Turnabout Gurls, Drafted Into The Female Gender

As I approached work, I saw Vivian, the boss's wife, near the office door. She saw me and quickly came to drag me away. I was led to her car, which she had parked right up front. She pointed to the passenger seat as she slid behind the wheel. After fastening my seat belt, she backed out, heading away from work. A few blocks away, she pulled into a mega store's parking lot and parked at the far end of it. She turned to face me and began explaining her actions this morning.

The EEOC showed up a half hour before the start time, wanting to check on us. Since we had landed that government contract, we now fall under their jurisdiction. A preliminary check-up before contract signing had identified only one violation. There were no females in management positions; the few females working for us as secretaries did not meet the equality requirements of their rules, particularly in management. Her husband Joe had assured them that the matter was being handled at present; now, only a couple of weeks remain till it is completed.

Joe, Vivian's husband and the business owner, had conducted a few interviews to find someone but had dragged his feet on taking any action. Now they were back, looking to see that he had corrected the violation. Failure to do so would mean hefty fines and possibly the loss of the contract.

Joe called Vivian as soon as he saw the government cars and asked her to grab me and see if I would be willing to help. When first confronted on this, he and his wife had joked about me being able to fill the requirements, declaring myself in transition to the female sex and working my job as usual. Then they dismissed the idea as impractical or infeasible. I was already his manager, overseeing the staff working on the new contract.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Vivian had looked up the rules and regulations concerning equality in the workplace, finding that someone in transition did meet the bare minimum requirements of a female, thus I would be acceptable to the EEOC as being in compliance and satisfying the previous violation.

She explained all of this, then asked me to help. Since I did not have the typical male physique, I had a chance of pulling this off. She had anticipated Joe dragging his feet, so she had made up a file for me, showing me as declaring myself a female in transition shortly after the first visit of the EEOC. Having a friend who was a paralegal, she had also done a few things to make the whole scheme legal, just in case.

All of the employees kind of knew that she was most likely the brains behind Joe's business; his actions without her input were highly suspect. We also knew that she handled most of the negotiations for the contract, something that Joe was just not capable of doing without giving up what profit there might be in the contract.

I sat there looking her way, knowing that I would most likely agree to help, for one thing, because my job was on the line, as was everybody else's. Vivian reached over to take my hand, squeezing it to make me come back to the here and now.

"I know this is not something you want to do, but I can't figure out how we can get by without doing this. Again, Joe has put his whole company at risk, something he seems to be hopeless in avoiding."

I nodded my head, squeaking out that I would do it. She told me I have a salon appointment now. The changes necessary for today will be done quickly, and then she will be back at one to pick me up.

In the meantime, she will go back and try to keep her stupid husband from causing any more grief for one of his employees. She drove a little further, then pulled into a salon's parking lot. I was hoping for some small shop, maybe only a couple of other people to see me transformed.

No such luck, the Turnabout Gurl Salon was huge and loaded with customers at this ungodly hour of eight AM. I was told to ask for Hannah; she would take care of me and then see to it that I was dressed in appropriate clothing for my afternoon debut.

I got out of the car and strolled to the door. I understood the need for this to happen, but why me kept coming up. I let out a huge sigh, opened the door, and walked up to reception.

I was sent back to a room at the rear of the salon, meeting Hannah about halfway there. She took my hand, squeezed it, and led me to the room. She explained everything to me and had me sign permission slips for the salon to perform the treatments. I should have read them more thoroughly, but just being here was occupying all my mental faculties; reading and understanding the forms would have caused total failure of what little brain function I had left.

Hannah told me that she would explain all of them in more detail as she works on me, but to get me done by one, she had to get started now. I was helped out of my clothes, each piece removed, and it hit me hard, and what I was actually doing finally sank in. I was portraying a female in transition, essentially lying to the government. I am sure there is a penalty stated clearly and concisely somewhere, hidden among a hundred pages of legal jargon.

I zoned out. I knew Hannah was doing things to me, but what exactly was ignored by my brain or what was left of it? A look in the mirror confirmed that my male self was slipping away, each step driving home the apparent outcome. I tried to think of other things, but the image in the mirror kept bringing me back to the present.

