Date: Sat, 09 Dec 2000 22:16:39 -0500
From: Michelle X
Subject: "Demoted"

Demoted

By Michelle X

A year ago I was on top of the world. I was not even 30 years old,
and already I was making six figures as the sales manager in a
large insurance firm. I had a new BMW, a large spacious apartment,
and a beautiful girlfriend. I was Mike Richardson, a corporate
dynamo who was in total control of his future.

And now? Just a year later, that's all gone. My name is now
Michelle Smith, and I'm working as a lowly secretary, making just
above minimum wage. My car and my girlfriend are gone. I was
living in a dumpy, crowded apartment, but luckily my boyfriend
Eric is letting me move in with him.

How did this all happen? Let me explain.

About to years ago, I was one of the two head honchos in the sales
department. The other co-manager of the department was a bitch
named Julie Black. She was hired by the company at about the same
time I was, and for the entire time we were there, we were
incredibly competitive. I hated that wench.

The position of sales manager was initially supposed to be mine
exclusively. But when Julie found out I was going to be promoted,
she threatened to file a sex discrimination lawsuit. So to avoid
any legal action, they gave her an equal position as me. I hated
her even more then.

We were serving as co-managers for about six months when there was
a huge shakeup in the company. The former president of the
company, an old family friend, was being replaced with Vera
Spellman, a cutthroat, no-nonsense businesswoman. She had a
notorious reputation for hating men, supposedly because she had
experienced so much sex discrimination when she was first starting
out.

About a week after Vera joined the company, she set up a meeting
with Julie and me to go over changes in the sales department. When
we walked into her office, the woman was just as I had envisioned
her. She was dressed in a professional suit with an incredibly
stern look on her face that clearly indicated that she meant
business.

Vera explained to us that because of cutbacks, some of the upper
level staff would have to be eliminated. This included one of the
co-manager positions. Thus, only one of us could be manager, and
she would interview us both before making her final decision.

I kind of knew right then and there that I would be getting fired,
knowing Vera's reputation as a man-hater. My interview confirmed
my suspicions. For more than an hour, Vera utterly criticized my
job performance, berating me while praising Julie. She told me
that she expected more from me, "given all the advantages you have
as a man."

The news was inevitable. The next day, all three of us assembled,
and Vera informed us that Julie would remain as sales manager
while my position would be terminated.

"Well," I asked, "at least I can go back to being a salesman,
right?"

"I'm afraid not," replied Vera without any iota of compassion.
"There are no openings for you to be a sales rep. The only open
position for you in the sales department will be with the
secretarial staff."

"What?" I said in disbelief. "A secretary! Hell, that's a job for
flunkies. With all my experience, all my education, I deserve
something better than that."

Then Vera gave me the harshest look I'd ever seen a woman give.
"Listen, Buster!" she said. "Don't you dare criticize the
secretarial staff! I started out as a secretary, and look where I
am now! They work their asses off for all the big-shot managers.
If you ever want to be a manager again, you'll have to work your
way up to the top, just like I did. It sounds like this experience
may actually be a good lesson for you. You'll finally learn what
it's like to do real work!"

And with that, the meeting ended. As we left, Julie couldn't help
but laugh. "I can't believe this!" she giggled. "You once thought
you were so much better than I am. And now you're just a lowly
secretary."

"Shut up, Julie!" I said. "This is hard enough without you rubbing
it in."

"Um, excuse me. I'm your boss now. It's not appropriate for you to
call me by my first name. From now on, you will address me as Ms.
Black. Understood?"

"Yes."

Julie glared at me.

"Um...yes...Ms. Black!"

"Good," Julie said. "Tomorrow we'll get you started on your
secretarial training."

When I got home, I pondered my dilemma. Working as a secretary
would mean a major cut in my pay, my benefits, as well as my self-
respect. But on the other hand, I put five years into the company;
I couldn't just throw all that away. I figured there was no way
that Vera Spellman would last that long as company president. I
thought I could just ride out the storm until she got kicked out,
and then I would get my job as manager back.

So the next day I swallowed my pride and faced my first day as
secretary. Julie decided to make me her Executive Secretary. She
figured that way she would be my direct boss and thus have
complete control over me. I would have to follow her every command
or else lose my job with the company.

