You always were a coward. You couldn’t actually kill yourself. You couldn’t come out. You were half way through college when you finally figured out you could just order hrt online.
You graduated still hiding it and got a nice corporate job with decent healthcare. You don’t exactly make enough for all the surgeries you want to have.
You’re careful with how you present yourself. Years of laser has made it so you can’t grow facial hair, so you can’t hide that way. You also can’t bear to cut your hair. So you keep your hair in a tight bun, let people mistake you for a finance bro if they like. You don’t bother with a bra because your boobs aren’t big enough to justify it, especially not under the suit jacket. Not much you can do about your thighs and ass though.
You were skating by unnoticed until Diane got hired in accounting. When you first met her she was loudly talking about her wife, she met your eyes and gave a smirk that made it clear she could tell. She was subtle about it at first, “accidentally” using she/her for you. Referring to you as the girl in legal.
It was around Halloween that things got to be too much to ignore. She cornered you as you were leaving the office one day and made you look at her.
“I know and if you don’t want me to tell everyone you’ll do everything I ask, do you understand?”
You nod and look away blushing. Happy with that, she continues.
“Tomorrow you’re going to wear a bra and panties, everyone can see your nipples poking through your shirt slut.”
You’re left with little choice to comply. The next request is similar.
“I’m tired of seeing you in those ill fitting suits and shirts, go get a proper blouse and pantsuit from the women’s section.”
This one was significantly more humiliating, you try to protest they don’t fit you and she just gives you a card for a tailor.
When you get to the tailor with the clothes, she’s expecting you. She makes you strip down to your boxer briefs in front of her and scoffs in disgust.
She’s not shy about measuring you, making sure to tailor the clothes to fit you tight enough to show off what little assets you do have.
The next task is different in kind, she wants you to come out to a lesbian bar with your hair down. You assume this is to humiliate you. You figure you’ll just wear a hoodie and jeans and look like an ally, but she’s not having it. She expects you to show up in a dress.
You find parking only a block away but walking over is an exercise in your willpower. Everything screams at you to run away. If you had any sense you would. You keep walking until you’re sitting at the bar waiting for her.
She shows up half an hour late, once you’re ready to die from all the people staring at you. She just sits and orders a drink for both of you. You try to protest and indicate to the white wine you’re nursing but she ignores you.
She’s animated now, more than she ever is at work. She’s also in a bodycon black dress that’s cut too low to draw your attention anywhere but her breasts. You politely look away.
“You seem to be under the impression that anyone buys your bullshit.”
This actually snaps you out of your thoughts, “what?”
“No one thinks you’re a man, you know they whisper about you behind your back?”
“No one thinks I’m a woman either, that’s why everyone has been staring.”
“Your skirt ends at your mid thigh and you have full color tattoos and dyed red hair, have you considered they’re checking you out?”
“See, that’s how I can tell you’re lying.”
“God, you’re fucking insufferable. I went through all the trouble of wearing this dress and you won’t even look at my boobs.”
You blush again and stammer a bit, she cuts you off.
“I’m sick and tired of hearing from HR about you, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go in tomorrow and file name change paperwork and then you’re going to do the same legally.”
“Do you get off on humiliating me or something?”
She didn’t take kindly to that, she pulls your dress down exposing your small boobs.
“If I wanted to humiliate you I fucking would. You’re going to present as a woman and then next week I’m going to fuck you on this bar counter. Do you understand you fucking faggot?”
You quickly fix your dress, you look around to see if anyone noticed. A few women are staring at the two of us, you can’t do anything too drastic. Your cheeks are as red as your panties.
“What do you get from pretending I’m a woman?”
She smacks you across the face hard, “None of the back talk unless you’re already that desperate to choke on my cock for the crowd.”
Your eyes go wide, wait…her? She seems to sense your incredulity and puts her hand on your thigh and sinks her nails into the soft flesh.
“You’re going to do this, or your life will be miserable and I’ll still get my way, do you understand?
You leak into your panties.
