Turnabout, A Secretary Now     

It was my twenty-eighth birthday. Although I had to work, I was still looking forward to being with my wife tonight to celebrate. It was a normal workday until the email arrived late that afternoon.

Recently, we have been getting a lot of them, and the company is trying to improve its employees' working conditions. All of this was because they were losing employees right and left, fifteen employees leaving just last month.

The changes covered a wide array of subjects, including cubicles rather than everyone in one big room. Music played in the background, soothing melodies to listen to during the workday. New desks and chairs are touted as more comfortable and user-friendly. A small self-serve cafeteria offering drinks and healthy snacks was to be added on each floor. Finally, meetings between management and employees to be held more often to discuss working relationships and ways to improve them.

All of the changes were sorely needed, but whether they will stop the flow of employees from the company is still questionable.

Since Secretary Week starts next Monday, the latest change is to have the boss and secretary swap for a week, so each person can experience what it's like to perform the other's job. The company was severely top-heavy, with all but one of its upper-level positions held by men. The one notable exception was the new female CEO.

That CEO, incidentally, is the one responsible for all of these changes. She believed most male bosses had no idea what their secretaries did, while the secretaries were probably in the same fix; their bosses' duties and actions often left them confused and bewildered.

As far as the employees were concerned, the swap week was frowned upon, and many complaints were voiced, especially from the male contingent. They had no desire to be stuck behind a secretary’s desk typing and answering phones. To make it more palatable to the male contingent, the CEO offered cash prizes for the best impersonation of their secretary and for the person who handled the secretary’s duties most efficiently.

As far as the female employee was concerned, they were a little more open-minded. The female employees saw it as a way to show what they were capable of besides typing letters and answering phones. They were also offered prizes for the best impersonation of their bosses and for handling their bosses' job duties.

When the emails showed the amounts for each prize, many opinions about this crazy idea changed. I know several of my male cohorts decided to try to win one of the prizes. I was still wavering when my secretary mentioned that I would make a cute female, a good way to make some extra cash. She was trying to kid me, or did she actually hold that opinion.

I did check into what would be needed if I were to participate. I had no desire to just show up and do what my secretary did every day. If I was going to participate, I would do it right, in the manner our new CEO intended. Maybe a few extra brownie points could be had in the process.

A search on the internet turned up several names of local businesses that might be helpful. I made a few phone calls, got some basic information, and now I'm having to decide if I will actually join in.

It was doable; one place, after I had sent them a photo of me, was quite enthusiastic about transforming me. They also had the best price for the transformation. If I did win one of the prizes, I would have quite a bit left over.

In a moment of insanity, I decided to participate. I called and made an appointment for their deluxe makeover, according to my contact at the salon, what I would need to win the contest. That is the impersonation part of the contest. It was a little more expensive but did include a basic wardrobe. For a week-long swap, it seemed like a overkill, but they seemed to know what was best.

Then I remembered my wife, someone who should have been consulted first before I did anything. That evening, I had to face my wife and tell her about the swap and what I had arranged. After dinner, I managed to tell her everything; her stare was very unnerving. No words spoken, just her boring holes in me with her eyes.

She did finally speak a few words, asking where I had arranged to get my sex change. Her use of sex change kind of scared me.

I told her about the Turnabout Gurl Salon, an instant smile lighting up her face. No more discouraging words, no visible reaction to my planned escapade. We cuddled in bed that night. She seemed to be in a lovable mood, using my male organ more than she usually does.

Then, holding me tight, as we drifted off to sleep. I almost wet my pajamas trying to get loose from her so I could use the bathroom later that night. Once back in bed, I was again held close, her hands on my breast.

I did not tell any coworkers about my plans; I just planned to show up and assume my secretary’s duties, Mary’s  duties. I was afraid that if I mentioned it before I did it, I would receive a lot of kidding from the few males who had decided not to participate.

