. I took it as best as one could. I figured that I would find another job. However, after several fruitless months of searching for a job, I realized how deluded I had been at that moment. I was out of work for six months and in danger of losing my home since my unemployment benefits were not enough to cover my bills. I decided then to sell it under market and moved into a tiny studio apartment. It was quite a downgrade. I had gone from a three bedroom bachelor pad to having only a bedroom area near the couch that had once been in my living room. I had to further cut my expenses by changing my eating habits. I was used to dining out multiple times a week, but I was reduced to eating ramen noodles like I was just out of college again. I always figured those days of economic struggle were behind me. However, unlike in my youth, I was no longer looking forward to better days ahead. I was an optimist out of college, but after years of working and months of unemployment, that optimism was gone. I could only believe at that moment that my best days were behind me. It was at that time that I ran into my former boss at the bank we both patronized. Ms. Bergman smiled when she saw me. She looked as strong, radiant and confident as she ever did. Ms. Bergman had a classical beauty about her. She was statuesque. She was tall and thin with long brown hair with red highlights. She appeared to be in her early 30's, but I knew she was actually ten years older than that. Other women would ask her for her secret, but each time she replied that it was genetics. Ms. Bergman always dressed in designer suits and dresses. She constantly conveyed authority and regality no matter if she was wearing pants, a skirt or a dress. There was nothing that she couldn't pull off. She intimidated men who did not have greater success in life than she did. Even some men who were as successful as her were awed by her and reduced to looking like rambling fools. However, that was not her intent. Ms. Bergman was never intentionally cruel to anyone. She was a nice woman, but she would never let herself be walked over. She knew that she had to project some level of authority over her workers, but she was always fair with them. She was similarly fair with the men who desired her. They were intimidated by the woman they thought she was rather than the woman she really was. That was true of some of her employees as well. Ms. Bergman asked were I was working. I answered truthfully that I did not have a job. She was taken aback. I guessed that she figured I'd land on my feet when she dismissed me. She seemed to genuinely pity me. She then said, "I have an opening at work if you're interested, but I don't think it's up your alley." "I'll do anything", I replied with evident desperation. She huffed and responded, "I have an opening for my personal assistant." "You're hiring guys for that?" I asked, knowing full well only women worked in those positions when I worked in her office. "Well, we always consider men for the position. We just don't get that many male candidates, you know?" I nodded and said, "I'd be happy to have the job. Can I interview for it?" Ms. Bergman nodded and said that I could. We made arrangements for me to interview for the job the next day. It was a mere formality as she hired me on the spot after I showed up for the interview. She looked kind of surprised that I had not backed out of it. I guess she really did not understand how desperate I really was for any kind of employment. The following week, I headed to my first day at the office a little concerned about how the other assistants would treat me. They had only known me as one of the bosses there, and I was concerned that they would have trouble relating to me as their equal. I quickly found out that my concerns were unjustified. The girls had no trouble referring to me by my first name after years of only calling me by my last. However, the girls did not just treat me as an equal; they treated me as an outsider. They had difficulty relating to me not because I was once their boss, but because I was a man. I remembered their conversations when I was a boss. They were very open and frequently laughed at each others' words. Now, the women were silent around me. They almost seemed afraid to speak about certain topics. I knew the reason why. I tried to tell the girls that they should not hold back on anything on my account, but they would not listen. As far as they were concerned, I was a man intruding upon their domain. I think they kind of saw me as a potential snitch, like I would go tell Ms. Bergman all about their little conversations about men or ladies' issues. As the week past, I got them to warm up to me a little. They started speaking more freely and treated me like almost one of the girls. However, I knew I was still an outsider. I could not relate to them in a lot of ways. I found myself most able to relate to the single girls, Juliet and Emma. They were also the two assistants who lived on their own in small apartments like mine. Fortunately for me those two girls were also the only Personal Assistants that sat near my desk. Juliet was in her late 30's, but she remained a very pretty woman with dark brown hair. She still had a youthful vibrancy about her despite her increasing age and a failed marriage in her past. She was divorced from a mechanic and had only recently started dating. Her new