8 comments/ 62243 views/ 12 favorites Grow a Pair! By: thrillerauthor Grow A Pair "Greg, we need to talk." Why is it that those words always cause me to worry. Whenever I've heard them no good news follows. So I sighed, sat down in my recliner and looked at my wife of four years. "Is there a problem Jenny?" "Yes Greg, there is a problem. I've been meeting with Mike." Mike? My boss Mike? Mike is our VP of Operations at Milton Contruction Inc. Mike manages several divisions of construction crews in the southwest. His goal is to be president of western operations. "Why have you met with Mike Jenny?" "I asked Mike why you've been with the company longer than Jim and Harry, yet they are division managers and you aren't." I wonder why my wife thinks it is her job to take care of my career, without talking to me. "What did Mike say?" "He called Jim and Harry to our meeting. All three of them say the same thing. You're a great guy, one of the hardest working supervisors in the corporation, but you're just too nice and easy going. Division managers have to command the respect of rough and tumble work crews. Mike said division managers have to have brass balls and everyone has to know it. Jim and Harry both said they like you a lot and you'd be a great division manager if you'd just grow a pair." "Did any of them tell you how I'm supposed to do that Jenny?" "Yes, they did Greg. They think you probably had an easy childhood and youth so you never had to learn how to be angry and forceful. All three of them agreed that a major event that would make you really angry would make you see how to act with the crews." "Did they give you examples of such an event?" Jenny smirked a little, caught herself, and hid it with her serious look. Thats when I knew something bad was coming. "I talked with them a few times since our first meeting last month. They have a sort of test each supervisor has to pass to be a division manager. I got four disks for you to watch. I want you to promise me you will watch them with me tonight. I want you to promise you will not say or do anything until we've seen all four disks. Do you promise?" "Jenny, why do you want me to promise I won't do anything about a subject I know nothing about?" "It's important Greg. You have to promise me you will sit there and watch all the disks with me and do nothing until they are all done." All I could do was sigh. Jenny has a one track mind and when she decides something has to be a certain way there is no changing her mind. "All right Jenny. Why don't you get us a beer and we'll watch your disks." Jenny hugged me and ran into the kitchen for a couple of beers. When she came back she plopped herself down in my lap, gave me a big hug, and picked up the remote. The first disk was a video and Greg watched as Mike, his VP, stood up from behind an old desk that looked like the supervisor desk he used, and addressed whoever was filming. "Hi, I'm Mike Jacobs. I'm the supervisor for team four and I'm up for review and promotion to division manager. My men all know I'm not a bad person but they also know you don't fuck with me. One of my foremen, Ben Anderson, screwed up on the job and cost my team almost ten grand in penalties. Ben knows the rules and is here today to pay for his failure. Come on over Ben." I knew Ben. He is a team supervisor now. Ben stood next to Mike. He did not look happy. "Tell everyone what is going to happen Ben." "You're going to fuck my wife Mike, and I have to help you do it." Jenny felt me stiffen up at that and she rubbed my chest and whispered "It's ok Greg. No one can do anything without permission. It's company policy." Bullshit. I've never read this company policy. "Does your wife know I'm going to fuck her Ben?" "Yes, she does. Linda has agreed to fuck you for two hours to pay for my mistake." "Bring Linda in Ben." Linda looked young, early 20s, slender. I didn't care what her body looked like. I watched her eyes. They were sad and apprehensive. I watched Mike fuck Ben's wife in the cunt, ass, and mouth. Ben had to suck Mikes cock hard each time, suck his wife clean each time and clean Mikes cock each time. Then Mike had Ben lay down, his wife mount him, and Mike filled Lindas ass. They double fucked her until she passed out. Mike thanked Ben for his cooperation and teamwork and told him his penalty was paid in full. The next two videos were about the same. Jim and Harry fucked a co-workers wife while the husband helped and did cleanup. It was like they were following a script. Jenny got up to load the last video and got us two more beers before she started it. I noticed she was nervous. I also noticed the three videos had excited her. She had been