Employee of the Month, Part 4

A Commissioned Extension by Jack Mackenzie to his regular Story Tier Prompt

Francis Howard is a young, cocky alpha male who is heir to his father's business empire. Promoted to head of marketing, he quickly earns the ire of his team for his chauvinistic and oppressive management style. But one day Francis discovers he has Lumin's Syndrome, a rare genetic condition that means his body is turning into a woman's. Francis races to fight the changes, before his reputation within the office takes on a very different dimension.

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Employee of the Month, Part 4

Francis reeled, his heart beating fast. He felt himself beginning to sweat, the wide eyes of Clara Richards boring into him. Her jaw worked, trying to figure out what to say next as much as he was, the two of them looking like a pair of goldfishes. Finally, Francis’ gaze fell to the open door she’d come through, and his heart seemed to stop completely.

“Shut the door! Shut the damn door!” he cried in a high, borderline female voice.

Clara jumped, shocked into awareness. She turned and hastily shut the door a little too fast, causing it to slam a little. No one else had seen them, Francis realised. This could still be contained.

“Sir?” Clara said, voice slow and mechanical, “are those breasts? Why do you look like a woman?”

Francis grabbed his jacket as fast as he could, and cringed at the wobbling of his ample C-cup breasts. His areola were large, his nipples prominent. They were undeniably female, but he still covered his form quickly before responding. Unfortunately, it resulting in his pants falling down, too ill-fitting to remain up.

“It’s just a rash,” he said weakly, and he knew it was a stupid reply the moment he said it. No rash could explain how his hips had pinched in, and his hips flared. Not to mention the emptiness between his legs; he quickly began to work on his trousers.

“That’s no rash,” Clara said, stepping forward. “I’ve seen your body, remember?”

Francis closed his eyes briefly. In his panic, he’d forgotten that they’d slept together a number of times. She was better positioned than most to know what was going on.

“Okay, okay, it’s not a rash.”

“Sir, you’ve grown tits. You have a woman’s figure. Even your face is looking like a girl’s now. I can see the makeup you’ve put on to try to hide it. Oh my God, is this why your hair is changing colour? And your butt, this explains why everyone keeps commenting on your butt sticking out in your pants!”

Francis wheeled around to face her, cheeks flushed. “They what!? No, nevermind, that’s not my priority right now. You shouldn’t have opened the door.”

Even his voice was betraying him; it shifted up another octave as he spoke, and he halted, realising that his voice had taken on a sultry quality as well. Clara noticed it too.

“Sir, what’s going on? This is really, really weird.”

“It’s none of your business, and if you say anything, I’ll have you run out of the business, and you’ll never get a job on this side of the country again, do you hear?”

For just a moment, Clara looked daunted. Briefly, Francis basked in the joy of still possessing the art of dominance, the alpha playbook of moves. But then it dissipated, as slowly a knowing and malicious smile etched itself across Clara’s face.

“Is that so, sir?” she said in a tone that he did not like, “because as far as I can tell, it’s you who are in the position of weakness, not me.”

“What - what do you mean?”

Clara seemed to transform before his eyes. The pretty petite brunette took the sheer temerity of sitting sideways on his desk, grinning as she eyed him over. He suddenly felt very vulnerable. She raised a hand to her chin and cupped it, remaining silent for an extended period. It was the sort of technique he used to establish dominance, and he should have been able to account for that. Unfortunately, those damned female hormones were making him feel emotionally vulnerable.

“I mean,” she finally said, smirking all the while, “that I’ve just seen my boss, the self-proclaimed alpha male and top shark of the office, trying to hide the fact that he’s grown a lovely pair of titties. Not to mention all that lovely chest hair of his is gone, and he appears to have developed an hourglass figure. And a cute ass, for a woman. I’d say, in fact, that judging by his reaction, he’d do anything to avoid his life falling apart. And that means whoever knew what had happened to him would have all the power.”

“You - you can’t do this!” Francis said. He launched to his feet, jacket opened to reveal his breasts and their natural cleavage.

Clara beamed, and quick as lightning she whipped out the phone she’d been hiding and took a rapid series of shots. Francis leapt forward to grab the phone, but misjudged the distance, by which time Clara was already holding the phone back, her thumb threateningly on the ‘send’ button.

“Try that again and the entire office gets those photos, plus the video I’m taking right now.” She adjusted the phone to face Francis’ humiliatingly feminine body. “Got it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Fine, I wanted to get out from under your weirdly dyed hair anyway.”

Francis cracked. “Wait! Stop! Don’t. I - I won’t fire you, okay?”

Clara grinned as Francis took a seat back. He cringed as his breasts bounced with the movement, and he drew his jacket over his chest in order to cover himself.