boyfriend was a system's analyst and you could tell that she was more or less settling for him because she was afraid of becoming an old maid. Emma was in her late 20's and was also an extremely attractive girl. She had auburn hair and blue eyes with china doll skin. She was a short girl, standing 5'3" and easily weighed less than 100 pounds. She was the most optimistic girl in the company since life had yet to beat her down. She always had men fawning over her, even some of the bosses. They'd come by her desk and flirt with her, not caring that Juliet and I were within earshot. None of the bosses ever dared to ask her on a date. They knew that Ms. Bergman strictly prohibited office romances. Still, they didn't want fail to grease the wheel with her in case either they or she got a new job. I would talk with Juliet and Emma about how we went about saving money and trying to stay afloat. It was a major change from my former conversations with colleagues about business and luxuries I was able to afford at the time. Juliet and Emma also tried to incorporate me into conversations with the other girls, but it was no use. The others considered me an intrusive voice when I would make a statement about fashion, celebrity gossip, men or any other topic they considered reserved for women. Juliet and Emma gave me fashion and other girly magazines to study to try to speak more knowledgably about the topics. The others still didn't think I knew what I was talking even as practically quoted expert opinions. No matter how much I tried to get into the female interests that the girls shared, I was still viewed as a straight guy, and thus, unworthy of being listened to on the subjects. Emma tried to disprove this to the other girls by having me play a fashion game on line during our break. I scored highly on the game by dressing the girl on line in outfits that fit where she was going. However, it still was not enough for the others to do anything but shrug and call me lucky. I resigned myself then to being an outcast. I considered myself lucky I had Emma and Juliet to talk to. They were my friends and painfully nothing more than that. I found them both attractive, but I knew the feeling was not mutual. I had rarely talked to them when I was one of the bosses around the office. They had gotten to know me only after I joined as a fellow PA. They talked to me like I was one of the girls, and it was clear that they thought of me as one. My former management colleagues also came to see me in such a light. There were seven managers left after my position and two others were eliminated. Each had their own personal assistant whom I worked alongside as the personal assistant to the managers' bosses. Each manager dealt with ten employees beneath them, up from seven when I worked there. At first, my communications with the mangers picked up where we left off. They treated me like I was one of them even as they knew I was now beneath them. However, their treatment of me took a sudden turn the minute they saw me fetching Ms. Bergman's coffee. I remember when one of the men who I used to be on the same level with saw me making coffee. James just froze as he realized what I was doing. I think it finally hit him that I really wasn't on his level anymore. Other former bosses then saw Ms. Bergman calling out to me to get her coffee. I would spring to my feet and get her cup and fill it. I could tell that this act more than any other showed to my former equals that I was firmly beneath them. As the weeks went by they began to speak to me more and more like I was simply part of the office support staff. Conversations about business went away, and I was only talked to by the managers when they wanted to talk to Ms. Bergman. I understood the transition I had seen. None of them was cruel to me, probably out of fear that they might end up in my shoes someday. However, I could sense some unease among them that their own PA's might become less formal with them if they saw them treating me like an equal. I understood that they had to make a showing that I was beneath them. It was a situation I fully accepted. I knew that my former colleagues could not understand how I could accept such a reduced position. They couldn't. I knew that I would not have understood it if I had not gone through what I had. The loss of my job, house and overall quality of life had humbled me. I had come to realize that no job was beneath me. After months on the unemployment line, I was happy enough to be looking up the employment ladder than being forced to stare at it from afar. My time among the unemployed had noticeably changed me. I was no longer the swaggering boss who commanded his subordinates' attention. That man was broken and his shell was removed. Now, I was in that office as the meek man that my struggles had made of me. Once I led men and women in the office, now I was only dictated to. I had been in charge of large accounts, now my most critical duty was picking up Ms. Bergman's laundry. I went from having discretion in my job to doing mindless clerical work and errands for Ms. Bergman. That was not the biggest shift though. The biggest change for me around the office was with my former subordinates. They had feared me when I was their manager, now they looked at me with mixtures of pity and amusement. I had never mistreated any of them, and none of them really rubbed my nose in