Ctrl Alt Defeat: A Secretary's Takeover 07

Chapter 7: As Requested

Mia felt a vindictive thrill as she prepared for the meeting in the master bedroom. Today, she applied her makeup with unusual care, diverging from her typical minimalist approach. She had always disliked the idea of dolling herself up for the visual pleasure of the men around her, but today was different. Today, she wanted to look powerful. She was in charge, and Morgan Wright - undergoing a far more drastic transformation in the adjacent room - was hers to boss around.

She began by spreading foundation, creating a flawless base on her skin. Next, she contoured her cheeks to accentuate her features. As she blended the makeup, she imagined Mr Wright getting his own face painted. After his earlier airbrushing, he likely needed only some additional shaping and a touch of blush to enhance the artificial features Madame Maria had meticulously crafted.

Next, Mia lined her eyes with a thin, dark line, adding just enough definition to make them pop, before brushing her lashes with mascara. As she worked, she again envisioned Mr Wright in a similar position, his arms folded and a sulking expression on his face as he endured each flick of the mascara wand across his voluminous lashes. She chuckled at the thought of his discomfort, each stroke chipping away at his usually uncompromising male ego.

Mia finished her makeup with a muted pink on her lips to enhance her appearance without overpowering it. After dressing, she stood back to admire her work, feeling a surge of satisfaction and anticipation. She looked chic in her professional outfit, but more importantly, her smart top and pants would starkly contrast the feminine ensemble Mr Wright would totter into the meeting wearing. Slipping into her stilettos, Mia strutted confidently towards the bedroom door and knocked lightly. "Madame Maria, may I enter?" she called out.

"Yes, darling. We are almost there," came Madame Maria's cheerful reply, her deep voice carrying throughout the suite.

Taking a deep breath, Mia composed herself before entering the room. She knew the sight that awaited her could easily break her stoic demeanour, tempting her to laugh or make harsh comments at the sight of her former domineering boss completely feminized. Yet, she would need to maintain her calm to successfully get the drastically altered man out of the suite, where, jiggling and wiggling, he would squirm under the judgmental gaze of others who would see him as nothing more than a hypersexualized secretary.

Mia entered the room to find her initial view of Mr Wright obscured; he was still seated where she had left him, with Madame Maria’s large frame blocking most of his body. However, the sight of his ankles encased in black nylon and his feet rocking inside the incredibly high heels she had purchased earlier that day told her progress had been made. Seeing those towering, nude-coloured Mary Jane-style platforms buckled to his feet made Mia's eyes widen with delight. She could visualise his dismay at being forced into such impractical shoes and wondered what feeble arguments he might have attempted to avoid having to wear them.

"We won’t be but a moment, darling," Madame Maria chimed without turning, her voice rippling with enthusiasm. "Just a touch more gloss, and we’ll be done." Her words were casual as if the transformation she was conducting was an everyday occurrence.

As Mia edged further into the room, more of Mr Wright came into view could be seen. The hem of the outrageously short leather minidress resting on his padded, pantyhose-clad thighs caught her attention next. It was something she would never wear herself, bordering on inappropriate for any professional setting, but also wickedly perfect for the occasion. Mia had chosen it specifically for its shock value, and seeing it now, wrapped around Morgan Wright's feminized frame, she felt a surge of evil pleasure.

Finally, Madame Maria stepped aside, and Mia was presented with her first full view of her utterly transformed boss. Slouched in his chair like a disgruntled diva, Mr Wright’s expression was one of pure discomfort. His bright red, bee-stung lips formed a glossy pout while his heavily made-up eyes blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the weight of his false lashes. Large hoop earrings dangled from his ears, accentuating the tight, high ponytail that pulled his features taut.

Below his glaring, beautifully framed eyes, the top of his dress plunged daringly low, showcasing an ample, buxom bosom that Madame Maria’s skills had rendered indistinguishable from reality. The whole ensemble was outrageously over the top, screaming 'office bimbo' in a way that no one would ignore. Smiling, Mia couldn’t help but revel in the irony and perfection of it all. The man who had once looked down on her was now the epitome of everything he had once pushed her to become.