When she glued the breast forms to my chest, I came out of my mindless state to see what she had done. They were heavy, quickly pulling down on my chest, and quite energetic as they swayed with every movement of my body. Hannah noticed my attention to them and asked if I wanted a bra now; it could help control the new appendages on my chest.

I thought a statement that I would have never wished or vocalized, now a desire of my new gender status. She made me ask, giggling at how I tried to phrase it, then handed me one lying on the counter and showed me how to put it on.
I had already seen my body hair vanish; the lotion applied afterward felt so good on the now softer, smoother skin. My hair had been washed and conditioned, then set in curlers.

My mini rebel phase, letting my hair grow long during college, is now playing into this scenario perfectly.
My eyebrows were worked on, and a brief look confirmed they would never be described as masculine. Some makeup applied —mainly mascara, blush, and lipstick — over a foundation base. Hannah was surprised that my beard was so light; a liberal coat of the cream used on my body had produced the same results on my face before she started with the makeup.

Hannah had my attention again as she spread my legs, placing each in a stirrup at the end of the chair. Even though I had supposedly declared myself female, Hannah told me that any inquiry might ask to see my genitals, to prove that I indeed was what I claimed, and this would satisfy that concern.

My balls were pushed back from where they had descended years ago, and a silicone vagina was glued over the top. It was most realistic, Hannah showing me that it would function like a genuine female, her finger inserting itself, setting off wave after wave of feelings through my body.

As thorough as they were, she had taken a picture of my male genitals, so that if questioned, I could prove I was a male originally. At the time, that seemed absurd; surely one look at me would have convinced them that I was initially a male.

My hair was removed from the curlers, brushed lightly, then the brush was handed to me so that I could practice encouraging the curls into the style it had been set for. The rest of my clothes were furnished, the little bits of nothing that she called a pantie were a laugh, but fit snugly, pointing out the fact that I now had no male bulge.

The dress was not basic by any means, with way too much open area around my breasts, and the hem of the dress barely came to my knees. The dress, in ivory brocade, screamed 'female'. When sitting, I found that the dress would inch up, leaving most of my leg bare. A pair of heels was added to my feet, and she had me walk around the salon till Vivian came to get me.

I heard a squeal, looking up to see Vivian hurrying in my direction. I was hugged and then promptly led to her car. I tried to get the seat belt over my breasts, finally deciding to take my chances without it. Vivian gave me a blow-by-blow account of the morning's activities. After hearing I would not be in till one, the EEOC looked through some employee files, then decided to get some lunch, coming back at one.

Vivian made sure everything was in place, coached a few employees as to my new look, then went to find Joe, making sure he would be out of the office this afternoon. We arrived around twelve-thirty with her leading me in and showing me the changes she had made. She is very thorough; every little detail seemed to be handled.

I was nervous, even more so when the government group reappeared. I was introduced, and they asked why I was absent this morning. In my best female voice, I told them I had weekly beauty salon appointments and that their presence would not prevent me from keeping them.

There was one female in the group, so she pulled me aside wanting to talk to me some. I figured it was her job to see if my declaration of belonging to the female gender was valid or just something to avoid the fines. We talked for quite a while, nothing of any consequence, though. When I had to go to the restroom, she accompanied me, and I tried to follow the etiquette Vivian told me was proper for using the bathroom. I apparently passed, for nothing was said to me. I even fixed my lipstick before going back to work.

I was getting tired of all the scrutiny, so I suggested that unless they had more questions, I had work to do, they knew where the door was, and had my contact information if they came up with something later. I turned and went back to work, leaving several comical expressions on their face. Vivian, approaching from Joe's office, was giggling away. She had seen them to the door and talked with the lone female member before coming back towards me. I was grabbed by her and taken to Joe's office, while all I wanted was to get some work done.

"You did well; they believe you are now a female, and since you have had a managerial position for quite some time, that leaves the company in compliance now. The only negative to all of this —and it is a biggie — is that they will now be spot-checking at random times to make sure you are still employed here and in a management position. I know this complicates things a lot. Just get through the rest of the day, and we will talk about it tonight over dinner. I got a hug, several thank yous, and a kiss on the cheek from her as she pushed me out the office door.