my fall, but I could tell they enjoyed seeing their former boss in a lowly position. I caught one of the girls who used to work beneath me smirking at me as I faxed a document for Ms. Bergman. She quickly looked away when she noticed I caught her. I guess she was sort of ashamed for taking in pleasure in my fall down the social ladder. I got looks of amusement from the other six too. They would see me fetching Ms. Bergman papers or coffee or filing something and I'd turn see them smile at me. One even laughed as he saw me cleaning the conference room table before a meeting of the bosses. However, not of them ever said anything to try to humiliate or anger me. They refrained, probably out of a fear of being reprimanded by Ms. Bergman. My relationship with Ms. Bergman was about the only thing that did not change drastically around the office. She was my direct supervisor as a manager before, and she remained so as I worked as her PA. She still treated me with kindness and respect that she treated every employee with. She was always a fair boss. If you did your work well, she'd never berate you. I did not have to worry about being disciplined by her since I was more than capable of excelling at the clerical tasks she assigned me. However, I found out that being her personal assistant made people I didn't even know treat me differently. I first realized this when I called a salon to make a hair and nail appointment for Ms. Bergman. As the girl finished checking for openings, she said, "Okay, everything is in order. Ms. Bergman has an appointment at 11 on Saturday. Thank you, Miss. Is there anything else I can do for you?" I gasped and the woman asked, "Is there something wrong, Miss?" "No. Have a good day", I answered before I hung up. I was surprised to hear that the girl assumed I was a woman. I never thought of my voice as feminine even as I knew it was not very masculine. It was kind of androgynous as voices go. It's not very low or very high, but I tend to speak in hushed tones. I think it was the position implied by my call that made the girl think that I was a woman. I was calling on the behalf of a female superior and the receptionist just assumed that I had to be a woman given the absence of concrete proof of my masculinity. As I fielded phone calls for her over the weeks, I found that this was not an isolated incident. Dozens of people who called her simply assumed that I was a woman as they talked to me on the phone. I lacked the nerve to correct them. I figured it was for the best anyway. If I told them I was really a guy, it would probably produce awkwardness on both ends of the line. After the first few weeks on the job passed, I felt that my life was falling into a settled routine. I figured that I would remain nothing more than a meek, defeated male personal assistant. I was a PA, which is a term I view as only the glorification of the word secretary. I felt that I was the poor soul that prompted the change in terminology. We weren't secretaries anymore because the job was now sometimes done by men like me who were effectively neutered by life. Either way you want to call it, it was the position I was manning. However, my routine was about to be upset by a fellow personal assistant named Hillary. Hillary was the queen bee of the offices ten personal assistants. Seven of the girls sat together in an assembly of desks in the middle of the office. They sat away from where my desk, which was located with Juliet and Emma's. The three of us would watch from afar as Hillary held court. She was not the longest tenured nor the most intelligent or beautiful of the girls. She was the cattiest however. Her opinion made or broke a number of girls that had joined the company as personal assistants. Without Hillary's endorsement, they would soon quit. All the other six girls she sat with had gotten her seal of approval. I have no idea why they gave any credence to her opinion other than her natural domineering behavior amidst a group of docile women. Juliet, Emma and I didn't have to worry about her opinion of us. We were effectively removed from Hillary's sphere of influence in the office, but Juliet and Emma did freely associate with her and the others. They had Hillary's approval even as she was jealous of both women's appearance. Hillary was a plain looking woman. She stood 5'6" with a trim body and had shoulder length, straight brown hair. Her bone structure made her face a far a cry from the delicate features that Juliet and Emma had. Her features were broader and decidedly more masculine even as she was unambiguously a woman. Hillary had never warmed up to me. She saw my masculinity as in intrusion into what she felt was a female world. The six girls that constantly surrounded her didn't dare feel anything but the same about me. Still, she tolerated me because I was Ms. Bergman's personal choice for the position. Additionally, while we all did the same work, my position was technically higher than Hillary's as I was Ms. Bergman's personal PA. Juliet and Emma also had positions that were considered higher than Hillary's and the other personal assistants since they worked for other particular higher up bosses. However, those technicalities were worthless when it came to being considered alpha female among the personal assistants. I was making copies for Ms. Bergman when Hillary came over to me to ask me the question that