rubbing my cock through my jeans and put one of my hands on her tits. When I did nothing she just sighed and rubbed them herself. The fourth video started differently. Mike, Jim and Harry were sitting on a couch is one of their homes. Mike spoke first. "Hi Greg. If you are watching this then Jenny has shown you the first three disks. You should note that at no time did any husband or wife complain or try to back out of their punishment. They knew they were free to do so at any time. The only thing that would have happened is the husband would have been released from the company. We would have even given them a good reference to a new employer. Our goal is not to hurt anyone. It is to create company loyalty at a level that insures our growth and success." Jim spoke next. "Greg. You are an exception in the company. You started at the lowest level of employment and worked your way up to supervisor in less than ten years without any penalty. We want you to advance to division manager. We need men like you leading our people. Everyone we speak to says you are intelligent, thoughtful, and care about your people. But they also say you are always looking for a fair middle ground with our customers and sometimes negotiate when we feel a more forceful approach would be best. We want you to learn to be more forceful." Harry spoke last. "Greg. I really like you. I especially like the fact that Jenny cares enough about our company and your career that she took the initiative to come to us and ask for our advice. What we are about to do is with your wifes full agreement. She is doing it for you. She wants a husband who will 'man up' and force success with his people and our customers. You have to be able to administer the punishment you've seen on the three disks. Be a man Greg. We need you." Mike then asked Jenny to join them. All she was wearing was a pair of skimpy shorts and a halter top that barely covered her breasts. Jenny turned to the camera, smiled, and said "Greg, I love you so much. I want you to be a real man and leader like Mike, Jim and Harry. I know you have the ability. I'm here to prove to you that I support our company just like you should and I want you to join us." "Jenny, what are you doing to do for us today?" "Mike, I'm going to suck all your cocks, swallow your cum. Then I'm going to fuck each one of you, and last I want a triple fuck from you until each of you has cum in all my holes." That is what I sat and watched my wife do. Jenny sucked and fucked those three men for almost an hour. When she was done she was covered in cum. Her ass and pussy were swollen and stretched. The last thing I heard was Mike. "Greg, your wife is a full member of our team. We want you to join us. All you have to do is discipline your people like we do. It is expected." I sat there for a while after the video. When I said and did nothing Jenny got off my lap and went to the bathroom. When she came back she started to climb back in my lap. "Go sit in your chair Jenny." "Cmon Greg. You just have to see how important.... "Shut up Jenny." That shocked her. I've never spoken to her that way. She sat down. "Until now I thought of you as an intelligent person Jenny. I am surprised to discover you are just a stupid cunt." "GREG. How can you say that." "Ignorance occurs when someone is not trained Jenny. Stupidity is when you are trained and still do something wrong. A wife who would willingly fuck her husbands co-workers without talking to her husband first is a stupid cunt. Any husband or wife who would submit to that kind of humiliation is stupid. Do you really expect me to have one of my subordinates bring his wife to me, help me fuck her and have him suck my cock?" "But Greg. You saw the videos. It's company policy." "Wow. For four years I've showed you the kind of husband I am. I've been kind, thoughtful, attentive, a caring lover and all you wanted was some macho asshole who would power fuck you and any other pussy around. You are an educated, highly literate, talented woman and yet all you want to be is a stupid cunt?" "Please honey, you have to understand...." "Take your clothes off cunt." "WHAT. You can't talk to me like that." "You have sixty seconds to take your clothes off you stupid cunt or I will strip you and beat your ass bloody. MOVE BITCH." For the first time in four years Jenny suddenly realized she didn't know her husband as well as she thought. She didn't know he could act like this. A tear rolled down her cheek as she stripped. "Get over here, in front of me, on your knees." After she knelt in front of him Jenny looked into her husbands eyes and for the first time was truly frightened. She didn't recognize this