Message-ID: <48508asstr$1090055404@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <vickietern@aol.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) X-Original-Message-ID: <20040716113445.29515.00001479@mb-m16.aol.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 16 Jul 2004 15:34:45 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Wimp by Vickie Tern 2/3 TG femdom Lines: 457 Date: Sat, 17 Jul 2004 05:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/48508> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: hoisingr, dennyw Wimp by Vickie Tern 2/3 ii. A half-hour later we'd parked in her reserved space in the underground parking garage and were heading up in the elevator. It stopped at the first floor and an older man got on. "Ladies," he said, touching his hat to both of us, then turning to face the door. I looked at Cameron, shocked! She looked back grinning as if it was some huge joke she wanted to share. When the man got out a few floors higher, I said to Cameron, deeply worried, "I was afraid of that!" "Whatever for?" was her reply. "Does it matter? You look nice. Employable. The rest is unimportant, I told you, gender is not a basis for discrimination at this firm! Stop looking so furtive. Just get yourself hired! Confidence is what you need to display! Shoulders back! That's it! But, ahhh, baby, you'd better button your jacket if you're going to thrust out your chest that far. It's too obvious that you're ... under-endowed." "Wait a minute," I said. "Under endowed for what? For a man? What do you mean?" Cameron looked at me regretfully for a moment, biting her lip, not quite sure how to reply, when the elevator door opened. We stepped out. There across an expanse of deep-pile red carpet was a large elliptical reception desk with a gorgeous, dark-haired young woman seated behind it, her face even more carefully made up than mine. But she looked small compared to the image behind her on the wall, a huge, floor to ceiling photo of a glamorous woman's face, hollow-cheeked, eyes beautifully shadowed and staring dreamily at everyone leaving the elevator, welcoming me. I recognized it, the Honeybelle logo face, reproduced on every tube and jar on Cameron's dressing table. I saw too, that that was how Cameron had done my eyes. Wide with wonder and deeply shadowed in mystery. "Ms. Cameron!" she said. "Good morning! And you're Jamie, of course! Go right through, Sheila's expecting you!" She smiled at me. It was a smile unlike any I'd ever previously received from a woman. Encouraging. Not flirtatious, not cautious, not even merely gracious. Instead, intimate yet unguarded, warm, somehow even conspiratorial, as though there were some huge secret we shared. Sisterly, that was it. I realized that she thought I was one of her kind. A woman. She was encouraging me as if one woman to another. We proceeded down a corridor. I was still wondering why the receptionist had called me "Jamie" and not my name, "James" or "Jim," and what her smile might mean, when we paused at a large double-glass door marked "Personnel." Cameron suddenly opened her purse and took a smaller clutch purse out of it. "Here we are," she said, handing it to me. "Your papers are in this. Some mad money too. You'd better take it now." Then she opened the door and we both walked in, each of us, I suddenly realized, carrying purses. There were several desks in a rather large room lined with filing cabinets. Behind one was a striking woman, also impeccably made-up but older, with a streak of gray in her well-coiffed hair and an experienced gleam in her eyes as she rose to come around and greet us. "Oh, good, Cameron, here you are! Jamie is it? Welcome to the company, my dear! I suppose I can say that even now, since Cameron has already made it clear that you're the person she wants to hire, and hiring the people their bosses want is what I do!" She grasped my hands in both of hers and glanced down at them for a moment, then back to Cameron. "You can go to your office now, if you like, honey. We'll need about a half-hour here for the formalities, then I'll send Jamie up to you and you can explain her duties to her." "Jamie" again. And "her"? Cameron turned to me. "Just go with the flow, Jamie." She emphasized the word, that was my name. "To get along, go along, you know? No problems! I want you up there whatever! Do you understand me?" She held my gaze. I didn't, but I looked back and nodded anyway. She seemed satisfied. "Lovely! See you soon!" And she was out the door. I was alone with Sheila. She now looked at me almost affectionately. "Cameron's really something, isn't she? She's one of our rising stars here. Whatever she wants, she gets. I think that's the first thing