The salon makeover was surreal: entering as a man and leaving in a dress, heels, and makeup. At the salon, I had been given breasts, six hours of the new appendages being sucked from my body. As it finished a bra was given me. Even though it was an underwire bra, it did minimize the bouncing feeling they made as I tried to walk. It also pushed up my new breasts some, making them that much more noticeable.

My hair was fashioned in a very feminine style, but the dress I was given to wear was another matter altogether. It fit my new curves like a second skin, the skirt of the dress forcing me to take short steps, a mincing walk, the result of the dress. The heels were ridiculous—five inches tall, almost no shoe, just a few straps to keep them on my feet. They were a deep burgundy to match my dress, with me not noticing them till I was dressed.

A lot of the time at the salon was spent with me just staring at anything. The few things that had been done to me were consuming any brain activity. Especially the creation of my breasts, several times wondering about the method they used, beginning to doubt it could be easily reversed later. Even the makeup was ignored until I looked in a mirror after donning the dress.

Loaded with bags of clothes, I made it home at a little after five o’clock. so I settled on a few snacks to nibble on, knowing that tomorrow is when the real test would be.

My wife, Jenny, worked late several days a week; today was one of those days. I did make it to bed later, though the struggles I had to endure to get out of my clothes did wear me out a bit. The bra is especially troublesome. It did feel good to get out of the heels, though, my feet shouting their approval. Jenny appeared a little later to see how I turned out. I explained everything while she examined me,
smirking several times before finishing with a huge smile.

I was definitely questioning my sanity before I finally succumbed to sleep. I did feel Jenny hold me when she came to bed.

The next morning, I had set the alarm two hours earlier, knowing I had quite a bit to do and hoping it would go smoothly. It surprisingly went well. The next morning, it took me a while to get the bra fastened, but my breasts did appreciate the support. The curls were super strength — since every curl was pretty much where it had been at the salon, although Jenny’s smile at my effort. My effort not as good as the salon did, but I still looked good.

I let out a huge sigh when I managed to pull into a parking spot in the company parking lot. Then getting out of the car gracefully was the next task. I think I managed it without showing the world my panties, pink, of course.

I entered the building, then had to face my next challenge.. My male ID badge would not allow me to access the workplace; the security guard took great pleasure in issuing me a new ID photo, and all.

I was called miss several times, then, as he was entering my information into the computer, he changed my first name to Bianca, formerly Ben. I had  very little choice. I did eventually make it to my secretary’s desk, signed in, and looked at what was there for me to start working on.

Incidentally, my badge number was my password to get signed on. I did eventually make it to my secretary’s desk, signed in, and looked at what was there for me to start working on.

Giggle, she reminded me that work starts at nine. In the future, please try to be on time. I turned several shades of red; being late was pointed out to me, which made it even more embarrassing. I was only twenty minutes late; the ID badge fiasco was the reason for my appearance.

Then smirked when she told me to report to personnel, something about my file had to be updated. I headed in that direction, then remembered I'd forgotten my purse. Back to the desk and opened the top drawer to get my purse out. That I just did automatically —no thinking involved. Then on to personnel. A web application using the info on my ID badge. When I arrived, I was told to fill out a new application using the info on my ID badge. The secretary then asked for my Social Security card and my driver's license. She made copies of each and handed them back.

I managed to fill out the application, wondering why I had to do so. The secretary then asked for the application I handed it to her, and she then attached copies of my driver's license and Social Security card to the application.

A current dress code was also attached, along with the company's basic rules for employees. I was told to sign the acknowledgment that all the data is correct, and I agreed to the rules and dress code. I glanced over the data, dress code, and rules, then signed. She placed all the paperwork in my file, then took a picture of my ID badge to attach to the front. She told me to take a seat in her office. My new file lay on her desk. I recognized the person in the manager’s chair from previous manager’s meetings, since she came to the agent’s office and was told to take a seat for her boss.