would change my situation in the office. She asked, "Would you like to make a bet, Bert?" Now, Hillary usually ignored me, so I probably should have ignored her back or told her I wasn't interested in her games. However, I desperately wanted to fit in more so I asked, "What's the bet?" Hillary smirked and said, "There's a baseball game on today. I bet you that the Padres will beat the Mets." I didn't watch sports too often, but I was sure that Hillary didn't know the first thing about baseball either, so I responded, "What are the terms?" Hillary called to Juliet and Emma to come back to their desks before she answered, "If I win, you have to come to work dressed up like a woman. And they'll be no trying to get around it by wearing a pantsuit. You'll have to wear a skirt or dress." Juliet and Emma walked over to us, and they glanced at each other before they looked at me and asked what was going on. I told them about Hillary's proposed bet. They stared at Hillary who explained, "If I win, I want you girls to give him a makeover. I want all the PA's to have female appearance around here for a day. Can you two work with that?" Juliet and Emma nodded before I asked, "And what if I win? What do I get?" Hillary replied, "I'll give you my total blessing. I let it be known to all the girls that I accept you. You know what that will mean, don't you, Bert?" I nodded knowing that if I won I would no longer be as much of an outcast as I was then. I smiled and put my hand out and said, "It's a bet." Hillary smiled back at me and shook my hand and said, "Let the best girl win." I shook my head at her as I knew she was trying to get inside my head like she did all the other personal assistants. That's when I realized that I couldn't go through with the bet without Ms. Bergman's approval. I explained that to Hillary who shook her head and replied, "Trying to weasel out of it already. Go on and ask Ms. Bergman for permission to come out and play with the big girls." I decided I wouldn't let her get to me as I turned and walked over to Ms. Bergman's office. I knocked upon the door and asked if I could enter. Ms. Bergman permitted me to come in, and I explained the bet to her. She started to laugh at me and said that she was fine with it. Actually, the bet sort of amused her. She said, "Please don't hold it against me, Bert, but I kind of hope Hillary wins. I'd love to see you having to deal with a hemline." I blushed and thanked her for her permission to enter the bet. I went over and told Hillary that the bet was on. She nodded, and we went our separate ways as we waited for the game to end. I watched the results coming in online and froze as the final score came onto my computer. The Mets lost 6 to 3. I was shocked. I looked up and saw Hillary looking at me with a smile on her face. I stared at Hillary with a gaped mouth. I could not believe I lost. Juliet and Emma put their arms around me and gave me a friendly hug to console me before they led me to the door as the workday came to a close. I left the office with Juliet, and she took me to her apartment. Emma met us there, and the two of them then set to work feminizing me. They started me off by thinning my eyebrows with tweezers. I figured it would hurt, like when you pull out nose hairs, but it was nothing. Juliet then sent me into her shower with a razor and shaving gel. I stepped into her shower and delicately removed all the hair from my arms, legs, underarms and chest. I watched the hair come off my body and circle round the drain before the traces of my masculinity were gone from my view. After shaving, I proceeded to wash my hair. Juliet had not told me to do it, but I knew she was going to work on it so I gave it a rinse. I got out of the shower and put my pants and undershirt back on after toweling off. I walked out of the bathroom and saw that Juliet and Emma were preparing highlights for my hair. Emma turned and smiled at my hairless arms while she finished up with Juliet. They sat me down in a chair and applied the highlights to my hair. I read one of Juliet's Cosmo magazines to pass the time while they applied it, and I waited to rinse my hair again. When they finished with the highlights, my hair was dried and styled by Emma. I was not sure what to expect since my hair was short for a girl, but untrimmed for a guy. I had been putting off haircuts for longer periods of time to cut down on expenses. Emma set to work creating what she told me was a boy cut out of the mess that was on top of my head. I noticed the feeling of hair on my forehead and knew that the style at least called for bangs. As Emma finished up with my hair, Juliet went and took out one of her dresses, some underwear and a pair of adjustable strapped, two inch heeled sandals. I knew that everything but the shoes would definitely fit me because Juliet and I were similar in size. She was a tall woman standing 5'10" and had a medium build while I had a similar build and stood an unexceptional 5'9". I went into Juliet's bedroom with her and put on her simple black bra and panties. I then dressed in the black and red flower print wrap dress she brought me. The dress felt strangely comfortable. I figured that I would hate wearing it, but the softness of the fabric made wearing it quite enjoyable. I finished the outfit off with Juliet's sandals, which were about 1 size too small on me. They pinched my feet, but they