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Caught Belladonna Michael Von Rothe slipped his black, sheer nylon covered feet into his 4 inch heeled white pumps and walked towards the full-length mirror by the door to his hotel room. He smiled at his handiwork while he took in his self-feminized reflection. On his feet was a pair of pumps decorated with crystal embellishments he had purchased specially for the trip. Michael resituated his pantyhose covered legs. The two layers of pantyhose he was wearing concealed the smattering of light colored hairs that were on his long legs. Michael gazed down at the way the hem of his dress came to a rest above his knee. He wished for a moment that he could shave every inch of his body and show the world his pale white legs that were his pride and joy. While he could not physically emulate the other body parts that the girls he wanted to look like had, through spinning classes, running and dieting, Michael had developed a pair of shapely thin legs that he hated having to cover-up. Hairless legs, however, were something he knew he could never have. It would be a dead giveaway to his wife that his thin body was not about being healthy, as he was prone to explain it away to his wife. Michael scrunched his face as he wondered if would ever have the courage to tell her the truth. He was sure how she would react though, so the thought passed without much more pondering about the subject. Any lingering disappointment Michael had about covering up his legs dissipated as the weathergirl stated the local temperature for that chilly, early spring morning in Washington D.C. Michael shrugged, knowing that he would have to be sporting a pair of pantyhose, at the minimum, when he stepped out the door, given the cold. Bare legs were simply impractical for the time of year in D.C., unlike back at his home in southern California. Michael crossed his legs one in front of the other and watched the a- line, above the knee skirt of his dress dance over his legs. The sight made his stomach flutter as he reached under it and brushed his fingers against the head his enlarged member that was straining in vain against his gaff and the crushing control tops of his pantyhose. His fingers did not linger for long as he pulled his hand back and blushed at his actions. He knew it was not lady like and was ruining the illusion of femininity he had worked so hard to create that evening. Michael's eyes followed his white dress up the sides of the slender body that it hugged to the black contrast belt that kept it tight to his waist and, finally, to the false bust he had padded out for the evening. His fingers soon adjusted the tassel pendant necklace that hung down over the rounded neckline and bust of the long-sleeved dress. Michael reached behind him and took hold of the black coat he had purchased after getting off the airplane. It was not something he would ever get the chance to wear again, and he planned to leave it to goodwill when his business trip came to an end. After slipping his arms into the coat, he pulled it closed and fastened the large buttons of the coat. He stared at his reflection and concentrated on his eyes. His familiar brown eyes were hidden beneath a pair of green color contacts. The green coloring contrasted against the dark mascara that caked his eyelashes and the dark eye shadow he wore to further draw attention to them. Fluttering his eyelashes, Michael dipped one shoulder before laughing at his actions. He clasped the hem of his dress as he pulled it back and forth for a few seconds before he collected himself. He bit his red painted lower lip before he sucked them into his mouth and tasted his lipstick. He pursed his lips and touched them up, enjoying the site of the further contrast they provided against his pale white skin. Despite the ever presence of the sun in his hometown, Michael's German- Irish lineage left the possibility of a real tan an impossible dream. He knew he could never look like the Alessandra Ambrosios or Adriana Limas of the world, so he settled on modeling himself on the Taylor Swifts and Scarlett Johanssons, whose looks were slightly less unrealistic to obtain for him. Michael turned towards the door and twisted his neck to get one last look at himself before he planned to step out the door of his hotel. He looked at the pixie style he had gelled his hair into that evening. He hated keeping his hair so short, but his job and marriage did not lend themselves to permitting him to sport long hair. The forces around him caused him to do the best with what he had since he had no interest in wearing a wig. He knew he looked far more natural without one, and the hair did little to destroy the illusion that was furthered by his thin face and small nose. Michael reached for his cell phone as he put his back to the door. He called his office and spoke to one of the Junior Execs that worked closely with him. Georgette was polite as she discussed what he had seen in the emails on his phone throughout the late morning, afternoon and early evening. Michael chatted about it in his normal tone, which felt discordant with the outfit he was wearing as he talked with her. It had not been long since he had been on equal terms with Georgette. A Senior Executive position had opened due to a retirement and the CEO had selected him for the position over Georgette and a few other rivals. None of the other Junior Executives were thrilled about being passed over, but it was a numbers game that they understood. Michael could tell that Georgette still felt his promotion was due to his gender. There was a feeling among some of the women in the company that the CEO was misogynistic to one degree or another. Some felt it was a product of his age. When he entered the workforce in the late 1960's, Harry Desmond entered a world where female bosses were a rarity outside of businesses that catered exclusively to women. Michael was one of the few guys in the company that shared his female coworkers' view of the CEO. He was sure that he was selected over Georgette, in part, due to his gender. That, however, did not keep him from accepting or enjoying his new position. Still, he was forced to wonder what the CEO would think if he knew that he spent a good part of his day wishing he could wear Georgette's shoes. After finishing their conversation, Michael hung up and put his phone in his bag. He turned off the ringer, not wanting to be bothered while he was out en femme. He had turned down dinner with some gentlemen he had finalized a deal with earlier in the day due to a fictional case of food poising. Michael had not forgone the meal to let his work at the office keep him from enjoying the night he had long planned. His first business trip as a Senior Executive was giving him a luxury he rarely had at home. It was a chance to cross-dress. That was something that only happened before when his wife made a rare overnight visit to someone for a weekend here and there. He stole occasional moments to cross-dress at home, but his busy work schedule and his wife's rotating shifts at the nursing home she worked at made prolonged time en femme an impossibility. The trip was offering him a chance he could not pass up. Stepping into the hallway of the hotel, Michael felt confident about the passable nature of his appearance, but he was confident about most everything in his life. Michael strolled through the carpeted hallway with his head held high before he came to a stop before the elevator. He pressed the button and waited for it come, feeling a giddiness that was otherwise foreign to him. A binging sound announced the elevator's arrival before he watched the doors open with eager eyes. Seeing two suited men talking with another inside, Michael's heart began to flutter. Michael wondered if they would see through his