you need to know about her, at least during business hours. You'll be paid to do whatever she wants you to do, the fewer questions the better, and with no hesitation. Is that clear?" Finally, a moment to speak. "Yes, of course," I said. My voice sounded a little high and tight to me -- why was I nervous? "I understand that. But there's a misapprehension here, maybe because of my appearance this morning, some...ahh...skin cream I've had to use today. My name is James, and no one calls me 'Jamie.' I...." "I beg to differ, Jamie," Sheila interrupted. "Cameron called you 'Jamie' just now, didn't she, and what did I just tell you? What Cameron wants, Cameron gets! In this case she wants a secretary/receptionist named 'Jamie,' no questions or exceptions! "You just said you understood that!" "I do," I said, chastened. She settled back in her chair and looked up at me. "Then too, I've already had your name-plate made out as 'Jamie.' So that's that. Now understand please, there are many questions I'm not allowed to ask you, about race, age, marital status, gender, sexual preference, things like that. It's against the law. So I'd rather not hear you mention them or try to explain them either. I've seen your resume of course. It's impressive, all that computer experience. You may feel a little underemployed as a receptionist-typist here, but as I'll explain we intend to use your special skills as well. And Cameron is on the move and slated for bigger things -- if you work out I'm sure she'll carry you with her. You could end up serving as an administrative secretary on the fourteenth floor. Right now that depends on how well you meet her expectations and Honeybelle's!" "I see." "Sit down at that desk, would you Jamie? And copy any page of that book there into that word processor. Let's see something of this fabled speed and accuracy." I sat down and glanced at the computer screen. One of the more complex office word processors, but quite familiar to me. I opened the book at random. Dense text, tables, and a mathematical formula toward the bottom. I sighed, and began, and under a minute later I looked up, done. Sheila came over, scrolled the screen to inspect what I'd entered, made a print copy,, then wordlessly motioned me over to the chair alongside her desk. Then sat down silently, at last impressed. I thought she would be. "A job like that is best done with a scanner and character recognition," I commented. "A scanner would take one-tenth the time. Then your secretaries can pay more attention to tasks requiring human judgment." "That's true, Jamie," Sheila said, for the first time abandoning her brassy declarative speaking style. "And that's why you won't just be Cameron's receptionist. We'll want to hire you as well as a kind of informal technical adviser to all the girls in the typing pool, all the stenographers. We need someone so easygoing that they never hesitate to ask you to show them the best way to do things like that. When we discussed replacing Rosemond last Friday we both agreed that was desirable. So that's also in your job specs. Cameron's office closes at four. At that time each day you'll drift over to the secretarial pool to join them until they quit at five, help out the girls that've gotten behind, but mainly hint or suggest ways they can finish their work more efficiently when you see what they're doing. Low key, informally, of course, so no one feels they're being criticized. Can you do that?" "Of course." "For that same reason we want you to become their good friend. You'll join one or another group of them for lunch every day, chat with them, be sociable and helpful, become one of them. If any want to pause for a drink after work, that too. Cameron's agreed to spare you for those obligations, though she'll keep you busy otherwise. Is that satisfactory with you?" I nodded. Any job requiring that I mingle with informally with girls in a typing pool had to be satisfactory. Quite flattering to my male ego. Cameron was taking a big chance, testing my fidelity to her that severely! I wasn't sure I was up to it! "You see, Jamie, there's another motto we follow here in addition to 'to get along, go along' and so forth. That's 'one hand washes the other.' We need a woman to serve as an in-house computer trainer, and Cameron needs you to replace Rosemond. You're qualified for both jobs, so you'll do both. I agreed, so Cameron agreed. Your salary will be commensurate." I looked addled, because I felt addled. What was she saying? "I'm not..." I began. "I told you, Jamie, I'm not allowed to listen! I don't want to know anything about sex, gender, religion, anything like that! Please. Now, there's something else you need to know., a strict company