“That’s a start, but I’ll need more than that. I’m sure an alpha male like yourself would understand the importance of a good negotiation. Especially when the one being managed in the negotiation is a lying, selfish, cheating son of a bitch.”

“I didn’t cheat on you Clara, I’m just a -”

“A shark, not a minnow, I know.” Her eyes narrowed, and there was anger there. Enough anger that tears were brimming in her eyes. “Well, you don’t look like a shark now, Francis. Or should I call you Francine? So why don’t you tell me what’s happened to you. The whole truth. Perhaps the first time you’ve told the truth in your life. Oh, and strip back to your panties again. I’d like to see this new you while you explain it.”

Slowly, cautiously, and with an emotional toil of humiliation sweeping through him, Francis removed his jacket and trousers, leaving just his underwear on. It was only now, before a woman who could see most of his form, that Francis realised just how much of a woman he had become. His penis barely existed; you could not tell he had any male equipment left despite his underwear’s tightness. It was little more than a nub in the final stages of becoming a clitoris. He sighed, trying to compose himself, and hating how his breasts rose and fell with every breath.

“Not long after we broke up -”

“After you cheated on me, you mean.”

“Fine, after I cheated on you. Anyway, not long after, I was diagnosed with Lumin’s Syndrome. It’s an extremely rare condition where . . . where a man or woman’s body begins to automatically transition to the other sex.”

“You’re making this up.”

He nearly stood in rage, before deciding better against it. “Have you looked at me? I have fucking tits, Clara, you said it yourself! I had a damn good dick, as I’m sure you’ll recall from all the times I made you moan. Now, it’s turning into a fucking clitoris! I’ve got a damn hourglass figure and my hair is turning freaking blonde! My whole damn body is getting flooded with fucking estrogen and female hormones. I’m starting to cry for no damn reason like a bloody female!”

She cocked her head. “Well, there’s no denying that you’re starting to look like a bit of a blonde bimbo. All offence intended. Fine, I’ll assume this isn’t some crazy mid-life crisis surgery gone wrong. Tell the rest of the story.”

Francis did, leaving very little details to the side. He found that once he began telling the saga of shame and humiliation he’d suffered it was almost impossible to stop. It was like his brain suddenly had no filter, and once he started talking he lacked the foresight to avoid unnecessary details. He even told her about Dr Greene and his team’s efforts, about his confrontation with his father, and his fears that he would be passed over as the heir to Howard Enterprises. He couldn’t believe that he was spilling all of this, but the weirdest part was that it actually felt good. Like he was venting all his problems to a secret confidante after having kept those problems boiling inside him for too long. It was, he realised, another feminine mindset his brain was taking on; the need to tell his problems to another, so they would ‘understand.’ It disgusted him, and yet he couldn’t deny how cathartic it was.

“And that’s the story,” he finished weakly. “I’m turning into a woman until I can take the treatment and be a man again. Now, what is it you want? Money? A promotion?”

Clara took in his story, and he could see that she believed him, despite how far fetched it was. She rapped a nail upon the wooden table.

“A promotion, definitely. Permanency also; I don’t want to be an intern any longer. And a nice bonus to start my career off, too.”

“Then you’ll delete those images.”

Clara laughed. “I’m not an idiot, Francis. They’re saved on the cloud now, and I won’t even delete them. They’re my insurance. But don’t worry, I’m not going to expose you, Francine, at least not yet. In fact, I’m going to help you. I’m going to solve your little identity crisis in the office.”

Francis looked at her, searching for the trap. “You are? H-how?”

Clara leaned forward, and smirked dangerously.

“I’m going to help give you a makeover.”

Francis went to protest, but as he saw Clara’s eyes, and the steely gaze behind them, he realised that he had no choice.

***

“This is, like, fucking ridiculous,” Francis said. He tried to ignore how the word ‘like’ was strangely slipping into his vocabulary, a consequence of his brain changing also. “Everyone will see me for a sham.”

“Nonsense,” Clara said, “you already look practically female. I’m just here to take you the rest of the way. How else are you going to become Francine, the oddly-similarly named new hire for morale that the currently sick Francis has hired on?”

Francis groaned, but stepped forward into the women’s clothing store. It had been a day since Clara had given her ultimatum, and Francis had made a hasty call to Dr Greene. There was still at least a week remaining until they could test the treatment, and his body was still becoming more feminine. His penis had become entirely part of his vulva now, and his vagina was fully formed. For all intents and purposes, Francis was now biologically female. Just the knowledge of it had made him huddle up and cry like a woman the previous night.

But the worst was yet to come. He may be biologically female, but Clara was now blackmailing him to actually present as one. She was grinning as she led him by the arm into the store, now over two inches taller than him, impossibly.

“C’mon, Francis,” she said, “this won’t be all bad. It’s not like you can be yourself in the office much longer, anyway. This way you can represent yourself as Francis, while still working towards your goal.”