disguise as his heart began to race. One man then gave him a smile that Michael reciprocated as he stepped into the elevator. The men focused on each other. Still, Michael caught the pair sneaking glances at his faux curved body, which only made the smile on his face grow larger. Michael felt a new, heightened level of confidence as he got off the elevator. He walked through the lobby, hearing his heels click on the marble floor beneath them. Each click reminded Michael that he was presenting himself the way he wanted to in public for the first time. His heart fluttered again as he made his way through the doors and onto the sidewalk. He moved as quickly as he could toward the street before the doorman went to hail him a taxi. Michael shivered from the cold that was enveloping him. While the breeze blowing up his dress was both uncomfortable, the uniquely feminine feeling served to stir his chilled manhood. After tipping the doorman, Michael stepped into the cab and gave the cabbie an address of a building he had no intention of entering. While he did not know the cabbie from anywhere, he did not want to give the cabbie the address of the cross-dresser friendly bar he researched out of fear of giving himself away. The cabbie put the address into his GPS system and pulled the taxi away from the side of the street. Michael was excited about the chance to go to a place where he would be free to be him. Michael clutched his purse and daydreamed about the "girls" like him he would finally see and meet. The cab pulled up in front of the non-descript building that was located a few blocks from Michael's real destination. Michael reached into his purse and pulled out the money for the fare before he tipped the cabbie and stepped out of the vehicle. Once the cab was out of sight, Michael started down the block. He passed hundreds of bundled up people on his way. Most did not give him a second look, while he caught a few men giving him some silent leers. A grin came upon Michael's face as he caught sight of the sign bearing the name of the establishment he was searching for, 'Secrets.' He picked up his pace as he walked towards it and made his way to the door. After paying the cover charge, Michael made his way over to a bartender to get a drink. Michael gazed around at the scene filled with gay men, drag queens and straight girls. The young man behind the bar gave Michael a wink as Michael paid for his drink. Michael was a bit confused by the look the man gave him before he moved through the room to take in a drag show. The sight of outrageously dressed men singing and dancing in heels made his tucked away manhood swell between his legs. He wished that he had the courage to perform like them. He could picture himself swaying and sashaying in a Lady Gaga style outfit to the cheers of the gay friendly crowd. Despite all his self-confidence though, he knew he could never find the nerve to do it. Being outside en femme was the furthest he thought he would ever be able to push himself. As a group of cross-dressers left the stage, another drag queen got on the stage and called out to a woman in the audience. Michael put his finger to his chest before he realized the drag queen was pointing at the heavyset woman standing to the right of him. Michael's jaw dropped as he listened to the line of fat jokes the drag queen made about the girl and her three friends. They were angry, but they let it pass as the catty Drag Queen insulted a few more patrons to the amusement of the remainder of the establishment's clientele. The next group of Drag Queens entered the stage to the sound of fast-paced music and pranced about while they simulated sexual positions. Michael laughed as a bachelorette party strolled passed him, joking about the performers' "shaking what their momma's didn't give them." As Michael got another drink, another cross-dresser walked over to him and introduced himself as La Jana. Michael smiled back at La Jana before the feminized man planted a kiss on his cheek. His manhood swelled at the feminine greeting they shared while he introduced himself as Gillian. After exchanging a few compliments about each others outfits, La Jana asked, "Have you been up to the second floor yet?" "There's a second floor?" Michael inquired. "It's where the keep all the best stuff," La Jana answered with a wink. "This is pretty good," Michael said as he pointed to the Drag Show. "They're appetizers. This is the kid's stuff really," La Jana said while two men in leotards pretended to scissor one another. Michael was skeptical that the upstairs show would be more risqu? than the downstairs show, but La Jana had him intrigued. La Jana held his hand out for Michael while he started away from him. Michael was reluctant to take his hand, but he felt it was appropriate under the circumstances. Michael took La Jana's hand. It felt strange to hold the hand of another man. He could not remember doing it since he was a child. He followed La Jana to the flight of stairs that was behind the bar. Michael walked up the stairs and came to a stop at the top of the stairs. He nearly turned and walked back down the stairs as he saw the naked men dancing on the tabletops. "What the fuck?" Michael asked himself, wondering what he had gotten himself into that night. "I know. It's something else right," La Jana said as he pulled him deeper into the upstairs portion of the establishment. Michael gawked around at the fully erect men, feeling like a fish out of water. La Jana smiled as he turned to Michael and said, "Isn't Viagra awesome?" Michael was silent in response. Noticing his unease, La Jana asked, "What's wrong?" "A girl could get an inferiority complex here," Michael answered as he watched money rain down around one man's 12-inch penis. La Jana laughed as he slapped him and inquired, "Since when do trannies have penis envy?" Given what he was wearing by choice that night, Michael could not help but laugh along with La Jana. Michael's eyes soon darted to where a horde of gay men were crowded around a male striper contorting his body in all manner of ways. The giggling of young girls who were gawking at the performers filled Michael's ears. The part of him that was attracted to them made him wonder what he was doing there. He bit his lip, knowing he could never pickup a girl dressed as he was, regardless of how smooth or self- confident he was when approached them. His momentary disgust with himself passed as he remembered that he was faithfully married man. La Jana read the bemused grin coming upon Michael's face and asked, "Like what you see?" "Those are some cute girls." La Jana gave him a curious look before Michael added, "My wife would probably be happy that I'm wearing a dress around them." "Well, girlfriend, pantyhose is pussy kryptonite, if that's your sort of thing." Michael guessed that it was not La Jana's preference from his words before the girls turned to them and started teasing them. La Jana played up his faux femininity, prompting Michael to follow suit. La Jana grinned at Michael and teased, "Those pretty young things only talked to you because they think you've already taken it up the ass more than they will in a lifetime." Michael blushed as La Jana smirked at him, knowing his words had their intended effect of impugning the straight voyeur's masculinity. Michael tried to put La Jana's words out of his mind as La Jana led him out to dance with others to the songs that were playing. Michael danced more than he could never remember dancing in a night, ignoring the growing feeling of pain in his feet. They danced together with other cross-dressers, straight girls and the occasional gay guy. The older gay men were the only ones that seemed to have an interest in him though. Whenever one descended on him, Michael kept managing to escape. "I need another drink," Michael