policy. We do hire men as back office people, of course, but our products are made for women. So all of our secretaries, receptionists, typists, and any other of our employees who will be seen by the public are expected to serve as showcases for our products. The Fair Employment people allow us this exception in hiring for just that reason. For you to serve as Cameron's secretary/receptionist, I needed to know that you have an attractive face that can be enhanced by using Honeybelle. I see that you do. We'll show you how to use our products to best advantage, of course -- tomorrow you'll begin that part of your training. We have a salon where you'll spend a fair part of the day. Cameron assured me you're qualified for the real work, so you are, so that's that!" What could I say? I blinked a few times, and realized that my lashes were still heavy with the mascara Cameron had laid on to make my eyes look more bold. My doll's eyes. "I do hope you're not a snob, that you won't feel superior to these girls. We want them to feel you're one of them in every respect. So you'll need to take up similar interests and concerns, make them your own. At lunch with them every day you'll chat with them about their problems, their programming skills, their periods, their boyfriends, pop singers, any topic that arises, and you'll share with them whatever similar stories you can -- Cameron will make suggestions. You'll socialize with them in whatever ways may help them build the confidence they'll need to do whatever you suggest they learn to do. Now, I need to hear you say it plainly. Can you work here under these circumstances?" She paused. I said nothing. I was feeling a little betrayed. She seemed to be saying that I'd need to behave like these secretaries, even wear Honeybelle products to work every day. And Honeybelle doesn't make men's cosmetics. I didn't think they did, anyhow. She was saying I'd need to look like a girl? Cameron wanted me to take this job for my own good, for the good of our relationship, I was sure, but still! "If you say you can, there'll be no turning back. For example tomorrow the salon girls will teach you the best ways for you personally to wear and display whatever we sell, so you exhibit it and can demonstrate its use if called on.. The salon will want to remake your look, not too high-styled but a little more stylish than it is now, just enough so you'll blend in with all the other girls." My mind raced. Blend in? She did assume I wanted to look like a girl! Or that I was one already? If this job meant that I have to spend the day in make-up, how could I get it off before coming home? Loiter after the girls leave at five I suppose, until I'm alone? But then how would I get Cameron's dinner ready? Well, if I'm working again, that home-making task won't be mine exclusively any more. We could eat out more. But with me looking a little effeminate? "Now understand, what they do in that salon is not casual. You've noticed I'm sure that we're all impeccably groomed. We all have our hair done weekly and our faces and nails every few weeks, as necessary. I notice that your nails have never been touched. Well, they'll need to look as nice as the rest of you. Our nail products are practically irremovable and indestructible, especially the ones we target toward hands-on employees like secretaries who need nails that are easy to maintain. I notice too that your hair is rather prettily held back by that scrunchy, and that the scrunchy matches your blouse -- no, that's a shirt, isn't it? Well, even so, we'll want to restyle it altogether, to show our own hair products to best advantage. You saw how pretty Dana is, the dark-haired receptionist on this floor who faces the elevators? She's wearing our new brunette tone. You'll need to be more of a honey blonde, I'd think, to show yourself to best advantage. And with your pixie face, a cap of curls might well be perfect! So feminine, you'd look adorable. But that'll be for the salon to decide." I'd completely forgotten about that scrunchy! I usually gathered my hair in back with ponytail elastics, not with the band of frilly pink ribbon Cameron had handed me! Men don't wear scrunchies! I touched it, a little embarrassed. Sheila seemed not to notice. "What our salon can't accomplish, our clinic can and will, and the treatments and medications they advise are all free to employees. Then there're your orientation and training courses, we call it our Charm School. They'll take up a lot of your time this week. Simple things most girls already know but we have our own ways, how our secretaries need to sit and move, manners when approached by visitors male or female, these all reflect on our products. We'll invest