I did manage to get back into my work; the only problem I had was a breast getting in the way, okay, the heels hurting like hell on my feet, and the bra trying to cut me in half were right there, along with the errant breast. Then we have the bra strap slipping off my shoulder and my hair slipping down over one eye. I presume these are everyday things for a female, but that afternoon, they were major distractions for me.

At closing, Vivian found me and dragged me to dinner. I wondered where Joe was. It was nice not having him underfoot, a rare occurrence. She drove to a restaurant on the other side of town and was shown to a table right away, past several other customers waiting in line. She is a regular customer here. She was even more serious tonight, getting right down to business.

"I am not sure you are aware of the true owner of the business. A few years ago, I bailed Joe out for the umpteenth time, taking all of the shares as my collateral. He is really clueless about running a business, one stupid mistake after another, so I was never paid back any of my investment."

"This morning, I caught him in several more mistakes emerging from his big mouth, then sent him packing. I am sure he expects to come back, but now he is most likely parked in front of the TV watching a game of some kind. Well, it has been one fiasco after another with him, since my nerves have had it, I am going to make some changes. I am firing him, not sure what I am going to do with him, but it won't have anything to do with this business."

"I am making you the manager, a more politically correct title coming a little later. We will negotiate your salary. I am sure we can agree. For one thing, you will need money for clothes, shoes, and makeup. Eventually, if you tire of the masquerade, hire a suitable female and put her in a management position."

"I really doubt you will do that. From what I have seen so far, you are already slipping into the female life. Take some time to think about it, then let me know your decision. Make any changes you want to the business; you are more than capable of handling it, unlike my bungling husband. I will be available to assist if needed, just let me know how I can help."

Our food came, so any more discussion was tabled as we consumed the excellent offerings. My mind was active, though, going over everything she had told me about. For some reason, I took it all in stride, even figuring out a few changes I'd make tomorrow.

After dinner, we parted, exchanging hugs when she dropped me off back at the business so I could retrieve my car. I used my keys, went into the office, and wrote a couple emails to be circulated first thing tomorrow morning.

I decided something different to wear should come next, heading to the salon to find just the right business suit for my debut as the new boss. A male suddenly converted to the feminine gender, realizing the change would last much longer than a day or two, and became concerned about appropriate clothes for her first day as the boss. Unusual, yes, but I was actually excited about shopping for something that would make a proper, feminine statement.

I drove back to the salon, shopped for several hours, and Hannah helped me pick outfits that could be coordinated for future wardrobe choices. Several pairs of heels, since I will be the manager now, flats will not do. I already had the makeup she used on me this morning, and now I have appointments twice a week to keep me looking pretty and to help me learn what I need to know to remain a convincing female.

When I came in the next day, I was welcomed enthusiastically, getting hugs from the females and polite handshakes from the guys. They had already seen the emails, so after greeting me, they returned to their work, the hoopla over my transformation officially over, now business as usual.

Vivian checked on me later in the day, asked if I needed anything, and when I told her everything was fine, she left. Apparently, Joe is now to be a housewife, with one of Vivian's friends giving him some training in proper home maintenance and cooking. I do hope he does well. I shudder at what Vivian might do if he flubs this up.

I did think about things for several weeks, while spending my time as Caitlyn. I did hire several capable females for management positions and promoted one who had been with us for quite some time but was stuck in a go-nowhere position. Once she was allowed to spread her wings a little, she proved more than capable. Over the weeks ahead, my job turned from making business decisions to acquiring more clients.

That proved to be more complicated than deciding who would handle which part of the contracts we had acquired so far. The biggest fish that I was trying to land was definitely a challenge. His obnoxious behavior, his male superiority ideas, and his total disregard for anybody's feelings made my life quite difficult. I debated several times, just forgetting his company and looking elsewhere for some other business.

I went out with him several times for dinner; the only way he would meet me was to say he was a customer of our company. I was groped, manhandled, and otherwise abused by him every time. After a dinner with him, I quickly returned home and took a long shower, hoping to rid myself of the slimy residue of a meeting with him.

I did manage one meeting with him and two of his female supervisors, both of them quite intelligent and knowledgeable. He monopolized the conversation, refusing to let them respond to any inquiries, even when he did not know the answer himself. On a break, when he used the bathroom, the gals shared a few tips with me on dealing with him. After the meeting broke up, I hugged them and quietly thanked them for their help.