man at all. His eyes were dark and scary. "You will keep your arms at your sides. If you raise them I will hurt you. If you don't do exactly as I say I will hurt you. Do you understand me cunt?" Jenny couldn't speak. She could only nod. "You gave these tits to other men. I will never feel or suck them again." Greg took a tit in each hand and slowly crushed them until Jenny sobbed from the pain and begged for mercy. "Stand up cunt. Spread your legs wide. Wider. Don't you move an inch." He took his hand and pushed one, then two, three, four fingers into her cunt. He twisted and pushed until her fluids started. Jenny grunted with the pain but didn't move. Greg curled his thumb into his palm and slowly pushed his hand in until his whole hand was in her cunt, the lips stretched around his wrist. Jenny was sobbing. Greg fucked her cunt with his fist until Jenny started responding to his hand fuck, then without warning suddenly pulled his hand free. Jenny stood there moaning, rocking her hips, looking for something to make her cum. "No part of my body will ever be in that cunt again. Don't bother with clothes. Go make dinner." Jenny did as she was told. After dinner Greg told her to sleep in the guest room. He took her cell phone. The next morning Greg told Jenny she was to call Mike and tell him Greg wanted a meeting with him, Jim and Harry at the new gym they were building and to be there at ten. After all three men were in the gym then Greg and Jenny entered the main room. The men watched as Greg chained the door shut. They looked around and realized all the doors were chained shut. "What's going on Greg?" "Well Mike, we're going to have a business meeting. Now that I know about company policy I've decided to follow it's rules. Each one of you is going to fuck the stupid cunt (their eyes got wary after that one) and the next man in line is going eat the mans cum out of her cunt. Then you'll do the same thing for her ass and mouth. Any one of you who fails to do his job will be severely punished. Questions?" "You think you can handle all three of us Greg?" "Harry, you should have done a better job when you hired me. Because I started at the very bottom of your company you never did a background check. I grew up in Chicago, the south side. At eighteen a judge told me jail or military. I took all my anger to the Marines for ten years. I became very proficient at killing. They were sorry to see me leave. I went to college for four years and got a degree in mechanical engineering. I also grew up. I swore I would never again let anger be my guiding force. I swore I would be the example of a kind, loving husband, and cooperative worker. You useless fuckers have changed that. I won't kill you. That's too easy. I will make sure you are crippled for life. If you think you can take me do it now." Harry knew this man. He was really a wimp. Harry pulled a short piece of pipe from a refuse pile. He told Mike and Jim to stay put. Harry was no fool and he was an experienced brawler. He advanced on Greg slowly, minimizing his body as a target. Greg just stood there. Harry moved fast, jabbing with the pipe. He didn't even see Mikes response. All he knew was that he was on the ground and his left leg wouldn'tmove and he couldn't stop screaming because of the pain. Mike and Jim didn't hesitate. They rushed him. Jim went down, trying to comfort his aching balls with his only working hand. Mike was sitting on the concrete floor, blood pouring from his broken nose. "Greg, please stop. Please forgive me. I had no way to know how much this would hurt you. You have to stop. You're acting crazy." "Too bad cunt. You had a good life and you fucked it away. You know what the fools say - ignorance is no excuse. Because your fuck buddies are a little down right now you'll have to do all the work. Get busy. Get one hard, ride him until you're full of cum and then go sit on another ones face. You have fifteen minutes each. If you fail I will fuck your ass with Harrys pipe until you bleed." Jenny saw she had no choice. When she was done Greg looked at the four sad figures. "I'm leaving. Everything you just did is on video. The four videos you were dumb enough to give the cunt have been copied and sent to all the local news stations. By the time the courts are done with you I'll be amazed if your company exists. If it survives I'll be back to take care of you myself so you should probably consider another line of work. I'm sure you'll enjoy asking 'do you want fries with that?'" "But Greg, what about me? Take me with you and let me show you how much I love you." "Still can't believe what a stupid cunt you are Jenny. Who do you think will be making those