Things went good (as good as they could get given the situation)
for about two weeks. Then one day Julie called all of the
secretaries in the department in for a special meeting. As we
entered the conference room, she handed us all a memo. On the
subject line were the words "Dress Code Changes".

"As the new manager," Julie said, "I have decided that this
workplace environment should look more professional. Some of you
have been a bit too casual with your attire, so I have made a new
code that I expect you all to adhere to. It will be strictly
enforced."

At first, I was a bit puzzled, because the memo clearly didn't
apply to me. It described a no pants policy; only professional-
looking skirts and dresses were acceptable. In addition, no casual
or athletic shoes were permitted. Anyone not wearing high heels
would be fired on the spot. Finally, it was "strongly suggested"
that we wore an appropriate amount of makeup, to show that we took
pride in our appearance.

Julie saw the puzzled look on my face, and before I could even let
out the question, she looked right in my eyes and said, "I expect
everyone to adhere to these rules. Everyone!"

I thought it must have been some kind of joke. "Excuse me,
Julie...er, Ms. Black. This new policy doesn't make any sense. Why
on earth would I want to wear skirts and high heels?"

Julie made a sadistic grin and said, "I could care less about what
you want. This is about what I want. I case you've forgotten, I'm
the boss, not you."

"All right, bitch, this is the last straw!" I yelled. "I can
tolerate being your peon, but there's no way you're going to
humiliate me further by putting me in dresses!"

Meanwhile, one of the other secretaries, Phyllis, chimed in.
"Well, I think this dress policy is completely fair. It's not
comfortable wearing, skirts, pantyhose, and heels every day. If we
have to do it, why shouldn't he? He doesn't deserve any special
treatment."

"I agree," said Julie. "Mike, you forget, you're not a manger
anymore. You're just a secretary, like Phyllis and the rest of the
girls. You don't get any special treatment just because you're a
man. You'll have to suffer in heels and skirts like the rest of
them."

Julie then picked up the phone, saying, "I know how we can settle
this." She called Vera and asked her to come over right away. In
less than five minutes, she came strutting in with the typical
stern look on her face. She picked up the memo and quickly scanned
it.

Vera looked at Julie and said, "Ms. Black, I've very impressed
with your concern about maintaining a professional environment. I
think it makes perfect sense to implement a more well-defined and
equal dress code."

Vera then turned to me. "You, sir, have absolutely no right to
talk back to your boss like that. After all, you're just a lowly
secretary, and you're in no position to decide company policy. If
you care about your career, you'll follow these new rules to the
very letter!"

After Julie dismissed the rest of the secretaries, who were
snickering at my predicament, Vera told me to follow her to her
office. "You'll have the rest of the day off to prepare to
tomorrow," she said. "I'm sure you don't have any of the necessary
attire or makeup, so I'm going to take you on a shopping trip.
Let's go."

Before I had any chance to object, Vera dragged me out to the car,
and we were off to the mall. I stayed silent as we drove,
wondering what I should do. The thought of having to dress like a
woman every day infuriated me. Could I really sink so low?

Yet my dilemma further increased my desire to get revenge against
Julie. If I left the company, there would be no way I could get my
managerial position back and put Julie in her place. If I had
quit, that would that would have been an undeniable admission that
she had beaten me. Yes, I had no choice but to ride this thing
out, even if it meant working as a woman. But I still had my
doubts about the whole thing.

Just as soon as I had made my decision in my mind, we arrived at a
small boutique. Vera asked me if I had a credit card with a high
limit. I said that I did, and she said, "Great! You'll have enough
money to buy the perfect wardrobe for a working woman!"

Vera explained that her friend owned the boutique, and that she
would ensure that no one else would be around, so that I could try
on all my clothes with minimal embarrassment. We must have spent
hours, as Vera forced me to try on dozens of suits, skirts, and
blouses.

She kept on charging dozens and dozens of items to my card, and at
one point I asked, "Isn't this a bit excessive?" She just ignored
me, and gave me another skirt to try on. Vera really seemed to be
enjoying my being forced to parade around in women's clothing.

We must have bought several dozen items in every imaginable color,
when she then sent me to the shoe department to buy some high
heels. The whole time I was complaining about how much they
pinched my toes and how hard it was to walk in them.

