Magic Dress - Diana Pt. 03

THINGS ARE DIFFERENT

For our summer holiday I took one week as Dave with Gwen's favourite resort and one week as Diana in Brighton. We had been told it was fairly friendly to all sorts and we had never been there before and knew no-one who did. We truly had a lovely time as two women together until Thursday.

There coming towards us was a man looking like Superintendent Chalmers in the Simpsons, the one who makes Principal Skinner's life a misery. He had a similar role in my life as my boss. He also has the pomposity of Captain Mainwaring in Dad's Army and unshakeable but mistaken belief in his popularity and management abilities of that chap in the series The Office.

Unfortunately, he spotted Gwen and veered off.

"Hello, Gwen," he said, "Where's Dave? Never mind, introduce me to your charming friend."

"This is Diana. Diana, this is Gary, who works with my husband."

He gave what he supposes is his winning smile, something between a smirk and a leer, based on his certainty of his own attractiveness. I wondered if I was going to get away with it. Then he suddenly stopped and looked shocked.

"David bloody Morgan! This is the final straw. Come and see me at 9 on Monday morning!" He stalked off, before pausing to add "to collect your cards!" (Which means to be dismissed.) I had been so careful to keep Diana away from my other life, but there is no accounting for bad luck.

We trudged back to the hotel where I of course changed into the Green Goddess until I felt better. Then something happened which had never happened before. I got a raging erection. Somehow wearing feminine clothes had never excited me in this way. The skirt usually hid my normal drooping cock but now rose. Gwen lifted it and started getting quickly undressed, but did not get too far.

I was out of the dress and pants but nothing else before we were on the bed fucking. And I don't mean making love. The anger was transformed into lust and pleasure for both.

"Phew," she said afterwards. "Maybe you should get fired more often!" and we both laughed like anything. I cleaned myself up and dressed again. We went for an early dinner in which we pretended with some success that nothing had happened. A drink in the bar, and back to the room to discuss the situation. At which point my skirt rose again.

As Gwen later observed, we fucked our way out of the crisis.

"Fuck Gary! Fuck the fucking job! But most of all, fuck me!" she said, and I did. The last two days of our holiday we had more sex than we had ever had before. In between we actively had fun, with occasional trips back to the hotel. On Friday we went to a shop where I got a cosmetic makeover, which we both thought was good. I didn't care that they realised I was a man and they didn't seem to mind. Of course, they sold all the materials.

For our last evening, Gwen said we should put on our sexiest outfits, the ones we had never dared to wear before. She had a tight and very low-cut top with a lot of boobs on display. I had a fairly tight top through which mine strained, and tight shorts showing a flat front and my fake roundness. We went to a dance hall and pranced around. Men offered to buy us drinks but we refused. We danced with them and each got a couple of uninvited and beery kisses, and a few 'accidental' hands on our boobs and bums. I thought I was fit from rugby in the winter and badminton in the summer, but it was hard work, and we did not last as long as the youngsters (and some oldsters). Then back to the hotel for yet another fuck.

Back home, we talked about fighting the dismissal but I did not fancy an acrimonious appeal process. I thought I might agree to go quietly if he gave me a good reference. Gwen disagreed and said I should go out in style. So I did, though it did not happen as I expected.

On Monday she drove me to the office. I went in at five to nine and presented myself before Gary at nine precisely. He had an office which was separated from the rest with glass, and was looking at some paperwork on the desk when his secretary ushered me in, leaving the door open. He deliberately ignored us.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" I said politely.

He looked up and said "What the fuck?!" seeing Diana the Green Goddess before him.

Recovering slightly, he said "David Morgan. You are dismissed with immediate effect. There is no need to work out your notice. Take your things and leave the building. HR will get in touch with you for the paperwork."

"Why?" said his secretary Martha, a meek woman with as much good sense as Marge Simpson, who had covered up or put right many of Gary's blunders over the years. "Why is he dismissed?"

"He's fucking wearing a dress!" exploded Gary.

"So am I," she replied. "Is there any reason he shouldn't? And I'll thank you to moderate your language in the presence of ladies."

By this time people were drifting towards what sounded like an interesting situation.

"If there's something wrong with my work, sir, please tell me, and I'll try to put it right."

Gary blustered, but Martha was right (as she always is). I just hoped he would not try to take revenge on her.

I went and did my work as usual. I asked Martha if I could use the Ladies' while dressed like this. She said "You can use the Ladies' for ever from now on, however you're dressed. The girls can't thank you enough."

Gwen picked me up in the car after work. We wondered what Gary would do to get rid of me, and started to think about applying elsewhere.

On Tuesday, I was dressed as normal, but Andy McTavish came in wearing a kilt.

On Wednesday he was joined by Sanjeet wearing what looked like a long-sleeved dress, which he said was actually a traditional male garment called a kurta.

On Thursday, Bob had replaced his suit trousers with a man skirt. His family are tailors and they had made it specially. Most of the women were wearing trousers of some form.