fries?" Grow a Pair! My confidence rose each time I paused at a storefront window to study my reflection. For some reason I looked much younger this way, almost cute, judging from the looks I was getting from the few straight men in that part of town. The House of Fabulous had given me a crash course in how to carry myself as a woman, and I concentrated on shortening my stride, standing up straight and above all, confidence! "A smile is your best camouflage" one of the mistresses told me. My guy clothes and shoes were stuffed in my backpack, along with a new woman's wallet, lip gloss, a hairbrush, and a throwaway cell phone. I caught one of the renovated antique streetcars to downtown San Francisco, where I transferred to a BART train to Berkeley. I was relieved that nobody paid much attention to me, although the looks from guys increased the farther away I got from The Castro! Emerging from the BART station on Shattuck Avenue, I stopped at a drugstore to pick up a pencil and notebook. As an afterthought, I also bought pair of women's sunglasses, although my disguise was so perfect there was little risk that anybody would clock me as Dr. Lo's assailant. Make that Dr. Hung, I reminded myself...the email I'd sent her from a new hotmail address introduced myself as a psychology major who was doing a paper on transgenderism, and she had agreed to give me a few minutes of her time that afternoon. I took my time meandering through the beautiful campus, trying to rehearse in my mind the questions I'd be asking Dr. Hung. When nobody was nearby, I practiced the girlish voice which the mistresses had drilled into me, feeling very self-conscious. By the time I got to the biology building, I was nervous as a kitten, a far cry from the master of the universe who'd stormed this ivory tower a few months earlier. How the mighty have fallen, I thought ruefully as I fussed with my dress and freshened my lip gloss in the ladies' room. I perched my sunglasses on top of my head, took a long last look at myself in the mirror, and headed down the hall to Dr. Hung's office before I could change my mind. Her door was ajar, and it opened wide when I knocked on it tentatively. The lab looked just the same, except for the person behind the desk: instead of a scruffy little Asian man, an incredibly hot Asian chick looked up from the journal she was reading and waved me in. I took off my backpack and sat down awkwardly in the offered chair, tugging my dress down to my knees. I held my breath and waited to see if she would pick up her phone to call campus security. But she didn't recognize me, and I took the initiative before she could ask me any questions of her own. "Thank you so much for seeing me today," I chirped in my valley girl voice. "It's such an honor to meet you." "My pleasure," Dr. Hung smiled. "I'm afraid I don't have much time. How can I help you?" I stole a glance under the desk, curious to see her open-toed heels showing off a perfect pedicure. I saw enough leg to know that she was wearing a skirt or dress, and her hair and makeup were also perfect. "I'm studying transgender issues. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I've never met a transgendered person, and you're famous so I hoped you wouldn't mind, I mean I hoped you wouldn't be offended...I'm sorry, I'm so nervous!" Dr. Hung tried to put me at ease. "It's okay, Miss Boyd. As long as you're not from the media, I'm happy to talk to you." "Me, the media? In my dreams!" I laughed. Dr. Hung laughed too. "I know you're busy, so can I just ask you some questions?" I pulled the notebook out of my backpack and started to scribble. "Fire away." "Okay, like how long did you know you wanted to become a woman?" Dr. Hung frowned. "You should never jump to conclusions, Miss Boyd." "I'm sorry!" "Don't apologize, your question is quite natural. I am not a typical transsexual. However, I've come to understand that most transgendered people do not wish their condition on themselves, rather they profoundly believe they were born into the wrong bodies. So it's not a matter of choice. In my case, I was born into the right body, but my body changed." That was the opening I'd been hoping for. "What made your body change?" "Do you know anything about my research?" I screwed up my face. "You like won a noble prize for studying frogs, right?" She sat back and smiled. "Something like that. My primary research was into the toxic effects of a pesticide called atrazine." She saw me pause my scribbling. "That's a-t-r-i-z-i-n-e, Miss Boyd. I discovered that atrizine caused male frogs to turn into female frogs. And I suspected that atrazine could cause the same effect in other species, including