Vera dismissed my complaints yet again. "Tough! All the other
secretaries have to wear them, and I doubt they're complaining.
Besides," she said with a sadistic smile, "You'll have plenty of
time to practice walking in them."

In the end, I had about 15 pairs of heels. Again, I complained
about that being excessive, and she simply replied that we needed
enough to match all my clothes.

After we found some bras and pantyhose, Vera gave everything to
the cashier to be rung up. "That will be $2,088.77," announced the
clerk. I almost crapped in my pants! I was forced to spend over
$2,000 on clothes that I didn't even want to wear in the first
place.

Before we left, Vera gave me one of the outfits and said, "I
really loved this suit on you. Can you try it on again, just to
see how it looks? Wear it with these pantyhose, this bra and these
heels."

She pushed me into a dressing room with the clothes. I first put
on the navy blue pantyhose, followed by a padded bra and a white
blouse. I then put on the navy blue jacket and skirt, followed by
navy blue high heel shoes. I looked in the mirror and was amazed.
>From the neck down, I looked completely feminine. No one would
doubt that this was the body of a very feminine secretary.

Vera told me to walk out and show me the outfit. Because of the
high heels and the tight skirt, it was impossible for me to walk
in a masculine manner. Instead, I had to walk in an ultra-feminine
style, taking tiny steps and swaying my hips. I was so embarrassed
as I saw myself in a large mirror.

"You look fabulous!" said Vera. "No one would ever guess that
you're a man!" Was that supposed to be a compliment?

"Okay, let's go." she said. "We have plenty more to do."

"All right, let me just change."

"Change? Why would you want to do that? You're going to need
practice wearing these clothes, and the time to start is right
now! You're going to go out exactly as you are dressed!"

To ensure this, she went to the dressing room, found my male
clothes, and threw them in the dumpster at the side of the store.
"There!" she said. "Now you have no choice but to go out as a
woman!"

Indeed I didn't. Even though the walk back to the car took just a
minute, I was incredibly self-conscious. I wondered how I, in my
tight skirt, nylon-clad legs, and high heels, might look to
another man passing by, sacred that they might find me attractive.
I felt so vulnerable.

When we got to the car, Vera informed me that that we were going
to a salon. She remarked that it would look silly for me to have
the body of a woman and the face of a man, so she would do
everything she can to remove any trace of masculinity from me.
This would include a perm, complete makeover, and manicure. Again,
like the boutique, the salon happened to be owned by a friend of
hers, who assured us that I would have total privacy for my
makeover.

The first thing that was taken care of was my hair. I was
commanded by Vera not to ask any questions, just to let the
beauticians do their thing. But it got to the point where they
were doing so much styling, using so many chemicals that I had to
pipe up.

"I hope you're not giving me anything too feminine?" I asked.

"On the contrary," the stylist replied. "Vera told me to give you
a very feminine cut. She wanted to ensure that no one would ever
mistake your hair for a man's style. It will have plenty of curls,
and you're going to be a blonde as well!"

I got really scared. Vera definitely seemed to be going overboard
with all this. I was hoping that she would leave me masculine
enough that I could still pass as a man when I was outside of
work. But now it was becoming clearer that I would be living as a
woman 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

The rest of the session didn't do anything to allay my fears. They
spent a long time on my makeup, and even pierced my ears. The
worst part was how they plucked my eyebrows. They got them down to
an unmistakably feminine arch that would take months to grow back.

For my nails, Vera decided that since my own weren't long enough,
she would have them glue on some fake nails. The beautician
explained, "The glue will hold for at least a month. It's really
strong, and there's no way you'll be able to get them off. After
that, your nails should have grown long enough that they will look
completely feminine."

A month stuck with long nails! Even if I wanted to go back to
being a man, I would be stuck with those.

After we were all done, Vera had me take my first look in the
mirror at myself completely feminized. My first thought was, "Oh
my God, what have I done!" I looked undeniably female. I don't
think any person passing me on the street would ever think I had
been born a male.

I panicked all of a sudden, saying to myself that this was all a
big mistake. "How on earth did I let myself be feminized like
this?" I wanted to just run away, but I knew I wouldn't get very
far in my heels.