He was still a pain in the ass, but now I had some leverage to use when he got extra obnoxious. He is married, and his wife rules the roost. When he is spouting his garbage —the loudest, usually a mention of inviting his wife to one of our meetings or maybe asking her for input on some matter —backing him down is so easy. She is involved in the business, and her startup money originally came from her family. It wasn't but a few days later that he signed with us, his wife at his side as he signed the contracts.

My most enjoyable part of the week is my salon time; Mondays and Thursdays are sacred to me, nothing business-wise keeps me from my appointments. Since I am so happy with my female life, I have had several more treatments to make my appearance almost perfect as a female, my new breasts being the most notable of these treatments. Sucked from my body, they are indeed mine, the D cup size making my female figure more balanced and attractive.

Yes, being attractive has been a new goal of mine —maybe a partner someday, if one happens to enter my life. Due to my contacts and business meetings, I have many men and a few women interested in me after work. I am still having too much fun running the business, but that may change someday soon. I have thought about it quite a lot, and the premise does have some merits.

As for me, I am happy now; a part of my life that was missing is now complete. During numerous EEOC visits, I was scrutinized each time and found to be in total compliance with their rules and regulations. Even the woman who was head of the first group to visit has changed her tune, asking me out several times for dinner after work, a time we both enjoyed—nothing between us, just two females gossiping about life and our jobs.

Oh, the business is doing quite well, record profits for the third quarter in a row. What's to come next, who knows? Vivian is thrilled with my performance, and now I am a part-owner in the company. We often have lunch together, our main topic of conversation is her husband Joe, now known as Celia, the family's full-time maid.

I have eaten over at their house, and Celia is quite proficient in her job, mainly due to the training that Vivian has had her take. It took them almost four months to make her see her future as a maid, the only one she will have. Her sole purpose in life now is to make Vivian happy, something Vivian is so enjoying.

Even though I was initially drafted, it is a pleasurable way to live, and one I am pretty happy with—a fateful change that day — becoming a girl, one that I endorse wholeheartedly.

© 2016 through 2025 by Francesca

As I approached work, I saw Vivian, the boss's wife, near the office door. She saw me and quickly came to drag me away. I was led to her car, which she had parked right up front. She pointed to the passenger seat as she slid behind the wheel. After fastening my seat belt, she backed out, heading away from work. A few blocks away, she pulled into a mega store's parking lot and parked at the far end of it. She turned to face me and began explaining her actions this morning.

The EEOC showed up a half hour before the start time, wanting to check on us. Since we had landed that government contract, we now fall under their jurisdiction. A preliminary check-up before contract signing had identified only one violation. There were no females in management positions; the few females working for us as secretaries did not meet the equality requirements of their rules, particularly in management. Her husband Joe had assured them that the matter was being handled at present; now, only a couple of weeks remain till it is completed.

Joe, Vivian's husband and the business owner, had conducted a few interviews to find someone but had dragged his feet on taking any action. Now they were back, looking to see that he had corrected the violation. Failure to do so would mean hefty fines and possibly the loss of the contract.

Joe called Vivian as soon as he saw the government cars and asked her to grab me and see if I would be willing to help. When first confronted on this, he and his wife had joked about me being able to fill the requirements, declaring myself in transition to the female sex and working my job as usual. Then they dismissed the idea as impractical or infeasible. I was already his manager, overseeing the staff working on the new contract.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Vivian had looked up the rules and regulations concerning equality in the workplace, finding that someone in transition did meet the bare minimum requirements of a female, thus I would be acceptable to the EEOC as being in compliance and satisfying the previous violation.

She explained all of this, then asked me to help. Since I did not have the typical male physique, I had a chance of pulling this off. She had anticipated Joe dragging his feet, so she had made up a file for me, showing me as declaring myself a female in transition shortly after the first visit of the EEOC. Having a friend who was a paralegal, she had also done a few things to make the whole scheme legal, just in case.

All of the employees kind of knew that she was most likely the brains behind Joe's business; his actions without her input were highly suspect. We also knew that she handled most of the negotiations for the contract, something that Joe was just not capable of doing without giving up what profit there might be in the contract.