The former department head was an asshole, making enemies of almost everyone. I did notice that he was not here today, either  posing as his secretary or in any other position. Maybe someone finally fired him. The former secretary was using his name, though, in a very businesslike manner. She welcomed me to the company, advising me that I could advance if I wanted or stay. The former secretary was using his name, though, in a very businesslike manner.

She welcomed me to the company, advising me that I could advance if I wanted or stay in my new position if that suited me better. I gave her a puzzled look, not sure exactly what she meant. She saw my puzzled look, which told me I was now Bianca as far as the company was concerned, filling a recently created secretary vacancy.

Pay was to be three hundred a week for a forty-hour work week. I was asked if I had any more questions, then told to report back to my department and my new job. No mention of swap week, she resumed what she was doing, essentially dismissing me. I stopped at her secretary’s desk, asking a question. On your first day,

I did make it back to my desk and decided to look at the emails about the swap week again. I spent 20 minutes looking for any emails about the swap week, then for the emails about the changes the new CEO had implemented.

Absolutely nothing there. What's going on this morning? I decided to get to work before I got in trouble. I typed up the memo, a memo announcing the promotion of Nora to my former position. No mention of Ben as the former department head, just her accepting the job to fill a vacancy that had been left vacant for months. I handed the memo to Nora for her approval, then emailed it to all department employees.

Called into Nora’s office right before closing; she wanted to compliment me on my work ethic, since I had finished all of the work assigned to me. I was told that if I keep it up, she will see that I receive a raise to three hundred twenty-five dollars a week.

Out to my car, then the drive home. Another talk with my wife is necessary, trying to explain that I am no longer a department head, just a new hire secretary. Then, I told her that I am making quite a bit less in wages, although I might get a twenty-five-dollar-a-week raise if I keep up the good work. She listened, but not much was said. I am sure she is disappointed in me.

When she married me, I was an executive on the fast track; now, I'm just a lowly secretary. I was still having trouble accepting my new position and life. Then the light went on: a secretary job with a specific dress code for attire, hairstyle, and makeup. I was still having trouble accepting my new position and life. I have to remain a female way past the supposed swap week. Oh gawd, what happened today?

Surely this is some weird dream that I did get hugged, as my wife tried to console me somewhat.

She decided we needed to fix dinner and grabbed my hand, leading me to the kitchen. I was put in charge of warming the leftovers while she made us some soup and fresh tea. I ate the offering, but my appetite was severely curtailed. I did help her clean up, a smirk and a few giggles offered my way as she watched me put up the dishes.

“Put up the dishes and get our coats from the hall closet.”

Led out to her car as I tried to ask her where we were going, but her only reply was to buckle my seat belt. She drove us to a mall, then helped me out of the car. I tried to get her to delay any purchases, hoping somehow that all of this would go away after a week. Her simple explanation is that you will need the dresses for your job, to satisfy the dress code, and keep Nora proud of you.

Once home, I was made to hang up my clothes —the ones from the salon and the ones I bought tonight. I was undressed and a nightie was slipped over my body, and I was dragged to bed.

After three hours of being manipulated, fondled, and generally used, my male organ gave up, shriveled to nothing, and retreated to his little corner of my panties.

I knew I would have to increase my coffee consumption to be any good at my job tomorrow. There was no cafeterias, and every employee that I had known personally in their regular jobs. In other words, no swapping of positions for secretary week. When I got to my desk, I decided to check what exact days that swap week is observed. I googled it and found that there is no official swap week observed in the U.S.

I started in on the work, figuring I had suffered a couple of days of insanity, the only explanation for what had happened in the last two days. Bottom line: Bianca is here to stay. Both work and my spouse seem to approve of the changes.

After I finished part of my work, I called the salon to make weekly appointments, a necessity to keep me looking business professional and cute. I did wonder about my use of the word cute though. After completing that task, I returned to my work. A secretary’s job is never done.
So Bianca is here to stay, a twist of fate maybe.

© 2016 through 2025 by Francesca