some considerable time making you over into someone we can all be proud of, a Honeybelle girl, a model of femininity and grace. That's why your first contract, the one I'm prepared to sign with you right now, will run for six months, with you guaranteeing us the first three months of your services. After that, if you should want to quit, you'll have three additional months of paid leave to recover whatever you can of the way you were before we hired you. If you want to. Surely you'll agree that that's generous!" She opened a file on top of her desk and placed my typing test on top of a stack of papers -- I saw that Cameron had given her my resume, because there it was. She pulled out a rather formal looking legal document, five pages of small script, set it in front of me, and laid a pen alongside it. I said nothing. The whole deal sounded very generous to me, but also a little kinky. I'd need to sacrifice a certain amount of masculine ego, apparently wear make-up and a wig during the day and submit to their posture-training, or whatever it was. Seem to be a girl. But Cameron must have known those things and she'd urged me to apply for this job anyhow, so she didn't mind. Maybe she was testing my sincerity? What had I to lose? Cameron had also made it clear that she expected me to say and do whatever is necessary, and Sheila had made it equally clear that whatever Cameron wants, she gets. Well, she wanted me working with her even under these circumstances! So I wanted that too. "Any questions?" she asked. I shook my head. "Here's your six-month probationary contract then. Notice the complete health package -- it includes skin care and whatever cosmetic and body surgery seems desirable for you to look your best. Notice too that we're offering you half-again as much salary as your previous employer, because you're at least that much more valuable to us. Someone with your abilities who is willing to work as a mere secretary/receptionist among the others is rare indeed. Especially if that someone comes to us sponsored by our brightest rising star!" I looked at the contract, lying on the desk under my nose, and at the pen alongside it. It added up to a huge amount of money, and it was sitting on that desk and waiting only for my signature! Infinitely more money than I'm earning now, I thought ruefully. "When I sign, what happens?" "I'll send you upstairs immediately to start your day's work. Cameron will no doubt tell you specifically what she requires, and you'll do whatever she asks of you. Cameron gets what she wants. Then tomorrow we'll retrofit you for the job, so to speak, as I've described it. Salon, clinic, and training center. Cameron will have to do without you all day tomorrow, but you'll be quite a different person when you resume with her on Wednesday. When she sends you to get acquainted with the other typists and receptionists you'll fit right in by Wednesday. You may still feel a little woozy from Tuesday's procedures, but ditzy behavior never hurts when you're dealing with that age group. " "And if I don't like the job, after three months I'll be paid for three more months while I undo everything?" What did I have to lose? "This is what Cameron wants?" "While you undo what can be undone. And yes, it's precisely what Cameron wants, Jamie." I didn't even read the contract. Cameron gets what she wants, and I wanted Cameron. So why not? I picked up the pen and signed on the last page, as indicated. "And here," Sheila said. "And here! And here too! And initials here!" I did as she asked. "Now on this sheet sign 'Jamie' here, not 'James.' I did, wondering why. Then she grinned broadly. "There, now you're officially 'Jamie.' and that makes all the other signatures legal. Our lawyer will file the name change at the court house tomorrow, but it's done! Congratulations, dear, you're a Honeybelle girl now, at least for the next three months! Welcome to the firm!" A Honeybelle what? Was that just a figure of speech? More likely it was the indifference to gender her job required. I'd be girly enough, I supposed, what with wearing Honeybelle cosmetics all day long. She co-signed or witnessed each signature, then clamped a notary's seal on the last page and handed me a copy. "Just lovely, Jamie!" she said. "Your parents certainly created a chance for confusion when they named you 'James.' But with this name-change on the record no one will doubt who you are when you answer the phone. A little voice training will help too, but I suspect just being among the girls day after day will put a bit more sweetness into the way you sound. You'll say 'Honeybelle, Ms. Cameron's office, Jamie speaking,' so often it'll become second nature." "Ahh, Sheila, do you think