humans. Unfortunately, my theory was all too accurate," she said with a sigh. "Wow. That's amazing. I can't believe I didn't know that!" "I've kept the link between my research and my personal situation very private, not wanting to turn my research into a media sensation. Someday, when the time is right, I'll reveal it in a dignified forum. In the meantime, I have much more research to do about atrizine feminization." "Did you like drink atrizine to see if this would happen to you?" "No!" Dr. Hung chuckled. "I'm not some Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde. The sad fact is, all it took was daily contact of atrazine against my skin over a prolonged period of time for this to happen to me." "So this couldn't happen to someone unless they had years and years of exposure?" I asked hopefully. "I didn't say that. My research indicates that a massive infusion of atrazine through the skin can have the same results." I had a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. "For example, if you dip a male frog in atrazine and leave it overnight without washing off the solution, the chances of that frog turning into a female are very high." I closed my eyes and thought back to that awful day, in this very room: I'd been soaked to the skin in atrazine, and I hadn't even taken a shower until the next morning. My hands were shaking so hard I had to stop writing in my notebook. "What's the cure?" I blurted out. "I beg your pardon?" "I mean, is there some other chemical that turns you back into a guy?" "I'm afraid it's not that easy," she sighed, getting up from her desk to signify that our interview was over. She was drop-dead gorgeous in her jade silk dress, which showed off her curves and cleavage magnificently. "The biology of transitioning from male to female is relatively straightforward, whereas the reverse would be infinitely more complex." I got to my feet and she showed me to her door. "You're very pretty," I stammered. "Thank you. In a way, I'm very fortunate. Like most aspects of nature, the physical characteristics of the human population fall into a bell-shaped curve: on the one extreme is the Cal football team, who would never be able to pass as women if this happened to them. On the other extreme are short, slender men like me, and so many others of Asian descent who find it relatively easy to cross the gender boundary." "You just said men like me...I thought you were a woman now?" "That remains to be seen, Miss Boyd. In my work with frogs, I learned that while 75% of the affected males were emasculated, only 10% actually became females, capable of bearing young. As a scientist, I'm rather curious to find out my fate. When I know, it will be time to tell the world. Until then, what we've discussed this afternoon will be just between us girls, okay?" "Uh, sure," I said in a daze. We shook hands awkwardly and I left her, utterly devastated by what I'd learned: I'd been emasculated by atrazine, there was no known cure, and there was even the possibility that I'd turn completely into a woman. I stumbled outside and began walking aimlessly across the campus. My backpack suddenly felt very heavy. Might as well toss my clothes and shoes, they were no good to me now...I watched my lengthening shadow as the sun dipped low on the horizon, mesmerized by the dress swirling around my knees in the breeze. Better get used to it, buddy! At least I was on the right end of Dr. Hung's bell-shaped curve! At 5'8" and 140 pounds, with a full head of long hair, I was totally convincing as a pretty girl. I stopped at a footbridge overlooking Strawberry Creek, pondering my future, when two of those Cal football players on the other end of Dr. Hung's bell-shaped curve came up and invited me to a frat party. Better get used to it, baby! After I blew them off, I continued on my way back to the BART station, my immediate future decided. I was unrecognizable as a woman, which meant I could stay in San Francisco and live off my pirated millions. I'd been a total shit as a guy, would I become a better person as a woman? Naah...I always dug girl-on-girl porn, maybe I could make it as a lipstick lesbian while I continued my search for a cure? I wondered how I'd look in a miniskirt, fishnets and stilettos.... I fumbled through my backpack for my cell phone and hit redial, which put me through to The House of Fabulous. "Hi, this is Cissy. Today went great, you guys are awesome...can I make another appointment for tomorrow? We have some serious work to do." Grow a Pair! I could hear the train approaching as I entered the station. Fortunately, I'd already gotten my BART pass, and I was able to make it through the turnstile and