“So long as you don’t make me look ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice high and feminine. He was dressed in his ill-fitting jacket, button shirt, and trousers, and looked positively lost in them by now. As he approached, a storewoman came forward.

“My word, we simply must do something for you!”

“I’m afraid my friend Francine had her place robbed,” Clara lied effortlessly. “It’s been a harrowing time. We’re looking to give her a nice new wardrobe to feel confident in, aren’t we Francine?”

Francis smiled awkwardly and nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Very well, I’m so sorry about the news, but I can assure you our wares are the best in the city. We’ll have you looking like a new woman in no time.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Francis muttered within earshot of Clara.

“First up, lingerie and undergarments!” the woman declared, and Francis groaned, red-faced. It was finally happening: he was finally going to be forced into a bra and panties.

Over the next several hours, Francis was initiated into the fashion of womanhood. He had no choice thanks to Clara’s ingenious blackmail, and even his begging and wheedling had no effect on her. First, he was brought to a large changing stall, large enough to fit Clara as well, so that Francis would always have ‘help’ trying on feminine attire. The store worker estimated Francis as a generous 34 C-cup, perhaps verging on an ample D-cup, and so a number of bras were brought to him. He had to removed his jacket and top, leaving his top half naked, and it was shocking to see that his tits had gotten even larger just overnight; the larger cups of the D-size bra fit him better, and it was with a cheshire cat grin that Clara helped fasten at his back, teaching him how to repeat the action at the same time.

“My words, Francis, I’m positively jealous. Look at those nice puppies.”

“Oh God, they’re huge,” he moaned.

They certainly seemed so, particularly from his point of view looking down. The black lacy bra he’d been given looked more fit for the bedroom than the office, and it raised his increasingly heavy bosom to become two perfect globes that jutted from his chest, an alluring line of cleavage created from being pressed together. If he still had his penis, and he’d seen that kind of chest on another woman, he would have become instantly hard with want. They were the kind of tits men dream about and women wish they had, and now they were perfectly lifted by the bra, making them appear another size larger.

“We’ll take that one, definitely,” Clara said.

“It makes my - these - boobs look huge,” Francis complained.

“Exactly! We’ll see what other cute numbers you can wear in the office as well. I’m thinking you would look absolutely darling in red, honey.”

Francis could only whine and moan in pretty protestations as he was made to try on more and more lingerie. Some were practical, but far more of them were playful and for show, revealing his blossomed bustline readily, giving his large boobs a hefty lift to make them appear even more impressive. The only thing he was grateful for was how they actually did help keep them under control, though nothing short of steel encasement could stop the wobbling entirely. Nevertheless, it took the strain off his shoulders, and let the ‘girls’ that had grown on his chest be less distracting, though certainly not to male gazes.

The panties he was given were also quite comfortable, fitting snugly around his widened hips and clinging close to the gap between his thighs, even hinting at his new venus mound where the lips at his vulva had finished developing. It was embarrassing to be wearing them; they outlined just how generous his backside was becoming, and moreover showed that he had a sensual thigh gap he hadn’t known he had, something Clara was eager to point out for him.

“Well, now that you’re actually wearing some proper feminine undergarments, we can finally start on your outfit,” Clara said.

Francis blanched. “Please, Clara, you’ve had your revenge, okay? You’ve proven  you’re as alpha as I am. This has gone far enough.”

“Please, I don’t believe in your alpha/beta shark/minnow crap. I thought you liked me, Francis, and you used that against me. You’re just another cowardly cheat who uses excuses to bully people around because you like power. Well, I’ve got the power now, and I’m using that to make you a woman, so you can see how you like it until you get to go back. Maybe it’ll give you some perspective.” Her expression softened. “Besides, for this plan to work, you need to look like Francine, not Francis. So, let’s get you in a cute work outfit and heels, shall we?”

This was where the several hours went; trying on all manner of outfits, each cute and tailored to Francis’ new appearance. With his substantial credit card, no price was too high, and Clara took advantage of that, ensuring he purchased cute blouses, nice summer dresses, light spring skirts, nylon stockings, sexy tank tops, sports bras, tight button tops, pencil skirts, casual t’s, yoga pants, and so much more. Again and again, Francis was made to parade his female body in front of her and the store worker, smiling for them and posing in order for them to determine how ‘cute’, ‘sexy’, or ‘beautiful' each outfit was. The former male had little choice in what he got to wear, and it became increasingly clear that Clara was intent on him having outfits not just for the office, but for morning and night as well, including even some sexy night lingerie and pajamas.