said to La Jana before he started towards the stairs. "I'll come with," La Jana replied, tailing behind him as they made their way to the bar. As they reached the bar, La Jana asked, "So, what do you think of this place?" "It's fucking crazy!" "In a good way?" La Jana replied. Michael nodded with a grin before he said, "Upstairs is too much for me." "Oh, grow up you prude." "I've seen some things in my day..." "Yah, straight married guy things, which is, like, a 1 on the scale of all things, Honey." "I did my fair share of shit in college." "Don't even say a straight strip club, that's barely even merits a 1 and a half." Michael laughed before La Jana turned down an offer of a drink from an older man. Michael rebuffed his offer as well before the man found a taker. "There are so many old guys here," Michael remarked as they watched man. "Sugar Daddy's, sweetie," La Jana replied with a laugh. "Have you ever gone home with one?" Michael inquired. "Not my type. I prefer 'em young and hung, but I settle for another Queen here and there," La Jana answered as he brushed Michael's shoulder with his hand. Michael was slightly uncomfortable with the response before La Jana said, "Look, you're on another Sugar Daddy's radar?" "Huh?" Michael replied before he turned to face the man. The man cupped Michael's chin and said with a grin, "Michael Von Rothe. I'd know that cute little nose anywhere." La Jana grimaced at the utterance of a male name at Michael. He quickly retreated to a group of cross-dressers while Michael gave a horrified look at Harry Desmond. Michael's knees started to shake as he wondered why his widowed boss was in a D.C. gay bar. He knew he was on the East Coast too, but Harry was supposed to be in New York. Harry read Michael's frightened look. He moved his hand off Michael's chin and moved it down to his waist. Michael trembled from his touch, sickened by it. He felt as if hew as on the verge of passing out before he heard Harry order, "Walk with me, dear." "Yes, Sir," Michael muttered, feeling as if he was walking to his execution. They walked out of the back door of the bar together before they approached a limo. Harry tipped the doorman. The man smiled as he pocketed the money and said, "You got a pretty one tonight, Mr. Desmond." "Don't I know it," Harry replied with a grin before he opened the door to the limo for Michael. "Ladies first," Harry said to his reluctant employee. Michael ducked as he got into the limo and moved over to the far seat, sensing that he was on the verge of vomiting. Harry slid in beside him before the door closed. The driver turned to Harry and asked where they were headed. Harry gave him the address of his hotel before he rolled up the privacy window. Harry grinned at Michael's shaking hands before he clasped them. Michael's eyes rose towards Harry's, still wondering why the man was there. It made no sense to him. "Michael, what were you doing in there?" "I was...," Michael began to speak, trying to come up with a lie. Realizing the futility, he replied, "It was exactly what it looked like." Michael sniffled as Harry stared at him in silence. Harry nodded to himself before he said, "I see." "I'm sorry," Michael apologized. Harry replied with raised eyebrows, "For what?" Michael shook his head, fearing his instant termination. Harry smiled at Michael's continued unease before he released his belt buckle. Michael's eyes were drawn to Harry's act as he feared what Harry expected of him. At that moment, he knew that he had judged Harry wrong. Michael's head started to shake as his boss slid down his pants. He pressed his back against the side of the limo, hoping that it would crash to stop what he feared was about to happen. Before Michael could speak, he caught a glimpse of the control top of Harry's nude pantyhose. He could see the bright pink panties beneath them through the top. Harry gave Michael a smile and said, "Relax, Michael, I'd never force a sister of the cloth to do something she doesn't want to." Michael's jaw dropped as he processed Harry's words. Of all the outcomes, this was the one he least expected. He was dumbstruck, unsure how to proceed as the natural confidence that had abandoned him in his moment of terror remained lost in his state of confusion. Harry put his hand on Michael's nylon covered knee and said, "I wish I had your courage." "My what?" Michael replied through trembling lips, feeling not an ounce of bravery in his dress covered body. "I never had the courage to come out." Michael nodded in silence, unsure of what to say to his boss about such a thing. "I always wanted to, but it's too dangerous for a man like me." "Uh-huh," Michael replied before Harry pulled his hand away from Michael's knee to pull up his zipper and buckle his belt. "So, how long have you been doing this?" "As long as I can remember," Michael replied. "I meant going out," Harry responded to make himself clearer. "This is my first time." "It doesn't look like your first time," Harry countered. "I don't do this at home. I swear," Michael responded with a half- truth. "We'll have to fix that." Michael stared at Harry blankly before Harry continued, "I want you to be the girl you were meant to be." "Sir, that's not necessary..." "Please, call me Harry. I want you to do this." "But, I don't..." "My wife would have wanted me to do this for you." Michael stared at Harry in silence as he waited for an explanation. Harry hung his head for a minute before he asked, "Do you remember my wife?" "Sure," Michael replied, remembering the cute, mature Brazilian woman who had passed three years prior. "She was like us, just braver," Harry noted before he continued, "She was born a man. She dealt with that same cruel joke, but she overcame it. She did things, horrible things, really, to become the special girl you remember. She smuggled herself here, and I came across her in a gay bar. She was everything I wanted to be, but I had to earn a living. She was the right girl for me, and it helped that she had no documented past. I could take her in public and people thought that she was just this exotic trophy wife on my arm. She was so much more than that though. She was everything to me." Michael nodded before he said, "She sounds terrific." "She was. Not an hour goes by that I don't think about her. I don't think that'll ever change." "I never would have guessed that she was..." "Like us? Credit fantastic genetics and the right money spent on the right places," Harry said with a laugh. Michael joined in his boss's laughter before Michael asked, "Why were you at the club tonight?" "A single man's got get back on the horse," Harry replied. Michael stomach turned as he wondered again if Harry was expecting him to have sex with him. Harry smiled before he added, "Whenever I'm out here, I always make sure to hit all the spots on the East Coast from New York to D.C. I like to hangout with those that have the balls to do it." "That's a way of putting it," Michael said with a chuckle. "The balls to be present themselves as ball-less," Harry added with a smirk. As the limo pulled up in front of Harry's hotel, Michael realized that they were staying in the same place. Harry smiled at the coincidence before he paid the driver and got out with Michael in tow. The hotel security politely greeted them and wished them a good night as they made their way to the elevator. Michael laughed at the evident way the security thought they were a couple before he feared what Harry had planned for him. They got off the elevator on Harry's floor and made their way to Harry's suite. Michael was impressed by the massive hotel room as he followed Harry into it. "Make yourself at home," Harry said before he added, "I want to show you something. So, just bear with me." "Okay," Michael forced himself to reply. He walked to the couch and turned on