Madame Maria glanced from Mia to Mr Wright, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, it’s been a pleasure, darlings," she sang out, sensing the tension simmering in the air. "I’ll just pack up my things and be out of your hair. If you ever require my services again, you have my number." With that, the room fell silent. Mr Wright and Mia locked eyes in a silent standoff as Madame Maria quickly gathered her belongings and left the suite.

As the door clicked shut, the silence between the pair was broken by Mr Wright, whose voice, filled with rage, shattered the quiet. "Mia, whath the hell hath you done to me, woman?" he demanded, rising to try and appear more commanding, only to stagger comically due to the unfamiliar angle his feet were forced to adopt. "Thith ith ridiculouth! You’ve turned me into thome thort of offith tart. Thith dreth ith… it’th obthene!"

Mia remained calm, her gaze steady as she observed her madeover boss. "I selected this outfit based on your preferences - a skirt ending mid-thigh, as you requested. I can't imagine your grandmother wearing this."

Mr Wright’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury. "Don’t get thmart with me, Mia. You know thith ithn’t what I meant. I wanted theductive, not thex worker." he grumbled, wobbling as struggled to remain upright.

(See image 13)

Mia took a step closer, her expression firm. "From where I’m standing, you look very seductive," she shot back with a smirk. "If this isn’t what you wanted, perhaps in the future, you should think more carefully about the way you phrase things.”

Morgan Wright pressed his blubbery lips together and exhaled a heavy, frustrated sigh. "We can dithcuss that later. Right now, I need thomething elth to wear. I can barely breathe in thith cortheth! And theth boobth," he gestured to the silicone breasts protruding from his chest. "They are too big and very dithtracting! Where ith the outfit I tried on latht night?"

"Gone," Mia replied, her expression resolute. "I donated it this morning. After your disapproval, it was hardly worth keeping."

"Whath!" Mr Wright bellowed. Well, we'll hathe to change outfitth then. I needth the pantth you're wearing."

Mia shook her head. "No can do," she replied firmly. "Think about it. What would you think if you attended a meeting and saw someone in a short dress and heels while their secretary was in pants? You wouldn't take them seriously, would you? The meeting would be over before it even started."

"Buth…" Mr Wright blustered. "I feel like a damn fool!" he added, his voice rising. "I realize a disguith was neccethary for thith crazy idea to succeed. But thith is damn right humiliating! I can’t even thtand in theth ridiculouth shoeth."

Mia, enjoying her former boss’s discomfort, folded her arms and feigned annoyance. "Double the height of the previous pair, also as requested. Now, enough of this whining. This is the only outfit we have for the meeting. We agreed on this plan together, remember? So until we've saved the company, you need to put your complaints aside. Your comfort is now secondary to the success of this mission. Try to focus on the bigger picture here."

Mr Wright's hands flew upwards upon hearing this, only to awkwardly collide with his silicone breasts, sending them swaying furiously. "How am I thuppothed to focuth when I feel like a thircuth sidethow? And what about my lipth! I can’t even talk properly with theth thwollen thingth!"

Mia crossed her arms, her gaze unyielding. "You don’t need to speak. You’re the secretary. I’ll do all the talking. All you have to do is sit there, look pretty, and take notes."

Mr Wright's expression changed to one of disgust as the reality of his situation sank in. He looked down at the tight leather dress barely containing his hourglass figure and grimaced. "Thith better work, Mia. Becauthe if it doethn't…" Mia cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Enough of that," she commanded. "Let's just focus on what needs to be done. We've got fifteen minutes before we leave, and you need a crash course in moving and talking like the woman you appear to be. Oh, and you really need to start calling me Miss Wright. You wouldn’t want to mess everything up over something so trivial, would you?"

Mia watched Morgan Wright slowly shake his head in defeat, sending his high ponytail swinging. He looked so pathetic in his current guise. She was going to enjoy the next few hours, savouring every moment of his suffering.