up the escalator just in time to squeeze into a crowded car. Every seat was taken! Wait, there was one, an elderly woman was on her way to it...I aced her out and plopped myself down, ignoring the rude stares from the standees in the aisle. The train lurched off, and when I looked down I was mortified to see that my skirt had ridden halfway up to my ass! I tugged it down awkwardly and glanced to my right, getting a sympathetic smile from the woman sitting next to me...a little bond of sisterhood with a fellow female, making our way in a man's world. I closed my eyes and nodded off, already exhausted from the simple tasks of shaving my legs, putting on my makeup and getting myself dressed. No wonder women hadn't risen as far and fast as men in the business world, they – we – had so much more to cope with. I wondered if I'd ever get used to the thousands of little challenges that came with being a woman? No wonder you never saw them wearing skirts and dresses, let alone stockings, unless they had to. When I finally opened my eyes, we were just approaching the big transfer station at MacArthur. I caught a good-looking guy staring at me, or at least I thought he was...wishful thinking? Who was I trying to kid! The last thing I needed was to get hit on by a guy. For starters, I wasn't gay, and I'd never been attracted to a man in my life. On the other hand, although I was still attracted to women, there wasn't much I could do about it, and if I stayed the way I was, I was doomed to a sexless life, full of frustration. And what if I did try to make it with a guy? Once he found out I didn't have female plumbing, he'd kick my ass! Anyway, I must have still been wired as a guy, because I couldn't take my mind off sex. Well, I'd better take my mind off it, since I had an interview for a secretarial position at 9:00. I took my phony resume out of my purse and tried to remember what I'd made up about myself. It was a masterpiece of creative fiction, starting with my name, date of birth and of course, gender...for education I'd dumbed myself down into a community college dropout, and for work experience I highlighted my fascinating career as a sales associate, fast food server and finally my big break: secretary for a chain of tanning salons. My place of residence was bogus, as were my mythical references, and unless this law firm was totally clueless, there was zero chance that I'd get past the first interview. My objective was to learn as much as I could and figure out some way to get around their security and into their files before they caught on to me. The stakes were high, and it wasn't just their records on my hedge fund that I was after. Internet rumor had it that the law firm had uncovered volumes of scientific research into the feminization of males by Atrazine, the pesticide which had done me in. If I could get my hands on those records, maybe one of their discoveries could lead to a miracle cure? I looked up to see that we were pulling into the Embarcadero station, the long run under the Bay behind us. My seatmate got up to leave, and I swiveled my legs into the aisle to let her by, hardly believing that the silken knees peeking out under my skirt were really mine. I'd kicked off my heels, and I searched desperately for them under my seat, drawing smirks from a couple of guys across the aisle. Ignoring them as best I could, I struggled into my shoes and staggered to my feet just in time to get off at Montgomery. It was cold and raw on Market Street, with a brisk wind that blew my hair into my eyes. My legs were surprisingly warm in my nylons, but my bare forearms were cold! Lowering my head, I trudged ahead, forced by my skirt and the unfamiliar heels to take tentative, painful steps. When I got to Boudin I ducked inside, grateful to be indoors. I'd gone there countless times as a guy for coffee and croissants on my way to work, and something seemed a little different as I took my place in line...of course! I was three inches taller! Amazing how the world looked when you were six feet tall, even if that meant you were in high heels. I ordered my usual Americano and chocolate croissant, and took them to a table by the window, watching the world go by as I contemplated my fate. Once again I kicked off my heels, and found a bit of heaven flexing my aching toes in my nylons. Funny, the croissant tasted a little different than I remembered...oh, that's my lipstick! At least the coffee tasted the same, and I lingered over it as long as I could, steeling my nerves for the ordeal ahead. I must be crazy, walking into the lion's den dressed like this...what if somebody recognized me? I pulled a compact mirror out of my purse