the television before he sat down and crossed his legs. While he felt relieved to get off his heeled feet, he dreaded what Harry was going to show him. His mind raced as he thought about what it might be as he slid of his shoes and rubbed his aching feet. After sliding his feet back into his heels, Michael watched the news program. He tried to focus on it while he heard Harry scurrying around his bedroom of the hotel room. After more than 15 minutes passed, the sound of heels clicking on the floor drew Michael's attention away from the television. His eyes widened as he gawked at his feminized boss. "So, what do you think?" Michael stared at his boss in silence, trying to formulate an appropriate response. He looked over the mid-thigh length, pleated and embroidered lace skirt of the fit and flare dress that showed off his boss's muscular calves. Harry's legs shimmered beneath the nylon of his sheer, nude pantyhose. The dress's sleeveless, spaghetti strap top drew attention to Harry's thick upper arms, while the v-neckline was showing the tell tale signs of what was stuffing the bra beneath the dress's bust. Harry's feet were zipped into black, suede D'Orsay pumps with three- inch heels and golden, bangle bracelets serving as the ankle straps, while a curly, longhaired, blonde wig rested atop his head. Michael thought the outfit was over the top for a woman of Harry's age and felt that the wig looked ridiculous on the man. Harry crossed his arms over his large, faux bust and shot Michael an expectant look. "You look great," Michael lied, struggling to look and sound sincere. Harry smiled as he sat down next to Michael and said, "Thanks, but I know you're just being polite." "No. You look...." "Michael, you can't bullshit a bullshitter. I've been bullshitting since before you were born." Michael stared at his boss with an open mouth before Harry replied, "I didn't invite you here to give me compliments anyway." "You didn't?" Michael replied as his heart began to race. "No," Harry answered with a chuckle before he added, "We need to talk about your future with my company." Michael nodded, unsure of where the conversation would lead. Harry crossed his legs and cupped his hands over his knees before he said, "You're welcome to stay on as a woman, but I can't have you out there as a senior executive." "What?" "Listen it's not me. If I could keep you there, I would. I mean, there's more acceptance of people like us than ever, but acceptance is really only for the celebrities of the world. The people the media lionizes and protects. For us, it's just being to get by without getting attacked." Michael cringed at the suggestion, but he knew it was an accurate depiction of what he expected that transgendered girls go through. He shook his head and said, "I can continue on as a man." "I couldn't do that to you." "I've done it for years." "You're lying to yourself. You're not the first, and you won't be the last, but I can't let it happen. Not on my watch." "But Harry..." "I wasted my life as a man! I can't let somebody else do it. You've got my full support." "But I'm married..." Harry nodded his head before he asked, "Does she know?" Michael shook his head. "You can't keep secrets from your wife." "You can damn well try," Michael countered. "It's not healthy." "Sharing's overrated," Michael retorted. "Honesty is key to a relationship. You've built yours on a lie." "What lie?" "That you're a man." "My wife didn't marry a girl." "I know." "What will she think?" "Time will tell," Harry replied before he said, "My offer stands. You can stay on as a Junior Executive. I will make sure that no one treats you poorly for being who you are." "But who am I?" "This woman. I don't know what you call her." "Gillian," Michael replied, blushing at speaking the name he used to his boss. "I like that name, but it doesn't really fit with your last name." "My mother was Irish. It's sort of a tribute to her side of the family." "Is that why you went those emerald green eyes?" Harry asked. "They just go with the overall look," Michael answered with still blushing cheeks. "So, would blue," Harry retorted. "I guess." "Were your mother's eyes blue?" "Still are," Michael replied. "That's good. Make sure you give her a hug while you can." Michael smiled in response before Harry said, "Do it, because one day you'll be sorry that you didn't." Michael nodded again before Harry inquired, "Do you get your looks from her?" "I like to think so," Michael answered with a small smile. "Well, you make quite the woman, Gillian," Harry replied with a compliment. Michael blushed again before Harry asked, "Do you have any tips for an old novice?" "I don't want to..." "I know you think I look like a clown!" "I didn't say that..." "Your face said what your mouth couldn't," Harry explained in response. "I don't want to offend you..." "Then, tell me the truth." "I guess you could wear something a little more your age." "Are you calling me old?" "Well...I wasn't..." "Well, I am. I'm an old bitch! Let's call a spade a spade, little girl. But, where's the fun in dressing like one." "You don't have to dress like a grandmother." "But more mature." "Yah, you'd look so much better if you had shorter hair." "Less like a blonde bimbo?" "I didn't say..." "You didn't have to," Harry countered as he leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Michael was silent before Harry added, "The reason I dress like this is because I didn't get the chance to really strut around when I could have." "I know. It was different back then..." "It was, but it wasn't...part of it was me. I was a well-built guy. I was strong. I played football, baseball, basketball; I was good at all of it." "A lot of girls do all that." "Because they're in denial. They think if they become Hercules, they'll suddenly stop wanting to be Barbie. It doesn't work that way." "No," Michael admitted. "I could cut back on the bust too," Harry noted with a smirk. "A smaller rack attracts less attention." Harry laughed before Michael asked, "Did your wife ever give you any pointers?" "You didn't take pointers from her. She was special." "Why's that?" "Nobody in this country ever would have known she wasn't born a girl if she hadn't have gotten prostate cancer," Harry replied with a sigh before he added, "Nature has a funny way of compounding its sick joke." Michael was silent in response before he gave Harry a hug, feeling Harry's weathered skin beneath the v-back of his dress as he did so. Harry thanked him while Michael sat back down. Wanting to get his mind off his wife, Harry asked for the remote. He turned to Michael and asked, "Do you want to watch a movie?" Michael shrugged and said, "Sure." Harry and Michael selected a movie before Harry pressed the play button. They sat and watched it together before Harry put on another movie. As the second movie played, they fell asleep. Michael awoke past 3 and excused himself to go back to his room. Harry said goodnight to Michael before Michael left the suite and went into the hallway. Michael took a few deep breaths while he made his way to the elevator. He pressed the button and went down several floors to his hotel room before he let himself into the room with the key card. After closing the door behind him, Michael slipped his aching feet out of his heels and removed his dress. He moved towards the bed and got into without bothering to remove his makeup or undergarments. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael awoke the next morning to the unfamiliar sight of makeup traces on his pillow. He wiggled his nylon-covered toes, enjoying the instantly recognizably feminine feeling. He moaned as he placed his still pained feet on the floor beneath the bed. He removed his undergarments and used his makeup remover in the bathroom. Once he finished, he took a shower before he dressed in his male clothing and went out the door to finish his business trip with a few last day meetings. While Michael carried out the meetings, he was forced to think about what awaited at home the next day. He was fearful of his wife's response. He also knew that he had no out at work. Harry had already let him that he was going to reveal Michael's secret to his coworkers. Michael knew that he could not do the same to his boss without destroying his career. After his last business dealing was done with, Michael returned to his room after stopping to eat dinner. He relaxed on his bed, trying to avoid the urge to put on the clothing that had gotten him into the trouble that threatened to upend his life as he knew it. The sound of a late email notice coming into his phone made Michael turn over and grab the device. His eyes widened as he saw the message that had been sent out to everyone he worked with at the office. The announcement that Harry promised him was there for everyone in the company to see. Michael Von Rothe was now to be called Gillian Von Rothe. His stomach sank as he read the email that detailed that he was undergoing a transition to womanhood and that he had taken a demotion to lessen his workload to help let his transition proceed without an issue. Michael felt sick to his stomach as he read each word. He knew that there was going to be no denying it. Everyone he worked with had been let onto his secret that hidden from everyone until the night before. The email concluded with an order that Michael be treated with respect. The implicit threat of what would happen if he was mistreated was unmistakable. Michael put down his phone. His hands trembled as he covered his face as dozens of emails and text messages filled his phone from shocked coworkers. He went and took a shower and started to cry. He knew that there was no going back to being Michael Von Rothe at work. It was going to get out in the industry soon too. He knew that he was going to be considered a transwoman going forward. After drying off, he got into bed and ignored the messages he received before he shut off the phone. He turned off the lights and lay in the dark room, clenching his eyelids shut, hoping that he would fall asleep. Thoughts of what awaited him at home, however, kept him up all night. He slept barely two hours before he had to get up and get on the plane. He finished with his bags at the hotel and checked out before he took a cab to the airport. Michael went through security and ate a light breakfast at the airport. He forced down half of it before he threw out the remainder, feeling as if he had no appetite. Michael boarded the plane in silence. He sat down in his seat and waited for takeoff. Once the plane was in the air, he turned on his music and let it fill his mind. It was not long before he fell asleep. He awoke twice on the way home before the plane staff prepared for a landing. Michael was nervous as he turned off his music. The moment he had long dreaded awaited him on the ground as the plane circled the airport. The prospect of the day ahead left him with no choice but to tell his wife about what he had hid from her since the second they met. After the plane landed, Michael got off and went to retrieve his luggage. The bag came out faster than normal, even though he hoped for anything to further delay the inevitable. Once the bag came out, Michael slowly made his way out of the airport and over to the long term parking area. Michael got into his car and drove to the gate before he paid the parking fees. Michael drove away from the airport and started down the highway that led to his home. He shook his head several times as he tried to come up with the most delicate way of broaching the subject. He knew that once it was out in the open, however, the conversation with his wife would be anything but delicate. Steeling himself for the worst, Michael pulled into the driveway of his suburban home. He popped the trunk and stepped out of the car. Michael picked up his bag and headed for the front door. He let himself in and called out to his wife. "I'm in the kitchen," she shouted back. 'Great, where the knives are,' Michael thought to himself before he put his bag down. He walked into the kitchen and saw his smiling wife. She put down her sandwich and gave him a hug and a kiss. "Would you like something to eat?" "Sure," Michael responded, despite having no appetite to speak of since his stomach felt as if it was tied in knots. Michael made small talk with his wife about the business portions of his trip before she gave him the sandwich and talked about what she did while he was away. As Michael gave her anxious looks and nibbled away at his sandwich, Carolina asked, "What's wrong with you?" "Nothing," Michael lied. "Something's wrong," Carolina countered as she gave him an inquisitive look. A second denial from Michael turned Carolina's inquisitive look into a fierce one as she began to interrogate him about his trip. She shouted, "Did you meet someone?" "Yes, I met my boss." Carolina was taken aback before she asked, "Which one?" "Harry Desmond." "Harry," Carolina replied with surprise that he met up with the head of his company across the country. "It was interesting." "What'd you do?" "Talked and watched a movie." "That's it?" Carolina asked as she began to calm down. "Pretty much." "Pretty much or, yes, that's it?" "That's what we did." "Where did you guys meet?" "He ran into me at a bar." "You weren't flirting with a girl where you?" "No. I was talking with this um...guy." "Um...guy? What's that supposed to mean?" "He was a guy." Carolina glared at her husband and said, "Right." "So, were you Harry's wingman?" "No. We left together right after he said hello." "What'd he want to talk about?" "Work stuff. Personal stuff." "What kind of personal stuff?" "About his late wife, what he and she were all about." "Did he remind you not to take me for granted," Carolina responded with a grin. "He doesn't need to remind me about that." "So, what did you talk about?" "Maybe it wasn't best for me to be Senior Executive." "What?" Michael squirmed before she asked, "Did he fire you?" "No." "Then, what?" "He got me take back my old job." "You're old job? Didn't they fill it? "Yes, but one of the other Junior Execs will be promoted to my old job. So, the opening's there." "What caused this?" "He didn't think that some people were going to be as open to me as he expected." "Why?" "Because he wants me to live my life the way he sees fit." "Which is?" "Honestly," Michael replied "Honestly? What is that supposed to mean?" "He wants me to live the way thinks I want to live it." "Could you be anymore cryptic?" Carolina retorted. "He wants me to be Gillian." Carolina's jaw was agape as she stared at her husband. She went to speak, but shook her head. A second attempt at uttering a word failed before she asked in exasperation, "Who's Gillian?" "Me," Michael meekly answered. "You? Your name is Michael, last I checked." "He met Gillian at the bar." Carolina's hands fell to her sides before she crossed her arms and clutched her elbows. She started to pace before Michael said, "Let me explain..." "Were you flirting with a guy," Carolina rejoined, thinking back to an earlier part of the conversation. "No. He was just another guy like me." "A tranny!" His disgusted wife retorted. "Yes, for lack of a better word," Michael replied, hating using the word to describe himself. "Oh, my God." "I know this has to be a shock, but I like...." Carolina cut her husband off as she shouted, "I know you like to dress like a girl." "How would you know..." "Please, Michael. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't notice that some of my clothes seem to stretch themselves out. Or how about the mysterious runs in my pantyhose after we got married, do you think I don't know where they all came from? Did you think I thought it was the Phantom of the Panty Drawer?" "I'm sorry. I didn't want you..." "I didn't want to know about it either. I know it, but I didn't want to talk about it." "I'm sorry..." "Who else knows about this now?" Caroline demanded to know. "Everyone I work with," Michael admitted.' Carolina clasped the sides of her head and shook it before she said, "I can't believe you did this to me." "I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want him to catch me." "Why didn't you tell him that you're a man."' "I tried, but he wouldn't listen." "Why would he even want you around in skirts?" "Because, he's a frustrated transsexual." "A what?" Carolina shrieked. "It's a long story." "He was married, Michael." "To a t-girl." "A what girl?" "A transgirl." Carolina put her hand over her mouth, realizing why his boss had put him in the position he had. Michael squirmed as he looked at her and said, "I really don't want to go through with this." "You should have thought about that before you went to the bar in a skirt." Michael blushed in response. Carolina shook her head and replied, "You only have yourself to blame. Enjoy being one of the girls, GILLIAN" "Carolina," Michael said as his wife went and slammed their bedroom door shut. The sound of the lock clicking made Michael's stomach sink. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael opened his eyes to greet the morning sunlight shinning through the blinds of the living room window. Michael groaned as he brought his hands over his face. Forcing himself off the couch, Michael felt a twinge in his back from the unusual position he had slept in overnight. He could not remember the last time his wife had made him sleep on the couch. After relieving himself in the bathroom, he heard the sound of a text message. With a shake of his head, Michael muttered, "What now?" Michael opened the message and froze as he read the text from his boss telling him to come in late that morning so that he could continue to break the news to his employees. Michael's stomach sank as he read the words that confirmed that his boss had already begun to tell his coworkers, in person, that Michael was now Gillian, prohibiting any possible claims that Harry's email blast was a prank by a hacker. Michael put the phone down on the countertop. He braced himself against the countertop as he leaned against it, trying to control his emotions. Carolina walked up behind him and took in his pained expression. Her anger dissipated for a moment as she came up behind him and asked, "What did he say?" "Who?" "Your boss." "How did you know it was him?" "Who else could make you look like that," Carolina cracked. Michael gave her a halfhearted smile before he showed her the text. Carolina brought her left hand over her mouth. She shook her head at the unmistakable implications. She closed the text message and turned to her husband to ask, "You really don't want this?" A shake of his head was all Michael could muster in response. Carolina wrapped her arms around him as she said, "We'll get you through this." "How am I going to show my face after this?" Michael sniffled. "It's not the end of the world. You've got to get a new job." "But what about now?" Carolina sighed as she answered, "We need the money, Michael. You need to work." "But he's going to fire me if I don't..." "You need to go along with it." "But I'll be a joke." Carolina nodded as she said, "That's your fault." "I can't do this." "You seem to have a lot of practice." "I can't be a girl." "Well, you certainly got the whining down," Carolina responded with a smirk. "This isn't a laughing matter," Michael retorted. "It isn't, but I'm the one being punished in all of this." Michael gawked at his wife, wondering how she could feel that she was being treated worse than he was. Reading his expression, Carolina responded, "You get some sick thrill out of this while I'm the one who has to deal with her husband getting all prissed up. I like guys, Michael. I love you. I do, but I'm not going to stand by you while you're off dressed up like Katy Perry and shaking your ass with some gay guys." "That's not what happened..." "Stop. I don't want to hear it. I married a man, okay?" Michael stared at his wife in silence. "Say Okay, Michael?" "Okay," Michael replied, feeling emasculated by his wife's words and demands. "So, you're going to get dressed, go to work, bring home your check and start looking for another job that allows you to wear pants...Men's pants!" "Okay," Michael responded, unable to meet his wife's stern gaze as she told him what she expected of him. "I'm going to get ready in our master bathroom, while you get ready in the other bathroom. Once you're ready, I want you to call me and tell me. Then, you're going to leave, because I don't want to see you dressed like Joan Fucking Holloway." "That's not what I..." "Save it. Just do as I say." Michael nodded at his wife while he walked away from her to grab his suitcase to get an outfit to wear for his first day en femme at the office. He brought the bag into the bathroom and opened it up. Michael stepped into the shower and washed his body. As he finished washing his hair, he caught sight of the razor his wife left in the bathroom from when they had remodeled the master bathroom the year prior. While he knew that she would be unhappy about him shaving his legs, he knew the risk of one his blonde leg hairs poking through his dark nylons outweighed it. It took a few deep breaths before Michael found the will to bring the razor to his legs. He drew it up them and washed away the matted hair from the blades. Michael's stomach wrenched at the sight of the hairless patch on his legs. Although he had long wanted to shave them, the reality of what his wife would say when she found out filled him with dread while he took each stroke. When he finished, Michael turned off the water and stared down at what he had wrought. The smooth thighs and calves seemed strange to Michael, however, they were not much different without the blonde hairs that had covered them. Michael pulled the shower door open and reached for his towel. He dried himself off before he stepped out of the shower to get dressed. Michael stepped into a pair of panties first. He tucked away his manhood as he reached for a pair of black, opaque tights. He unrolled the tights up his legs and brought them over his smoothened groin. With his tights on, Michael reached for a bra. He hooked it in front of his chest before he filled the cups of his bra with his breast forms. He covered his bra with a long sleeved, black peplum blouse with a boat neckline before he put on the black blazer of his skirt suit that was decorated with a contrasting white lapel and an asymmetrical front snap closure. The matching skirt followed the blazer onto his body as he pulled it up his legs. He zipped up the rear zipper of the black pencil skirt. After putting on a necklace, he removed his makeup from his bag. Michael stared at his reflection. The unmade up face struck a discordant chord in his mind as he contrasted it with his padded out chest and skirt suit that covered his body. Michael's hand darted into his makeup bag before he removed one cosmetic after the other and applied it to his face. Once he finished with his makeup, Michael turned his attention to his hair. As he often did when he went to style it, Michael bemoaned the short length of his blonde hair. There was little he could do with his hair other than style it in the pixie cut he fashioned it in during his private moments. Michael took his gel and styled his hair before he washed his hands and put on a necklace, three rings and a bracelet. After slipping his feet into his 2 inch heeled black leather pumps, Michael reached for his cell phone and called his wife. As she