I sat there looking her way, knowing that I would most likely agree to help, for one thing, because my job was on the line, as was everybody else's. Vivian reached over to take my hand, squeezing it to make me come back to the here and now.

"I know this is not something you want to do, but I can't figure out how we can get by without doing this. Again, Joe has put his whole company at risk, something he seems to be hopeless in avoiding."

I nodded my head, squeaking out that I would do it. She told me I have a salon appointment now. The changes necessary for today will be done quickly, and then she will be back at one to pick me up.

In the meantime, she will go back and try to keep her stupid husband from causing any more grief for one of his employees. She drove a little further, then pulled into a salon's parking lot. I was hoping for some small shop, maybe only a couple of other people to see me transformed.

No such luck, the Turnabout Gurl Salon was huge and loaded with customers at this ungodly hour of eight AM. I was told to ask for Hannah; she would take care of me and then see to it that I was dressed in appropriate clothing for my afternoon debut.

I got out of the car and strolled to the door. I understood the need for this to happen, but why me kept coming up. I let out a huge sigh, opened the door, and walked up to reception.

I was sent back to a room at the rear of the salon, meeting Hannah about halfway there. She took my hand, squeezed it, and led me to the room. She explained everything to me and had me sign permission slips for the salon to perform the treatments. I should have read them more thoroughly, but just being here was occupying all my mental faculties; reading and understanding the forms would have caused total failure of what little brain function I had left.

Hannah told me that she would explain all of them in more detail as she works on me, but to get me done by one, she had to get started now. I was helped out of my clothes, each piece removed, and it hit me hard, and what I was actually doing finally sank in. I was portraying a female in transition, essentially lying to the government. I am sure there is a penalty stated clearly and concisely somewhere, hidden among a hundred pages of legal jargon.

I zoned out. I knew Hannah was doing things to me, but what exactly was ignored by my brain or what was left of it? A look in the mirror confirmed that my male self was slipping away, each step driving home the apparent outcome. I tried to think of other things, but the image in the mirror kept bringing me back to the present.

When she glued the breast forms to my chest, I came out of my mindless state to see what she had done. They were heavy, quickly pulling down on my chest, and quite energetic as they swayed with every movement of my body. Hannah noticed my attention to them and asked if I wanted a bra now; it could help control the new appendages on my chest.

I thought a statement that I would have never wished or vocalized, now a desire of my new gender status. She made me ask, giggling at how I tried to phrase it, then handed me one lying on the counter and showed me how to put it on.
I had already seen my body hair vanish; the lotion applied afterward felt so good on the now softer, smoother skin. My hair had been washed and conditioned, then set in curlers.

My mini rebel phase, letting my hair grow long during college, is now playing into this scenario perfectly.
My eyebrows were worked on, and a brief look confirmed they would never be described as masculine. Some makeup applied —mainly mascara, blush, and lipstick — over a foundation base. Hannah was surprised that my beard was so light; a liberal coat of the cream used on my body had produced the same results on my face before she started with the makeup.

Hannah had my attention again as she spread my legs, placing each in a stirrup at the end of the chair. Even though I had supposedly declared myself female, Hannah told me that any inquiry might ask to see my genitals, to prove that I indeed was what I claimed, and this would satisfy that concern.

My balls were pushed back from where they had descended years ago, and a silicone vagina was glued over the top. It was most realistic, Hannah showing me that it would function like a genuine female, her finger inserting itself, setting off wave after wave of feelings through my body.

As thorough as they were, she had taken a picture of my male genitals, so that if questioned, I could prove I was a male originally. At the time, that seemed absurd; surely one look at me would have convinced them that I was initially a male.

My hair was removed from the curlers, brushed lightly, then the brush was handed to me so that I could practice encouraging the curls into the style it had been set for. The rest of my clothes were furnished, the little bits of nothing that she called a pantie were a laugh, but fit snugly, pointing out the fact that I now had no male bulge.

The dress was not basic by any means, with way too much open area around my breasts, and the hem of the dress barely came to my knees. The dress, in ivory brocade, screamed 'female'. When sitting, I found that the dress would inch up, leaving most of my leg bare. A pair of heels was added to my feet, and she had me walk around the salon till Vivian came to get me.