would have to do since they were the largest pair of shoes that Juliet owned. I turned to walk towards her bedroom door when I caught a look at myself in her mirror. Despite the absence of makeup on my face I looked almost like a woman. I realized then that I had a good chance of not looking like too much of a sissy in public as I shopped. I figured that I could fool most people, if not everyone. I smiled to myself as I opened the door and walked over to Juliet and Emma. The two of them put some makeup on me. They were careful to not make my face look too gaudy. They put only a pale pink lipstick on my lips and a little blush, eye shadow and mascara on my face. They let me watch them put it on by placing me in front of the mirror. I watched carefully as they worked on my face. As I saw the unremarkable, but distinctly feminine face beginning to appear beneath my makeup, I knew that I would do it exactly the way they did. When they finished with my face, they added a little nail polish to my fingernails. It was nothing garish, just a simple coating of brownish red nail polish that seemed to go great with my bronze skin tone. After my nails finished drying, I went back into Juliet's bedroom with her to get a good look at myself in her full length mirror. I gazed at my reflection satisfied with the work that Juliet and Emma had done. I was certain no one would see me as anything other than a plain, woman in her late 30's. Juliet and Emma both assured of me that as well. They led me out of the apartment and drove me to a nearby Wal-Mart to shop for my clothes for the next day. My certainty in my appearance faded as the car came to a stop. I was a little anxious as I got of the car. I became suddenly sure that everyone was going to see through my makeup and notice the mincing sissy I was sure I looked like. I simply could no longer believe that how I felt I looked like was right. I figured that I had to be simply giving myself too much credit and that Emma and Juliet were just being polite about my looks. However, as I made my way through the parking lot, I didn't turn a head. I realized that no one even bothered to give me more than a few seconds of attention. The more steps I took, the more confident I became that I was an unexceptional looking woman. Even though I'm sure that that looking like an unremarkable woman is not the kind of thing that people dream of, it was the best that I could hope for. I walked into the store and started picking out my clothes in the underwear department. I bought a three pack of panties and a three pack of non-run, support pantyhose. I wanted to buy 1 of each so I could give myself double support where it was needed for the day, but it was cheaper to buy the three pack because of a sale. Even though I figured I'd have no use for the other 2 pairs, I thought, 'Hey, a bargain is a bargain.' I then selected a plain cotton, black bra before we headed over to the dresses. With Juliet's assistance, I picked out a black jersey dress with an empire waist. It had a draped neckline and long sleeves. I loved how it looked and took it into the changing room. I was genuinely excited about the dress that I thought looked pretty and fashionable for its low price. I tried it on and felt a little less secure about my choice. The dress was a bit shorter than I thought. The hemline rested several inches over my knee. I walked out of the stall and checked myself in the mirror. I thought it flattered my figure, and I realized that my legs were not close to the worst among the personal assistants in the office. I also knew that pantyhose tends to make legs look better anyway, so I was a little less concerned about it the more I thought about the hemline. However, I felt that I might be a little too old to wear the dress. I walked out of the changing and room and showed it off to Juliet and Emma. They both gave it a thumbs up. I decided then that I would go with it. I figured if it was good enough for Juliet to say it was fine, it was fine by me too. With a dress picked out, we went over to the shoe department. My eyes were immediately drawn to a pair of black 4 inch heeled pumps, but Emma talked me out of it. I knew she was right. I was not experienced enough to wear heels of that height. I was sure I'd fall right on my face. They were also surprisingly expensive for something sold by Wal-Mart. Thus, I continued looking for a pair of shoes before I settled for a pair of faux-leather, 2 inch heeled black pumps by L.e.i. They were the cheapest pumps the store carried and they looked really cute considering that they cost under 20 bucks. I tried a pair in my size on and walked around. I felt more relaxed as I walked in them since they didn't pinch my feet like Juliet's shoes. I found that the pumps were surprisingly comfortable. I had heard women complain about heels my whole adult life, but I didn't think they were that bad. I decided that I was definitely going with them. With my clothing choices finished, Emma and Juliet helped me select a purse. It was another cheap item. It was a faux leather, shoulder bag that ran for 18 dollars. All in all, it was shaping up to be a surprisingly cheap trip to the store. After that, we went over to the makeup department, and Juliet and Emma identified the same makeup they put on me. More than satisfied with the look they had created for me, I picked up the items and put them in our cart before we headed for the register. I paid the reasonable price at the register before we loaded up Juliet's car. She then drove us back to the office so I could pick up my car. We moved the bags from her car to mine before we said goodbye for the night. They smiled as they told me that they looked forward to seeing me the next day. They probably were looking forward to it more than I was. It was not that I wasn't enjoying myself as a woman. I was to a surprising and slightly concerning amount. I simply did not know how others would react. After all, not everyone is accepting of cross- dressing. I could only hope that my position for Ms. Bergman would protect me from abuse from my coworkers. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The next morning, I woke up and dressed in the outfit I purchased the night before. The only tricky part was the pantyhose. Juliet had explained to me the night before how to put them on. I took careful mental notes when she gave me those instructions, but I grew impatient as I tried to work them up my legs that morning. I decided that Juliet's approach was taking too long. I then yanked them up my smooth legs and created a big run in my pantyhose. I cursed myself for a good ten minutes before I removed them and took out another pair. This time I followed Juliet's precisely and got them on without causing a run. At that moment, I was ecstatic that I had managed to do it. I then placed the other pair of pantyhose into my purse like Juliet instructed. As I continued to dress, I found that I really enjoyed the feeling of the pantyhose. They felt so silky and smooth. I found that really turned me on for some reason. I guessed that it was because they reminded of the feeling of a woman's leg. After I finished dressing, I made sure to put on my heels as early as I could so I could get more practice in them. I also really liked how my legs looked when I had practiced walking in my heels the night before, but I was a little afraid that I might take a tumble in them. The night before, I had also put the clothes Juliet had leant me into a bag to give her at the end of the workday and had thrown it in the trunk. I took it out of there and placed it in my passenger seat as I made hasty movements to try to not be seen in my apartment building's parking lot in drag, but I knew it was pointless as several people saw me, but they fortunately they did not know who I was. I then headed to work and hesitated before I entered the building. I began to wonder if I was as passable as I thought I was. I wondered if everyone I saw the day before was nearsighted or really accepting of transvestites. Even though I knew such thoughts were stupid, I seriously entertained them as I stood before the building's door. Before I could enter, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw Ms. Bergman smiling at me. She said through her grin, "You look good, Bert." I thanked her and she continued, "But I don't think we should call you Bert. You don't look like a Bert anymore. How about we call you Bethany?" Not wanting to say no to my boss, I shrugged and said, "Why not?" Ms. Bergman nodded and said, "Bethany it is then." We then walked into the building together. When we entered our office, all the eyes were upon us. They all sized me up to see if I was the person they thought I was. I saw smiles come across every familiar face I saw that morning in the office. They complemented me on my appearance and went on with their normal business. No one gave me more than a few minutes of attention besides Hillary. My girlish appearance was her reward for winning the bet, and she took pains to soak in her victory. She graded my appearance from head to foot. She was impressed with my clothing choices, and I complemented her back. Unlike before, she actually seemed to take me seriously. It was as if my putting on a dress suddenly made my opinions on fashion actually matter to her. The other girls were the same. We got to talking and they came to accept me as one of them, just as Juliet and Emma had. They talked freely around me about their husbands and boyfriends. They had some gossip that they shared with me, and they listened to my advice on fashion like I was one of them. I was at one with my peers. I could not believe it, but I actually was fitting in. I felt that I was less out of place as I did my work as well. When I dressed as a man and did my job, I saw heads turn towards me like there was something wrong with me doing what they felt was a woman's job. It wasn't like that when I walked around in that dress. As I walked around the office filing documents, no one looked up at me anymore. I was just another faceless personal assistant. No one bothered to look at my face. Some of the guys looked at my legs and butt, but that was it. They never bothered to confirm to whom they belonged to. They would probably be unpleasantly surprised if they did anyway. As unusual as my careful and constricted steps were to me, I felt right for the first time since I returned to that office. I wasn't some curiosity on display any longer. I couldn't believe it, but I was blending in by dressing en femme. Ms. Bergman called out for coffee. I sprung to my feet, fetched it for her and failed to get the usual looks I got from the other employees. I guess I only looked natural doing it in a dress and heels. I gave it to her and she gave me an