On Friday, all the women were wearing trousers and several guys went into the Gents and replaced their trousers with skirts borrowed from female family or friends. Gary said nothing but was obviously fuming.

On Friday afternoon I got an email from HR saying that I was to attend on Monday at 10.30 for a review of my work performance. Gary had obviously managed to screw me somehow.

I got home and Gwen said it was only to be expected. So why didn't she take Diana to a nice restaurant this evening instead of cooking? What the hell! Who cares what the neighbours think?

We went to the restaurant. It was a total relief not to care. I was Diana, like it or lump it. I thought I was pretty and so did Gwen, so anyone else can think what they like: it's a free country.

Once again, we fucked our way through the situation that weekend.

"I don't suppose you could get the sack every week?" said Gwen.

Gwen said I should go in as the Green Goddess again, and Dave agreed. But Diana said no. It was strange. It had felt so right the previous Monday, but the dress seemed to be saying no. As Dave "Yes, let's show them we don't care." As Diana "don't".

On Monday I went in as normal, and everyone was also dressed as always but actually rather smarter than usual overall. There was definitely some conspiracy and I strongly suspected Martha. She said Gary was at some important management meeting.

I did a bit of work until ten, then with a chorus of "Good luck!" went to meet my fate.

I was waiting outside, and Gary came out looking ashen faced. He looked away and hurried off.

I waited till I was summoned, then went in ready for execution. There was a man and a woman I did not know. The man was head of HR and the woman was Gary's boss's boss. They told me their names but I was so nervous I forgot them.

They started off talking about the company's opposition to all forms of discrimination and how it supported staff in any way it could. I was told that I did not have to answer, but I should be aware that counselling could be offered for any matters that might affect work, including gender issues.

I said that I didn't have gender issues. I was just a man who liked dressing as a woman in my spare time. I had only come in that way on Monday because Gary had seen me on holiday and had told me I would be fired. They conversed in whispers and made some notes, before the man said that Gary had given a somewhat different account.

The woman asked why I had not applied for promotion in the last ten years. I said I had applied, but had been turned down on account of some faults. "Did you get a letter from HR, telling why you had been turned down, and suggesting ways you could improve?" she asked.

I said no, Gary had got the letter and had read it out to me. I thought it was a bit harsh. They conversed together again, and made some long notes. They asked me to wait outside while they had a discussion.

It was about half an hour before they came out, and said we should go back to the department.

There they informed everyone that Gary had been under a lot of strain lately, so was taking time off for work related stress. People were reminded that support and counselling were available confidentially if anyone had issues which were troubling them.

The woman said that under the circumstances, and following consultation with some people here already, it had been decided that I would take over Gary's post with immediate effect. She had to stop because of the round of applause which followed. She continued that I had to go with them for a while, and Martha would note any issues needing action in the meantime.

The man said I should go with him to HR to sort out the contracts. There he also said that there were a few people with gender issues in the company, and the counsellor would really like to hear any advice I had, if it was not any trouble.

When I finished, I was taken to the woman's office to discuss general duties and particular current plans. She said I should call her Kate and asked whether I would be coming in as my alter ego. I said probably not. She said if I did, please use the Ladies' toilets.

Back to what was now my office, where Martha closed the door and said she was glad to see the back of that fucking bastard cunt Gary. So much for language in the presence of ladies! As she had been doing most of Gary's work in any case, she was able to ease me in to management. She added her expectation that I would recognise the value of some of the female staff, and give praise where it was due. Gary had not given much praise to men, but never to women apart from commenting on their appearance. She then added that she thought I looked lovely in that dress, and could I possibly come in again in it sometimes?

Kate invited Dave and Gwen to dinner with her husband, and said she would also like to meet Diana, so we had another dinner with them. It was a convenient time to ask for a rise for Martha.

I decided that Dave was my working and sporting clothes, Diana was for leisure. Since everyone at work knew about me, there was no point in hiding it from the neighbours. Those that didn't like it seemed to pretend that Diana did not exist. It's up to them. The walking club got a couple of new members from the company.

The women in the office said Sanjeet looked very handsome in his kurta and he should wear it more often. They said having got his man skirt, Bob ought to get some use out of it and Andy's hairy legs deserved to take the air. They eventually persuaded me to have an occasional female Friday, in which all the women wore trousers and as many men as wanted wore skirts. Bob got me to go to his family's shop to be fitted for a suit at trade price. They provided trousers and a skirt which I could wear on female Fridays, with a blouse and brooch instead of a shirt and tie. (Though the jacket still has buttons on the male side.)

It really is wonderful to spend a good amount of my time as a woman quite openly. It is not really about sex. I enjoy sex with my wife. I enjoy the physical effort and excitement of rugby. But I also enjoy feeling really feminine some times. The clothes, the makeup, the different way of walking, the different conversations I have. It is just so nice and relaxing. I often think how lucky I am that I spilled stuff on the maid outfit and had to wear my wife's dress.