I heard a squeal, looking up to see Vivian hurrying in my direction. I was hugged and then promptly led to her car. I tried to get the seat belt over my breasts, finally deciding to take my chances without it. Vivian gave me a blow-by-blow account of the morning's activities. After hearing I would not be in till one, the EEOC looked through some employee files, then decided to get some lunch, coming back at one.

Vivian made sure everything was in place, coached a few employees as to my new look, then went to find Joe, making sure he would be out of the office this afternoon. We arrived around twelve-thirty with her leading me in and showing me the changes she had made. She is very thorough; every little detail seemed to be handled.

I was nervous, even more so when the government group reappeared. I was introduced, and they asked why I was absent this morning. In my best female voice, I told them I had weekly beauty salon appointments and that their presence would not prevent me from keeping them.

There was one female in the group, so she pulled me aside wanting to talk to me some. I figured it was her job to see if my declaration of belonging to the female gender was valid or just something to avoid the fines. We talked for quite a while, nothing of any consequence, though. When I had to go to the restroom, she accompanied me, and I tried to follow the etiquette Vivian told me was proper for using the bathroom. I apparently passed, for nothing was said to me. I even fixed my lipstick before going back to work.

I was getting tired of all the scrutiny, so I suggested that unless they had more questions, I had work to do, they knew where the door was, and had my contact information if they came up with something later. I turned and went back to work, leaving several comical expressions on their face. Vivian, approaching from Joe's office, was giggling away. She had seen them to the door and talked with the lone female member before coming back towards me. I was grabbed by her and taken to Joe's office, while all I wanted was to get some work done.

"You did well; they believe you are now a female, and since you have had a managerial position for quite some time, that leaves the company in compliance now. The only negative to all of this —and it is a biggie — is that they will now be spot-checking at random times to make sure you are still employed here and in a management position. I know this complicates things a lot. Just get through the rest of the day, and we will talk about it tonight over dinner. I got a hug, several thank yous, and a kiss on the cheek from her as she pushed me out the office door.

I did manage to get back into my work; the only problem I had was a breast getting in the way, okay, the heels hurting like hell on my feet, and the bra trying to cut me in half were right there, along with the errant breast. Then we have the bra strap slipping off my shoulder and my hair slipping down over one eye. I presume these are everyday things for a female, but that afternoon, they were major distractions for me.

At closing, Vivian found me and dragged me to dinner. I wondered where Joe was. It was nice not having him underfoot, a rare occurrence. She drove to a restaurant on the other side of town and was shown to a table right away, past several other customers waiting in line. She is a regular customer here. She was even more serious tonight, getting right down to business.

"I am not sure you are aware of the true owner of the business. A few years ago, I bailed Joe out for the umpteenth time, taking all of the shares as my collateral. He is really clueless about running a business, one stupid mistake after another, so I was never paid back any of my investment."

"This morning, I caught him in several more mistakes emerging from his big mouth, then sent him packing. I am sure he expects to come back, but now he is most likely parked in front of the TV watching a game of some kind. Well, it has been one fiasco after another with him, since my nerves have had it, I am going to make some changes. I am firing him, not sure what I am going to do with him, but it won't have anything to do with this business."

"I am making you the manager, a more politically correct title coming a little later. We will negotiate your salary. I am sure we can agree. For one thing, you will need money for clothes, shoes, and makeup. Eventually, if you tire of the masquerade, hire a suitable female and put her in a management position."

"I really doubt you will do that. From what I have seen so far, you are already slipping into the female life. Take some time to think about it, then let me know your decision. Make any changes you want to the business; you are more than capable of handling it, unlike my bungling husband. I will be available to assist if needed, just let me know how I can help."

Our food came, so any more discussion was tabled as we consumed the excellent offerings. My mind was active, though, going over everything she had told me about. For some reason, I took it all in stride, even figuring out a few changes I'd make tomorrow.

After dinner, we parted, exchanging hugs when she dropped me off back at the business so I could retrieve my car. I used my keys, went into the office, and wrote a couple emails to be circulated first thing tomorrow morning.

I decided something different to wear should come next, heading to the salon to find just the right business suit for my debut as the new boss. A male suddenly converted to the feminine gender, realizing the change would last much longer than a day or two, and became concerned about appropriate clothes for her first day as the boss. Unusual, yes, but I was actually excited about shopping for something that would make a proper, feminine statement.