answered, he could hear her through the walls that separated the bathroom from the master bedroom suite. Only inches thick, the tile covered wall seemed impenetrable to Michael at that moment. Michael could sense a coldness in her tone as she told him, "My door is closed. I left a change of clothes for you in front of the door. You are to take them and change into them before you step back into this house." "Will do," Michael replied, nervous about her stern tone. "You are to leave immediately." "But I didn't eat yet..." "Pick something up on your way in. You're not to hang around our house in panties." "I understand," Michael replied in response to her orders, feeling ashamed of himself as his stomach wrenched. "Now, get going." "Okay." "And Michael..." "Yes." "I love you." "Love you too," Michael replied, feeling momentarily better about himself before he hung up. He grabbed his purse and stepped out of the bathroom, hearing his heels' click the entire time. He shuddered to think what his wife thought of the sound while he bent down before their bedroom door that she was using to barricade herself away from him. His hand touched the door for a moment before he realized how foolish he was being about the situation. He collected his clothing and shoes and made his way towards the front door with his purse pressing into his side. After drawing the front door of the house open, Michael froze in the doorway. In his frenzy, he had not bothered to check if anyone was in their front yards looking at his home. Michael peered around the neighborhood, praying that no one would see him. With a hesitant jerk, he stepped through the doorway. He closed the door behind him and felt trapped as he stared into the wide-open neighborhood. He hurried towards his car and placed his change of clothes in the trunk before he scurried for the driver side door. Swinging his legs into the car together, Michael sat down in the driver's seat and started the car. He slunk down a little as he caught sight of a neighbor outside. He hoped that the woman had not caught a glimpse of him, but it seemed unlikely given how good of a look he was getting of her. Michael swallowed hard as he put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. The woman looked right at him, but she almost seemed to look right through him as he glanced back at her. With a racing heart, Michael shifted the car into drive and pulled down the street. He drove out of his neighborhood and made his way to a drive-thru to pickup breakfast. He managed his best feminine voice while he gave his order before he pulled up to pay for it and pick it up. The girl working the window seemed to pay no attention to his voice or appearance as she handed him his change and breakfast. Michael felt a sense of relief as he pulled away from the window and took a sip of his coffee. Michael ate his breakfast sandwich as he drove towards his office. The closer it got, the greater his sense of unease about what awaited for him became. He crumbled the wrapper of his sandwich and tossed it to the floor of passenger side of the car before he texted his boss to see if he could enter the office yet. Harry replied that he needed more time to let everyone know. Michael's stomach sank as he started to circle his office building, waiting for word that he was cleared to enter the building. His anxiety heightened with every loop he did around the neighborhood where his office was located. Multiple scenarios played themselves out in his mind, none of which had an ending he could consider good. After another loop, Michael heard the text. He peered down at it as he pulled to the side of the road. Michael closed his eyes for a second as he processed what his boss had written. "A meeting? We need a meeting for this?" Michael muttered to himself with a shake of his head as the knot in his stomach seemed to grow tighter. Harry had collected the entire staff of the office for a meeting so that Michael could reintroduce himself all at once. While Harry explained that he wanted the distraction over as soon as possible, Michael felt that being under the simultaneous collective judgment of his coworkers was the worst possible start to his feminized work life. Michael pulled back onto the road and drove into the office building's parking lot. After parking and locking his car, Michael started towards the building's front door. With each step, Michael heard the click of his heels. Each click sounded like a gun shot blowing away a chunk of his masculinity. Michael knew that whatever his coworkers thought of him before was moot. He was no longer the person they had known in their eyes. He was a feminized man going forward. He was never going to be seen as one of the guys again by anyone he knew in his professional life. Michael took a deep breath while he waited for the elevator. He took it up to his office's floor before he made his way to the office. There was no one at reception as he entered. Given what Harry had texted him, Michael was hardly surprised. He walked through reception and into the office. Michael could hear the sound of his clustered together coworkers murmuring through the walls as he approached the conference room. Harry was standing in the doorway and waved Michael towards him. Michael took a deep breath as he forced a smile to his face. Harry grinned at the sight of Michael's white teeth being framed by his red lips, feeling that he had done the right thing for the man he was planning to live vicariously through. Harry put his arm around Michael and said, "Everyone, this is Gillian, the girl I've been telling you so much about. Michael struggled not to stoop as he saw the eyes of all his coworkers gawking at his feminized appearance. He felt judged by each of them as they looked him over from head to toe. Some could not hide their derision from their faces. He wanted to run, but Harry's arm held him steady where he stood in his pointed toe, patent leather pumps. The looks of scorn on some faces did not escape Harry. Feeling protective of Michael, Harry removed his arm from Michael. He glared at the expression of those that appeared to be most upset by Michael's feminized appearance. Harry did not hide his anger as he sternly declared, "If anyone has a problem with Gillian, you are free to leave. I will not tolerate anyone treating her with less than the respect, professionalism and politeness that any other woman in her position is treated with. Am I making myself clear?" "Yes," Michael's coworkers replied, mostly in unison, to their boss's firm lecture. "Is there anyone here who cannot be professional about this?" Harry asked, locking eyes with the employee with the most disdainful look on his face as he did so. Not a person responded that they could not as the man that Harry stared down darted his eyes away from his boss's in fear. Harry nodded at the silence and said, "Then, everyone can get back to work, and I better not hear one word about anyone treating Gillian differently than any other girl here. Am I clear?" "Yes," the group responded again before Harry stepped out of the conference room. Michael hurried out behind him, not wanting to give his coworkers a chance to gang up on him despite Harry's warnings about doing so. Michael settled in at his desk and started doing the Junior Executive work he had been doing before his short-lived promotion. Most of it was computer related, so he was relieved to not have to talk to many people as he worked at his desk. Michael focused on his work as best as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he kept seeing his coworkers walking by and sneaking glances at him. He knew that they were all trying to size him up. Some were trying to get an understanding over what drove him to come into work in heels that morning, while others were silently judging him. The sounds