obligatory thanks. As I walked away to make copies for her I felt a strange sense of pride in my work. I no longer felt that I was worthless for doing it. I was okay with what I was doing and enjoying it too. Later in the morning, a guest came in to see Ms. Bergman. It was Mr. Martin. Mr. Martin was a large man. He stood a little over six feet tall and was morbidly obese. He was bald and frequently stunk of expensive cologne. However, his success in life glossed over his lack of good looks when it came to women. I had met him before in my prior role in the company, but our conversation was brief. From what I saw that day, the single and aging women in our office threw themselves at him no matter how good looking they were. He treated it as nothing out of the ordinary. I suppose if you have wealth, you don't need looks if you're a man since some women are willing to attach themselves to you for a better life. I greeted him with obvious nervousness. He looked down at me, and I was sure he could see right through my disguise, but he did not bring it up to my surprise. He totally missed it. He just told me to run along and tell Ms. Bergman he had arrived. I was happy enough to comply. I saw him checking me out as I walked away from him. That made my skin crawl a little, but I knew that women had to put up with that stuff. I also was well aware that he usually had his pick of girls like me so I really can't blame him for looking. I mean how was he supposed to know about what I really was? I walked into Ms. Bergman's office and said, "Ms. Bergman, Mr. Martin is here to see you." Ms. Bergman smiled at me and said, "Show him in." I nodded and walked over to Mr. Martin. I said, "Ms. Bergman will see you now, Mr. Martin." Mr. Martin nodded and walked over to me. He walked behind me as I showed him to Ms. Bergman's door. I closed it after he entered for their privacy and got back to work at my desk. As I was about to sit, Hillary clutched my arm and said, "The girls and I decided that since you look more the part, you should go with Emma to pick up the office's lunch today." My face screamed the alarm that I was filled with. Hillary picked up on it instantly. As my hand reached down to her desk to balance myself, she clutched it. She smiled at me and said, "Relax, darling. No one is going to no that you're a man under those clothes. We wouldn't send you out into the world if we weren't sure that you'd pass without issue. Show a little confidence, babe. Men like that." I grinned at her reassuring words before I answered, "I don't really care about what men like." Hillary nodded and said, "You're lucky, you don't have a desire to deal with them. They are vile creatures, but I enjoy their company from time to time." I responded, "I count myself fortunate I don't. They're so much worse than women." Hillary smiled at me because of how I separated myself from the masculine gender in my response and confirmed what I knew she must have thought of me. I failed to fully realize what I said at first, but Emma overheard it and mentioned it during the car ride. Emma asked, "Do you not consider yourself a man?" I hemmed and hawed as she drove before I answered, "I don't think so." Emma briefly turned her towards me and asked, "Then what do you think you are?" I paused and tried to find the words, but they were not forthcoming. Emma broke the silence and asked, "Do you think you're a girl?" I responded, "No. I don't think of myself as a woman, but I don't think of myself as a man either." "Then what does that make you?" Emma inquired. "I haven't the slightest idea", I answered as I thought of myself as somehow genderless or between the genders. Emma took a hand off the wheel and patted my leg in an effort to comfort me. We then pulled up to the restaurant and headed inside. Emma did the talking while I stood beside her. The staff working did not give me a second look. The female employees just passed me by like I was any other woman. The male employees' attention was focused on Emma. That fact caused me to relax. I didn't have to deal with men's leers or inquiring stares because of Emma's presence. She had a beauty and radiance about her that naturally deflected looks away from me. Emma handed over the money before we carried the bags to her trunk. We then headed back to the office and carried the bags inside. We delivered the food to our superiors while the other personal assistants picked up their own food from the table we placed the bags on. Emma and I then sat down with the girls for lunch. The girls started talking about some office gossip. I listened closely, but I had nothing juicy to interject. The conversation then turned to movies. That was something I had more expertise with. As we ate, we discussed some chick flick that came out a decade ago. I knew all about it since an ex-girlfriend forced me to watch five times before I started to watch on my own. Then Hillary asked me about my day. I told her that I was enjoying myself. She seemed happy to hear as did all her minions. Emma smiled and asked about how I found wearing heels all day. I replied, "It's not that bad. At first, I really didn't notice them, but they're starting to hurt me a little." The girls all started to laugh at me. I was clearly inexperienced with heels. I was telling them something that was as obvious to them as it was surprising for me. After lunch, we got back to work. I