that I....?" Sheila paused from her gracious commentary and eyed me closely, for just one moment. Penetratingly! Then she turned away, and as she stowed her copies she said in level tones, "I don't think, Jamie, I know. I'm paid to know things. What I know is what this contract says. Read it yourself tonight!" She laid her hand on my arm, reassuringly it seemed. "Just one or two more things, honey. "Tomorrow we begin your body modification regimen along with your beauty treatments, so you'll ...ahhh ...curve more invitingly in the right places. Men who visit our administrative offices like to see secretaries and receptionists who are well-turned out. Your breasts and hips are rather ... ungenerous at the moment, but certain clinical procedures can change those proportions fairly quickly." This sounded serious. I got alarmed. "Sheila, listen!" She didn't. Instead, she continued with what I realized was her set personnel orientation speech. Maybe she'd delivered it so often that she didn't even notice how inappropriate it was in my case? Had she really mistaken me for a woman the whole time? That damned makeup Cameron had put on me? And this scrunchy? And Cameron's slacks? My jacket had fallen open, and as I looked down I saw that in my sitting position their tight cut swept across my groin down to my crotch to reveal ... nothing! No bulge. A woman's 'V'! Those lycra panties held my cock and balls back under and out of sight so efficiently that down there was ... nothing at all. And the slacks revealed that fact shamelessly! If I insisted now that I was a man, why would she believe me? I saw she'd followed my line of sight and had glanced indifferently at my crotch! And seen no more there than she expected to see. Then she looked back at my face, her own still registering impersonal cordiality. "If after your probationary three months you agree to continue, we'll go further. We'll offer you a new contract for five years with an option to renew, if you'll agree to submit to a more thoroughgoing reorienting. We'll not only greatly enhance your desirability, the girls tell me the treatments also enhance desire. Our married women have the most satisfied husbands in town, I hear -- and those husbands who can't keep up with their wives don't seem to mind it if the wives seek supplementary attention elsewhere. One woman took on five men in a single evening and felt as regal as a queen the whole time and just as horny afterward, she told us. Her husband needed some attitude adjustment, but he did finally admit he was proud of her. You may not be that kind of girl of course." This was more extreme than wearing make-up and fraternizing with young girls. Had I made a mistake? I found my voice. "What happens if I agree to none of this now, Sheila? If I just walk out?" Sheila looked shocked! "Why, you've signed! You'll be in breach of contract and out of a highly desirable job! And I must add, unemployable anywhere else ever! Think what sort of reference we'd be forced to enter under your name in the national employment database we use! To say nothing about how Cameron would feel about it! This job was tailored for you! You can't mean it!" Sheila was not the person I had to talk to, I saw. She was far too proper, too company-rules oriented! I smiled at her reassuringly. Cameron would tell me which rules were inflexible and which ones bent. "Oh, I see! You wanted to shake me up a little! Well, you certainly did! I'd better let you get to where Cameron needs you! One more thing only...." She glanced once again at my crotch and then rose to walk me to the door. I stood up and followed. "We have a strict dress code here, honey! No more slacks during working hours, not even slacks as dressy and provocative as the ones you're wearing! No crotches or rounded rear ends -- and yours are both very becoming, incidentally. Skirts and blouses and dresses only. If you fancy a low neckline, only a hint of cleavage! It's all in this handbook, read it! Your new office is on the tenth floor, and I'm sure Cameron's waiting for you! Goodbye for now, Jamie, and again, welcome to Honeybelle." As I walked to the elevator, wondering if I'd been too hasty and what to do about it, she came running after me. "Honey, you forgot your purse!" she called out. And as she handed it to me she gave me a wry, sly smile, as if she'd just eaten a cage full of canaries! "You'll love it here," she said. "Whatever you're thinking now, in three months you won't want it any other way! No one ever does." I found that statement consoling and depressing all at once, but I'd already decided to go with the flow and see what happens. end 2/3 VickieTern@AOL.COM -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+