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Twenty minutes later, Mia was comfortably seated on a black leather sofa in one of the hotel's downstairs conference rooms. Beside her, far less comfortable, was Mr Wright. He sat with his nylon-encased legs tightly pressed together, his long manicured fingers interlocked atop his thighs, and his head hanging low in utter disbelief. The short journey from the suite to the meeting room remained vivid in Mia's mind. She had watched as her misogynist boss cautiously minced down the corridor at a snail’s pace while she coached him on his posture and gait. A particularly memorable moment occurred when he yelped while trying to call the elevator, awkwardly jamming a long nail into the button and nearly breaking it. This moment was almost as delightful as watching him click nervously across the hotel lobby, clutching a small handbag under his arm, while his short skirt flapped and swished around his juicy thighs.

Mia and Mr Wright sat in complete silence for five minutes until a blonde woman entered the room. She strode toward them confidently. Mia stood first, quickly and alert, while Mr Wright followed more slowly and with far less enthusiasm. He recognized the woman as Mr Horton's secretary, the same person he had flirted with the previous evening. As she approached, she did a double-take, clearly taken aback by his daring choice of attire.

(See image 14)

“Hi, I’m Molly Tamworth, personal assistant to Mr Horton,” she said, her voice tinged with confusion as she paused a few paces from the role-reversed pair.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Molly,” Mia responded, extending out her hand. “I’m Morgan Wright, and this is my secretary, Mia Bishop.”

Still puzzled, Molly shook Mia's hand before extending her arm over to greet Mr Wright. "Have we met before?" she inquired, gently shaking the feminized man's hand.

“Erm… no, I don’t think tho,” Mr Wright squeaked, attempting to speak high and clear.

Molly shrugged. “Guess not,” she said with a smile before refocusing her attention on Mia. “I come bearing bad news, I’m afraid. Mr Horton can’t make the meeting today due to personal reasons,” she said, noting the disappointed expressions before her. “However, he is eager to still meet. He has reviewed the report you sent through and sees potential for investment in your company. Are you free to meet back here at 1 pm tomorrow?”

Mr Wright’s mouth fell open, slightly aghast, while Mia, much more composed, smiled and nodded. "Yes, that should be fine. Thank you for letting us know in person, Molly."

“It’s my pleasure, Mr Wright” Molly replied while looking at Mia. “Mr Horton looks forward to meeting you tomorrow. Have a good evening,” she added before striding from the room.

"Oh, thith is terrible," Mr. Wright mumbled as soon as Molly disappeared from sight. Stumbling backwards, he almost fell onto the sofa, eager to rest his aching feet. “What are we going to do now?”

Mia rejoined Mr Wright on the sofa, fixing her gaze on the cross-dressed man. "Oh, don't be such a drama queen, Mia. It's just a short delay. We'll prepare for the meeting and go again tomorrow," she said confidently. "I can message Madame Maria to see if she's available. we'll need to go shopping, of course. You can’t wear that same outfit again now that Molly has seen you. I know you weren’t particularly pleased with this dress, so perhaps we can find you something less revealing for tomorrow.” As Mia prattled on, outlining the necessary preparations, Mr Wright let out a heavy sigh, too mentally exhausted to respond. Humiliated and embarrassed, he had been longing for this ordeal to end, and now he was being asked to continue the pretence. “Well, shall we get moving? There’s no point in sitting around here all day,” Mia declared with a clap of her hands, startling Mr Wright slightly. “Let’s get back upstairs and start moving our things.”

“Mothing?” Mr Wright questioned, having zoned out of the conversation.

“Yes, moving, Mia. Do keep up. I’ll sleep in the suite tonight, and you’ll be in my old room. If Mr Horton or Molly happened to see us, it wouldn’t seem right - a secretary in a master suite, would it now?"

Mr Wright closed his tired eyes, feeling his lashes tickle his cheek as he inhaled deeply. Part of him wanted to end this farce right there, but with the chastity cage gripping tightly between his legs and the ruin that awaited him if he gave up on his family business now, he tried to find the courage to face one more day as a bimbo secretary.