I drove back to the salon, shopped for several hours, and Hannah helped me pick outfits that could be coordinated for future wardrobe choices. Several pairs of heels, since I will be the manager now, flats will not do. I already had the makeup she used on me this morning, and now I have appointments twice a week to keep me looking pretty and to help me learn what I need to know to remain a convincing female.

When I came in the next day, I was welcomed enthusiastically, getting hugs from the females and polite handshakes from the guys. They had already seen the emails, so after greeting me, they returned to their work, the hoopla over my transformation officially over, now business as usual.

Vivian checked on me later in the day, asked if I needed anything, and when I told her everything was fine, she left. Apparently, Joe is now to be a housewife, with one of Vivian's friends giving him some training in proper home maintenance and cooking. I do hope he does well. I shudder at what Vivian might do if he flubs this up.

I did think about things for several weeks, while spending my time as Caitlyn. I did hire several capable females for management positions and promoted one who had been with us for quite some time but was stuck in a go-nowhere position. Once she was allowed to spread her wings a little, she proved more than capable. Over the weeks ahead, my job turned from making business decisions to acquiring more clients.

That proved to be more complicated than deciding who would handle which part of the contracts we had acquired so far. The biggest fish that I was trying to land was definitely a challenge. His obnoxious behavior, his male superiority ideas, and his total disregard for anybody's feelings made my life quite difficult. I debated several times, just forgetting his company and looking elsewhere for some other business.

I went out with him several times for dinner; the only way he would meet me was to say he was a customer of our company. I was groped, manhandled, and otherwise abused by him every time. After a dinner with him, I quickly returned home and took a long shower, hoping to rid myself of the slimy residue of a meeting with him.

I did manage one meeting with him and two of his female supervisors, both of them quite intelligent and knowledgeable. He monopolized the conversation, refusing to let them respond to any inquiries, even when he did not know the answer himself. On a break, when he used the bathroom, the gals shared a few tips with me on dealing with him. After the meeting broke up, I hugged them and quietly thanked them for their help.

He was still a pain in the ass, but now I had some leverage to use when he got extra obnoxious. He is married, and his wife rules the roost. When he is spouting his garbage —the loudest, usually a mention of inviting his wife to one of our meetings or maybe asking her for input on some matter —backing him down is so easy. She is involved in the business, and her startup money originally came from her family. It wasn't but a few days later that he signed with us, his wife at his side as he signed the contracts.

My most enjoyable part of the week is my salon time; Mondays and Thursdays are sacred to me, nothing business-wise keeps me from my appointments. Since I am so happy with my female life, I have had several more treatments to make my appearance almost perfect as a female, my new breasts being the most notable of these treatments. Sucked from my body, they are indeed mine, the D cup size making my female figure more balanced and attractive.

Yes, being attractive has been a new goal of mine —maybe a partner someday, if one happens to enter my life. Due to my contacts and business meetings, I have many men and a few women interested in me after work. I am still having too much fun running the business, but that may change someday soon. I have thought about it quite a lot, and the premise does have some merits.

As for me, I am happy now; a part of my life that was missing is now complete. During numerous EEOC visits, I was scrutinized each time and found to be in total compliance with their rules and regulations. Even the woman who was head of the first group to visit has changed her tune, asking me out several times for dinner after work, a time we both enjoyed—nothing between us, just two females gossiping about life and our jobs.

Oh, the business is doing quite well, record profits for the third quarter in a row. What's to come next, who knows? Vivian is thrilled with my performance, and now I am a part-owner in the company. We often have lunch together, our main topic of conversation is her husband Joe, now known as Celia, the family's full-time maid.

I have eaten over at their house, and Celia is quite proficient in her job, mainly due to the training that Vivian has had her take. It took them almost four months to make her see her future as a maid, the only one she will have. Her sole purpose in life now is to make Vivian happy, something Vivian is so enjoying.

Even though I was initially drafted, it is a pleasurable way to live, and one I am pretty happy with—a fateful change that day — becoming a girl, one that I endorse wholeheartedly.

© 2016 through 2025 by Francesca