Finally, Francis was made to wear the outfit she had picked for him to start his - her now - time at the office. He put it on, alone in the stall this time. By this point, he was getting better putting on his bra - a sexy laced black number - as well as adjusting his skirt. He was wearing a professional white blouse and light grey suit jacket that clung tightly to his form, and a pencil skirt ended at only mid-thigh, conforming to the rondureness of his derriere and wide hips. Nylon stockings clung to his shapely legs, and black work heels made him adopt a posture that emphasised his most womanly features.

Francis looked into the mirror, astonished once more. The woman looking back at him still had shaggy hair, and lacked makeup and piercings, and had the facial expression of a deer in headlights, but she was undeniably beautiful. A blonde beauty of the office, the kind of gal that turns cubicle heads as she walks by to deliver some notice or message. A hot secretary. The kind of girl that Francis would have put real effort into banging.

“Holy shit,” she said, and it was impossible not to at least think of herself as temporarily a ‘she’ for now.

She patted down her form, admiring her hourglass shape in the mirror, and made a few light poses. Something in her altered brain appreciated those looks, and despite herself she was oddly proud of them, particularly the way her impressive boobs stretched the top button of her shirt. She undid the button, and the material widened, revealing a tantalising hint of cleavage, just tasteful enough for an office environment. She performed another pose, this one with her hand on her hip, and the other on her backside.

“Damn, I look, like, totally good,” she said, not even realising the useless filler words that were creeping into her speech.

“Hell yeah you do,” Clara said, opening the stall door.

Francis wheeled around, the strange feelings dispelled for now. “What the actual fuck, Clara? You couldn’t give me a moment?”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t enjoying yourself, Francine. Are you ready to go?”

Francis breathed a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t quite escape the calming sensation of knowing her boobs rose and fell wonderfully in this outfit.

“I’ve been ready to go since we arrived. Let’s just get done and I can clock in once I’ve sent a staff email about the ‘new manager’ the team will have.”

Clara grinned. “Oh no, missy, we still have to sort a few things before we unleash you on marketing.”

“Oh God, what the hell now?”

“Well,” Clara said, “I think a pretty girl like you would look good in some makeup, wouldn’t she?”

Francis could only fume. She needed to be a man again, stat. She was already planning revenge against this woman, some way of destroying the bitch’s career and asserting her rightful dominance as a he. Just as soon as he had his damned dick back. For now, she just smiled in an obviously forced manner.

“Fine, let’s get it over with.”

***

Francis walked behind Clara, feeling utterly exposed and humiliated. There was no stopping this, but it didn’t make it any easier. Her breasts bounced slightly in his bra, its black edging thankfully hidden, though still slightly visible through her white top. She - and it was frightfully easier to think of herself as a temporary ‘she’ for now - was still adjusting to walking in heels. She occasionally stumbled, and Clara helped right her, but increasingly one step was going before the other, causing her already wide hips to swing from side to side. It was a view she would have appreciated as a male. She appreciated it less now that she was the subject of other males’ attention.

As Francis entered the marketing department floor, various heads rose from the cubicle floor. Males of all ages, married and unmarried, turned to see the beautiful blonde woman walking down the main isle, and several of them were gossipping over exactly who she was. Francis wanted to scream at them to get back to work, but instead she could only smile sweetly as Clara had instructed, focus on walking in her heels, and keep her posture straight. The last did not instil a feeling of dominance within her, it only made her breasts press further against her shirt, outlining their size to the audience of onlookers.

“Who’s the new girl?”

“Gee, she’s hot.”

“Check out the tits on her.”

“Is she one of Howard’s floozies?”

“Wait, is this the new manager he emailed us about?”

Francis tried to put the whispers out of her head as she reached the end of the corridor. By now, most of the office was looking her way, and with a few announcements from Clara, the rest turned to see her. She could feel their eyes upon her, and it was difficult not to feel as if she was being undressed. It was a horrible feeling - she should be the one undressing pretty ladies with his eyes! She should be the one wining and dining hot girls like the one he’d become. It was his right in life, dammit!

Instead, she coughed lightly, and tried to avoid blushing as she gazed across the crowd. She clutched her clipboard to her chest, more of a protective measure than anything necessary, and readied to speak. Her new earrings sparkled and jangled slightly from her earlobes, and she pouted slightly, aware that her lipstick was ruby red and her eyes teased with some pale green eyeshadow to bring out their blue. Her hair was a set of perfectly treated blonde curls, and her fingers were manicured red.

“Um, like, hello everyone,” she started. Several of the men coughed down a chuckle at her awkward, almost bimbo-ish start, including Harvey and Elijah. “My name is Francine. I’m your temporary manager until Mr Howard feels better. I’m looking forward to servicing you. I mean serving you!”

Francine went red. Clara, at the edge of her vision, was trying not to cackle. The shoe was officially on the other foot.

To be Continued . . .

Last one for this month - Jack has commissioned two more entries plus his standard Story Tier prompt for August, so this story will end in Part 7 next month!