sorted the mail that came early that afternoon with Hillary. We delivered it to our superiors before I got back to my routine of filling out forms and filing documents for Ms. Bergman. All the while, I could not help but feel that my manner of dressing was making what I was doing more acceptable to those around me and myself. I felt good about myself as I was making Ms. Bergman copies and fielding her phone calls. It was more than just being treated as one of the girls by the other personal assistants. I felt that I was one of them and didn't have to be ashamed about what I was doing. I was not a boss anymore. Those days were behind me. I sincerely doubt the market will ever turn around enough that I could resume such a position. I am entrenched in what I am. I am a personal assistant now, and that is nothing to be ashamed of. Now, I know this was hardly the life I worked for or dreamt of, but I can't say that I think of it as a bad life anymore. It took dressing for me to realize it, but now I know that what I'm doing is still a good day's labor. I may have made a meager living, but it was an honest one, and I genuinely enjoyed it as much as any girl could. I walked over to Emma, Juliet and Hillary and asked, "Do you think the others would accept me if I continued to dress like this?" The girls looked at each other for a moment. They were silent as smiles came upon their faces before Emma answered, "I don't think it would be a problem." Hillary smiled and said, "I think the other girls would prefer it actually." "It's not the girls I'm worried about", Juliet interjected. I asked her, "You think the guys might have a problem with it?" Juliet nodded and said, "Homophobia is rampant among insecure men. Not every guy here could deal with it, but if you got Ms. Bergman's okay, you could get away with it." "Do you think I should try?" I asked the girls. The girls told me to go for it. I decided then that I would ask Ms. Bergman if I could remain in the office as a girl. I knocked on her door and waited for her permission to enter. After she told me to enter, I walked in and said, "Ms. Bergman, can I have a word with you?" "Certainly, Bethany. What can I do for you?" I paused and said, "I just wanted to know if I could come to the office tomorrow in, well, uh, how do I put this?" "You want to continue looking like your one of the girls?" Ms. Bergman asked as she grew tired of my rambling attempt to ask her if I could. "Yes", I replied. Ms. Bergman smirked and said, "Of course. I have no problem with it. You seem to fit in here better now anyway." "Thank you, Ms. Bergman", I squealed. I was instantly embarrassed by my feminine reaction. Ms. Bergman picked up on it and said, "It's okay. You're a girl around here in my book. Don't be ashamed." I nodded and headed out of her office. I walked over to Emma and Juliet and said, "She said I could stay on like this." The two stood up and hugged me before they accompanied me to where most of the personal assistants were seated. I cleared my voice and asked for their attention. I then blurted out that Ms. Bergman had given me permission to continue dressing like a woman. I saw confused looks come upon their faces. I guess they did not immediately assume that I was talking about dressing up as a woman in the office. I think that was the first time I fully realized the extent to which these women thought Ms. Bergman controlled me. I clarified my statement and saw some amused looks. Hillary stood up and hugged me and said that she was happy to hear that I'd be remaining as one of the girls. I was happy to see that none of the girls responded badly to the news. They were all fine with my decision even though I could tell that more than a few of them thought that Ms. Bergman had a hand in my decision. I figured it was for the best that they thought that. It may have taken some of the weirdness of my decision away for them. I noticed that some of my superiors had overheard my announcement. They came over to me and said nice things like that they were happy for me. Some of them seemed to be assuming I was heading for a sex change. I have no idea why they would assume that. I don't see how dressing as a woman automatically means that I'm on route for a sexual reassignment, but some people just make that connection. I knew it was no use bothering to try to change their perception with words. In time, I figure that they would realize they were wrong. I knew that the path I chose was not going to be the easiest. Still, I felt that I was making the right choice. I felt such a sense of belonging as one of the girls instead of the odd man out with the personal assistants. I took a seat back at my desk and Emma leaned over and said, "I'll go out shopping with you for outfits tonight, if you'd like a second opinion. Either way, just remember to keep your pumps low. You need to work your way up to high heels." I nodded and said, "I'd like that, but I doubt I'll be too fashionable. I mean I've got to buy the cheapest stuff they got. I'm a personal assistant, after all." Emma laughed and replied, "It's not cheap being one of the girls. You've really got to learn how to live in constant debt like the rest of us." I smirked and said, "Maybe when I get a credit card with a female name I can, but right now, I'm still limited to cash." Emma nodded her head, and we got back to work filling out forms for our superiors.