of laughter and giggles through the walls felt like scratches to Michael. He felt that every one of them was at his expense, despite lacking proof that a single one was directed at him. Michael did his best to keep his interactions with others minimal. He hid behind his desk the entire morning, leaving only to get a cup of coffee and go to the bathroom. The few employees he interacted with treated him respectfully. Harry's orders had seen to that. He could sense that the nicer people were going out of their way to try to make him feel normal. Their over the top efforts, however, only served to make him feel more like a freak. Other employees tolerated his existence, knowing that the alternative was their termination or resignation. Michael figured that he would hear at least some of their opinions of him in time, when they or he changed jobs. He hoped by then, however, the passage of time would have made them accept him or no longer care about how he looked. A knock on the door brought Michael's eyes away from the computer. He turned and faced the grinning face of Georgette. He gave her a smile and asked, "What can I do for you?" She gave him a sheepish smile as she stepped into his office and replied, "I just wanted to let you know that I was wrong." "About what?" Michael asked. "Harry's anything but a misogynist." "All because he didn't fire me for this," Michael inquired with raised eyebrows. "No. He's sweet to support you, but I was talking about my promotion." "Promotion?" "He didn't tell you?" "No." "I'm the one who got your old job," Georgette announced. "Oh...," Michael replied as he processed what had happened before he hastily added, "Congratulations. You deserve it." "Thank you," Georgette replied before letting out a contented sigh. "Happy, are you?" Michael asked. "That was a little Yoda-ish." "I wasn't going for style points." "Maybe not with your words, but your outfit's pretty cute." Michael blushed at her praise, feeling foolish about the pride he felt from the remark. He verbally responded with a compliment of her shoes. "So, you've got a shoe fetish?" Georgette asked with a raised eyebrow. "No....I've" "I know you're a girl. I was just joking, Gillian," Georgette replied, cutting him off before laughing. "Am I a joke to you?" Michael asked, sensing that he was to most of his coworkers. "No. You were a nice guy, and if being a nice girl is what you need to do to be happy, I'm with you." "Thank you," Michael replied. "Do you want to grab lunch?" Georgette inquired. "I'm a little nervous about stepping out like this." "Career 101, Gillian, don't turn down your boss's invitation to lunch," Georgette rejoined before adding, "So, come on." Michael was stunned by the realization that she was really his boss. They were no longer equals, and he was no longer her boss. The situation was reversed. He was now the one she was going to lean on. The realization excited him as he got to his feet and said, "When you put it that way, what choice do I have?" Georgette smiled at him as she said, "I'm going to grab my bag, and we'll head over to The Mission." "Okay," Michael replied. Michael collected his bag before he headed out the door with Georgette. They made a short walk to the nearby restaurant before they were seated. "So, what do I owe the honor?" Michael asked while he took the menu from the waitress who was struggling to conceal her efforts to determine his true gender. Georgette gave the waitress a shake of her head at her efforts before the waitress scurried away, receiving the answer she half-expected. "I just wanted to get an understanding of you." "We've known each other for years..." "But you never told me about this..." "I never told my wife about this," Michael replied, cutting her off. "How is she taking it?" "Not well," Michael admitted.' "I would imagine," Georgette responded before their conversation was broken up as they gave their drink orders to the waitress. As she walked away, they started to review the menus again before Georgette inquired, "When did you realize that you were a girl?" 'I'm not!' Michael thought before he lied, "When I was a child." "You've lived a lie that long?" "I wanted to make people happy," Michael replied, trying to explain himself to her. He felt it was truthful since he had long hidden his true desires to protect himself and keep his wife happy. The waitress came back over and took their lunch orders as she placed their drinks in front of them. Michael nearly choked as Georgette then inquired, "Does this mean you're going to be dating men, now?" Embarrassed by Michael's mortified reaction, Georgette apologized. Michael shook his head as he replied, "I'm still married." "But is that going to last?" "I hope so," Michael replied, struggling to maintain his emotions. "I hope so too. I always liked Carolina." "She's a great girl." "You're a great girl too," Georgette said with a smile as she patted her underling's hand before she added, "You two are lucky to have each other." Michael smiled at Georgette's friendly reassurance. He thanked her for her words before Georgette changed the subject and started talking about work as their food was placed in front of them. Michael was happy to talk about something normal even as he felt strange doing so while the sensations of the nylons on his legs and perched feet were reminding him that things were never going to be the same again. After finishing with their lunch, Georgette picked up the tab over Michael's protests. Michael thanked her when she refused to reconsider. They stood up and walked back to the office together before they went back to their new jobs. Michael kept his distance from his coworkers as he finished his workday. Most of his coworkers were happy with his efforts to stay distance since they did not want to have to deal with him in his feminized state. As the day came to an end, Michael headed out the door, stopping to say goodnight to Georgette and Harry before he went to his car. On the drive home, Michael saw a familiar store that he had rarely ventured into as a man. The discount retailer was a store that he knew would be a good place to supplement his feminine wardrobe that he was being forced to expand under the circumstances. Michael drove into the store's parking lot and parked his car. After touching up his makeup, he swung his legs out of the car together. He felt more at ease with his situation while he walked into the building. He knew that he was never going to feel entirely comfortable en femme in public, but he was able to deal with the looks he got from those who knew or suspected what was beneath his feminine clothing. With each step towards the building, Michael felt that his prior nervousness and embarrassment was something he could not repeat. He smiled as he walked through the automatic doors and stared at the female clothing he was going to get to pick through for the first time. While he had longed to do it, due to embarrassment, he had always limited himself to shopping for female clothing online. Being forced to work in his feminized state, however, had made those prior inhibitions seem quaint. Michael walked towards a rack of work dresses and began to look through them. He grinned at the designs that struck him as pretty while he searched for dresses in his size. A pink one caught his eye. He briefly thought of putting it back, but then he thought, 'If I'm stuck doing this, I'm going to enjoy myself.' Michael put the dress over his arm as he continued shopping. A salesclerk noticed him and came over and said, "Is there anything I can help you with, Miss?" "No. I'm just looking," Michael replied in his normal tone. Michael could see the startled look on the girl's face. A momentary sense of unease gave way to a feeling of freedom. Michael knew that the girl knew exactly what he was, but was restrain