and recoiled at the sight of my windblown hair...it looked like a fright wig! I washed down the rest of my croissant, grimaced as I squeezed my poor feet back into my heels, and found the ladies room. I didn't dare risk taking the time to figure out how to pee, I might never get myself put back together again! I tediously brushed my hair into place, although I knew it would be a mess the moment I stepped outside again. After freshening my lipstick, I removed a cigarette from my purse and headed back towards Market Street, pausing just long enough to light up before I stepped back into the wind. I huddled in the doorway like the other tobacco addicts up and down the street, indulging myself with this last bit of pleasure before I crushed my cigarette under the toe of my shoe and minced my way towards my destination on Sansome Street. The address was an imposing granite office building in the heart of the financial distract. I'd been there many times in my former life, although now I had to wait in line and sign in with a girlish hand at the security guardpost. Then it was another line for a crowded elevator, and at first I didn't realize that the men were all waiting for me to get on first...one of the perks of being a woman! The downside was feeling their eyes undress my body in unison, and I stared at the lights above the doors, blinking off the floors, to take my mind off the sensation of being peeled like a banana. The law firm of Wurm, Roach and Scheister occupied the two top floors. Originally a white shoe firm with a strangle-hold on San Francisco's banking business, it had metastasized into a monster by gobbling up boutique firms specializing in high tech, patent law, and its ever-expanding litigation factory. The haunted eyes and sallow complexions of the drones standing next to me were silent testimony to the sweatshop atmosphere. I emerged from the elevator into a scene of utter chaos. Instead of the elegant, orderly reception area that I remembered, the lobby was a madhouse of UPS agents hauling in boxes of files, law clerks and paralegals scurrying to and fro, and phones ringing off the hook despite the desperate efforts of a harried receptionist to stay on top of them. When I finally got her attention and mouthed the words "secretary interview" she waved me over to a crowd of women milling around in one of the corners. We stood there, eyeing each other critically, each dressed in our conservative little outfits, heels and stockings, wondering how many positions were open and what it would take to get one of them. Eventually a foppish little man with a flamboyant bowtie and a bad comb-over approached and asked us to follow him down a flight of stairs connecting the reception area to the boiler room below. More boxes piled up everywhere and frantic associates bumping into each other in their manic pursuit of the billable minute. We were led into a large, windowless conference room, not the type reserved for important clients, rather the kind of place where pizzas were served at midnight to stoke the lawsuit machine. I grabbed a chair, grateful to get off my tender feet, and carefully smoothed my skirt beneath me as I primly sat down and crossed my legs. Mr. Bowtie tapped the table with a pencil, silencing the babble of female voices. "Ladies, if I may have your attention," he lisped, "thank you for responding to our advertisement. As you can see, there are a lot of you, and lovely and talented as you all undoubtedly are, at the moment we have only three open positions. Of course, all of your resumes will be kept on file...." He pressed on despite the audible groans and sighs. "In addition to the secretarial positions, we do have one immediate opening for a receptionist. Unfortunately, this position pays only minimum wage, but it is a way to get your foot in the door, so to speak." Looking around, I could see that there were no takers: the women in this room were experienced executive assistants, and they'd be better off staying on unemployment than taking a dead-end job like that. I shot up my hand and chirped, "I'll take it." Grow a Pair! Other files and records confirmed that the lawyers' search for me had hit a brick wall, so as long as I continued my life in exile and never resumed my former identity I was safe. Not that I had any choice...I was stuck being a female forever. I slipped out of my room just as the sun was coming up, catching a nearly empty BART train back to Walnut Creek. I stared vacantly out the window, in a deep funk. I could never go back to being a man. Cissy didn't show up for work that morning, or ever again. Thanks to her bogus employment application, she vanished without a trace.