But it was too late. I was stuck. There was nothing I could do to
immediately go back to being a man. I had made my choice, and I
would have to live with the consequences. Like it or not, I would
have to live and work as a woman for the time being.

Vera drove me home, and she offered to help bring up all my
packages and put my new wardrobe away. She went to my bedroom and
started putting all the skirts, blouses, and heels in my closet.
Meanwhile, I went to the bathroom and began to put away my
makeup, perfume, Lady Schick, etc.

When I came back out, my closets were filled with women's clothes.
Not a shred of male clothing was in sight. "There wasn't enough
room for both your new clothes and your old clothes. So I found
these old boxes and packed away all of your male clothes in them.
You certainly won't be wearing them any time in the foreseeable
future."

She then added, "You know, you just might want to consider giving
all of these clothes to Goodwill. There's no reason to keep all
these male clothes when they can be used by someone who actually
needs them."

I politely declined and told her that I didn't need any more of
her help. Then after this very long day, Vera finally left. For
the first time I had time to reflect on this very unusual turn of
events.

As I took a look at my feminine self in the mirror, I was
definitely regretting my decision. "What the hell was I thinking?
I'm a man! And yet here I am, wearing a skirt, hose, and heels,
with a feminine hairstyle, makeup, and long polished nails!"

I felt totally emasculated. All my life I had always felt in
complete control of my future. But now I had no control
whatsoever. I had been forcibly feminized, and there was no
telling if or when I would be able to return to my male self.

Since my male pajamas had been packed away, I changed into a
nightgown and cried myself to sleep. I knew the next day would be
even more difficult.

My alarm woke me up at 5 AM. Normally I woke at 6, but now that I
was going to work as a woman, I needed to give myself extra time
to get myself ready for work.

I first did my makeup, making sure to put enough on to please
Julie. I wasn't used to putting on lipstick, mascara, and blush,
but thankfully Vera had given me a copy of Vogue with some basic
makeup tips.

I then picked out a smart tan suit, completing with a beige
blouse, and tan pantyhose and heels and picking out a matching
purse. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a very feminine
working woman. There wasn't even a trace of my former masculine
myself.

I felt a sudden rush of embarrassment and considered just not
going at all. How could I, once the head of the department, now
face all the secretaries in a skirt, so obviously forced into
submission? But I knew I truly had no choice.

Because none of my neighbors knew of my feminization, I quickly
rushed out to my car to avoid being seen by them. And I drove off
to my first day in the office in women's clothes.

I could tell that all eyes were on me as I walked into the office.
I was so humiliated that I didn't make any contact and walked
right to Julie's office.

"Good morning, boss." I said. "Is there anything you need me to do
right now?"

Julie looked me over with a grin and said, "Well, Mike, I have to
give you credit. I never thought you'd go through with it. I'm
glad to see that you know who the boss is. You clearly understand
your low status in the office."

That first day was hell. The first half of the day, Julie had me
running all around the building running errands. I swear she did
this on purpose. My feet were killing me in my heels, but I had no
choice but to keep on going. The second half of the day, she had
me do a lot of typing for her. Normally I can type very fast, but
with my long nails, my speed was cut in half. I had to stay after
work for two extra hours just to get it all done.

Things were more of less like this over the next few days, but the
other girls always found some way to humiliate me. Whereas as
manager, the other secretaries had always treated me politely, now
they openly insulted and mocked me.

And as a male, I'd had the men's bathroom all to myself. After my
feminization, Julie turned the men's bathroom into a private
washroom for herself. Meanwhile, I was told that I had to use the
public women's restroom with the other secretaries.

One day Julie invited my girlfriend up to the office to surprise
me. Boy, was I surprised! I had tried to keep my feminization a
secret from my girlfriend, but I certainly couldn't hide any
longer when she saw me in a white blouse, with a black skirt and
matching hose and pumps. She let me know that she was breaking up
with me immediately, so that she could go find a "real man".

The only thing that kept me going was the belief that Vera would
soon get kicked out of the company any day. I was certain that the
others in the company wouldn't stand her bitchy ways for very
long. Once she would be kicked out, a new president would come in,
and restore me to my managerial position. I felt it in my bones
that I wouldn't be in skirts much longer.

