Wife's secretary

Joel came to with a headache so intense it felt like his skull was about to split open. He tried to get up, but something about his body immediately felt... off. A heaviness on his chest and unusual pressure on his hips shocked him as his gaze fell on the mirrored wall of the office. His face... it was him, but somehow feminine, with soft features accentuated by makeup. Thickly mascaraed lashes, plump lips, and something even more horrifying: his body... it wasn’t his body!

He was wearing a tight dress, one that Lauren, his wife Melissa’s secretary, used to wear. The dress—green, just the one he remembered her wearing before he blacked out, only to regain consciousness now. He was still in shock when he heard the sound of heels clicking on the tile.

“Hello, Lauren,” came Melissa’s icy voice as she entered the office, clearly enjoying the moment. “Did you sort out Mr. Sanders’ letters?”

Joel froze at the sound of this. “Lauren?” Was she talking to him? He blinked, trying to clear his foggy mind.

“Melissa?” His voice cracked, and to his horror, it sounded softer and higher than before. He looked around and saw Melissa standing by the door with a thin, smug smile. There was no trace of her former warmth. Her gaze was cold, like ice. “What did you... what did you, like, do to me?”

Melissa slowly approached, almost taunting his helplessness, and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs. “Let’s just say I got tired of watching you have fun with Lauren behind my back,” she began, her voice dripping with venom, but also with a kind of authority Joel had never noticed in her before. “And I decided to get rid of her, but someone still had to take her place.”

Joel sprang to his feet, though the unfamiliar heels made the movement clumsy. The thin heel slipped on the tile, and he nearly fell back onto the desk, grabbing the edge for support. His new chest bounced under the tight dress, making him feel his strange, absurd shape even more acutely.

“You can’t, like, do this to me!” His voice cracked on a high, soft note that now sounded even more pitiful. He raised his hands, staring at the manicure that looked completely foreign. With long fake nails, it was almost impossible to grab anything properly. “I’m, like, your husband! And what the... why am I talking like, well, like some kind of bimbo?” The last word came out almost sing-song.

Melissa smirked, watching as Joel—or now, Lauren—struggled to maintain a shred of dignity. “Oh, darling,” her voice oozed sarcasm, “this is just the beginning. Have you noticed that now you speak like her? Your mannerisms, your speech... it’s all part of your new persona. Lauren was a great secretary. And now, well, you’ll just replace her.”

In despair, Joel tried to move toward his wife, but he stumbled awkwardly in the high heels, feeling his new body move strangely. His chest, his hips—all of it felt foreign. “This is, like, totally illegal! I’m, like, leaving!” he cried, heading for the door, raising his hand in a dainty gesture.

Melissa just smiled, watching as Joel, barely managing in the heels, made his way to the door.

“Oh, Lauren, but the chip in your head says you’ll stay right here and do whatever I say.” She snapped her fingers, and Joel felt a strange tension in his head, like someone had flipped a switch. His body froze, and without his control, he turned back to the desk, assuming a pose that would remind anyone of an office secretary—or, in this case, a bimbo secretary—waiting for orders from the boss.

“And Lauren was always very cheerful, so make sure to smile more.” Joel felt his body straighten, and a sweet, silly grin spread across his face. It was unnatural—he didn’t want this! But some invisible impulse, triggered by Melissa, forced him to comply. His wife’s words echoed in his mind like commands he couldn’t resist.

“That’s better,” Melissa grinned predatorily, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she watched Joel—or his new version—stand before her, helpless and humiliated. “You’ll take care of the letters, just like Lauren did. And I... I’ll be watching how you handle that,” she said as she stood up, stepping closer to him. “You know, darling, you deceived me for so long, now it’s my turn. You’ll be my obedient secretary, and no one, not even you, will be able to change that.”

Joel tried to say something, but only light, empty words came out: “Like, this is totally, well, unfair!”—his voice had a strange whiny tone, as if it wasn’t him speaking but some airheaded doll. He tried to take another step, but his body, controlled by something unknown, remained in place.

“Melissa...” he groaned, trying to convey his despair, at least through his voice.

“No, no, no. Lauren always called me Mrs. Brown, but I think soon I’ll just be Miss Brown, won’t I?”

Joel tried to open his mouth to say “Melissa,” but the words seemed stuck in his throat.

“Mrs. Brown,” he finally gave in, still keeping that silly smile on his face, “you, like, can’t, well, like, do this!” Joel said with a pleading tone, which was starting to irritate even himself.

Melissa leaned back in her chair, savoring the performance. “Oh, I can, Lauren. And I already have. You’re not here to think or decide anymore. You’re a secretary—don’t forget that,” her voice lowered, becoming more authoritative.

Joel stood in the middle of the room, feeling his body becoming increasingly mechanical. A smooth sway of the hips, a straightened posture, a silly grin he couldn’t seem to shake. His fingers began to absentmindedly play with a strand of his new long, shiny blonde hair.

“This is just horrible... I...” He tried to resist again, but the words came out wrong once more. “Well, like, Miss Brown, this is, like, totally too much...”

Melissa suddenly clapped her hands, making Joel stop talking. He flinched in surprise, feeling a new surge of pain in his head, causing his thoughts to jumble.

“Enough of this whining, Lauren,” Melissa said with icy calm, her voice laced with iron will. She stood up, giving Joel a contemptuous look, as if she saw not a person but merely a tool for carrying out her orders. “Time to get to work.”

Joel felt his body rise from the chair and head toward the desk without his will. His movements were smooth and feminine, as if his body had adapted to the heels and tight dress far quicker than his mind. His hands reached for the keyboard on their own, the long nails clicking softly against the keys as he opened the email. He stared at the screen, not believing what was happening.

“Start with the letters to Mr. Sanders,” Melissa continued, her voice now businesslike, almost bored. “Make sure he’s happy with our offer. And if he isn’t, well, call him and offer... how you usually convince men to do what you want.” She winked, watching Joel, who knew exactly what Melissa was implying, but along with the irritation, he felt a strange, sweet wave of desire spread through his body. Images of sex, in various poses, with different men flashed through his mind.

Joel felt his face flush as he stood in front of the screen, realizing what was going on inside his head. These thoughts, alien and unpleasant, but somehow exciting, began to take over his mind.

“Well, Lauren? Finding it hard to focus?” Melissa smirked at him, seeing him helplessly struggle against the new impulses. She stepped closer, her heels clicking softly on the tile until she stood right next to him, leaning on the desk. “I see you’re starting to have... the right thoughts. But now, that’ll be your job—to please men. Lauren was great at it.”

“I, like, can’t do that!” Joel shouted, but even he could hear the lack of confidence in his voice. Melissa chuckled quietly, covering her mouth with her hand.

“This is more fun than I expected,” she said, stepping back toward the door, leaving Joel alone with his new reality. “Good luck, Lauren,” she said as she closed the door behind her, leaving him in absolute silence, broken only by the steady ticking of the clock.

Joel—no, now Lauren—sat at the desk, staring at the flickering monitor. His fingers, unusually long and manicured, nervously tapped the keys, but his thoughts... His thoughts weren’t about work or even how to fix everything. Those strange, arousing images of men, power, and sexual games—they couldn’t possibly be his own thoughts. But each time they appeared, it became harder to brush them off.

He felt the silly, annoying smile stuck on his face, growing stronger with each of those images. Every time he tried to force his lips into a neutral expression, his body seemed to resist, returning to that empty, airheaded grin.