But I soon learned that things were not going as I had hoped. I
had heard through the grapevine that Vera was bringing in record
profits for the company, and that she would certainly remain as
company president for at least a year.

Could I keep up my feminization for that long? Well, it wasn't as
if I had any choice. I had made my choice, and there was no going
back until Vera was out of there. I had already invested this much
into my career, so I couldn't just stop now.

After I had been working in women's clothes for about two weeks,
something happened that made my return to masculinity an even more
remote possibility. I was driving to work one day, when I noticed
one of my best friends and neighbors driving alongside of me. I
couldn't possibly let him see me feminized, so I sped up to try to
get away from him. Unfortunately, the cops were out that day, and
I was pulled over for speeding.

The policeman walked up to my car and said, "Can I see your
license and registration, miss?" I reached over for my purse to
pull out my license, when it suddenly struck me. My license had my
male name, and a picture of me as a male. I couldn't possibly show
it to him!

I told him I must have lost the license and I tried to talk my way
out of it, flirting with the cop and pretending to be a ditzy
blonde. Thankfully, he let me off with a warning. But it did make
me late for work, which was particularly bad that day because
there was an important meeting at 9:00 sharp.

I rushed into the conference room at about 9:20, and immediately
Julie gave me a stern glare. "And what excuse do you have for
being late?" I was honest and explained everything that happened.

"Gosh," said my coworker Phyllis. "It would have been really
embarrassing to show that cop that you were really a guy dressed
in women's clothing!"

"I agree," chimed in Julie. "It would be a shame if something like
this were to happen to you again. And I think I know just the
solution. It's actually something I had been tossing around in my
mind the past few days, but I had never really brought it up."

"What?" I asked cautiously.

"Well," she replied, "it really doesn't make much sense for you to
call yourself Mike, when you don't look at all like a man. It's
not really appropriate for you here at work, and it's clearly
causing you problems outside of work as well. Therefore, I would
like you to ditch your masculine name and go by a feminine name."

My name? This was the last vestige of my masculinity! She couldn't
possibly take that away from me, could she? Then again, as with
everything else, I as a mere secretary had absolutely no control.

All of the other secretaries nodded in agreement with Julie. "All
right then! For your new name, why don't we call you... Michelle
Smith? I'll call human resources and payroll and let them know
about the change."

Julie left for a few minutes, and returned with a smile. "It's all
set! From now on, you'll be known as Michelle Smith. As far as
this company is concerned, Mike Richardson no longer works here.
All of your paychecks will be made out to Michelle Smith, so you
really have no choice in the matter."

Julie turned to the other secretaries and said, "Girls, here's how
I want you to think of this situation. Don't think of Michelle as
Mike. As far as I'm concerned, Mike Richardson no longer works
here. Just think of it as if we've hired a new girl, Michelle
Smith, fresh out of secretarial school! Pretend that he is a woman
and that he has always been a woman!"

Phyllis interrupted, saying, "That's perfectly fine with me, but I
do have one problem with this. If you really were to hire a new,
inexperienced girl, you would hardly make her your personal
secretary, which she is now. Since I have the most secretarial
experience, I should be the executive secretary. And Michelle, who
is newly hired, should take on an entry level clerical position,
such as a file clerk or a receptionist."

Julie smiled and said, "Phyllis, I completely agree! I'm making
you my secretary now. Your first official task will be to find
simple duties that are more in line with Michelle's minimal
experience."

Unbelievably, things had gone from bad to worse. As Julie's
executive secretary, I at least had a position of some importance
with a somewhat decent salary. But as a mere file clerk, I would
be making minimum wage in a meager position performing menial
tasks.

Even worse, Julie's new demands would make it even more difficult
for me to return to a man. She explained to me that since all of
my salary would be going to Michelle Smith (not Mike Richardson),
I would need to get new bank accounts, credit cards, driver's
license, etc. in my new name.

It all seemed so drastic and irreversible to me. I protested, but
Julie said that she wouldn't hear any of my whining. "You got
yourself into this. You're the one who volunteered to work in
women's clothes. It's only fitting that we give you the proper
name to go with it."

"Besides," she added, "with your feminine looks, it's not as if
you're going back to men's clothes any time in the foreseeable
future. You're stuck! Now you have to see what it's really like
for a typical working woman. You'll probably start wishing that
you had treated the secretaries a lot nicer!"

Julie said she wanted to make everything official, so she took me
down to the courthouse to get my name legally changed. She had
some more friends over there, so there really weren't any
questions or hassles. And before I knew it, I was now legally
Michelle Smith.

She dropped me off at home at the end of the day, and just as I
was going out of my car, she had one last remark. "You know,
Michelle, this apartment of yours is really extravagant for a new
secretary just making minimum wage. I know we women like to live
in high style, but for a mere office flunkie, you really need to
find something more appropriate. You'll soon learn that a
secretary's paycheck doesn't go very far."

I knew she was right. I was no longer Mike, the hotshot
businessman who had the world in the palm of his hand. I was now
Michelle, just a stupid little secretary, like thousands of other
women.

Drastic changes soon came within the next few weeks. My paycheck
as a secretary was less than a quarter of my pay as a manager. As
a result, I had to follow Julie's advice and move out of my nice
apartment to a small, dumpy studio. Because the apartment was so
small, there was no room for all my boxes of male clothing. So I
had to do the unthinkable and gave away all my male clothes. That
further guaranteed the permanence of my femininity.

I also decided to sell my brand new BMW and buy a used Hyundai.
Even then, I was always low on cash, given my minimum wage salary.

Things didn't improve at work either. Everyone treated me like a
dumb, inexperienced bimbo. I was given the most boring, menial
tasks, as if I wasn't competent enough to do anything that
required even a modicum of thought.

There was always the temptation to feel sorry for myself, but I
understood that there were millions of other women who were in my
same exact situation. We were stuck in low paying jobs with no
hope of ever advancing. Michelle Smith was nobody important. She
was just another working girl trying to make it in the world.

My life hit rock bottom about a year after I officially became
Michelle. Julie had called me into her office.

"Michelle, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. We're making
some cutbacks at the company, and I think we'll have to let you
go."

"What!?" I screamed. "How can you fire me? With all my experience,
all the time I've worked here? This company needs me!"

Julie shook her head. "You're confused, Michelle. You've only
worked here a year. It was Mike who worked here a long time. But
he doesn't exist anymore."

She continued, "This company doesn't need you. As the least
experienced secretary here, you're absolutely dispensable."

I was still consumed by disbelief. "I refuse to accept this,
Julie! Look at what I've done for this company! I've turned myself
into a woman, probably permanently! I've been doing all of your
menial tasks for a whole year! You're not firing me after all
that!"

"I'm afraid I can," Julie replied. "Remember, I am the boss, while
you have no power whatsoever. But don't worry. Secretaries are a
dime a dozen. I'm sure you can find another job somewhere else.
I'll even give you a good reference."

And that was that. She had security come and escort me out of the
building. Though my time with the company was over, my life as a
woman and as a secretary would continue for the foreseeable
future.

Because of my depleted savings, I knew I had to find a new job
right away. I tried to apply for jobs with more managerial
responsibilities. Many wouldn't take me because as Michelle I only
had minimal clerical experience. Other told me that a manger is a
"man's job" and that a position such as receptionist or secretary
would be more appropriate.

I soon realized that I was stuck as an office flunkie. So I bit
the bullet and took one of the many secretarial positions I was
offered.

So here I am now. I've faced reality and accepted the fact that
I'll never return to my male identity. I'm stuck in heels and
skirts for the rest of my life.

I've tried to make the best out of my position. I'd been feeling
pretty lonely, so I decided that it was time to start dating. One
of the salesmen in my office, Eric, took a liking to me, and we've
been going out for a few weeks. He's young and cocky, just like I
used to be. It was a bit unusual going out with a man, but I've
learned to accept assuming the submissive, feminine role in the
relationship. It's difficult to surrender all of my control to
Eric, but I guess I have no choice given my female identity.

Things have already become serious with him, and it looks as if
our relationship may become as permanent as my femininity. I'm a
bit scared obviously. I never intended on being living my life as
a woman, much less a secretary and a wife! I know I have a
difficult road ahead of me. But I guess that's something all
working women have to deal with.

The End